#i had a few other cool analysis angles but all of them got too confusing + too small sample size

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

ok i'm going to sleep but for the first time in months there has been progress on my quest to quantify how much dialogue each Star Trek character has!!! i've located and fixed the mysterious error that was giving me grief last time i was working on this project and now know what i need to get done — basically just making graphs for each individual character per season and then writing up the relevant tumblr posts with a brief interpretation. i did TOS tonight and it took about 2 hours so fingers crossed i'll knock the rest of them out in a few days and can finally share my results!

[lexdrabbles]

Everything We Are

Here it is. The thing I’ve been writing for way too long. This was a gift fic for my lovely friend @ayame1212​, who got me into the angst hole that is Noragami. Enjoy your fresh, fresh pain. This features two OCs. They’re both assholes. Hope y’all like them.

Word count: 3711 Fandom: Noragami Warnings:  Non-graphic violence, armed robbery, background character death (non-graphic), nihilism, thoughts of revenge (briefly), blood mention, death mention. (Yeah... it’s basically One Big Angsty Fight Scene) Read on AO3

It was a patrol like any other. Yato and Yukine regularly went out looking for ayakashi during the night, following their pledge to rid the world of their influence (as much as they could, at least).

The streets were almost always deserted at this time of the night. Most night-time deities had no business being out and about so, other than the occasional human, only the ayakashi roamed around; hence, perfect patrol time.

They never expected to run into another god; much less one whose sword was hilt-deep in a human’s chest.

Yato had to physically restrict Yukine before he could jump at the scene without any forethought. “What the hell, man?” said Yukine. “We have to stop them!” Yato simply shoved the blond backward and stopped him with an outstretched arm. “Might want to analyze what’s going on before gettin’ yourself killed.”

Yukine huffed, “Whatever.”

They looked at the distant developments with more attention and noticed a third person. At that point, the picture came together: The man with the sword in his chest was holding a gun against the other person’s head, yelling at them to hand over all their valuables.

Normally, when you saw a god intervene in mortal affairs, it was something serious. Late night muggings would usually not be encompassed in “emergencies requiring divine intervention”, but Yato was not one to judge. After all, if anyone knew what small prayers like these did for minor gods, it was him. However, something was still strange. It took him too long to pin down why something still did not make sense, too long to notice the slight squinting of the attacked.

It took Yukine yelling at him to realize there were no ayakashi around, and this god’s blade was not leaving the man’s chest until he had succeeded; reflecting some sort of light into the victim’s eyes and effectively blinding them.

They were not trying to stop him; they were making him do this.

Yato knew exactly what kind of god this was.

And she had heard Yukine’s yell too.

She had flinched and looked in their direction, visibly disrupting her shinki’s concentration, as the beam of light faltered enough for the victim to fight back. She yanked the sword away without hesitation, finishing the man off and leaving the other shocked at the sudden death of their attacker. The god fled, leaping away; but Yato was not about to let her get away without facing consequences for her actions. He and Yukine shared a look. “Come, Sekki!” As soon as the blades were in his hands, he went after the rogue god.

They jumped on roof after roof, ran through the streets and leapt unearthly heights. He chased her with a grudge he had not felt in a long time, with a burning desire to make justice by himself; to take her apart piece by piece, to break her shinki until it knew the pain it had caused, to—

“Yato?” Yukine’s voice dragged him out of his own head. “Are you okay? You’re kind of gripping really hard…” He looked down at his paled knuckles and loosened his grip on the swords. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Putting up with your sweaty ass hands is one thing, but you better have a good reason for squeezing me.”

“I’m the one doing all the running, so shut up before I drop you right here. You’re going to make me lose track of her”

As if she had been reading their minds the whole time, the god suddenly stopped in the middle of a crossroads. Yato landed a few meters away from her. Watching, waiting.

She stared at him, too; her brown eyes calculating, dark hair settling down after the chase. After a beat of analysis, she simply uttered “Revert, Hikari”.

A flash of light later, a tall figure stood beside their master. They both donned similar clothing; skirts and dress shirts in black and white, like negative images of each other.

“What, does everyone need to have a uniform?” Yukine piped up.

“You gonna attack an unarmed god?” She finally addressed him. “Come on, put that away. Where are your manners?”

“Who are you?” Yato deadpanned, flipping Sekki around in his hand.

“The name’s Aya,” she curtsied mockingly. “This is my guidepost, Hitsuki. Who are you? That’s a very nice blade you got there.”

Yato almost felt too uncomfortable to keep Yukine in his weapon form any longer. “Revert, Yuki”. The teen stood next to him with an annoyed look on his face as Aya shamelessly eyed him up.

“Yato. He’s Yukine. What were you doing back there?”

“Yato… Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that name somewhere…” She looked thoughtful as she ignored Yato’s question. “Of course!” She finally exclaimed. “You defied heaven itself, didn’t you? Faced off against Takemikazuchi in person, right?” Her eyes glinted with mischief and her tone lowered. “That your hafuri?” A smirk settled on her face. “He looks cute, but I didn’t think he would be so young.”

“Well that’s none of your business, now is it?” Yukine snapped back, blushing.

Aya merely chuckled. “And he comes with an attitude, too! How charming…” She gestured to her own shinki, who had been quietly laughing along the whole time. “Hi-chan is a snarky one, too. Quick wit might just be something all hafuri share…” She looked Yato in the eyes as she referred to her vessel as a hafuri. His expression was transparent as the other god’s statement took him aback completely.

“Hard to come by shinki this loyal as a god of calamity, isn’t it?” Her statement felt like a punch in the gut. Yato’s expression hardened and he instinctively stepped forward and slightly in front of Yukine, as if trying to protect him. “What were you doing back there?” he pressed.

“Oh, you know, just business. Muggers are kind of my target audience, you could say. Say a little prayer and leave a tip and defenseless people with full pockets start crossing your path left and right…” She winked and gestured to the shinki beside her. “Sometimes they need a little help, a pick me up, if you will. Some are way too nervous; some can’t deal with feisty prey. That’s where this one comes in. They’re quite the charmer, really. You see, they have an edge to them that gives most ill intents a boost.” She chuckled at her own pun. “And after changing, well… Mind if I show off? Come, Kouki!”

As the tall figure dissipated into white light, Yato immediately summoned his own weapon —and Yukine was happy to oblige—. Both gods were left standing under the street light again, blades glistening.

“Calm down, man! I’m just showing you!” She seemed truly unbothered and sly. What had materialized, rather than a sword, was a black and green scabbard at the god’s waist. In an instant, Aya unsheathed a tachi with a long, polished blade. It looked sharp and made visions flash in Yato’s mind that he would rather not recall.

“Check this out,” Aya angled the weapon just so, and a spot of bright, white light shone on the pavement. It moved with the blade in a smooth, almost mesmerizing dance; running across the floor and up buildings, roaming along street signs and traffic lights, until it went back to its starting point on the pavement between the two gods. With a flick of the green handle in Aya’s hand, the dot disappeared.

“Pretty cool, right?” she bragged. “Concentrated moonlight. They could barely keep their edge consistent before changing, but now? Most precise weapon you could ask for.” She angled the blade so it reflected the streetlight, no magic required.

Yato observed her and his blood slowly boiled. The way she moved her sword and the way she had used it on the humans before made his skin crawl. He watched every turn of her wrist and every sway of the green handle in her hand.

“Why use it like that?” He finally replied. “Why influence humans’ hearts in such a profane manner?”

Aya laughed.

“Oh, look at him with the big words! Profane, ooh, that hurt!” she mocked. “A prayer is a prayer, Yato. People want me to help them make a living, get out of financial pinches… after all, that’s what us little gods’re here for, isn’t it? Answering mortals’ prayers… Surely you understand,” something glinted in her eyes, as if she knew she was pushing exactly the wrong buttons.

Yato’s face hardened. “As a matter of fact, I very specifically do not.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked Yato in the eyes, her expression darkening. He shifted Sekki’s blades in his hands. “Don’t be confused; I am no god of calamity.

Aya stepped toward him, resting the long, curved blade of the tachi on her shoulder, and scowled at him. “What’s with the swords, then? What are you god of, low-stakes fencing? Have I perchance run into the powerful god of war, Bishamonten?” she inspected him as she came closer. Yato did his best to stand his ground, deadpan as he tried not to grit his teeth. "Want me to give her a call so we can settle this quicker?" He threatened.

"Oh, she's your friend, right?" Aya stopped barely a meter in front of him. "Figures traitors would stick together".

Yato closed the distance between them and crossed Sekki's blades at the other god's throat.

"You sure talk a lot of shit for a creeper who takes money from predators".

Aya simply eyed Sekki up, looked Yato in the eyes and smirked. "And you talk a lot of shit for a killer".

His blood froze. His entire body was paralyzed. His pupils shrunk into specks. The single word echoed and bounced in his head.

“Yato? Yato! Snap out of it!” Yukine’s voice rang louder. He quickly withdrew his swords and leapt away onto the closest rooftop. “We need to get out of here.”

A high-pitched voice reached them from the street below, “Come on! Things were just getting fun!” They could hear she was not giving up; Yato jumped from roof to roof hoping to get away from the unrelenting footsteps of his new pursuer.

“Yato, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were the ones chasing her!” his shinki’s voice resonated in his head. A speck of moonlight ran on the floor in front of him and suddenly glared into his eyes. Blinded, he maneuvered into a flip and landed wrong on the next roof; he stumbled and fell off the side, losing Kouki’s light in the process. Sekki managed to ram into the nearest wall just before they hit the ground, and Yato used the momentum to thrust him forward.

“Stop running from yourself, Yato! You can’t escape your nature!”

He landed on the floor and got set to start running again before Yukine pleaded once again. “Yato! Stop running and confront him!” Or had he said her? Yato did not know. He was thinking too much. All of their words bounced around his head and he did not know what to do with them, or himself, or his feet that suddenly had him turning around toward the building he had just fallen from. Aya dropped to the ground to face him once again. Blades at the ready. “Ready to face our sins, are we?” She said with a smirk.

Yato looked her in the eyes; something that was not quite rage burned in his. His head was as clear as his thoughts would allow, and a single thing stood out among them.

“Do you not know?” His tone was measured and cold. He turned Sekki in his hands and swiftly readied the blades at his sides. “A god can do no wrong.”

He charged.

As their blades collided, both gods were reckoned with each other’s strength. The raw power that emanated from them ricocheted on the buildings along the street. A blaze of white light flashed between both weapons and Yato staggered backward, covering himself as Sekki bore another strike from Aya’s tachi. The swords clashed and glared and clanged against each other, bursts of light exploding between them as Yato kept dodging toward higher ground to avoid Kouki’s blinding attacks.

Aya was fast; faster than Yato was comfortable with. She wielded her sword and its abilities seamlessly, with the ease of flowing water. They coordinated, assembled and moved as one, making spare use of words to communicate; as if sharing a mind.

“I thought your kid was a hafuri, god of calamity” Aya mocked behind another flash. “Where’s your sync? What’s all that eternal loyalty good for if he ain’t protecting his master?” Another blinding light shone into Yato’s eyes. Anyone could have smelled the storms slowly but surely inching closer to them, reeking of ayakashi and bad omens. He crouched behind a roof, panting; Sekki nearly slipping from his grasp. He could feel Yukine's distress coursing through his system. “You okay, kid?” He took a moment to wipe the blades and handles on his sleeves. “What are you doing?” The shinki’s urgent voice popped into his head, “get back out there! Stop hiding, you coward, we need to kick their—” “Okay, okay, calm down. You have to focus. We don’t stand a chance here if we don’t work together.” “That must be so easy to say when you’re not the one taking all the hits. I have been holding back, you know? You always go on about how every soul has a purpose or whatever, but it’s so hard, Yato! Your life is in danger and I’m just being swung around helplessly and dulling myself because you said it’s the right thing to do! You’re way out on a limb here; they are overpowering us and we’re just taking it!.”

Yato sighed as if he had the time to ponder. He looked at Sekki’s blades, as if looking him in the eye. “Yukine—” A single beam of pure moonlight reflected off the edge, bouncing up into the sky like a beacon.

“Found you!” The yell was closer than Yato had expected; soon he found himself dodging yet another sharp swing in his direction, covering his eyes with one arm. Aya did not use her shinki’s ability sparingly, and it was a powerful move.

“I nearly thought you’d left me here all on my own!” she laughed between attacks “Can’t deny you’re having fun, can you?” She took a moment to block a strike from him and look him dead in the eye “Can’t reject your nature; you were made to fight, after all.” Another flash. Yato grew more and more aware of Kouki’s use of their light manipulation. Sure, they were powerful bursts, but they were not very directed. It seemed as if quick attacks were not their forte. “Of course,” he thought, “they don’t usually need to use it in combat. It’s a diversion tactic, not an attack.” He dodged the light, jumping up to try getting to his adversary from above. Aya leapt away, the gleam of her shinki trailing behind her. Her shots’ inaccuracy was increasingly obvious to Yato, even while still struggling to keep up with their rapid-fire nature. He saw an opening and drove in, crossed swords first. Aya harshly blocked his blades, giving him a good look at her and her own weapon: unscathed and glinting almost mockingly.

“Isn’t it so fun to cut things up?” she said, an intense look in her eyes. Yato looked away and caught a glimpse of his own reflection on Sekki’s surface: his eyes a cold blue, his hair tied back. He staggered. Before he could help it, Aya took the upper hand; swinging at him until he was against a wall, barely parrying her attacks. Panting and struggling to keep his eyes open, he was confronted with his opponent again: sharp edges, disheveled hair and clothes from the fight, her white shirt stained red and ripped in several places. Her eyes, however, were mocking as ever; they radiated a sort of feral enjoyment that made Yato’s stomach churn. He glanced at Sekki again and saw its battered, dull edges taking slash after slash from his adversary, the blight beginning to rust at the tip of one of the swords. He could feel Yukine’s frustration and anger rushing through his veins, feeding into the fire that had been burning at his core since the moment Aya opened her mouth.

“Yukine,” he started, his voice a strange mix of serene and tired “you can do it.” It was a simple statement. Not encouraging at all. It was too late for pep talks. “At least say it with some feeling next time! What the hell does that mean?” “It means some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling.”

Aya rammed her sword into the wall a centimeter away from Yato’s head, white light entirely dazzling him. “What’s that you’re going on about? Purpose? Please. Purpose is a fairy tale made up by humans to fill the void of their existence. They don’t have a purpose, and neither do we. We’re just here for the ride, and some of us choose to take full advantage of it.” Her voice was exasperated “You used to be cool, man! I used to hear tales of the fearsome Yato god, cutting down humans because it was fun! And now you want to help them? What, you think you can suddenly be a benevolent god of fortune? You wanna fart rainbows and happiness or some shit? Don’t make me laugh.” But she was not laughing. The amusement in her eyes had morphed into something bitter and resentful as she removed the blade of her shinki from the wall and angled it against Yato’s neck. “You don’t get to choose.”

“Stop holding back.” He stated plainly, readying his swords. Aya looked taken aback for the first time. “I’m flattered, really, but don’t think you—” “I wasn’t talking to you.” His cold eyes lit up in fury as Sekki glowed a blue glare that purged the blight covering it, leaving the swords looking sharper and deadlier than they had looked in a long time. Relief flooded him as he charged against her with little reserve, swinging once and again and again, through flashing attacks and counterstrikes. His opponent parried and dodged and fought back, but she was tired and thrown off. Kouki seemed not to know what to do with themself, launching random glare attacks that seemed increasingly uncoordinated with the goddess’ charges. Yato’s movements and Sekki’s edge were precise and unwavering.

“It’s freeing, right? The feeling of having someone’s life at your fingertips.” Aya prodded, laughing nervously as she barely kept the other’s swords off her. Yato’s expression didn’t budge. “This is what I’ve been saying!” she panted, tone desperate, “You can deny it all you want, but your true calling is really just cutting. Shit. Up.” She tried to use her words as a diversion and charged at Yato one more frantic time; her opponent didn’t falter. With a maneuver of both swords, Yato jerked the tachi from Aya’s hand, sending it clanging through the pavement a couple meters away. The goddess’ back hit the hard surface of a wall and one of Sekki’s blades was at her throat; the other swiftly drove into the wall, centimeters away from her face. “You’re right, in a way” Yato said flatly. His eyes still burned a bright blue and his hair stuck to the sweat on his face. “I am fulfilling my purpose with a blade, after all”. Aya’s face was unreadable; all kinds of emotions muddled on it, but she forced out a smile that was nervous and desperate and wrong. “Right! That’s all I meant, really. Now we can leave it here and call it a day, and—” Yato’s sword inched closer to her neck, grazing the skin just enough to keep her from moving. “You’re also wrong,” he continued. “The only “shit” I cut up is scum like you. Sekki didn’t draw back, and little by little cut away at the goddess’ skin. “Alright. Well, I think now she’ll understand that— Yato?” Yukine’s voice got lost somewhere in the echo chamber of his thoughts. His enemy’s whimpers filled his ears. “What are your thoughts on reincarnation, Aya-gami?” He stated more than asked, voice cold. “Yato! That’s enough!” Yukine demanded to no avail. A thick trail of blood ran down Aya’s neck. “Yato! Cut it out! You’ll kill her for real!” Yato’s sight was fixed on the blade.

“Yato, stop!” He screamed with a strength that resounded over the cries and the fog in Yato’s brain. “Line!”

The god fell forward, Sekki’s blade slicing clean through the building wall. Aya’s body slid down until she hit the floor, holding onto her head as if to confirm that it was still attached. “Hitsuki! Holy shit. Holy shit, Hi-chan, get over here”. The tachi glowed and morphed back to their human form, and the shinki ran to their goddess’ side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I couldn’t move. I’m so sorry—” they cried. Yato just stared at the scene, still detached. “Yukine”. He managed to call. A moment later the blond teen was slapping him across the face. “Just what the hell were you thinking?” he yelled. “You almost killed her! What’s all that edgy ‘some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling’ bullshit? I thought you were kidding!” Aya stood up with her shinki’s help, ready to make a run for it, but Yato’s stare froze both of them in place. “I hope this will serve as a warning:” he admonished. “If I ever see you hurting a human again, you won’t be so lucky.” He laid his hand on Yukine’s shoulder. “I’m sure you of all gods understand hafuri can be very protective of their masters and our wishes.” He looked Hitsuki in the eyes, as if addressing them directly. “He won’t go so easy on you next time.”

Four cold expressions collided before Aya and her shinki turned their backs.

“We’ll be sure not to get in your way, o merciful one.” Her tone was bitter and sarcastic.

“Off you go, then!” Yukine pressed.

And the two figures simply walked away until they disappeared into the shadows.

[mariisseething]

Analyzing Hero Costumes: Girls of Class 1-A

My obsession has spiraled out of control. Let me roast analyze these babes. I’m dumb. I’m tired. I’m gay. Let’s do this.

Warning: I’m a cynical, lazy-ass critic with no consistent taste. Don’t expect a fair analysis.

(This is just for fun, please don’t get mad at me for being an undereducated weeb! I went into writing this with only the knowledge I’ve obtained through watching the show and reading the manga. I don’t know everything about the costumes, and I don’t want to either)!

Ashido Mina (Pinky)

Babe, imma be frank here.

I love her, but—

that shit ugly.

Funcionality: Mina’s quirk (Acid) comes from her hands and feet. If I remember correctly, she has passages in her shoes that her...foot..acid.....can pass through, and her hands are fully exposed. So her costume is “practical”, and works with her quirk.

Design: As I said before, that shit ugly. The body suit has the worst pattern and color combination I’ve ever seen. (Like if Sully from Monster’s Inc. was turned into a cow and hated it). Her tiddies should be popping out any second now, which isn’t great. Her weird armpit vest with it’s stupid fluffy collar is quite reminiscent of Hawks’ jacket, which leads me to believe that their costumes were made by the same designer. (Many of the designers in the BNHA universe put calling-cards in their costumes). Her white mask is pointless, but at least it matches the fluff on her collar. Her boots, though they have a purpose, are ugly as sin. The pale yellow doesn’t match any other piece in the ensemble, and the Dabi-scar colored purple makes me sad. Hate that.

Total Score: 2/10

Her costume does almost nothing to enhance her quirk, and it’s hideous. The only reason it got two points was because of the shoe holes, and the possibility that it’s connected to my boy Hawks.

Seriously, this is some Seasame Street lookin-ass bullshit.

No hate on Mina, she’s lovely, but her taste is atrocious. (see: her bedroom).

Asui Tsuyu (Froppy)

Okay, okay bitch I see you.

I’m here for this.

Funcionality: Tsu’s quirk (Frog) requires a decent amount of flexibility from clothing. Spandex works for that I guess. Normally, I would automatically fail this costume for having goddamn toe “socks”, but for Tsuyu they’re nessecary. Having her individual toes chiseled out helps her grip onto shit when she’s kicking ass. It looks like her gloves are attached to her body suit, which is rad, but I’m not sure what the purpose of that waist belt-thing is. If anything, the chunky pieces of her costume would make it harder for her to swim. I also have no fucking clue what that head piece is. I once thought they were like binoculars or something, but she’s never put them on her face so...they wouldn’t fit....on her face..huh.....I’m so stupid bro.

Design: Lets start with a positive, the color scheme slaps. Everything goes together, and the dark green even matches her hair. The bodysuit has a cool structure, and I can definitely appreciate the slight turtleneck and boot-esq feature; however, the chunky wrist pieces, belt, neck/chest-thing, and head piece confuse me. I guess they’re there for fashion, gutter fashion. Shitty crap face fashion. Ugly butthole fashion. FILTH! I need to calm down holy shit—

Total Score: 6/10

The look honestly only lost points for the random ass statement pieces. Water terrains are Tsuyu’s specialty, and a clunky outfit would certainly slow her down underwater.

The toe shit, turtleneck, thigh-high “boots”, and color scheme are pretty dope though.

(Also, she only has three toes but frogs have four).

(My Hero Academia: Cancelled).

Hagakure Toru (Invisible Girl)

So, here’s the real question.

Is she naked?

Short answer: I dunno.

Funcionality: So she’s invisible, right? A good costume would emphasize that. I can only assume she wears the boots and gloves for comfort and so her allies can see where she is. If she wants to go full invisible, she just has to take them off. At one point, it was confirmed that she was topless during the sports festival, but we’ve had no further updates on her costume. A few people have theorized that her costume is made of her hair (assuming she has hair). We know that this is possible, as Mirio’s costume is made of his hair so he can remain clothed while his quirk is activated. The only issue would be making an outfit out of something you can’t see. If I were Toru, I would choose to fight nude because, I-uh...hmm, I-I can do what I want SHUT UP!

Design: There’s not much to critique here. The shade of blue on her gloves is cute, and the pink stripes don’t make much of an impact. The shoes are just about the most boring thing I’ve ever seen, like why are they beige??? What are they supposed to match? I just—ugh, beige??? What the fuck Horikoshi...smh.

Total Score: 5/10

Since we don’t know if the “hair-costume” thing is canon, I can’t rate it any higher. If that is true, it would be an 7/10. The outfit does its job, but I’m bored and beige sucks.

(Btw I don’t trust her...)

(Sketchy chick right here).

(Sketchy chick with some ugly-ass beige shoes).

Jirou Kyouka (Earphone Jack)

Aww.

She’s cute!

Look at her little face, d’awwwweeeeee!

Funcionality: The lovely Kyouka’s quirk (Earphone Jack), makes absolutely no sense to me. Like, I get that she can hear better and can eavesdrop really well, but how does she...make loud noises??? With the speakers??? Plugging earbuds into a speaker doesn’t make............noise, and the speakers aren’t part of her body. Whatever, back to the analysis. The speakers on her hands and calves amplify sound somehow, and her earlobes are exposed. It’s works.

Design: The speaker boots are basic, but acceptable. She’s got some comfy looking black pants, and a trendy salmon-colored top. Her jacket is iconic, and she’s wearing a choker. (+1,000,000 points for that). The white gloves don’t match shit, but they’re fingerless so I’ll let it slide. Her headphones almost match....meh. I don’t care. (+10 for the face paint).

Total Score: 8/10

Listen, I’d give her a 10 but this costume just isn’t....gimmicky, enough for me? She’s a superhero for fucksake! Now’s the time to dress your goddamn best! The look is practical, and seems to be her taste, I just disagree with her choices. Sue me. I’d either wanna fight in the wackiest most dangerous getup you’ve ever seen, or completely naked. Either way, I’m getting arrested. Jirou needs to get on my fucking level.

Uraraka Ochaco (Uravity)

I don’t know boys,

it seems like she might be...

round.

Fuck sharp angles!

Funcionality: Ochaco’s quirk (Zero Gravity) only requires her hands to work. More specifically, her fingertips. Uh, yeah those are some nude fingertips. *Ahem* moving on. Actually wait, since she often uses her quirk on herself it would be helpful for her to eliminate as much extra weight as possible, so I’m hoping that all of the accessories are hollow. They better be, or I’m gonna start throwing hands with Kohei Horikoshi.

Design: When Ochaco first got her hero costume she was surprised by how tight it was, even saying that it wasn’t supposed to be that tight. Bitch, how could it have been loose? I don’t...fuck it. I like the colors, I like the boots a lot actually, but who cares about that, I wanna talk about her fucking chastity belt. Who she keepin out? (Jesus Christ she’s a child, tone it down Mari). Do you think it’s comfortable to walk around with a chunk of plastic on your crotch?! I don’t know, seriously, is it? Maybe she’s trying to hide something...a hip dip perhaps?! Jk hip dips are stupid, that’s how bones work, don’t be ashamed. Her wrist...spheres... have handles on them, no comment, and whereas I usually LOVE chokers—that one is stupid and I hate it. Curvy little shit.

Total Score: 8/10

I like it overall, but some things are just too strange to overlook. (i.e. the chastity belt, wrist cuff handles, and the ugly choker). This costume doesn’t really scream Uraraka to me either. It’s a bit unoriginal to me.

I just don’t love it.

(Why are her fists clenched? Is she trying to fight? I could snap her like the twig she is and steal her girlfriend).

(Assuming she has one).

Yaoyorozu Momo (Creati)

Oohooohohohoho

hooohohoho

hoooooo mAN do I have some WORDS for this one!

Funcionality: Momo’s quirk (Creation) does require quite a bit of skin to be exposed, but I’m not sure why that skin HAS to be her boobs. She’s got thighs, a stomach, a back, an upper chest, and arms. Why do her Russian nesting dolls have to come out of her tiddies??? Okay, actually, she doesn’t make that many things with her tits. So....why’re they out? This costume definitely lets her quirk run wild, maybe too much.

Design: The red is pretty, and I can tolerate the sandy yellow. Her shoes are unimportant, so let’s just gloss over those. Now, WHAT is that thing? A makeshift, tan colored, plastic tube mini...skirt? I know she has a shelf on her ass that she carries books on, but doesn’t she have a cellphone? Google? Can’t she just remember the molecular make-up of a cannon? (Because she only makes cannons now for some reason). Have we ever even seen her reading those books? Can she read? A large portion of her midsection/chest is exposed up to another one of those weird chest pieces and a neck jacket. Maybe she should cut the neck coat off and glue it to her tiddies.

Total Score: 1/10

Listen, Horikoshi clearly understands what Momo’s costume needs, but he has no idea how to make that. This outfit IS inappropriate, no matter how you look at it. She’s a minor, and I don’t like the idea that she’s running around 75% naked. The only part of this that I like is the shade of red. That’s not good.

I really like Momo, she’s a good character, it’s unfortunate that we have to sexualize her so much. Can’t girls just be smart without also being eye candy for creepy 30 year old weebs?

——————

That’s it for this analysis. I plan on posting more stuff like this since I enjoy writing it so much! You should totally follow me so you don’t miss my future ramblings! 💖

Unless you hated it.

I wouldn’t blame you.

[moonlightreal]

Winx Club season 8/11

In which I enjoy many headcanos.

11 Treasures of Syderia

I do wish I had any Winx friends who could tell me if that last episode was really that cringeworthy or if it’s all in my head, but I’m pretty much an island in this fandom since Una di Noi closed.

But I love this show so much that I have endless hope it’ll get better!  let’s try another episode!

From the intro: “Musa ans Riven seemed to reconnect, but the peace between them won’t last long.”

-_-

Valtor’s asteroid!  A pretty cool wider angle shot so you can see the room has high thin windows and some banners or tapestries hanging up high. Valtor’s got his mark glowing above his throne, twice, and the throne is at the end of a sort of bridge over a typical Chasm of Evil with some typical Lampstands of Evil leading up to it.  Very cool, but very generic other than the mark it could be the throne room of any villain.

Also we never see any other rooms of the asteroid; do Valtor and Obscurum eat or sleep or bathe?  This is another reason my headcanon is that Valtor is really some kind of homunculus, not a human being.  He doesn’t need to eat or sleep, he recharges with only starlight.  But I bet Obscurum has a cozy little lair somewhere on the asteroid that he stuffed with pillows and cute things he steals with his portals.

...what?  This is an episode synopsis not a celebration of headcanon?  Oh, yeah I guess you’re right.

Valtor hollers for his minion.   Obscurum is down to his last chance!  “What is your plan to get rid of the Winx?”

Uh, Valtor, maybe you should do that bit instead of leaving it to your bumbling minion? Just maybe?

Obscurum’s plans: Go undercover as a Winx.  Shrink them.  “Maybe some kind of trap.”

Valtor has been making progressively more evil faces during this.  Now he summons a portal and dumps Obscurum through it.  I’m kinda bored with Valtor’s Expressions of Evil but I love the nice neat gestures as he dumps his poor minion down another hole.  It’s good clean spellcasting, just sayin’.

Obscurum falls into Super Mario and falls down a bunch of levels and gets blasted with some pixelated bombs.

Valtor has a rush of common sense to the head and decides Obscurum may need some time to think of a plan.

Cut to Alfea! Stella is asking for fashion advice but Aisha says she just wears what she wants anyway.  Flora’s on her phone, worried about her disagreement with helia the night before.  Seems they’ve never not been in synch before.  Bloom reassures her that it’s normal to disagree and Stella makes a fashion comparison.  flora’s still worried because she and Helia never have different opinions.  Bloom starts to say that this is actually a bad thing…  When we’re interrupted by Brandon sending a picture of his new hat, which Stella calls a hat-tastrophe.  Heh.  It’s a winter hat that I automatically see as the Jayne Cobb “Cunning, innit?” hat even though Brandon’s is not orange.

Tecna suggests sending an “emogix” which I think must be a Winx emogi library or app or something they have in Italy.  Aisha says talking in person is the only way to go.  Brandon sends a video of him bringing flowers and… falling into a mud puddle?  Stella says even though Brandon isn’t here she knows he’s thinking about her.  Yup, ‘cause he’s texting.

Flora worries that Helia doesn’t know she’s thinking of him and sets out to let him know.

Meanwhile at red Fountain, a school that made more sense back when it was located on the ground, Helia is brooding about how to show Flora his feelings. When in a hedge nearby a magic sparkling rose blooms.  Helia recognizes it as a message from Flora.  Ok, that’s kinda sweet.

Back at Alfea Flora is wearing a cute green and pink dress that reminds me of her season one clothes.  She gets a heart text from Helia and is happy.

Twinkle floats in carrying a magic wand and looking for help setting up party lights. Flora can’t help, she’s going to meet Helia.  But that’s ok; Twinkle, Knut and Kiko can certainly handle the giant pile of fireworks for the party!

I’ll spare you what happens, since you already know.

Twinkle: “Thaaaaaat was starsome!  Can we do it again?”

I… I can’t dislike her.  She should be so annoying, but she isn’t.

Also: a)that was a very plain magic wand, I think the first non-Mythix wand in the series other than Obscurum’s if you can call that a wand.  And b)there was a party literally last night and now you’re having another one?

Flora and Helia rust to meet, and bang into each other.  Flora says “It doesn’t matter if we don’t agree on everything.  I still believe in… us.”

Then we move to a mysterious icy world!  Make that an icy STAR, since here come the staryums!  They seem more interested in playing than sucking up starlight and Obscurum yells and them, calling them ‘useless furballs” to get them into action.  Staryums slurp the core while Obscurum sets a trap for the Winx!

The inhabitants of this star are green lumens with adorable lil bottom-fangs and bone necklaces.  Let’s call them cave-lumens.  They notice things have gone dark, and go to bed.

Obscurum pops in and uses his staff thingy to cast a spell convincing the sleeping cave-lumens that the “rainbow fairies” are baddies.  Apparently there’s a legend that there’s some treasure here on Syderia and the cave-lumens will now believe the Winx are here to steal it.

Back at Alfea Knut, Kiko and Twinkle are helping the Winx set up for a concert when Twinkle’s star detection system alerts them to trouble on Syderia! The winx seem delighted and Twinkle magics them into their space clothes.  And up we go!

Then Twinkle decides to bring Knut and Kiko along and magics them some space clothes too!  They both get skirts, and Knut is in pink while Kiko’s in green.

Headcanon: There are no male lumens, so Twinkle doesn’t get the notion of gender differences.  To her people are people, and people wear skirts!

The Winx fly through space, leaving their rainbow trail, and I guess that’s a thing in their world since Stella says, ‘I hope our rainbow gives the Syderians hope.”  so people on planets can see that the Winx are coming to rescue them?  That’s… I kinda love that idea.

The hypnotized cave-lumens, of course, see them as dangerous!

The winx switch to Cosmix to check out the star core, which Obscurum seems to have left with a little bit of light in it to create the trap.

Cave-lumens attack! The Winx fly away!

Twinkle and her unwilling passengers arrive on Syderia, but a ways from the core. They’ll have to walk.

With the Winx running away, Obscuum and his staryums return to finish off the core. Obscurum hopes the lumens will get rid of the Winx, which seems optimistic of him.  But this plan cannot fail!  Obscurum will definitely get to be king of Lumenia now!

He keeps harping on being king of Lumenia, I wonder if that’s foreshadowing...

Adorable byplay with a staryummy leaving a leftover bit of light.

The core is out, staryums flee, and Obscurum breaks the core and puts up a barrier around the lumen city!  Twinkle, Knut and Kiko arrive too late!

The Winx barricade themselves in a cave to get a little breathing room to figure out why the cave-lumens won’t stop chasing them.  Tecna uses “Cosmix analysis” to figure out that the lumens are “really sure we’re enemies, and we’re here to steal the treasure.”  So it’s a mind reading technological spell?  Cool.  Musa says they don’t even know about the treasure and Tecna guesses, ‘someone must have told them lots of lies about us.”  Stella can guess it’s Obscurum.

Weird moment where Bloom interrupts and everyone is startled.  Maybe that was something different in the Italian?  Or maybe they were just supposed to be concentrating so hard they were startled.

The girls try to fly away but bang into the barrier.  Tec realizes the star is broken and that made this barrier.  Guess it wasn’t Obscurum.

Musa: We’re trapped in a world where the residents want to vaporize us!

And here they come!

The Winx fly down and hide in a cave, and there Twinkle finds them.  She says the weird rhyme the cave-lumens keep repeating is Syderia’s nursery rhyme. So it’s not something Obscurum made up, it’s an actual rhyme about rainbow fairies stealing the treasure.

Knut and Kiko arrive, and here’s the lumens again!  But Knut knows how to handle this, because these are OGRE-lumens!  And the secret is slapstick comedy!  So Knut falls on Kiko a few times, and the ogre-lumens laugh.  The Winx look confused, which makes me want to laugh.

Tec: ‘Do you find this… funny?”

Flora: “Actually no.  But it’s working.”

Bloom has the bright idea to find the treasure and give it to the lumens to win their trust.  Luckily it’s only a few caves away!  The treasure is a mountain of glowing crystal, and Bloom has the idea to juice it up with Cosmix power and basically make it the new star core.  Cool

So they do, and then the lumens come in with Knut and Kiko tied to a stick since they ran out of ways to be entertaining.  Bloom tells the lumens that the winx never wanted to steal their treasure, and the lumens believe it. Yay, we’re friends now!

Meanwhile Obscurum is boasting how he used a silly legend about treasure to turn the lumens against the Winx, and broke the star core.  But Valtor brings up his magic-TV and shows that Syderia is still lit and the Winx are fine.  Obscurum despairs.

Why does Valtor care if the stars go out?  Seems like he should want them to stay lit so he can come back later for more starlight.

Then our villains hear Bloom ask if she can have a shard of the glowing crystal.  The head ogre-lumen is happy to oblige, and Bloom says that Orion can use the crystal to make new star cores!  This is a disaster for Team Baddies!  Obscurum is ready to leap into action, but Valtor says he’ll take care of the Winx this time, and Obscurum can go conquer Lumenia to his heart’s content.

Valtor: “Bloom’s stood in my way too many times now.  I know now, to beat the Winx once and for all, I must start with her.”

Well, that’s one way.

I think this is also the first time all season that Valtor has singled Bloom out in any way, even said her name.  that’s the other reason I think this is a different Valtor.  Season 3’s Valtor had a mystical connection to Bloom that they could both feel, because they both were connected to the Dragonfire.  The Italian website even said Valtor was in love with Bloom!  I don’t know that “love” is the right word for someone doing all the evil stuff Valtor was doing, but “creepy magic-fueled obsession,” yeah.  They had a thing.  This season, they do not have a thing.  It’s Valtor 2.0, people!

[thegodgaze]

Fade to Ash

Obviously, if I had done something like that, I'd be...

I've got nothing but memories right now. There was a time when I was absorbed by the deep sorrow and concern that I had blood on my hands for the choices I would soon have to make. Choices made to abandon someone I clearly wasn't sure would be up to waking up the next morning or some morning further down the line. That potent...ground shifting fear.

"You don't sound so stressed anymore..."

Only because it's no longer this eroding anxiety, but just a pit of well-groomed sorrow. Can't even ask what's happening in the middle of a pandemic; how my questions and concerns fill up every incinerator I've got. It's not that I want to treat it like this... it's just.

- [Ozarks Spoilers] -

Got through watching the recent season of the Ozarks, and the entire story of Ben got me real weak. It made me feel like I watching Of Mice and Men for a bit, but the sympathy grew ever more for a man who was just trying to make sense of a brutal reality. No...you don't actually want to exist on the cusp of the American Dream, you don't want to actually win when the cost is having to give up your humanity. Maturity suggests that absorbing these changes and consolidating "humanity" into bite sized snacks you throw at the dog you keep around is the only way to exist proper - when actually feeling, feeling anything at all, that much is a sin punishable by death. I won't push aside the note of his mental illness, but I don’t think it actually takes away from his argument. We got to see the decline of a human being, who...just didn’t belong there. For all the most emotive cogs in the grand machine they built - his intensity brought home the fact a few hard points. Whether you found hatred for his childish demeanor, or...honestly the guy was fucking charming. Smooth as fuck, weird as fuck, but didn’t give a damn about it and stood with principle. He belonged in the house of Snell. Say what you will of that woman, this season really made her into something...different. Her house was the den of the rejected. Not the iniquitous hovel of they that damn, but a home in the middle of burning world. The Langmore clan’s exodus here was something that didn’t stick out to me until the end, but the transition has been a fascinating one. You can’t help but trust the woman in this circumstance because for all of her wild card plays you begin to realize just how much she values principle. Principle is all the Langmore’s got except...for poor Ruth. Who, given the circumstances, Ruth is portrayed as “mature”, in her dealings with Byrde, and literally everyone else in this fucking world. At first you admire her tenacity, ingenuity...and then loyalty. But that loyalty nearly got her killed. It’s now that it becomes apparent that the Byrdes might not be the people you’re rooting for, no matter how much like Jonah’s character. 

No, it’s...in this den of the principled few that I can’t help but admire. Ben...Ben got there too late. The first time he sets foot in there is his last, and he’s unsure of how to fix anything and the music played along these scenes gutted me. It was...it knew what you knew. From the start, his introduction, I was left wondering who would become the next fodder in the scene of character development - nearly as a joke, I teased the tropes but I didn’t immediately expect this one, though, to an extent, I always knew. Initially my thought is that it would’ve been about him gallantly taking out some douchebag’s life down with his own, considering his stark introduction at the school - even from then its clear just how principled he is. But what I got was...painful. I don’t always sit around to watch painful things, because usually they are presented as levels of cringe I don’t see worth in waiting around for, but this level of pain was something I couldn’t tear my eyes away from. Maybe it’s a personal thing, I can hardly know but for my skirting encounters with mental illness, I’m left adrift when it comes to Ben. 

Ben died like a child. The music let you feel that...slowly growing into a melody that wouldn’t leave. Everytime you heard it, you knew what was going on, what was growing. It was methodic pacing; Ben didn’t belong anywhere. After the fact...you almost want to hear it again, but it never fully comes back, only in pieces, only in fading as if it was memory. It got too real, I mean...frankly I’ve never known what it’s been like to lose a loved one; but for all the simulations these dramas pose, this one...was really effective. I’ve never been one to latch onto character so quickly in fiction - sure this man or woman might be exceptionally badass, but as any writer dreams, the real chalice is getting a handful of the audience’s heart strings. Sure, several tropes can tug and pull and generic excuses for conflict may work as a standard bus, but then you’ve got to get specific. Ben’s illness, specifically, is not entirely a component of his character. I feel like it’s nearly asking me to believe that’s why he had to go, but cosnidering how it’s portrayal, and very possible mismatches with reality, I feel this misdiagnosis and key character point are not at all important. His interactions with Ruth define this, and for all his cool-headed light at the start of the season and throughout his decline, he doesn’t flip out against her. The show keeps repeating that he’s dangerous, to himself, and what is seen, others as well, but not to Ruth, not directly anyway. Maybe this isn’t grounds for determining his misdiagnosis, but it is grounds for consider the way his mental capacity is treated going forward. The pills stop him from feeling. As the audience we’re confused as to what should happen. His ability to experience life as most himself endangers everything, and honestly seems like poor judgment; obviously if you’re using something to get by and stay functional, by no means is it ideal to undo for a bit of feeling - but... He’s given pills...not therapy. 

I get it, there is a lot of his story that’s off screen, but the solution to Ben is not the pills. Ben just doesn’t belong. Granted, the pills would help Ben keep himself in check, but there is no indication that he wasn’t using those pills at the school? I guess that is the implication, but going into the Byrde house, it’s clear that he’s been taking them rather regularly. No...Ben’s solution was the Snell’s abode. It was Ruth - and the show makes you feel so close to that closure, then rips it away...slowly...and that’s why it hurts. You can’t just kill off one of the kids...no, they’re not kids anymore. But this guy? Yikes. 

As if any of this is decent analysis of anything but frankly...it just...brings back memories. Many of them I don’t really want to think about. Ben didn’t belong in not just a world like the one the show presents, but...anywhere, here in the states. For the regard of central themes, that old hearty American principle is what makes you admire him and his new clan but...they don’t belong either. The mainstay of America prosperity is profit at any cost, and the Byrdes are pristine examples of that. Everyone is “protecting their family” but...that’s a lie. Too many ways out were presented, such that the entire season, I was waiting for the big reveal of him just bowing out to the feds but, they won, instead.

---

I looked at her and shuddered. Every day I peek over some platform to see...something, anything, I’m reassured that what she said about herself getting by just fine was more than true. While I am at ease, I sit down still very perturbed. Either she was lying to me for the longest time for the effect of that principle, something had changed while I was around, or it all was an unconscious attempt at keeping me still; whatever it might be, I hardly feel well about signing it off as such. It’s easier to just absorb the blame because that means I wasn’t suckered into something twice as toxic; it means that I was trying so fucking hard for a decent reason. It means that I failed, but I was not fooled. I’d much rather take that than assign villainy or that much confusion to someone I still admire, but can’t. It’s easy at a first glance to say that this “Ben” reminds me of her, but frankly...it feels more like a mirror. Being lied to or omitted at all angles for the perception of just not having it together enough to be trusted as an “Adult”. You can’t fix this Benjamin, go back to sleep; the music will fade soon enough, you’ll be fine.

[raendown]

Commission for @kaiyaru! Happy April Fool’s!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2356 Rated: M Summary:  After learning about this "Day of Fools" Madara sets out to prank Tobirama in his own unique way. His prank turns out a little too honest, Tobirama's response is far from expected, and at the end of it all he's not sure if he failed or succeeded but he does know he doesn't mind the results.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Mission Status: Failed Successfully 

As loathe as he was to ever say it aloud, deep in the secret places of his mind where he kept his most private thoughts Madara had to admit that maybe Hashirama was on to something with this idea of sharing culture between the clans. He had thought the entire idea stupid at first and made absolutely no secret about his opinions. What benefit was there in knowing all the useless excuses for celebrating each of the allied clans had come up with? Yet now that they’d had their first meeting on the subject he found himself walking away from it almost giddy with a sort of excitement he couldn’t define.

Or wouldn’t. Defining the bubbly feeling in his chest would mean admitting certain things to himself that, until now, he had managed to successfully bury so deep he had almost convinced himself they weren’t even there. Fooling everyone else had been child’s play in comparison.

Tobirama didn’t look all that surprised to have Madara barge in to his office like he owned it. Cool and collected as always, the man didn’t even bother turning away from the scroll he was writing on. Upon being interrupted he merely hummed and pushed a stack of paper forward without looking and then went back to writing as though Madara wasn’t important enough to warrant a response.

“Your notes from the meeting and the budget analysis that I’m sure you’re here for. Now leave.”

“I think we should fuck.”

The brush slipped from Tobirama’s grasp, splashing ink in a half circle and ruining whatever he’d been working on. Rather than look angry he jerked his head up and stared at Madara with wide eyes. Armed with today’s date and his new knowledge of this supposed Day of Fools, Madara returned the stare with his favorite cocky expression, ready to back out as soon as he had satisfied himself with the best reactions possible.

“Would you…repeat that for me?” Tobirama asked slowly.

“I said that I think we should fuck.” Seeing his chance, Madara shut the office door behind himself and prowled across the room, confident in a way he wouldn’t be if there were other witnesses. “Come now, you must have seen the way I watch you. I see the way you watch me too. I’m tired of waiting to see which one of us will work themselves up to confess first.”

“Confess…?”

Stepping around the desk and leaning down in to the other man’s personal space, Madara smiled wickedly. “I think we both know that we want so much more than fucking but it’s a good place to start, wouldn’t you say?”

“You want–? Oh. Thank kami.”

“Wait, thank who now?”

“I mean, yes. You’re right. I, ah, I’m glad you said something first.” Tobirama rubbed at the back of his neck with embarrassment while Madara straightened to give him a bewildered look.

“What?”

This wasn’t going how he’d thought it would. He had expected dismissal, anger, disgust even. All of those he could deal with by laughing it off as the prank he’d intended it to be. Instead he had in front of him a sheepish Tobirama who kept trying and almost failing to meet his eyes with a relieved smile growing at the corners of his mouth. He even had the audacity to look happy! This wasn’t the plan!

“I said that I’m glad you spoke up first. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure you shared my, er, regard.”

“Wait, you like me!?”

Tobirama lifted one eyebrow. “You just said that you’d already noticed how I feel. Wasn’t that the whole reason you came in here?”

Stunned, Madara swayed on the spot and jerked both arms in various directions as he tried to reign in his shock at this turn of events. He hadn’t planned for this part so what the hell was he supposed to say?

“It was just! Well! It’s the Day of Fools!” he blurted.

“Oh. So you don’t actually–? I see. Well, you can leave now.” If he had been blushing before it was nothing compared to now. Tobirama’s entire face was rapidly turning a deep cherry red, a fetching look for him, mortification stamped across his features. Realizing the damage he’d done, Madara backpedaled as hard as he could.

“Wait! No! I didn’t mean it was fake!”

Tobirama glared. “You just said it was all a prank!”

“It was meant to be! I didn’t know you felt the same!” To be honest he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself that he felt that way, let alone detect signs of reciprocation. A day of pranks and simple trickery had seemed like the perfect opportunity to confess without any lasting consequences. Both of them were in the deep end and swimming through uncharted territory the second Tobirama failed to get angry.

Unfortunately his protests only seemed to further confuse the man and he was definitely getting angry now.

“You’ve got five seconds to remove yourself from my office or I will begin removing your body parts. We never speak of this again, Uchiha. I don’t appreciate this…this…whatever idiocy was going through your head when you came up with this stupid, cruel prank!” His hands balled in to fists atop his desk, one of them smearing in the still-wet ink from the scroll he’d been working on. Madara swallowed thickly and desperately backpedaled harder.

“Just listen! It wasn’t a prank!”

“I heard you say it was! Get out!”

“Use your ears right!” he shouted, frustrated that he wasn’t getting his point across.

With no other options left he took his own life in to his hands and lunged down to surprise Tobirama with a kiss, messy and a little off-center but hopefully enough to show what he was actually trying to say. Tobirama froze at his touch and Madara took that as permission to keep going. If it wasn’t permission then he was probably digging his own grave but damn was it worth it just to have this one quick taste.

A startled groan slipped out when he felt Tobirama tentatively kissing back. Hoping he wasn’t going to die for his impertinence – whether by vengeful hands or those of an overprotective older sibling – Madara dared to slide a little closer and cup the back of Tobirama’s neck to pull him in for a better angle. No death occurred. Instead he found fingers twisting in his wide collar as though to hold him in place and, really, he had very little problems with that, not when it was just what he wanted.

Or he thought that was what he wanted until he felt teeth sinking in to his bottom lip and a spike of heat shot right through him, turning his thoughts in a direction he hadn’t even dared to contemplate outside of a few suppressed wet dreams. Well, if that was how Tobirama wanted to play then he certainly wasn’t against it.

When he pulled away again to stand up Tobirama grunted at him like an irritated animal and Madara smiled even as he reinforced one leg with chakra to kick the man’s chair back from the desk. As soon as he had space to do so he was sliding that same leg over the very inviting lap before him and perching there with the same smug grin he’d been wearing earlier. He could feel the heartbeat under his hands quicken as he drew his palms down his new partner’s very tempting chest.

“Am I being clear now?” he asked. Tobirama swallowed twice before nodding without saying anything and Madara chuckled. “Good.”

Since he was conveniently closer now anyway, Madara leaned forward to capture those lips again and groaned appreciatively when he felt fingers burying themselves to tug on his hair. His own fingers busied themselves pulling at both of their clothing until he could shove one hand down his own pants and slide the other inside Tobirama’s, following the trail of hair he was only too happy to find, eager for the treasure buried at the end. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the prize he was looking for Tobirama seemed to exhale all the air in his lungs at once. Barely a few kisses and both of them were already hard as steel.

Eyes slipping closed and head falling back, Tobirama did nothing to stop him as Madara exposed both of them and shuffled forward until he could press their lengths together. His own eyes fluttered as he wrapped a hand around both of their cocks but he forced them to stay open so he could watch the first stroke, feel the body shuddering underneath him, bear witness to the blissful expression on his partner’s face.

Okay, he thought in the privacy of his mind, maybe there was a chance he had been wanting this for some time now. Maybe. The important thing was that he had his greatest desire literally in hand and there was absolutely no need for them to ever talk about any of this. Except for maybe to talk about the possibility of doing this again because they were absolutely going to do this again. Soon. Hopefully later that night after dinner, although he could be generous and put it off until tomorrow if needed.

Tobirama moaned and Madara’s thoughts derailed completely, hand speeding up and tongue darting out to brush against the one currently tracing his lower lip. No matter what lies he had fooled them both with before, he couldn’t deny that Tobirama was a pleasant weight in his hand now, a delectable friction against his cock every time one of them jerked their hips forward helplessly.

Passing his thumb over both their tips on the next upward stroke, Madara was just about to say something when his ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. Tobirama must have heard them too because he disengaged their kiss to snap his head to one side, eyes wide, pulse suddenly hammering in his throat. For a second they were both frozen until Madara resumed stroking them just to see Tobirama’s expression melt back in to pleasure. Something about the idea that someone could walk through that unlocked door at any moment sent fire to his blood and made this whole thing ten times hotter. He quickened the speed of his strokes and tightened his grip as the footsteps faded again, his other hand sliding down to draw circles around his partner’s nipples, unsure if he was chasing his own end or Tobirama’s.

Not that it mattered since they practically came together a few moments later. It was hard to tell through the haze who came first but Madara could not have cared less. All that mattered was the arch of Tobirama’s spine and the sheer abandon on his face, the hot pleasure rushing through him as they both spilled over his fist.

In the minutes of silence afterwards neither of them spoke. Tobirama pulled him down until their foreheads rested against each other and that was enough, quietly grinning at one another as they both slowly got their breath back. Eventually it was the younger man who broke the moment.

“So…you want so much more than fucking, hm?” His own words sent Madara reeling backwards.

“Wha–!? Shut up! So do you!” He jerked his hand up to point accusingly at the man underneath him but then his entire body went rigid when he realized he’d chosen the wrong hand. Droplets of cum sprayed off his fingers at the sudden motion only to land directly on the tip of Tobirama’s nose.

His eyes slowly rolling towards each other, Tobirama stared impassively at the offending liquid now dribbling down his skin. “Madara. If you would kindly hand me a tissue?”

“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

“The tissue, Madara, before I wipe it on your shirt.”

“Understood.” With a soft noise of disgust Madara twisted his upper body and cast about until he spotted a box of tissues on the far corner of the desk. Reaching for it stretched his muscles awkwardly but he got a kiss for his troubles once Tobirama had cleaned off the offending spots.

After wiping themselves clean elsewhere and stuffing themselves back in to their clothing the two of them sat contemplating each other for a while, neither willing to speak first and neither really wanting to move either in case it broke the moment. Madara was fairly comfortable in the seat he’d claimed for himself. He could only hope that Tobirama was as happy to have him there as he was to squirm atop his new perch, shifting around until he found the perfect angle to box Tobirama’s hips with his knees and drape both arms over those deliciously broad shoulders.

Eventually, however, one of them had to speak. As soon as Tobirama opened his mouth Madara was left to regret that he hadn’t sucked it up and done it himself.

“So very kind of you to man up and confess first,” he said. “Embarrassing yourself to save me the trouble, how romantic.”

“IT WAS GOING TO BE A JOKE!”

Apparently they were already passed the stage of being cautious about their awkward start because Tobirama’s only reaction was to peel his lips back in a feral grin. Which, of course, sent Madara in a fit of offended screeching that he would later insist was not at all meant to cover up his own humiliation.

Starting their relationship off with a hand job and a screaming match probably wouldn’t have worked if they were any other couple. For them it was just another Tuesday. Madara shook his finger in Tobirama’s face, told him exactly how much of an asshole he was, and knew that the two of them were going to be just fine. He also knew that he was going to take proper advantage of the Day of Fools next year but he had ages to make plans for that – and no intentions of letting them backfire next time, no matter that this prank had screwed up so perfectly in his favor.

[drcornwater]

Something that makes me genuinely confused is the rehabilitation of Avatar (the James Cameron movie) into this cinematic masterpiece. There's people who will get into real arguments if you disagree with them about it.

Did I miss something or am I unaware of a cultural shift or something because all I remember after all the hype was us collectively thinking the movie was cool as fuck at first then it just being okay after. It was everywhere and it was huge and now 3D TVs were the future because Avatar was going to be on there and that's the biggest movie of all time!!! By the time a year or so had rolled around, no one cared and it had become one of those songs you hear on the radio a million times so you fucking hate it. People had picked it apart so thoroughly that the sheen of the hype wasn't enough to keep the flaws from being apparent and we realized it was just Pocahontas But Blue People. The world moved on and Marvel movies began their reign at the box office.

Now all these really serious movie guys will fight to the death about how good it is. They see it as some landmark film of the 21st century and for action movies. I've seen some truly wild analysis about Avatar that is really just galaxy brain garbage, but there's a few I could take really seriously. But I really think it's part of a larger phenomenon.

There's this need in our culture to make things we all agreed sucked into these misunderstood masterpieces. Take Metal Gear Rising Revengence. When that came out, it was critically mixed. Fans felt pretty mixed too, but there was a sense of disappointment. There were a lot of complaints of difficulty spikes, wonky camera angles, the game being super short (only 6 hours-ish), and not really knowing who it was for. But now? If you speak ill of MGRR, several greasy 19 to 29 year old men will emerge from the darkness with katanas they bought at a booth at an anime convention to murder you for heresy.

Or what about the Star Wars prequels? Those got a huge resurgence in support over the last few years. We all HATED them. And yet, there are some real life adults that will engage you to the point of arguing that the prequels are better movies than the OGs living on this very planet right now. How we got here is beyond me.

Is it because these pieces of media had immense hype behind them? Metal Gear had a great deal of anticipation behind it. Avatar was a massive cultural moment. The Prequels had people going to watch just the fucking Phantom Menace trailers before other movies because they were so hyped.

Maybe it's because people can't be wrong? They can't be wrong and the hype had to be true. The hype couldn't be wrong. It's the best. It's a classic. It wouldn't be a big deal if the hype wasn't there right?

I feel like the need to be contrarian and how that's so cool in a cynical society like ours also contributes to this. Avatar sucks? Oh yeah? Well I love it. The Prequels sucked? They're actually the best ones. It's like the opposite of hating on popular things to seem cool. It's this weird thing that the internet encourages out of people in the worst way because it rewards the cynical hive mind behavior. You post your stupid contrarian take, then you get a million likes and interactions. Now your brain has lit up like a Christmas tree and you feel Great. Repeat process.

This almost always happens on Twitter. The more I use that site, the more I realize the vast majority of Twitter just needs one large supply of antidepressants.

TL;DR

Avatar is a blast but isn't that deep

Metal Gear Rising sucks ass

Prequels suck ass

Stop being cynical and a contrarian asshole

[charmergirl2468]

Thanks to a mix of watching Weeblynews talking about Danganronpa fan games and the fact I have two different versions of rpg maker, I’ve been thinking about the possibility of making my own DR fan game. I’m not saying it’s a definite thing, considering my most passionate project using rpg maker got shelved and has since been barely touched, but it’s definitely got my mind going into what I could do if I actually had the resources to do it. So maybe I could list out the ideas and see if anyone else, or even myself in the future once I get a computer, would want to use them for their own fan game.

1. Ultimate Talents

These are just some cool ideas for ultimate talents for characters I might build on if I ever a) commission someone to draw characters or b) evolve my drawing style past ppg. That’s probably never going to happen but here are some cool talents!

The Ultimate Forensic Scientist

For the love of Ra, give Forensics some Ra damn credit! Detectives are cool and all but they aren’t the ones doing autopsies, dna tests, or ballistic analysis! While I can see where several walls appear having someone who’s able to figure everything out, I also see it as an opportunity to get really creative with murders. Like someone was able to fuck with the time of death by sticking a body in a freezer, or melting off fingerprints. The possibilities are endless! Also, forensic scientists are only the one doing tests and running analysis on evidence. And considering how much meticulous care goes into preserving evidence, I can see an ultimate forensic scientist being very ocd when it comes to evidence and who has what. Or not being able to fully put the evidence together into a case until the class trial. Go hog wild with this, DR fandom!

The Ultimate Cryptozoologist

For those who don’t know, cryptozoology is a science that deals with the likes of big foot, the lochness monster, and other local legends. Cryptozoologist essentially try to prove the existence of these creatures with evidence. That’s how we know about Komodo dragons! They were just cryptids before they were found to be real! I can see the ultimate Cryptozoologist being the one to discover Komodo Dragons But gave the credit away like Miu did with her contact invention. Not out of seeing it useless like Miu did, but for some other reason. Like saying the real dude who found them did most of the work and should have the credit, or getting bored with Komodo Dragons once they were proven real and moving on to find another cryptid. I can imagine an ultimate Cryptozoologist character being a lot like Kaito in that they’d be very chill mostly, easily excitable, and hyper focusing on discovering cryptids. Yeah, 10$ says if anyone made that character, they’d be the fan favorite XD

The Ultimate Camper

This might sound like a rip off of Rantaro’s talent, but hear me out. While our favorite Avocado traverses the world by boat and gets into hyjinks, our theoretical ultimate camper would most likely just park themselves down wherever they can. They’re kinda like a backpacker but instead of perfectly safe hotels, they make a camp site wherever they Damn well please. They’d probably be very high energy and sweet, and have a lot of survival knowledge at hand, but fucking clueless when it comes to socializing with other humans. There’s also the possibility of suspicion being thrown they’re way once someone goes stabby stabby since they’d probably know enough about hunting to kill someone. Wether or not they have the spine to do it is up to what the writer demands.

The Ultimate Translator

Translating things takes a serious amount of skill to even attempt! Imagine someone being able to do any language they damn well desire at the drop of a hate! This idea probably works best in a setting where more than one language is spoken, but I can see it working out with the right writer. An Ultimate Translator would probably be pretty pleasant to be around, kinda like Kirumi but less mom friend vibes. There’s also the angle of them being able to speak and understand most languages, but doesn’t quite getting basic interaction. Like high fives being a mystery to them and modern slang confuses the hell outta them.

Those are the four best ideas I have for talents, so let’s move on to the next part.

2. Setting Ideas

This section is probably going to be messier, since it’s not as easily organizable, but this whole post is just for the sake of tossing out ideas.

•More international students

I love the Japanese angle as much as the next otaku, but there are so many more talents that aren’t part of Japan at all. For starters, American Football. There is an easy way to stereotype American men with an ultimate football player and fuck his shit up with a Killing Game. Hell, Danganronpa: Kill/Cure has students from China, Africa, and a fucking Native American! It ain’t hard, just do the bare minimum of research!

•LGBT representation

I know Kodaka tried to hint at lgbt rep with Chihiro, Juzo, Kokichi, and Tenko but only one of them explicitly said they were gay. And he was a raging douche canoe for over half of DR3! So maybe we can have more explicit lgbt characters. Gay characters, lesbians, bisexuals, demisexuals, trans characters, the possibilities are endless! Again, all it takes is bare minimum research. Maybe ask a few lgbt people for a solid character just to be safe.

•Move outside Japanese High School

I know that most fan games try to stay in Japan for the most part since the canon series takes place there. But there’s a whole, huge world to make murder schools in! Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a school! A killing game can take place in an abandoned army base in South America. Or a laboratory in Russia. DRv3 took place in a prison school, so there’s a step in the right direction!

3. Misc.

These are just ideas that popped into my head as I was thinking about my version of a Killing Game. Can’t fit them anywhere else so these get they’re own section.

Monokami: A wolf version of Monokuma because I like wolves. Probably would be more playful and food driven.

An international school of ultimates so there’d be a more diverse cast

Having a theme of justice vs. apathy. Seeing as society has become so apathetic that we let crimes like theft, assault, and mugging happen without bating an eye. While someone with too much justice might become Batman

[elfnerdherder]

Where the Wicked Walk: Ch. 31

And in the end, all that remains is but a wasteland of hopes and dreams, torn asunder by one man's wish to conquer and destroy.

[Support My Writing] [Read on Ao3]

A special, warm thanks to my patrons: @frostyleegraham @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @jenacar @sylarana @frostylicker Superlurk, Duhaunt6, Laura G., Mendacious Bean, and Cecily! <3

Chapter 31:

           Everything was chaos.

           Jacob huddled at the back of the group out on the lawn that hadn’t yet caught fire, and he desperately tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. One minute, he’d been reading in the library where Abigail had allowed him to kiss her, and the next there was the piercing siren of the perimeter alarm that told him to do something he wasn’t entirely sure he was prepared to do.

           Of course, the moment the fire had started Jacob ran for the first exit that he could find. Right into the waiting arms of the FBI.

           Fire licked along the pillars of the place he felt had become something of a home, the place where no matter the words that came from his mouth, it was accepted. The heat, even at their safe distance, scalded his skin and kept the chill of winter away. They’d never find the initials he’d carved in the library, the ones with his name and Abigail’s. He’d promised to kill her father for her. Turns out Will Graham did it instead, and now she was gone.

           At least she got to miss out on this. Jacob would have almost bet that this was far more terrifying than even the first time he’s sat across from Hannibal Lecter.

           You don’t belong here, Hannibal had said, piercing him with eyes that saw too much. But you could. I do believe, Jacob, that you could.

Just beside him, Candace from Utah trembled. They were grabbing the members of the Red Death one-by-one, frisking them a little more thoroughly before taking them to respective vans for detainment. Each of them had been checked for a capped tooth, and it seemed that the rumors were true: the other house had fallen, and all but one of those followers were dead.

           “Did you take the pill?” he asked Candace, trying to keep his lips from moving. The handcuffs dug into his wrists and bent his elbow at a funny angle.

           “Of course,” she replied passionately. In passing, she’d once mentioned that her only brush with death had been with a cheating ex-boyfriend.

           After running him over, she kept on driving out of Utah and sooner or later found her way to Hannibal Lecter. The details, she said, were a bit murky.

           “Then that’s it,” he breathed.

           I don’t know about that,” she murmured.

           “What?”

           “No talking,” an agent barked, and the huddle stiffened together in some sort of sloppy solidarity. “You’ve all been read your rights. As of right now, speaking with one another is strictly prohibited. If you have something to say, you may speak with a federal officer at this time.”

           “I heard screaming before the siren,” Candace revealed after the agent had moved on to the next person to frisk. She was better at keeping her lips from moving.

           “Screaming?”

           Candace gave a slow nod that jerked erratically in the firelight. “Sounded like it was from Dr. Lecter’s office.”

           Jacob wasn’t sure if there was a correlation, that screaming and now this, but as he looked upon the faces of these people whose house he was trying to call a home, he thought of the vial tucked away on his person and how none of them seemed to appear as afraid as he felt, how they all seemed so sure and blissfully calm as their safe space burned to the ground.

           You don’t belong here. But you could.

           “Where’s Dr. Lecter?” he wondered.

           Candace opened her mouth, but before she could speak they were interrupted by Agent Jack Crawford letting out a wild shout just a few cars away from them. Oddly, he wasn’t turned to the house, but instead facing the forest and its darkness.

           The same forest that Will Graham was currently walking out of, accompanied by two people that Jacob had never seen in his entire life.

           “What in the—”

           That was when the screaming started.

           Jacob had been there when Beverly murdered Saul. It’d stayed with him long after that night. It stayed just behind his eyelids, and every time he blinked he was forced to see the surprise on Saul’s face, quickly followed by the horror. Soulmate severance, and he wasn’t ashamed to say that he stayed back when the rest of the crowd rushed forward, holding and hugging one another while Beverly sobbed for breath. He’d always been a little intimidated by Beverly, seeing as how she was clearly one of Hannibal’s most trusted. Whenever Saul wasn’t around, her face was impossible to read, hardened and stoic. Hearing her screams was probably one of the most terrifying things, that someone so reserved could hurt so much.

           Seeing Will Graham of all people collapse into convulsions hurt much the same way. In the end, it seemed that no matter how strong or capable, how driven or powerful, everyone took a knee to their soulmate. Everyone.

           You don’t belong here. But you could.

           “No, no!” Jack Crawford ran for Will, and the huddled mass of followers trembled with their furious whispers to one another.

           “That’s…no, no,” Candace moaned, and she wasn’t alone in her fears. Will Graham was screaming. Will Graham was in pain.

           Something was wrong with Hannibal Lecter.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” someone chanted.

           The others looked to the man that spoke. He was once a mildly successful author, and he often held small seminars in one of the parlors. His smile was wan as he stared at his companions, and he nodded encouragingly.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” he repeated, and the others, as one, nodded.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” someone else repeated, and there was a hushed murmur of people clearing their throats to join in. Something was wrong with Hannibal. The Red Death had reached them.

           Prince Prospero had fallen.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” Candace chanted, and she looked at Jacob with a smile, eyes shining bright from tears.

           The firelight caressed Jack Crawford as he reached Will Graham. He held his shotgun aloft to one of the men, and they reached for the sky, AR-15 arcing overhead. The other calmly put his gun down onto the earth and followed suit with his partner, mouth moving rapidly. Who was he? How had he gotten there? From the distance, it was hard to tell.

           Will Graham continued to thrash upon the ground, screaming.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” the group chanted together, their voices growing.

           More agents followed behind Jack, two of which carried a stretcher between them. Jacob tracked their quick and efficient movements, their disregard for the others that fought the fire and continued to corral any follower that hadn’t made it from the house yet. Jacob swallowed raggedly, his breath coming short. Not many followers came from the house. The ones still inside were likely already dead.

           You don’t belong. But you could.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all,” the group chanted. FBI agents turned guns on them, their voices indistinct over the screaming, over the sound of shattering glass as one of the windows gave out to the heat.

           “GET HIM OUT OF HERE NOW!” Jack bellowed, and the fire roared in return. Jacob thought of Abigail’s kiss in the library, how she’d trembled. Was she afraid of her father?

           Was she afraid of Jacob?

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.”

           The voices rose, then broke. One-by-one, his friends and family began to convulse, foam frothing from their mouths as they dropped to the ground and flopped like limp fish in the firelight.

           “And darkness and decay, and the Red Death held illimitable—”

           “Medic! We need a medic here, stat, we��”

           Jacob stumbled back from them, his chest heaving. Someone grabbed him by the elbow, and he turned wild eyes to see Candace vomiting before falling to the ground, hands at her throat. Her eyes were hidden from him, but he knew what they’d have conveyed. Confusion at his lack of action. Confusion at his lack of words.

           He wasn’t one of them. They’d been betrayed.

           You don’t belong. But you could.

           It was chaos, agents with medic bags and quick movements jostling him about as the other followers died, ugly and horrific with fixed faces of pain. Death was not beautiful. Death was not poetic. Jacob had been in the room the day that Will Graham had given his speech, how death was nothing more than death, ugly and distinctly intimate. His eyes then had begged understanding, horror at the face of so many that disagreed because they didn’t know.

           They didn’t know.

           He didn’t realize he was in the back of a cop car until his breathing stopped cutting jaggedly through his ears, until his head was pressed to the window in order to cool the sweat that collected at his temples. They were dead. They were dead, and it seemed that in the end Will Graham was completely right in his analysis of death and murder and all of the ugly things in between. Death was a waste.

           In that moment, choking on his own air, Jacob wasn’t sure if he could say he was glad to not have been a waste, or if he was regretful because in the end it seemed like he truly didn’t belong anywhere after all.

-

           They found Agent Zeller barely clinging to life in the basement of the wretched house that burned to ash around them. Having already seen off an unconscious Will Graham in one ambulance, Jack wasn’t stopped from climbing into the back of the second in order to hold his friend’s hand all the way from the place whose walls wept fire to a hospital where he could finally be saved. Huddled in the back, grip tightly clasping Zeller’s unresponsive hand, he tried his damned best not to cry.

-

           Agent Jack Crawford of the illustrious FBI sat down in front of Earl and let out a quiet, exhausted sigh.

           Earl didn’t make comment on it. He knew how most grown men got with things that could maybe be considered a weakness, things like sighing and all. Groaning like that in front of a suspect was the sort of thing to say that he was maybe too tired to interrogate, but he was going to do his best. Maybe, seeing some of the stuff that Earl saw, he could figure that Agent Crawford was just getting too old for things like mass-suicide and so many bodies tumbling down around them every which way.

           Most people would never really be at an age where that was a commonality in their day-to-day lives.

           He was an aggressive-looking man, in truth. His shoulders were broad, his jaw was square, and something in the way his eyes cut right through you made Earl more than glad that he was just a citizen getting in over his head rather than one of the ass-hats causing the problem. He looked old, though –maybe aged was a better word. Something had snuffed the life out of his skin, left it ashen and a little lined. More than lined. Earl squared him up just as much as he was sure that he was being squared, and that was fine by him.

           “Seein’ as how I didn’t suddenly drop dead right there on the burnin’ lawn, maybe you’re supposin’ I’m not one of those cultists?” Earl suggested when Agent Crawford didn’t speak right away.

           Agent Crawford looked up from his file and fixed Earl once more with a long, hard stare. Earl stared back, unmoved. Debbie’s scowls could have put this man’s to shame, although he wouldn’t say it. He could almost imagine her grooved glare when she realized he hadn’t been out poaching and instead had taken his evening activities to the forest with all manner of psychotic folks and screaming doctors.

           Shit, his stuff was probably already packed and sitting on the porch next to the bedroll where her brother sometimes slept when she kicked him out for being ornery.

           “Your friend already talked,” the agent said at last.

           Earl let out a loud, ugly guffaw of a laugh. “Sure as shit, he didn’t.”

           “You sound awfully sure about that.”

           “That’s ‘cuz it’s Duncan. Maybe you’d have got Jess or Henry to open their traps, seein’ as how they’re a gossip and a damn half, but I’ll bet you five hundred bucks right now he’s shut up tighter than Fort Knox and said he won’t say shit until he’s confirmed from me verbally that I’ve already done explained it all,” Earl replied, and his slow and easy grin was probably a bit too hard for the agent to handle. His lips compressed, his brows drawn down sharply in great, deep divots.

           “Why don’t you walk me through how we found you holding Will Graham on the lawn of a house used as a disguise to harbor wanted fugitives?” Agent Crawford suggested.

           Earl nodded slowly. “You found us there since Will Graham said that he needed to get to you because you being there was a trap.”

           “How did you find him?”

           “Nearly dying through his soulmate bond. He was being threatened and questioned by an Asian lady, and when she lifted her gun up I knocked her clean out. Wasn’t sure what she was plannin’ on doin’ with it, but I wasn’t gonna take no chances. Those bastards are stir-crazy.” A pause. “Were,” he added lamely.

           Agent Jack Crawford’s facial expression didn’t change, but there was something in the way his fingers tapped lightly on the file before him that said the information about an Asian woman was news to him. Call it Earl’s gut, but he shifted in his seat, unsure.

           “Y’all did go find an Asian woman tied up in the woods, didn’t you?” Earl asked, nervous. “Real quiet type, moved just as soft as we did. Said she was going to go get your nasty little cannibal that y’all been lookin’ for. I was tryin’ to tell y’all about her when y’all were busy cuffin’ me and Duncan, but no one was really inclined to listen to us. Had her tied up good as you like, although she could have got out if she was as good in the woods as she looked.”

           “And why were you in the woods at night, well past sundown?” Agent Crawford asked. He glanced to Earl’s attire, then back. “Armed with a field knife, a bowie knife, a machete, an AR-15, a 9mm XD, and dressed in camouflage,” he growled pointedly.

           Earl could admit just how guilty it made him look, but he wasn’t going to back down anytime soon. He figured it wasn’t worth it to tell Agent Crawford that they’d actually camped out for a couple of days making a game plan. “We were goin’ to go check on Ms. Lounds, seein’ as how she went after her husband, but looks like her husband was part of that cult. You catch him? You get her, or do you think they killed her?”

           The long, hard stare given was mildly off-putting, given the nature of its confusion. Earl wanted to shift in his seat, but he maintained his position. He may have done a few unorthodox things, as Debbie would have put it, but he didn’t regret it. He’d been able to help, even just a little, and that was fine by him. Debbie wasn’t his soulmate, but he wondered if he’d scream much the same way that Will Graham did, should she ever get hurt. That noise alone had haunted him, haunted him long after the poor doctor had gone unconscious, long after they’d strapped him to a gurney and drove him off, long after, as one, all of the surviving and conscious cultists had begun reciting a soft, chilling speech of sorts before they dropped, one-by-one, to the ground where they convulsed and died.

           Lord above, he wasn’t a church-goin’ man, but he hoped to hell Debbie hadn’t put his shit outside on the porch where her brother sometimes slept. She wasn’t his soulmate, but she could probably make more sense of this than he could. She’d be able to explain all the nuances and bull-shit that went over his head, all the while making her homemade potato casserole that’d won 4 different competitions across two counties. She wasn’t his soulmate, but he sure as hell loved her, even with all of the church groups and Sunday sermons and the lack of ability to chew tobacco in the house.

           Agent Crawford let out a slow, furious breath and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Alright, Mr. Fischer,” he said, and his tone alone showed just how tired he was. “Alright; Ms. Lounds, you say?”

           “That’s right, married that psychopath that stuck a knife in your man at that gas station up in northern Georgia. Said he’d cheated on her and she wanted to get hers.”

           “Get hers,” Jack Crawford repeated.

           “Yessir.”

           “Mr. Fischer –”

           “Just Earl is fine by me, Agent Crawford.”

           “Right.” He shuffled the papers in front of him and leaned back in his chair, the hinges creaking dangerously. “Okay, Earl, why don’t you walk me through how you got roped into all of this, starting first with how you met Miss Lounds.”

           “It’ll take awhile,” Earl said warningly.

           Agent Crawford hummed low in his throat and nodded. “I’ve got time.”

-

           Will woke in a soft room with muted lights. He stared at a ceiling in an off-white color –off-white because white was too harsh for those in grief. The corners of the table, he knew, were rounded, as well as the window whose corners had been sanded down to fit perfectly into the wall.

           He lay there for some time, breathing. There was something hollow inside of him, aching, and it fluttered painfully with each heartbeat. There was a burning sensation just along his skin, but that paled in comparison to how empty everything felt. His bones were hollow. His veins were hollow. He wondered about his lungs, if he coughed too hard that surely dust and rot would fall from his mouth that was dry and tender, chapped and scabbed from where he’d bitten cleanly through.

           He inhaled a breath, but it came short and left him wanting. His vision watered, and he stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming. Hannibal, Hannibal; what have you done to Hannibal?

           A piece of him was missing, something much like an arm that was severed or an organ removed. When breathing became too labored, he rolled over to his side and curled up, trembling. Something was hollow inside of him. Something had opened him up and scooped everything out of him that was ever important, ever special.

           He didn’t move when the door opened. He didn’t move when the footsteps hesitated, unsure, nor did he move when they continued towards him with purpose. Given how muted the sound, Will supposed either it was either a very, very soft floor or a very, very soft foot.

           Dr. Alana Bloom came into view with red-rimmed eyes.

           Neither one of them spoke. Will removed his knuckles, marked with his teeth, from his mouth as she busied herself with pulling a beanbag chair closer to  him and perched just on the edge of it. The sight of her sensible skirt and dress shirt rumpled by the beans that sank and squished about her was comical, but there wasn’t anything inside of him that could bring a laugh to his mouth. He tracked the pulse thudding in her neck, and he frowned.

           “You’ve been crying,” he noted, voice raw and hoarse. His throat ached.

           Her laugh was strangled. “Yeah…yeah, I have, Will.”

           “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

           “Do I want to –” she scoffed, and her hands clenched to fists in her lap. “Do I want to talk about it, really, I –”

           “You hit something, too,” said Will casually, staring at her pink and abused knuckles. He swallowed with difficulty and resisted the pressing need to hold his breath until everything around him was swallowed in that black silence once more.

           “The steering wheel,” she explained coarsely. “Couple times. I yelled a bit, too.”

           “Did it help?”

           Her smile shook. “…At first. Now, I just feel silly.”

           “Don’t feel silly,” Will assured her. “Therapy comes in all forms. I have a scream, too.”

           “Do you?” she asked, and her voice gentled.

           “Oh, yes,” Will affirmed with a nod. “It’s perched just…just at my lips. Right behind my teeth.”

           “Have you tried letting it out?”

           “I think I did already, Dr. Bloom. It’s the sort of scream that no matter how much you push it out, there’s always more there. I’d just…keep going, wouldn’t I?”

           “Will –” she began, but he shook his head.

           “Where’s Jack?” he asked, and he pushed himself into an upright position, letting his socked feet touch the floor. Definitely a soft flooring, something spongy and improbable to hurt oneself on. It was a standard soulmate-severance grieving room, complete with a door boasting a smooth surface devoid of any place for a handle. When unlocked, it swung on smooth and hidden hinges. When locked, it was an impenetrable tomb.

           “He’s here, Will,” Alana replied, and she sat forward. “We’re all here.”

           This was what she was waiting for, it seemed. Now that they knew about his eye –his fucking eye –then they knew about Hannibal.

           What have you done, Will? What have you done?

           “Still in Georgia?”

           “We’re at the headquarters for the FBI in Atlanta,” she said. A minor hesitation, then, “Will, you know that I was sent in here first for a reason.”

           “He’s dead,” Will said curtly, and his tongue was serrated from the words.

           Silence. Will stood and padded across the spongy floor in order to stare into the two-way mirror that rested fixed and seamless into the opposite wall of the window. He scanned his blacked reflection, mouth taut.

           “That’s what you wanted to know, right?” Will asked the people that he knew were on the other side. “How’s Will, where’s his head, and is Hannibal Lecter of all the people in the world actually dead?”

           Her silence was acquiescence. He scanned the opaque mirror and bared his teeth.

           “He’s dead,” he repeated savagely when she didn’t speak. Maybe she knew that he didn’t want condolences, how roughly it’d smart in his chest where something had carved out all the important bits. “He’s dead, and I feel like something inside of me was removed. It hurts, as we know with soulmate severance.”

           “Will –”

           “Can I see Jack now?” he interrupted, still staring at the wall. “And…and Winston?”

           “Of course, Will,” Alana replied, and after a brief pause she stood.

           She walked to the door, and it was then that he looked back to her, swaying with the sensation of a strong wind that was pushing, pushing, and what have you done?

           “I’m sorry they scared you,” he said, thinking of the Symphonic Strangler and Maggie Kester.

           She paused, palm pressed flat to the door. “Did they tell you what happened?”

           “No, but they assured me that they didn’t have to kill you. I was relieved, Dr. Bloom.”

           Her smile was thin. “Me too, Will. I…”

           But he wouldn’t know what she truly wanted to say. In truth, what could she say? That her terror and fear was nothing to what’d lurked behind Will’s eyes for the last few months, what left him weak and hollow and empty and there he was getting locked behind another door again.

           He knew what this was, though. As she walked out and the door latched shut behind her, Will didn’t need an explanation. Jack Crawford didn’t know that Will had actually become Hannibal’s soulmate, didn’t know until he heard him screaming that Will hadn’t been able to make it in time. This was a test. Hannibal Lecter’s soulmate, alive to tell the tale of what truly went on behind the walls of that fucking house of horrors.

           Jack entered first, closely followed by Winston. Will sunk to the ground to accept the onslaught of sniffing, licking, and whining once more, his fingers sinking deep within the layers of fur in order to ground himself, in order to find something to stop the burning sensation on every inch of his skin that screamed that something was terribly wrong.

           Will stared at Jack Crawford’s shoes after he’d sufficiently hauled Winston onto his lap.

           “That’s a nice dog you got there,” Jack ventured, and it sounded just like before, only it wasn’t because nothing was the same anymore.

           “You shined your shoes,” Will replied.

           Silence. Jack Crawford had shined his shoes, and Will’s intestines felt as though they’d been surgically removed.

           “I’m sorry,” said Jack, and his voice dropped so low it was hard to catch the sound.

           Will looked up, and his eyes met Jack’s There they were, one eye blue, the other maroon, and the tic near Jack’s eye said that seeing it on a face like Will’s wasn’t ever going to feel right, wasn’t ever going to be okay because how could anything be okay after this?

           Will kept his stare though, mostly because seeing Jack grounded him. Seeing Jack meant that everything was coming together, that although it could never be alright, at least it meant that the nightmare was going to come to an end soon.

           Right?

           “Come on, Jack,” he murmured, but Jack shook his head.

           “I was too late,” Jack replied, and he rubbed hands roughly over his eyes, fingernails digging into the soft skin there. “I was too fucking late, and I –”

           “I’m the one that didn’t make it to the end, not you,” Will interjected. His fingers worked small whorls into Winston’s ears.

           Jack’s face fell, and Will saw the horrors of everything he’d had to endure in the lines there, in the crevices that spelled out just how much he’d suffered while Will had been captured.

           Will studiously focused on that perfect, soft spot on Winston’s ear and rubbed it.

           “I’m sorry,” said Will distractedly, “really, Jack, I am.”

           “Don’t you say that,” Jack growled, and despite Will’s focus on Winston he took two steps and hauled Will to his feet, holding onto his shoulders tightly. Winston gave a yelp and a tumble, and Will thought of the night Abigail had escaped, how Hannibal had held him much the same and told him he knew Will had enjoyed seeing Garrett Jacob Hobbs die. His touch was a burn against skin that already ached and blistered, and a tremor worked through him.

           “I’m sorry,” he couldn’t help but say again, and Jack hauled him close, hugging him tight enough to feel like maybe he could piece the bits of Will back together that’d somehow fallen apart the moment he took a linoleum knife to the one person that his chemicals needed to survive.

           “You’re alive,” Jack said into his ear, and Will hugged him back tightly, just as desperate to feel someone that had never used him for their own survival or games, for their own wants or desires. “God dammit, Will, I’m just so relived you’re alive, I…I’m so god damn happy that you’re alive.”

           “I didn’t make it,” he said miserably, and his eyes burned. He’d get colored contacts after this, something to hide the realities of just what it took to move his chemicals inside. “I tried, but I didn’t make it. Less than one percent, Jack…”

           “Don’t think on that, Will. I’m just…you lived. You’re here, and you’re alive.”

           “I got him with a linoleum knife,” Will replied into his shoulder, and his arms ached from how taut he held himself. “I felt it as he died.”

           “You stabbed him?”

           “I got him good,” Will said savagely, and it was a cheese grater on his tongue to say it. “I watched him bleed out onto an oriental rug just like the one from his old office It looked black almost, in the firelight.”

           And despite everything, it was Agent Jack Crawford of the FBI who first broke down and began to cry, holding Will close like he’d lose him again if he somehow got out of sight.

[xswestallen]

But, You’re My Dork

Summary: Iris appreciating Barry's nerdiness over the years.

When Iris showed Barry her new crystal necklace, she was hoping he'd think it was cute. She didn't think it would turn into a science lesson on how light works. Iris showed it off as they sat down for lunch in the courtyard. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the light reflecting through the crystal created a rainbow.

"Isn't it pretty?" Iris gushed.

"Yeah." Barry was smiling, but looking at Iris instead of the rainbow.

"What is it?" Iris asked when she noticed him looking at her.

Barry shrugged. "Nothing. Just wondering, do you know what causes your necklace to create rainbows?"

Iris shook her head. Barry's eyes lit up like he'd just been given an unexpected present. Iris knew why, he loved telling her about science, his favorite subject. Even though it sometimes got annoying, Iris liked listening to Barry explain things. He knew so much more than most of the other kids in their elementary school. Iris thought she learned more from hanging out with Barry than she did in the actual classroom. He had a way of making everything he talked about seem exciting. It must be the passion he feels for the subject.

"Well, the crystal acts as a prism." Barry explained. "The light from the sun is white. When the light enters the prism, the different kinds of light within white light are reflected at different angles, because they each have unique wavelengths. Each color bends through the crystal at a different angle, resulting in a fanning out and separation of white light into the colors of the spectrum."

Iris took a moment before responding to savor the look of wonder in Barry's eyes. The sun was shining so bright, it gave his green eyes the appearance of a sparkling emerald. "Huh. I never knew that."

"And did you know this is just visible light? There is light that human eyes can't see." Barry went on. "There are also colors humans can't see. Did you know that shrimp can actually more colors than us?"

"You've got to be joking." Iris laughed.

"It's true! I read about it in a book on marine biology."

"How do you remember everything we need to know for ours tests and still find a way to memorize all this other stuff too?"

Barry's pale cheeks turned a baby peach shade. He shrugged. "I just love learning, I guess."

A group of students walking by started laughing. Iris and Barry turned to see that the students were all looking at them. Some of the students were evening pointing as they laughed.

"He's talking about shrimp!" One of the girls squealed.

"Who talks about shrimp and the colors they can see? What a nerd." Another boy blurted out.

"You're such a dork, Barry Allen." A girl said as the group of students passed.

Iris was angry. Her hands had curled into fists as without her realizing it. She put a hand on Barry's shoulder. He was now blushing for an entirely different reason.

"Don't listen to them." Iris said.

Barry didn't look at Iris or say anything, he just ate his lunch. Iris could tell he was deep in thought by his furrowed brow and constant scratching of his neck. Nobody would be that captivated by macaroni and cheese and baby carrots. She didn't want to make him talk if he was uncomfortable, so she ate in silence beside him.

The lunch period was coming to end. Iris gathered their trash on a tray and took it over to the garbage can. Other students were already rising from their tables and heading back inside for their next class. Barry was still sitting at the table, without his food to stare at he was left to look at the ground.

Iris slung her book bag over her shoulder. "Come on, we don't wanna be late."

"Do you think I'm a dork?" Barry asked in a low voice.

Iris felt her heart pang. She sat back down beside him, holding his face in her hands. She hated when bullies made her best friend feel bad about himself. Sure, he liked school and nerdy things, but that didn't give anyone the right to be mean to him.

"Barry, you're the smartest and nicest person I know."

Barry's lips twitched into a smile for a split second. "But, am I a dork?"

Iris now looked down at the floor. She didn't want to lie, but she didn't want to make Barry feel bad either. "Yeah." She admitted. "You are."

Barry looked crestfallen. "I knew it."

Iris held his hand. "But, you're my dork. I like you just the way you are, dorkiness and all."

Barry tilted his head in disbelife. "Really?"

"Yeah." Iris said. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't a little bit of a nerd. It's what makes you cute."

Barry smiled fully now. Seeing it made Iris feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"We better go. We really don't want to be late." Iris reminded him.

---------❀---------

Iris was putting her chemistry books away in her locker. She felt a tap on the shoulder and spun around to see Abby Putman.

"Hey. What are you doing on Friday?" Abby asked.

"Umm.." Iris thought about her schedule. "I don't have any plans yet, why?"

"Me, Maria, Kelly, Chad, Tyler, Ryan, and Ashley are going to the waterfront. Do you want to come?"

"Yeah!" Iris said. "What time?"

"Seven. And uh-" Abby leaned in, whispering, "can you give me a ride? I still haven't gotten my license yet."

"Of course. I'll pick you up and we'll head over to the waterfront."

"Cool!" Abby clapped her hands excitedly. She made her way down the hall.

Iris returned her attention to her locker. She got her American literature books out and was about to close the door when the picture of her and Barry she put in the door caught her eye. He hadn't been out much the past few weeks. The anniversary of his mom's death had just passed. Iris knew how hard this time of the year was for him. She slammed her locker shut and chased after Abby.

"Abby! Abby!" Iris called.

Abby stopped and waited for Iris to catch up. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah." Iris said, catching her breath. "I just wanted to know if I can bring Barry with us on Friday?"

Abby's nose scrunched. "Oh." She said in a less than enthusiastic tone. She looked awkward, until an idea seemed to dawn on her. "He's in physics, right? I know Briggs is giving a test on Monday, so Barry will probably want to stay home and study for that."

"The test is Monday. We're going out on Friday. He'll have plenty of time to study over the weekend. He needs to have some fun too."

Abby looked unconvinced.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Iris joked. She nudged Abby on the elbow, but Abby didn't soften.

"As if he could get any duller." Abby muttered.

Iris recoiled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Iris. It's not that we don't like Barry. He's nice and everything. It's just that he's a little....."

Iris glared at Abby. "Go on."

Abby sighed. "He's a total nerd."

Iris raided her eyebrows. "So?"

"So, nerds aren't fun."

"Barry is lots of fun." Iris defended.

"He's really dorky."

"I like that about him."

"Iris, you know what I'm talking about, right?" Abby pleaded.

"Barry is my best friend. If he isn't welcome, then I'm not going." Iris said flatly. "Find some other ride." She pushed passed Abby and stomped down the hall.

"IRIS?" Abby's voice echoed.

Iris looked back at Abby. "What?"

"Fine." Abby conceded. "He can come with you. Just, tell him to act cool, ok? Maybe, help him be less of a dork."

Iris smirked. "No. He's my dork and I'm keeping him that way."

---------❀---------

"TA DA!" Barry sang. He stood in the middle of the room, looking like Christmas came early.

"Wow!" Iris stepped through the door and looked around. "This is you're new lab?"

"Yep. I'll be working the forensics I gathered from Central City's crime scenes right here." Barry patted his desk chair.

"It's really big." Iris observed. "Aren't you gonna get lonely in here?"

Barry blushed. "You'll have to come and visit me." He teased.

Iris giggled. She took a closer look at the equipment Barry had already arrange in the lab.

"I'm about to run a fingerprint through IAFIS." Barry announced.

"What is that?" Iris asked. The acronym sounded like a foreign vocabulary word.

"It stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. It's the largest database for prints in the country."

"Allen," A deep voice spoke.

Barry and Iris turned to the see Detective Chyre standing in the doorway.

"Congratulations on becoming a full fledged CSI." Chyre said.

Barry beamed with pride. "Thank you, sir."

"Nice to you again, Iris."

"You too, Detective. Keep watching my dad's back." Iris said.

"So, Allen, did you get a match on those prints?"

Iris rolled her eyes. Of course Chyre didn't just come up to the lab to congratulate Barry.

"I did!" Barry exclaimed. "I was just telling Iris about how I comapred the print I lifted off the doorknob to the ones in IAFIS."

Chyre looked confused. "IFA what?"

"It stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System." Iris told him.

Barry laughed. A serious glance from Chyre refocused Barry. "Umm, right. We got a match. These are the fingerprints of petty thief Jared Morillo."

"Not so petty anymore." Chyre huffed. "He stole thousands of dollars from the Central City bank last night."

"He's moving up in the criminal world." Barry joked. His attempt at humor was lost on Chyre. "Hey, it says here that Morillo used to live in Gotham. I heard reports about an environmentalist turned criminal there. She has an extensive knowledge of plants and would use their pheromones to aid in her crimes."

"You're still into that nonsense?"

Barry opened his mouth to answer but didn't speak.

Chyre took the finger print analysis results. "Thanks, Barry."

"No problem! It's my job." Barry called as Chyre left the lab. "Annnnd, he wasn't listening." Barry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Cool."

Iris laughed. "Well, he'll keep you humble."

"He thinks I'm a weirdo." Barry sighed.

"Who cares? Lots of people think you're a weirdo."

Barry looked offended. "Hey."

Iris held up her hands in surrender. "I just meant that you're a nerd with some, how should I put it, interesting interests? But it's fine, you are the most adorable nerd in the world."

"Thanks."

Iris gave him a hug. "You may be a big time CSI now but you'll always be my best friend." She assured him.

"And you're dork?" Barry asked hopefully.

"And my dork."

---------❀---------

Iris heard the heated debate between Barry and Cisco from the hallway as she approached the cortex. They were so caught up in the argument, they didn't notice her enter.

"Greedo was going to kill Han anyway. Everyone knew that, he was working for Jabba. Lucas didn't need to justify Han killing him by adding that stupid Greedo shot into the re-release!" Cisco snapped.

"Kids are gonna watch the movie. Lucas didn't want them to see one of the main characters kill another character unprovoked. That's why he had to add that Greedo shot in. It was all to make the parents happy." Barry insisted.

Cisco shook his head and slammed a hand down on one of the desks. "But that cheapens Han Solo's character development!"

"How?"

"Han shooting first established him as a true anti-hero. He was being threatened, but it wasn't to the point he needed to use lethal force! Han basically saying 'screw this' and shooting his blaster to turn Greedo into a steaming pile of smithereens was how the film showcased Han as a guy who doesn't care about the rules. He does what he wants and he's impulsive."

"Letting Greedo take the first shot showed that even if Han is a scoundrel, he still has honor. He wouldn't kill someone in an unfair fight." Barry maintained.

"Han didn't give a damn about fair fights. He was rouge. Everything he did was in his own self-interest."

"Shooting Greedo before Greedo attacked wasn't in self-interest. He was more skilled with a blaster, he would've won in a fair fight and he knew it. That's why he wasn't afraid to let Greedo take the first shot. I think that's important to show how confident Han was. He essentially laughed off Greedo's assassination attempt and ended the fight with a quick pull of the trigger."

"It was unrealistic. How is an assassin like Greedo gonna miss a simple, point blank shot? Huh?" Cisco got up in Barry's face "Riddle me that?"

"UMM HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE STORM TROOPERS?" Barry retorted.

Cisco raised his finger to Barry's chest. Before he was able to explode with nerd rage, Iris's laughter caused him and Barry to look up.

"Iris? When did you get here?" Barry asked, swatting Cisco's finger away.

"Long enough to hear some very compelling Star Wars arguments." Iris said.

"It's the most controversial issue of our generation." Cisco said. "Don't try to trivialize it."

Iris only laughed harder and Barry joined in.

Cisco threw up his hands. "I cannot work with people who don't respect that sanctity of the original Star Wars! I'll be in my workshop."

Iris bent over from laughing so hard.

"He's passionate about Han's reputation." Barry said.

Iris sneered at him.

"What?"

"You went full nerd too!"

"I wasn't on the same level as Cisco." Barry argued. "Nobody is on his level."

"That's true." Iris tapped a pen on the desk. "You two are different kinds of nerdy. He's sci-fi references nerdy while you're science class nobody signed up for nerdy."

"Which kind do you prefer?"

"They both have appeal."

"That's not an answer!" Barry pointed out. "Am I no longer your favorite nerd?"

Iris pouted. "Barry, you will always be my favorite nerd. You have a special nerdy place in my heart." She rubbed his arm. "You're my dork."

---------❀---------

Barry speed into the loft. Iris jumped up from the couch and ran over to hug him.

"Did you get them?" She asked, eagerly.

Barry pulled a small box out of his pocket. "I got them!"

Iris shrieked with excitement. Barry took her hand and guided her over to the couch. She leaned against him.

"Here they are." Barry said as he opened the box.

Two silver wedding bands shone brightly.

Iris gasped. "They're beautiful."

Barry took one out. "I take you, Iris Ann West, to be my lawfully wedded wife." He slipped the band onto Iris's ringer finger. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"I can't wait till the wedding is finally here." Iris said. She lifted her hand to better admire the band. "Then, I won't ever have to take this off."

Barry smiled. "I'm excited too." He kissed the top her head. "Take it off for a second and look at the engraving."

Iris did as Barry suggested. She looked inside her band and saw the rhythm strip of an EKG. "It's a heartbeat?"

"It's my heartbeat." Barry corrected.

Iris didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"I asked Caitlin to give me an EKG, took the results to a jeweler, and had him engrave it." Barry explained.

Iris looked at him with wide eyed wonder. "Barry!"

He took her hand and placed it over his heart. She felt the pounding and remembered feeling it for the first time after he awoke from the coma.

"This way you'll always be able to feel my heartbeat." Barry said.

"Bear, this is the most romantic idea ever. I love it!"

"I'm glad. I was worried you might think it was too......"

"Too what?" Too Sweet? Too beautiful? Too much of an example of how you're the most thoughtful person to ever walk the Earth?"

"Too nerdy." Barry murmured.

Iris threw her head back and laughed. "It is nerdy." She admitted. "But, in case you haven't noticed, I like nerdy."

Barry brushed his hand against her thigh. "Yeah?"

"Mmm hmm. In fact, I love a dork."

"I love you."

Their lips met. Iris thought his lips felt like silk and tasted like candy. She slid her teeth over his bottom lip as they broke apart.

"I want to be your dork forever." Barry whispered.

[the-desolated-quill]

The God Complex - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Oh great! Another Toby Whithouse episode! They’re always good for a giggle!

I’ve always felt Whithouse was the obvious candidate to take over from Moffat as opposed to Chris Chibnall. Granted not everything he writes is amazing, but he always maintains a decent level of quality and he seems to have a good handle as to what makes Doctor Who such a unique show. I absolutely adored School Reunion and while The Vampires Of Venice was a tad flawed, it was still hugely entertaining due to its camp silliness. The God Complex is very much in the same vein as Vampires. Although problems do crop up toward the end, it’s still very enjoyable overall.

The Doctor, Amy and Rory arrive at a hotel, only to discover it’s not a hotel at all. It’s a prison made to look like a hotel with other ‘guests’ trapped inside, their worst fears hidden behind every door and a hungry Minotaur roaming the corridors. Bit like a hotel I stayed at in Rome during a school trip.

Now of course the advertisements describe the rooms as containing their worst fears, but I do hope Whithouse didn’t actually intend this to be scary. Because if he did, he may have fallen short by a few... light-years. See the thing about fears that are personal to you is that only you find them scary. Everyone else just finds them either tame or just plain hilarious, especially if it’s something weird like a gym teacher or a man in a gorilla suit clutching some toilet roll, both of which appear in the episode and both of which are hysterically funny. So I’m assuming that Whithouse was going more for surreal rather than scary. And yeah, it works. It works really well. If Whithouse was going for surreal, this is definitely surreal. The hotel is a great setting and it does lend itself to some very weird imagery, like the dining room full of ventriloquist dummies. A lot of it feels very reminiscent of Stephen King. The most obvious is The Shining with perhaps a little bit of It thrown in for good measure. Not very original granted, but it’s executed very well. And I did like the Minotaur. Okay the design is a bit crap, but the use of fisheye lens and inventive camera angles help to make it somewhat threatening.

Let’s talk about the characters, starting with my favourite. Rita, played by Amara Karan. Having had to put up with obnoxious plot device in a mini-skirt Amy for what feels like two ice ages rather than series, you can imagine I was very excited when the Doctor offered to take Rita with him in the TARDIS when all this was over. A woman that’s not defined by her physical attractiveness or her importance to the Doctor and is actually a fully realised character in her own right? Whithouse, please, remind me what that’s like! It’s been such a long time!

Needless to say, I really liked Rita. She’s funny, really smart, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and is able to keep her cool while everyone else is losing their’s. I particularly liked the exploration of her faith. She believes the hotel is actually Jahannam, the Muslim version of Hell, and I liked how she’s able to take it all in her stride. She’s confused as to why she’s been sent to ‘Jahannam’, believing she has lived a good and moral life, but remains steadfast that everything will be explained and that she will get out of this somehow. Plus it’s just nice to have a Muslim woman on Doctor Who. I certainly would love to see a Muslim woman become the Doctor’s companion. I was utterly heartbroken when she died, although I suppose I should have seen it coming. I thought Amara Karan gave a really good performance and would have  fit in really well with Matt Smith’s Doctor. I feel she would have provided a nice rational counterbalance for him. I especially liked her calm rejection of the Doctor’s all mighty saviour mentality.

I could have done without the stereotyping though. When Rita opens the door to her room, her worst fear is revealed to be her strict dad berating her for getting a B in mathematics.

Really Whithouse? 

In fact this episode contains a lot of stereotyping now that I’m thinking about it. I mean look at Howie. Bespectacled nerd with a stutter who blogs about conspiracy theories, likes Star Trek and is afraid of talking to girls. Joe doesn’t escape this either. He’s a gambler and we know this because he wears a horseshoe pin on his tie and dice cufflinks. It just feels really lazy on Whithouse’s part.

The other character I liked was Gibbis, played by David Walliams. Now this surprised me because David Walliams worked with Matt Lucas in the sketch show Little Britain, which I’ve always thought was about as funny as passing a kidney stone. They also worked together on the short lived mockumentary series Come Fly With Me, which was quite possibly one of the worst comedies I’ve ever sat through in my life. In fact I still vividly remember that Christmas. My family and I staring open-mouthed at the telly watching David Walliams and Matt Lucas in yellowface singing a really offensive, mock Chinese song about Martin Clunes. I actually consider it an insult to my backside that I had to sit through that deeply racist pile of dreck and to this day I still don’t know what possessed the BBC into thinking that was in any way appropriate. To cut a long story short, I don’t like Walliams or Lucas very much. What can I say? I have a thing against talentless hacks thinking casual racism is funny. It’s a quirk of mine. But yeah, I really liked Gibbis. It’s a great idea. A race of aliens that have survived by sucking up to their invaders and oppressors. It lends itself to some really funny moments (their national anthem is ‘Glory To... Insert Name Here.’ LOL), I liked how Gibbis’ cowardice is used to pit the characters against one another, and as much as I’m loath to admit it, I thought David Walliams did a good job in the role. Well I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day (unless it’s digital of course).

As I said, I do mostly like the episode. It’s very surreal and engaging. Silly but entertainingly so. It’s just a shame the whole thing had to go a bit tits up at the end.

So the Doctor works out that the Minotaur isn’t actually feeding on fear, but on faith, and that the reason the TARDIS was drawn there was because of Amy’s faith in the Doctor. Okay, not a bad idea. It’s certainly a good way to explore their relationship and how Amy has never really grown up, as demonstrated when the Doctor talks to her and he sees her as young Amelia. The problem is the whole faith aspect isn’t done very well. For instance, I can see Amy having faith in the Doctor, Rita having faith in Allah and Joe having faith in luck, but Howie’s faith in conspiracy theories? That’s a bit of a stretch. And what about Rory? He’s repeatedly shown the fire exit because apparently he doesn’t have any faith in anything.

BOLLOCKS

Everyone has faith in something.

And then there’s the resolution. If Amy’s faith in the Doctor is so strong, would a two minute monologue really be enough to break it? It feels very similar to a moment in The Curse Of Fenric where the Seventh Doctor had to break his companion Ace’s faith in him, but the reason that worked was because it was genuinely shocking and uncomfortable to watch. He coldly attacked parts of Ace’s self esteem and made her feel like little more than a piece on a chessboard. Here it just feels a bit pathetic and half-arsed in comparison. Also you never get the sense that the Doctor and Amy’s relationship has actually changed once her faith has been ‘broken’. They’re still laughing and smiling like they normally do. With Seven and Ace, while he does apologise and explain why he did it, you get the sense that their once close relationship is slightly more fragile now going forward.

But one thing that puzzles me especially (and this is in no way Whithouse’s fault) is why is Amy’s faith in the Doctor so strong considering everything that’s happened. Would Amy’s faith really be that unshakeable after the Doctor failed to save her daughter? Or when he coldly left her alternative self to die in The Girl Who Waited? 

Which brings me to this. Remember in my previous review when I said I had a problem with how The Girl Who Waited was resolved, but it wouldn’t become apparent until now? Well this is it. Wouldn’t it make so much more sense if Amy and Rory left after that episode rather than this one? The God Complex is really jarring at the beginning because the three leads are getting along, but surely after what happened in the previous episode there would be some tension between them. Can they actually trust the Doctor after everything that’s happened? So I have a really hard time buying that Amy would still have faith in the Doctor. Or at least that her faith would be as strong as they’re claiming it is. I would much rather have seen Amy and Rory take some initiative and choose to leave the TARDIS of their own accord because of what the Doctor did rather than having them get unceremoniously dumped for the weakest and most patronising of reasons. He’s worried they’re going to get killed if they stay with him. Well big whoop! Get over yourself! Yes it’s dangerous travelling with him, but his companions are well aware of that. They want to travel through time and space because it’s cool, not because they’re too stupid to know better. If Amy and Rory want to take the risk, that’s their choice. By stripping them of that choice, the Doctor is basically treating Amy like the child he just encouraged her to grow up from and leave behind a few minutes ago.

The God Complex was never going to be special. I realise that. But it was still a decent enough story that was both imaginative and enjoyable to watch. It’s just such a shame that ending had to spoil it.

[kittenshift-17]

Hey Kitten! I was wondering if you're majoring in writing? I'm a high school student who's applying to college right now and am also really interested in writing (potentially to the point of considering it as a career), and was wondering if you had any tips ^^

Goodness.... How do I answer this without sounding terribly cynical and crushing your hopes and dreams and ideals about the world?

I’m actually already finished studying, myself. I graduated with a BA majoring in Writing and Publishing 3 years ago. And without blowing holes in all of your plans, I’ve got to be honest as I tell you about how useful I’ve found my degree.... which is to say that it was completely useless and a waste of money. 

Maybe it’s my country’s outlook, but having a BA isn’t really the big deal it used to be and everyone I know who got an Art Degree basically wasted their money. I mean, those in productive arts and theatre and such find them handy due to the practical classes, but a writing degree is..... Well, it’s a lot like high school English/Literature classes. You get given texts and articles and asked to dissect them and write essays about them. It’s.... god, it’s boring. The books are about as interesting in college as there were in high school and the teachers aren’t that much more competent on the grasp of what they want in the essay, and tend to have a biased and ridiculous analysis of the stories. Sometimes the author writes the curtains as being blue just because we like blue, not because the character is depressed, ya know?

When you say you want to consider writing for a career, I assume you mean that you’d like to be an author, and if so then my advice to you would definitely be to forget about majoring in writing for a university level degree. They don’t teach you how to write in those classes. They teach you how to draft essays, and unless you want to take after George Orwell, you don’t want an essay style of writing if you’ve aspirations to be an author. 

If, on the other hand, you mean you want to look at writing as a career option for other fields than fiction or non-fiction writing, then it can definitely be useful. If you wanted to get into writing as someone who drafts up those silly example stories you see in school textbooks (you know the ones, where Sally has five apples and sells Billy three before turning purple) then they come in handy because the classes teach your how to dissect such a story for meaning and the language tool you’re focusing on, and you work backwards (which is why those things rarely makes sense).

The point is, college is expensive. And so you have to weight the options of how much you’ll get out of a degree against how much money goes into paying for it and how much real-world use it will be to you once you’ve graduated. 

Me? I have a Bachelor of Media and Communication, majoring in Writing and Publishing. 

Do you know what I use it for?  Nothing. I don’t use my degree at all. I work as an Administration Manager for a Commercial Laundry and spend my days inputting data and trading polite, yet curt emails with clients regarding their linen hire. The only useful part of my degree is my grasp on the English language that allows me to very professionally tell someone to go fuck themselves without once cursing, or even crossing the line into being rude.

Look, of everyone I know who went to college that got a BA, do you know which ones are doing well? The ones who did a double major, one is business, law, or science, and the other in languages. Seriously, if you can major in languages, do it. Pick a core language and study it like your life depends on it. Two of my friends who studied language (both of them studied Mandarin) now have some super cool jobs. One is a high level special intelligence officer for the military. The other is a financial advisor for a Chinese conglomerate and, I believe, is currently living the high life in China. 

Everyone else I know who got an Art degree, either in writing, music, communication, advertising, history, social studies or anything else pretty much had to go back to uni after they graduated, do a Diploma in education, and use their skills to become school teachers. Seriously, all of them. I know talented musicians, talented writers, history-buffs, and more, and they’re all teachers now. Teachers, or doing what I’m doing and wasting their degree by working in a job where the degree has no meaning beyond showing an ability to commit to something for 3 years. 

At the risk of sounding condescending, and potentially confusing you all the more when you’re already at a place where all of life’s big decisions seem laid at your door, I’m going to give you a list of the things I wish I’d known when I was in high school.

TIPS:

1. Be single. Seriously, if you’re currently in a relationship, I urge you to end it. I don’t care how in love you think you are, or how painful the idea of breaking up might be, you WILL regret being in a relationship when you’re in college. And I don’t just mean because you’ll be meeting new people and could be bouncing into bed with some sexy stranger(s). There are so many things that I didn’t do in college because I was too busy trying to make things work with my boyfriend (whom I dated for 6 years before we broke up, by the way). I mean, I missed out on a bunch of college events because instead of being on campus, I was driving home to my small-town to see him. I missed out on so many life experiences, ranging from skinny dipping with strangers, to wild parties, to experiencing life WITHOUT worrying about someone else and how they would react to my actions. I cannot tell you how much I regret not just ending things with him and figuring out who the hell I was because I was too busy focusing on who WE were. 

2. If you’re going to study something, pick something that will give you practical experience, not just theoretical experience. Pick something that will give you life experiences. Study a language - hell, spend a semester abroad if you can. Study something that has a real-world use. If I could go back to being in high school, do you know what I’d do rather than studying a BA? I’d become a Veterinarian. Or a doctor. Or maybe a scientist of some kind. Hell, I might even forgo college and get an apprenticeship as an electrician or a hairdresser, or maybe even a builder. I reckon I’d have made a kick ass engineer, actually.

3. Push yourself. Don’t rest on your laurels and coast through the course. Go to every class. If you go, and you consistently find it boring, or awful, then you’re probably in the wrong course and should drop it for something else. I mean it. I have a BA. I spent 3 years studying it. Do you know how much actual course-work I engaged with? Roughly 50 hours worth. Total. I never went to class. I holed up in my dorm writing fanfic whenever I wasn’t partying, hungover, or feasting. I literally went to about 5 classes throughout my final year, despite having been enrolled in courses that asked for 10 hours a week minimum face-time in the classroom and living on campus. And I still graduated. It was way too easy and I wish I could go back and pick a different course - one that would make me WANT to go to class every day.

4. Recognize the fact that, no matter how it seems like you’ve got to figure everything out RIGHT NOW, you really don’t. Be decisive, and if you have a career goal in mind, work toward it, but please, PLEASE approach a company that offers that career and ask them if you can observe for the day. They might say no, but they might not. Tell them you’re in high school and you’re thinking about angling toward a career in that field and you’d like to get a look into what that career is like. Ask if you can shadow them for a day, or a week, or even a month. Ask them questions. Don’t just tag along if they let you observe. Ask for their motivations. Ask how it all works. Ask if they’re happy. Find out what the drawbacks of that career are. You’re at the age where you can find out who you are and who you want to be. 

Me? When I first enrolled in college I was training to become a Registered Nurse. I spent a buttload of money on books and uniforms and courses to be a Nurse and then I did a practical-training stint and do you know what happened? I found out I fucking HATED it. I couldn’t deal with all the bodily fluids, and showering old people, and being coughed on and struggled against, and bossed around by doctors. And I quit. I called my parents and I told them how studying it was exciting in theory, and that I enjoyed the course-work for my essays, but I couldn’t stand the practical part. And I told them that it was fucking me up and that I’d stick it out if they wanted me to, because they were paying my accommodation for living on campus. But I found out what it was like, and I hated it. And if I’d gone to my local hospital and volunteered BEFORE applying to be a nurse, I’d have known it wasn’t for me. You haven’t got to get it right the first time, you know? You can make a mistake. But they’re expensive. If you can do things BEFORE money gets involved and figure out what you like and don’t like, do it. Always do it. Go to you local hospital and ask if they need an AIN for the week. Go to your local shelter and volunteer. Volunteer in a soup kitchen, or at your local library or youth centre. Ask companies if you can help them out for a few days and be willing to do it WITHOUT being paid. If you expect money, most will turn you down, but if you paint it as them helping you figure out who the hell you’re going to be and saving you from making potentially the worst mistake of your life if you pick the wrong course, most people are decent enough to give you a go.

5. Travel. I mean it. If you can afford to travel, and it won’t cost you a scholarship, take a year off between high school and college, and travel. See the world. Take a bestie, or go alone, but travel. I would be a completely different person if I’d travelled before college, and gone alone, rather than waiting until the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year and going with a boyfriend. Your perspective on life will change, I guarantee it. Hell, take a working holiday and work bar-jobs or cafe-jobs, or anything to pay the bills while you see the world, but for the love of god, get out of your home-town or your city. Meet new people. See new things. Learn how things work in another country by experiencing it first hand. I can’t stress this one enough because my number one biggest regret in life is that when I was in high school, I was offered a place in an exchange program to live and study in a country of my choice for a year, and I turned it down because I was in a relationship that was “going to last forever”. It didn’t last, and I was an idiot, and I insist that anyone who can travel MUST do so. I don’t care if you’ve got to backpack your way across Europe on $10 a day, if you can do it, PLEASE do it.

6. Learn how to take advice and criticism without seeing it as a challenge and without immediately being spiteful and doing the opposite. Listen to people who know better. If I’d listened to my parents, I’d have ditched the boyfriend, travelled, seen the world, and been a whole different person. If I’d listened to my Aunt, I’d have known that nursing was going to be horrible and that I’d hate it and quit. If I’d listened to family friends who ran local businesses in my town, I’d have been able to take them up on offers of things that, at the time, sounded awful, but things I’d have likely really enjoyed. 

7. Don’t listen to your friends. They don’t know what’s best for you, no matter how well they know you or how close you are. If they’re your age, then they’re as clueless as you right now and they don’t have any idea how to offer you actual advice that will help change your life for the better. If you want to try something, and your friends disagree, do it anyway. Learn to be independent of them. One day, all too soon, that bestie you’re so close with will be someone you see or speak to once or twice a year and - here’s the kicker - you’ll be okay with that. You might even PREFER that. The point is, you need to grow as a person and you need to figure out exactly who you are. It’s not as easy as it sounds, and it’s not always as rewarding as you might hope, but it’s important that you do it. And I know that being told to figure out who you are tends to bamboozle teens. Hell, it confused the hell outta me because I was all, “I know exactly who I am.”

I didn’t.

Ask yourself the hard questions. Figure out where you stand politically. Figure out what matters to you. Do you care about religion? Current Events? Does the opinion of your peers matter to you? Does it really? At the end of the day, when you go to bed, do you CARE if you offended someone who deserved it? Do you prefer chicken or beef or vegetarian? What would you look like with a nose ring? A shaved head? A tattoo you can regret later? Do you like boys, or girls, or something in between? Both? Neither? Are you a wool sweaters girl, or velvet jumpsuit girl? Sneakers or scuffs? Dyed hair or natural? Tea of Coffee? Boy or girl? Do you want to help the environment or end world hunger or fix the economy? Do you want to hide under a rock and never talk to anyone again? Do you want to make a name for yourself? It’s all relevant and it sounds silly, but if you’re aspiring to be a writer, find a character questionnaire of all the things you’d want or need to know about a character to write about them in a book. Fill it out about you. You might be shocked by what you learn. 

8. Don’t give terribly long winded answers like this one.

9. Never settle. You’re more than settling. Don’t settle for a partner, don’t settle for a job, don’t settle for a town, or a city, or a friend, or a life that you’re not happy with. If you aren’t happy, figure out why and make changes. You’re allowed. No one is going to stop you, and if they try, direct them to me so I can lecture them on how to be a better person. *winks*

10. Use your imagination. If you want to be an author, you’re not going to learn how in a classroom. You’ll learn by diving into a book and entering a whole new world. Practice your writing. Write fanfiction and share it to see what people make of it. Listen to the suggestions of those offering constructive criticism. PRACTICE. Read. For the love of god, read everything. Push yourself to learn how to write better, not in the classroom, but in the real world. Write whenever you can. Every day. I mean it. Literally, every day. If you don’t write, you won’t improve. You’ve got to do it. Set a goal. Tell yourself you’ll write 100 words a day, build on it from there. Be like me and write thousands of words a day, when you’re up for it. If you don’t keep your imagination alive and trying to think of new ways to tell the same story, you’ll struggle and you’ll fizzle. 

xx-Kitten