#it all goes back to perfectly above-board from here on out

[catchmeinthecrawlspace]

At the Point Just Past Desolation

Hello! I'm new to writing Fanfic... lets see how this goes I guess? I May draw fanart to match later...

CONTENT WARNINGS!

panic attacks, night terrors, DPDR, PTSD hinted at

A cold sweat- like needles pricking at your finger-tips, your toes- your lips. Blood thick and rushing over your ear drums like a stampede. Nearly loud enough to prevent the tinnitus from driving you from your bed. Panic- unbreakable and compounding causes you to surge forwards. Lungs are hungry and deprived of air causing you to gasp like a fish out of water. Each muscle in your jaw and neck taunt like bow strings threatening to snap the bones they are attached to. Your neighbor pounds furiously on the paper thin wall separating your rooms in the boarding house. Tomorrow their room will be moved away from yours. Your night terrors are hard on even those sharing a wall with you.

It happens more than you'd care to address, the waking nightmares. Horrors pass under your eyelids every time your body comes close to finding respite. There’s a tipping point, where exhaustion hits and your body finally gives out to the ravages of your mind.

~

The stale air of the Garrison is what greets you first, forcing you from the recesses of your mind. The bell above the door rings as you enter to start your shift. Put on the mask- force the corner of your lips upward, raise the eyebrows just slightly. A pleasant demeanor. Palatable. Easy on the eyes of the unsuspecting patrons. You’ve been working here for about six months. Pretending everyday that you're someone you're not… hiding in plain sight. Except… The owner, a man by the name of Shelby- has a keen eye. An eye you avoid for many reasons… He’s a gangster- a ruthless man according to the whispers on the street. But you were never one for whispers. There was no use in listening to the words of those that revealed in idle gossip.

As a plain looking but pleasant barmaid, you tend to hear a lot from the less than sober patrons. No one seems to care if you're lingering close by. Maybe it was the last semblance of the naivete that the war didn't rip from you, but there was something about him- that compelled you to think otherwise. It was stupidity, you reminded yourself. Shaking him from your mind as you polish the bar top. Just because his family hired you… doesn't mean your gut was right. 

The Garrison opens soon. The factories will let out. The men will arrive in droves. They’ll drown their woes-if only for a moment. They'll go home to their families. Sleep like sodden logs- then do it all over again. Day in and day out. 

The bell on the door jingles, dragging you from your circular thoughts. You glance up- pale green eyes ghostly for a fraction of a second before you remember to add warmth. A slight crinkle of the corners of the eye. 

“Sorry were not open ye-”

You stop yourself.

“Hello Mr Shelby. How are you today?”

You ask as your spine stiffens just slightly. His cerulean eyes piercing like an arrow. You hold his gaze. A sign of respect. He did give you a job after all, saving you from the streets. 

"Fine, fine. And you...?"

He asks as he takes a long drag of his cigarette, balanced perfectly on the edge of his lips. Smoke curled out only to be drawn back in through his nose. French. 

Your eyes try not to linger.

Meek and unseen. Life is simpler that way. 

“I am- Gudt.” 

A slight slip of the tongue- an accent almost imperceptibly hidden under another. To the people of Small Heath, you are the quiet french barmaid. The truth? You're an undocumented German girl looking to outrun ghosts that cling to your skin like a shadow. You school your face. But to a man like Thomas Shelby- it was enough. 

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. Then the scrape of a stool not too far away from where you are cleaning the bar fills the stagnant air. He sits, flaring out the edges of his jacket. You pause your ministrations. Watching as he snuffs out his cigarette on an ashtray. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. A sense of unease creeps up from your ankles. Thomas has this keen ability to make you uneasy without even trying, you tell yourself that it's his aura he carries. If you were at all honest with yourself- you’d realize that it was far more than the simple reputation he has. 

“Can I get you a whiskey?” 

You ask with the warmth added to your features and voice. English still a foreign taste in your mouth… French is just a bit easier to stumble through.

“No. just… conversation-”

Your brows quirk momentarily. Genuine surprise flashing just briefly in your well trained eyes. Hand tightening on the rag as it forgets its purpose in polishing the bar.

“With me?” 

You ask with curiosity. You almost can’t help it. He’s got this magnetism that draws you in like a rabbit to a snare. Before you even know you're in danger- he’s cutting off your blood supply like a vise. 

“Isn’t that what we pay you for- drinks and friendly conversation?” 

There it is, the trap has been set… How long can you evade his dissecting stare? Chess was never your forte- but your father tried his best to teach you. Observation was a skill you had mastered in the loneliness that followed desolation. 

A soft smile. Genuine enough for those that see a soft spoken, slender shouldered girl and think nothing more. But Thomas was never a normal person. 

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

“France-” 

He replies nonchalantly, fingers methodically popping open his silver cigarette case. Carefully constructed movements. Normalcy to create a sense of ease within you. You don't even flinch, you grew up on the border lands of Germany. You know of france. And the you that works for Thomas Shelby is french.

“Oh- Oui?” 

You ask with the unease rising from your ankles to your knees. 

“You know…” Thomas starts, wetting his lip just enough to run the edge of his fresh cigarette over the seam. Getting it to stick just perfect in the corner of his mouth. Match- strike- Phosphorus smell. Acridic. Close enough to twinge your nose hairs. Inhale, the white tip turns red- then ash gray. His eyes flick to yours, sharper than surgical steel. He offers you a fresh cigarette from the case, you don't even look down at them. The bait. 

“Non- merci.” 

You refuse politely, not even breaking eye contact with him. He snaps the case shut, a tactic used to make people flinch. No such reaction- that earns a smirk and another dry chuckle. His calloused hand slipping the case back into the interior pocket of his suit jacket as his eyes look towards the glass case behind you.

“Your french… is good.”

Thomas states as he exhales a long drag.

It's your turn to chuckle. Soft, melodic.

“This is because I am French-” 

You counter. Eyes shining as you resume your cleaning of the bar. A necessary distraction from the game you’ve found yourself trapped in. Thomas smiles- he's entertained.

“You know… Rene… I served in France. Picked up the language while I was there.” He states with a simplicity that is clearly fabricated to seem like an innocent attempt at getting to know you. Your mouth runs impossible dry. Your “name” rolling off of his tongue with an added emphasis that makes you wonder if he knows… 

“Oui? Vous parlez français?” 

You ask as your gaze drops to your hands on the bartop- forcing yourself to move closer to clean the wooden surface next to him.

“Hmmm. Oui. Et je connais aussi un peu l’allemand. Utile pour la guerre.”

You nod in response. Watching his eyes take a sidelong glance at your face. 

“You know any German Rene?” Thomas asks with a face painted as the picture of innocence. 

“Oui, une petite quantité. Je travaille toujours sur l’anglais.” You counter with a jesting tone, your eyes trailing over his features. He may be testing you- but it’s rare that you are this close to him. This earns an amused expulsion of air from his nose. Another long drag of the cigarette.

“Still learning english…” He repeats with a reflective tone as his eyes look up towards the top shelf alcohols behind the bar. “I think i'll take that drink.”

He states, turning his face towards you. Your eyes re-tighten around the edges. Expressive and soft.

“Of course Mr. Shelby”

Soon there’s a finger of whiskey placed gently in front of the man. You use your pinky to stabilize the drink as you set it down, not allowing for any errant sound to emanate from the crystal tumbler. Practiced silence that only a person who desires to remain unseen would exercise. 

“Ici- Mr. Shelby.” 

Your voice is soft- French near perfect… Thomas’s rugged hand extends to run a middle finger along the rim of the glass. A slow low ringing sings out from the crystal- but as soon as it starts it's over. In one swift movement he raises the tumbler and drains the liquid, dropping the glass to the bar top and sliding back over to you. You catch it.

“You’ve been working here for what? Six months?” Thomas asks after a moment of contemplation. An attempt at making you sweat maybe? He is a hard book to read, but you have this unsettling tendency to get under his skin with just one look. If only you knew just how under his skin you have gotten since that first interview. How your eyes reminded him of those he served with in the trenches.

“Oui- About six months.” You reply with a small nod of your head as you refocus on cleaning the bar. Moving just past him to polish the last remaining patch of slightly dull wood. He slides his arms back to give you room- Leaning on his elbow, thumb hooked under his chin as the cigarette is cradled between the index and middle finger of his hand. Silence lapses once more. You can feel his eyes trail down the side of your face. Almost as if he’s piecing together your puzzle without even having to talk to you.

“Hm… well. Keep up the good work-” 

And with that, Thomas stands, dawns his flat cap, and leaves. A silver glint just under the brim catching in the amber glow of the bar lights. A razor's edge. A breath you didn't realize you were holding escapes your lips the moment he disappears out onto the street. Perplexed- that how he leaves you feeling. If he was on your mind before, he was on it more now than ever. It was a rare experience to converse with him past a polite greeting, but now you're left feeling just unsettled enough to know in your gut that you have to police yourself even more than before. Being a young woman in a foreign land is hard enough as it is. But you- you’re a nineteen year old German girl with no one and no home to turn to at the end of the day. 

The rest of your shift runs by in a blur- smile, laugh, make small talk, sling drinks. A performance that would make any puppeteer proud. That's how you felt most days, like a marionette dangling in front of crowds of people who all think you're human. Your mind fractured long ago. Every day as if you are watching each performance from behind your eyes, not quite seeing past them. 

[pinkytoothlesso11]

Reasons why Jinx is alive– A fully comprehensive evidence analysis

Right. So I've seen a lot of people with conflicting views on if Jimx survived at the end of Arcane season 2, and I have been itching to do a meta post on the subject, so here it goes!

The first piece of evidence that I found particularly noteworthy was the explosion itself. By going frame by frame it was possible to see this:

It's a blink and you miss it kind of scene, but this is right after the explosion, and you can see the clear pink line going into one of the vents. Now why is this important? Well, it's simple, it's the shimmer effect that happens when Jinx is moving very fast! I know that Warwick was holding onto Jinx, but in a explosion its perfectly plausible for her to get out of that grip using the explosion of her monkey bomb.

Then we have the scene where Caitlyn is inspecting the plans for the Hexgates.

There is literally no reason for her to look at these plans. Not unless she thought there was something she missed...

There's no dialogue here, so it's really just based on what she does and how she reacts. Most notably what she's holding.

It's the head of one of Jinx's notorious monkey bombs. What's more, it's clearly damaged and singed. So likely this is the very same monkey bomb Jinx used in the Hexgates. This also suggests that Caitlyn might have been searching for evidence of Jinx's dead body... and clearly didn't find it for her to be holding Jinx's bomb head and then searching on the plans. Which brings me to the focus changing to this:

The vents we see the streak of pink shimmer light go inside correlate to the plans as shown above. The vents connect to the air ducts which connect to the outside. After this, the camera goes back to Caitlyn and we see her look at the monkey bomb head and then smile.

Then we get to the most telling piece of evidence that Jinx survived and left Zaun and Piltover behind, which is definitely a controversial choice on the writers part and does come across that they just want the option to bring in Jinx whenever they want in later stories taking place in Noxus, Ionia and Demacia. Which is very Marvel like lol. This is namely the air blimp at the end shot of the show.

What I find interesting is the fact it mirrors exactly the very first time we see Powder in episode 1 of Arcane season 1 when we see one of these air blimps.

The difference in these shots is that the one from season one is going TOWARDS Piltover, and the one from end of season 2 is going AWAY across the sea. The only difference in the ships themselves is the streak of blue you can just about see on the side of the hull. Maybe a further hint that Jinx is indeed on board that blimp.

Obviously it is what Powder says about the air blimp in season one that truly gives some solid evidence Jinx escaped on the air blimp heading for the sea:

Well, it seems Powder was right about that... the shots being so similar is clearly not a coincidence.

This is made all the more evident with the very last seconds of screen time of the show. It ends with Jinx's signature scribbles taking over the screen for three seconds with the words 'The end' written across.

Some people I've seen commenting on the fact the letter E on 'the' is reversed, but I think that's just a style choice in line with Jinx's graffiti so far. What is significant here is the fact it's so evidently Jinx's mark straight after the air blimp that resembeled the one in the first episode of Arcane season one.

Annnnd there's just one more thing now. I promise I'm almost done lol.

The lyrics to the song Wasteland that plays during episode 8, when Jinx is about to try and end her life are as follows:

This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

I used to have strength but I ran out of hope

I know it’s my fault that I'm here all alone

This world is a wasteland

Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go

But then the lyrics change in the last chorus, they go from Jinx preparing to end her life for good, to THIS:

This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

If it weren’t for you I’d be here all alone

I know in my heart this is where we belong

This world is a wasteland

Don’t let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go

Don't let me go

I feel it's likely that the line 'if it weren't for you I'd be here all alone' is referring to Ekko. Because it's Ekko who stopped Jinx from killing herself. And then of course the biggest change, from 'please let me go' to 'don't let me go' Jinx isn't ready to say goodbye. She wants to stay living. And I think it's this that plays in her 'sacrifice' scene with Warwick. It's not her giving up on life, it's her accepting that her life has changed and she needs to break the cycle by moving on. Not for anyone else, but for herself.

Let me know in the comments or reblogs your thoughts on this! And thank you for reading if you got this far lol.

[sabraeal]

don't speak boyshit, Chapter 12

[Read on AO3]

If Maria thinks about this calmly— logically— the silence must only last a second. Two, if she’s being generous. Three, if she’s about to spiral. Just enough time for Kamitani to parse what she’s asked and decide, unilaterally, that she’s an idiot.

But that’s not what she’s going to do. Oh no, that’s for someone who can use the wrong kanji and still expect everyone to laugh it off. Someone who can forget to bring their textbook to class and have a seatmate offer to share. Someone like Yuki, maybe, who might blush and stammer at the board, but still takes one more stab at solving for x. But Maria—

Maria’s brain takes one glance at the glacial pace Kamitani’s taking to express anything— honestly, tectonic plates subduct and transform faster than his eyebrows furrow— and decides with all the gravitas of a doctor giving a terminal diagnosis that now would be an excellent time to panic. Anything to keep him from saying—

“What?” There’s not much table for him to squint across, and sitting catty-corner like they are, there’s even less, but Kamitani clearly has experience at summoning up long distance derision with a short runway. “What are you talking about? Right now?”

“No! Why would I—? I meant to the movies.” She hadn’t thought it was possible, but leave it to this stupid man-child to come up with a question even more inane than her own. “Obviously.”

His eyebrows twitch, matching the tic at his temple. “’Obviously?’ I was asking you whether this would be ‘hanged’ or ‘hung.’”

“Oh.” She leans over, making a valiant effort to decipher what he’s scrawled across his notebook— somehow his handwriting is worse in English than kanji; a feat that seemed impossible until she startled rifling through his past exams. “Hung. ‘Hanged’ is only for when, er…it is a person in a deceased state. Or I suppose, sentenced to be in a deceased state too.”

“Really?” He tugs the notebook back in front of him with a snort. “They’ve got a whole tense for that?”

And lack a sufficiently polite form of address, but Maria diplomatically replies, “Languages mold themselves around what matters most to the people who speak them.”

He grunts— hardly a polite sound, but it’s as close as Kamitani can bring himself to one; somehow both approving and curious, even if he goes straight back to ignoring her the minute he’s done making it. It’s probably better that way anyway; she’s supposed to be here as a tutor, not a fellow student, and the last thing she needs is him remember just how they got on this whole topic any—

“You can wear whatever you want.” Her eyes jerk over to where he sits, pen tapping absently against the paper. He clears his throat, glare fixed to the page, like it’s personally wronged him. “To the movies. They let you do that now, you know.”

“I know they’ll let you wear anything to a movie.” She may not have partaken in many social outings since middle school, but she’s been to the theater. Her parents have taken her, at least. “I mean…should I wear a dress? Or maybe a skirt? Or I guess it could be warm enough for shorts, but that might be a little too casual, and—”

“I wear what’s clean,” he says, as helpful as always. “Or what smells clean, at least.”

Maria was never much for rolling her eyes— rudeness, her father would always huff, is the crutch of a lesser mind— but her few forays into typical teenage rebellion have not sufficiently prepared her for how much it could ache if she did it hard enough. “I should have known better than to ask a boy.”

“What do you want me to say?” One side of his mouth rucks up into a sneer, like somehow she’s the obnoxious one here. “What you’ve got on is fine.”

She glances down— pressed white button-down, perfectly tied striped bow, charcoal pleats cutting across above her knees with ruthless efficiency— and informs him, “This is my uniform.”

“Yeah.” He jerks a shoulder up in what she assumes is supposed to be a shrug as half-assed as all the rest of his work. “And it’s fine. It’s not like guys care about that sort of stuff.”

“Guys don’t care…?”

He says it so casually, so confidently, as if Kawata and Yamane didn’t have a stack of magazines as tall as her arm to drag out at the merest mention of a crush. As if they hadn’t pored over every page, shoving entire articles about ‘female desirability,’ and ‘the discerning male eye’ in front of her, covers boasting ‘this one little trick’ to get a man to notice you.

“You really are the most useless person on the planet,” she informs him with a chill that could frost glass— if it wasn’t nearly summer, that is. “Everyone knows that men are the most visual creatures on earth! That’s why all those girls in video games are half naked, and why shonen manga practically advertises fanservice as a feature, and why”—the words stick to her throat, refusing to be anything but spat between them— “all men watch porn.”

She expects sneering, a cluck of his tongue, a token denial, yelling even— but not the lift of his eyebrows, nor the bald way he says, “Yeah, but all those girls are naked.”

Maria stares. “There is something uniquely wrong with you, and its origin is somewhere between your ears.”

His eyes narrow, annoyed. “Now you sound like the old hag.”

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, glancing down at his paper. “Also, your answer to number three is wrong.”

“Well, isn’t that what you’re here for, sensei?” His mouth twitches, and— and it’s stupid for her heart to pound so loud in her ears, like they actually had some sort of argument, instead of him just saying…just calling her— “So tell me the answer.”

The pounding abruptly ceases.

“I���m not going to tell you the answers! Recitation is hardly mastery.” A lesson she’d learned the hard way, more than once. Not that he needed to know about any of that.

Now there is the derisive cluck of the tongue she’s been waiting for, the sneer of disdain she knew was lingering in the wings, waiting for its moment beneath the lights. “What’s the point of this whole studying thing if you’re not going to help me?”

“I am helping you,” she snaps, her spine pulling achingly straight. “I could give you the answer right now, but that would only help you with this question. If you don’t learn to solve it yourself, well—it’s not like you’ll have me next to you during the exam, whispering the right choices. And then we’ll be right back where we started next time, only with more information to cover.”

He glares at her, forehead furrowed and frown rumpled, two storm fronts converging right over his nose, destined to leave only devastation in their wake— but instead he grunts, “Fine.”

Maria blinks. “Excuse me?”

The notebook slides across the table, spanning the space between them. “If you’re not going to tell me the answer, then at least show me what I got wrong.”

It’s safer to look down than up, isn’t it? To find problems rather than a solution. That’s how it’s always been for her, at least. But now Maria’s eyes drop, seeking some safe harbor pages in front of her, some sturdy ground to plant herself on, and— and it practically glares back at her, his hasty haystack handwriting blown across every line. Legible, though only just. Manageable.

“Well,” she says, summoning her most insufferably superior tones. There’s no point in being friendly, after all. Not when this is a business arrangement. “If you’re looking for somewhere to start, maybe you should make sure your p’s all face the same direction…”

*

Maria squints down at the screen, hand cupped around her phone case as if that might help with the glare. It doesn’t, of course— not with the recessed lighting hung directly overhead; her favorite feature of this kitchen until just ten minutes ago, when Tanaka-san sent her this video— the same tutorial she’d used to learn to roll an omelet two years ago, before her then-boyfriend became now-persona non grata. But now perfectly julienned carrots and geometrically pleasing onigiri can't make up for the fact that no matter how she tries to shift around the counters— even going so far as to lean over the sink in her desperation— she cannot view more than three-quarters of her screen at once.

“Maria?” The lights flicker over the rest of the kitchen, a quick off-on-off before settling into a bright blaze over the breakfast table. Her mother shuffles another step over the jamb, rubbing at her eyes. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Ah! Oh, um…” Two containers sit open on the table, the biggest compartments already filled with still-steaming rice, and for the life of her, Maria can’t think of how to explain both besides fumbling out, “Making my lunch?”

It’s a slow shift from bleary eyes to narrow ones, mother’s mouth bowing just enough to wrinkle at the corners. Skepticism clings to every fold, doubt deepening in their shadows, and alarms blare in Maria’s ears— CAUGHT, they shout, YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT—

But then Mother’s nose scrunches too. Not suspicion, then, but distaste. Disgust. “You don’t need to do that. I’m perfectly capable of making your lunch.”

And perfectly incapable of enjoying the process. The boys at school loved to make a fuss about “obligation chocolate,” complaining about how true feelings make candy sweeter; as if it’s not a ridiculous demand for their female classmates to manufacture something like attraction when the boys in question still find bathroom humor the pinnacle of comedy, but…

But Maria can’t argue that duty does have a taste. And it’s hardly a sweet one.

“Well, yes, I know that.” I’m not saying you couldn’t, she nearly argues, but this is hardly the time to get defensive. Not when she’s trying to be as unassuming as possible; making lunch from utterly pure and reasonable motives, and not because she’s interested in the metrics of boy-mediated approval. “But, um…when I’m at university, I’ll be presumably living on my own, won’t I?”

Mother blinks at that, as if it had never occurred to her that if her daughter was actually going to attend one of those choice Tokyo institutions they had been aiming for, they might actually have to send her there. “Y-yes. That would be a…reasonable assumption, considering the commute.”

“And if I’m living on my own, then I’ll have to be able to provide meals for myself, won’t I?” Maria fits her hands on her hips, letting this sudden burst of unearned confidence lift her chin. “I thought it would be good to get used to making them now, rather than waiting until I’m by myself. Learning a new habit is harder when you’re under stress, they say.”

She could not, if pressed, say who ‘they’ might be, but Mother seems to find it convincing enough, nodding along as if she’d thought of the idea herself.

“That’s very mature of you, Maria.” It is, given more than a moment to think it over instead of desperately spinning it out. The sort of thing she should have been thinking of, if she hadn’t already been caught up in this whole…drinking the nectar of her youth situation. She’s almost proud of herself for stumbling into it, even backwards, letting herself take a moment to preen in her mother’s praise before— “I just didn’t realize university students made bento now.”

Maria blinks, a deer noticing the first paired pinpricks of headlights. “H-huh?”

“When me and your father were in school, we just bought everything in the cafeteria.” Her head tilts, thoughtful. “Or I suppose from one of the places around campus. There was a nice little conbini right around the corner, and I think your father must have subsisted off of their fried chicken for the two years until we met—”

“It’s a good way to save money,” she blurts out, nerves practically spilling all over the counter. “And, ah, healthier than eating conbini chicken every meal.”

It’s the exact sort of explanation that should satisfy her mother; she’s the one who always spearheads their vegetable-heavy menu, even if her father’s the one that ultimately cooks them. But instead that nostalgic smile falls to a frustrated frown, mouth pursing as she approaches the counter.

“I appreciate the initiative, dear, but you should know you won’t need to worry about that sort of thing. Your father and I are quite serious about supporting you during your studies.” Her brows knit as she surveys the counter between them. “Is there a reason you’re packing two bentos?”

“It’s easier to make two instead of one!” Her mother lifts an inquisitive brow, and ah— this might not have been the best tack to take with a woman who has been making them every day for nearly fifteen years. “I-I mean, that’s what I read, at least.”

“Hm.” An entirely too thoughtful sound, when she really would prefer her mother not have any opinion. “But bento are supposed to be made fresh. They’re better that way.”

“I-I know that,” Maria blusters, head giving a proud toss. “It’s just, um…Y-yuki-chan’s parents are out of town. So I thought I’d give the spare one to her.”

“Oh, Yuki-chan.” Mother’s posture visibly eases. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Maria.”

It would be, if it was true. But it isn’t— unless, by coincidence, Yuki’s parents are somehow out of town, and then—

“It’s good to think of other people, but make sure it’s not too much,” Mother warns, turning away to where the coffee maker sits, cold. “You wouldn’t want anyone to take advantage of how kind you are.”

Maria coughs around the bile building in her throat. “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”

Not when all this kindness is fictional, just part of the part she’s playing; a ruse to fool her mother into thinking she cares about her future and her friends rather than just impressing some boy who—

“I don’t think so either.” Mother smiles, slipping her coffee cup under the spout. “Yuki-chan is a nice girl, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the effort you put into your friendship.”

“Yeah,” Maria squeaks faintly. “I hope so…”

“You should go out with them more often.”

She blinks, swallowing past the burning in her throat. “What?”

“Your friends! Yuki-chan and those other girls. What were their names? Kawasaki…?” Mother shakes her head. “Anyway, I know it’s almost time for exams, but surely they don’t spend all their time studying.”

Unlike you, Mother doesn’t say, but she hardly needs to, not when Maria’s typical weekend plans involved making flashcards and studying exam booklets, and—

The siren breeze of opportunity wafts through the window her mother’s thrown open.

“Oh!” Her hands tremble as she grips the counter, willing herself to sound calm. Composed. Like a girl that has friends that go places with her. “T-that reminds me. I was invited to a movie this weekend…”

This can’t possibly work. She’s too nervous— even if Mother can’t hear her heart pounding, shouting LIAR with every beat, she’ll know by the way her knees knock, or the guilty flush on her cheeks, or— or something. Something that makes every bit of her breathe, I’m going out with boys, and then she’ll be grounded until she’s thirty.

“Oh, doesn’t that sound nice?” Mother settles onto one of the kitchen chairs, the gurgle of percolating coffee bright in the air. “Do you need any pocket money for the trip? I’ve heard snacks are expensive nowadays.”

“I…” Maria stares. This woman raised her. Surely she would know when her own daughter was lying to her face. About boys. “N-no. I think I still have money from my last exams. T-that should be more than enough.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Mother squints over at the stove, and oh, here it comes— “Do you need any help?”

Maria’s jaw closes with a snick.

“No,” she manages, after a moment. “I think I’ve got it handled.”

*

Were there ever a circumstance wherein Maria was forced— under extreme duress— to invent a positive trait for Yagi, she could at least say this: he doesn’t drop his bag with all the subtlety of an earthquake, like the rest of the boys in their class do. No, he delicately drapes the strap over the back of his chair, arranging the bag so that it sits neatly between their desks, not interfering with his ability to rummage through its contents, or knocking into her knees. It’s almost…polite.

And yet it still doesn’t keep her from flinching when he spins around, all princely smile, and hums, “Good morning, Inomata-san.”

It would be easy to glare, to answer with her customary, don’t you have someone else you can bother? Or even a very evocative, what?

But it’s Yagi who had given her the comprehensive primer on just what sort of dishes made for a good bento— for a boy, at least. For someone who rarely made a production of eating the ones he received, he had some firm opinions about what kind of grilled fish kept well until lunch time, or what pickled vegetables wilted too quickly to make a good accompaniment to rice. A better help than Nezu, at least; he might be used to taking Yagi’s cast-offs, eating all the finest bento 3-A can offer, but in terms of taste— well, she’d known garbage compactors with more discernment.

Maria grits her teeth and manages a mostly civil, “Good morning.”

Yagi’s eyebrows disappear beneath the fashionable fall of his bangs. “You’re in a good mood.”

For once, he’s too polite to say, but his tone does more than enough to imply.

“I’m in the same mood I am every morning,” she snaps, regretting every word before it even leaves her mouth. But it’s too late— rudeness spills out on reflex, a force of habit it’s impossible to stop. “Don’t try to read into it or anything!”

A prince’s mouth has to be made for smiles, but Yagi’s strains at the corners, creasing with the effort to hold it. “If you say so, Inomata-san.”

He starts to turn around, leaving her sitting there like a grilled tomato; flushed and tender and skin waiting to split at the slightest touch, and—

And it’s stupid how hard it is to just be nice. “Thank you, though. For the, er…advice. With the bento.”

His head snaps back over his shoulder so fast her own aches in sympathy. “So it went well? Your…hmm…experiment?”

“It’s ongoing,” she informs him loftily, “and the president of the Home Ec Club also gave me a few pointers too. So don’t think you’re the only one that—”

“But he liked it, didn’t he?” It’s subtle, the way Yagi leans toward her, but the searching look in his eyes is anything but. “He said it tasted good?”

Not in so many words. But, well, she wasn’t trying to impress Kamitani. “It was edible.”

She expects a grimace, a wince, a look of pity at least, but instead— instead Yagi grins. “So he ate all of it?”

“I…” A gout of their classmates flood through the door, mouths squealing as much as their school shoes do when they realize Yagi is already there, looking princely perfect in his seat. It’s only a hop, skip and a jump for their eyes to follow his, to see that she is the one he’s deigned to bestow his good favor. Maria straightens her shoulders, refusing to be cowed by their stares. “T-that’s not the point.”

The conversation should end there; other classmates have begun to filter in, ones beside Yagi’s fluttering fan club. People that must be more pleasant to talk to than a girl who can’t even seem to be grateful without snapping someone’s head off—

“It sounds like it’s going well,” he says with the unrelenting optimism of a boy who has never had to pack a lunch in six years. Or had his outdoor shoes thrown in the trash for taking the top spot two exams in a row. “Do let me know if you need any more advice, all right, Inomata-san?”

He turns the full force of that princely smile on her, sincerity shining out of him with all the blinding light of the morning sun, and— and she can’t help it, it just slips out—

“What do you think about clothes?”

*

The trouble with this whole bento plan has always been in the delivery; there’s a certain implication that comes with a young woman giving an equally young man a well-made lunch. One Maria’s eager to avoid considering that the one she’s giving it to isn’t even who it’s for. Or, well, it is, but not metatexually. He’s not the one meant to reap the rewards, or however the saying goes. Not for anything but the short term.

She might have had to chase him down that first day, coming into the classroom and hauling him through the hallways until he learned to behave, for once, but now that she’s established a routine, well—

Kamitani’s already lingering outside when lunch rolls around, his stupidly long legs stretched out, making it awkward for her to make this exchange in any sort of civil fashion. No, there’s nothing for it to but shove, forcing the box into his folded arms with all the grace of a bulldozer.

“Here,” she says, impatient, waiting for him to untangle enough to hold it on his own. “The rubric is already inside. Make sure you fill it out properly this time. And actually try the omelet!”

It’s the least he can do, now that she knows she’s made it right— she must have; she followed Tanaka-san’s tutorial down to the second. But instead of looking grateful, the way anyone else would when they’re handed a properly nutritious meal, he just stares at her, forehead already halfway to a furrow. “What, that’s it?”

“Well, eat the rest of it too!” It’s not like he needs her to explain lunch to him as a concept. For all his complaining, he’s been polishing off both tiers in twenty minutes. “It’s not like you don’t know how.”

It’s a feat to skirt around him— she doesn’t remember him having nearly this much leg in first year— but Maria is an expert in avoiding unpleasant realities. She cuts a neat path from one side of him to the other, shoes barely squeaking as she executes the hurried turn into 3-C—

Only for his hand to hook around the cuff of her short sleeves, holding her hostage. “That’s not what I meant.”

His palm burns where it sits against her skin— or, well, half against it, the other half pressing cotton flat like an iron. “W-what?”

He hasn’t budged an inch from where she found him, holding her just with the casual strength of one hand— it’s infuriating, now that she thinks about it. She runs the mile in physical education just like everyone else, and climbs the stupid rope, even if it takes her a few more minutes to huff and puff to the top. There’s no reason he should be able to just hold her like this, like she’s just some delicate little waif, and he’s—

He’s staring at her now, head turned so he can really get some good momentum down that nose of his. “You want me to eat this on my own?”

“J-just for today!” She shrugs out of his grip, annoyed and oddly breathless. “It's not like you don't have friends! I’m sure you’d rather eat with them anyway.”

His eyes narrow, a breath hissing out from his nose. “What's that supposed to mean?”

There's no reason for him to make this so difficult, not when he already spends most of their time complaining about how he'd rather be doing anything else. "I said exactly what I meant. Now if you'll excuse me"-- her chin lifts with a pointed sniff-- "I need to consult with the girls in your class."

His brows furrow sharply, matching the flex of his hand. "What? Why?"

“Because...”

Clothes? Yagi hums, thoughtful. I can't say I've ever thought much about it. Anything cute is always a pleasant surprise. Those animal pajamas-- the ones that are all one suit, you know-- or maybe even pumpkin pants--

She means on girls, Nezu informs him, resignation thick in his voice. The ones our age.

Oh. He offers her an apologetic smile. I can't say I have much of an opinion on that.

Her breath hisses out between her teeth, weary. “It turns out all boys are useless.”

*

“Mari-chi!” Kawata’s eyes widen as Maria hovers just beyond where they sit, trying to calculate the proper angle of approach. It would have been one thing in the classroom— she could have simply pulled up a desk, or quietly approached Yuki as she set out her own bento. But they’re outside today, the weather too nice to squander before it folds under summer’s coming heat, and there’s no natural way to ask— “You’re gonna eat with us today?”

Ah. Besides that.

“Yes.” She sets her bento on the table beside Yamane, already taking note of the number of inches available on the bench, and how much she might be able to squeeze into, so long as she was allowed. “If that’s all right.”

“Of course it is!” Yuki scoots over to make room, Yamane scurrying to follow suit. “Let’s just—”

“Let her sit on this side, with me?” Kawata deadpans, shifting her lunch over a few inches. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

“I-I wouldn’t assume you did,” Maria stammers, practically tripping to take her seat. “I just thought, um…”

Yuki and Yamane were more likely to accommodate her. Or at least do it without the sort of questions she knows are already buoying Kawata’s smirk.

“You’re always welcome to join us,” Yuki’s quick to assure her, smile blinding when she turns it her way. “You don’t need to ask.”

“Yeah, especially if you’re going to tell us what’s happening with all that boy research you’re doing,” Kawata hums, earning a shocked, ‘Rena-chan!’ from Yuki. “Oh come on, like you aren’t curious.”

“I know I am!” Yamane chirps, popping an octopus-shaped hot dog into her mouth. “Have you tried the neck thing yet? I think that’s a good—”

“I have not!” Maria refuses to clap her hands to her cheeks, no matter how much they burn, but it’s an effort, to be sure. “And I won’t. I was only…gathering information for future use.”

“And?” Kawata laughs, tilting her a sly smile. “Come on, Mari-chi. Yuki’s right, you’re welcome to sit with us any time, but I know you only got up the gumption to do it because you have something on your mind.”

“No, I…!” Under Kawata’s withering eyebrow, Maria folds like a paper crane. “I was just wondering if, er…there were specific types of clothes that are more appealing to boys than others.”

“What?” Yamane roots around for another slice of sausage. “You mean like lingerie?”

“Saki-chan!” Yuki’s palms clap to her own face. “Of course Maria didn’t mean that!” Her gaze slips toward her, curious. “Did you?”

“W-what? Of course not!” The news might say that high school girls are starting that sort of exploration younger and younger these days— prompting several awkward mother-daughter talks; or really not-talks, the way both of them dance around the topic— but Maria can’t even imagine kissing until after college. “I meant in a more rhetorical sense. Like for the movies.”

Yamane’s eyes blow wide. “Mari-chi, has someone asked you out?”

“W-what?” She might have expected that sort of shrewdness from Kawata, or maybe even Yuki, but Yamane? Another ice age seemed more likely. “No. I mean, as I said, rhetorically—”

“I didn’t realize that the movies was a common rhetorical device.” Kawata slides a too-knowing look across the table, one side of her smile twitching toward a smirk. “Maybe you only cover that sort of stuff in the Advanced Class.”

Heat prickles just under her cheeks, her last warning before it begins to show on her skin. “W-well, if you think about it—”

“Oh, did your club friends ask you to go?” Yuki bounces in her seat,  eyes practically bursting with pride. “Oh, Maria-chan, how exciting! They seem like such nice girls!”

It’s a convenient excuse, one that would certainly keep Kawata and Yamane from prying— or getting the wrong idea— but—

“No, no. That doesn’t make sense.” Kawata stares over at her, entirely too shrewd for Maria to do anything besides break out into a cold sweat. “Mari-chi asked about what to wear in front of boys, which means…?”

Yamane’s whole body stretches with the force of her gasp. “A boy asked you out!”

Wide eyes pass around the table, and at this crucial juncture, it seems prudent to inform them, “It’s not a date.”

This, of course, is a tactical error on her part.

“Date?” Yamane sighs dreamily. “Mari-chi is going on a—?”

“Who is it?” Yuki-chan nearly leaps across the table to grab her, palms pressing tight around Maria’s suddenly clasped hands. “Is it…? I mean, do we know him?”

“I knew it,” Kawata crows, fists sitting so high on her waist her elbows jut into Maria’s side. “People can balk at neck kissing all they like, but it never fails to get a girl what she—”

“Have you kissed?” Yamane practically vibrates in her seat, the deep blue of her eyes suddenly sparkling and bright. “Or maybe even…held hands?”

“I think you’ve got the order wrong on that one,” Kawata snorts. “And usually all that happens after the d—”

“It’s not a date,” Maria repeats wearily, temples pounding. “It’s a…a group thing.”

“A group date?” Yamane gasps, and ugh, that’s worse.

“N-no! Nothing like that! I just…” Her mouth works, waiting for the words to come to her, to try to smooth over this whole misunderstanding, but all she manages is, “They were already going, and I was invited to join them.”

Yamane frowns. “And you’re the only girl going? With a bunch of guys.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Even numbers might imply a pairing off, but there's no romance in the way she's outnumbered four-to-one. Especially when the only thing interesting about her is her test scores. “And I wasn’t sure if I should wear what I normally would, or…something different.”

“Something different, huh?” Kawata’s mouth hooks into a smirk, and there’s no time to stop her before she says, “So what you’re saying is that you got invited, and there’s someone you like going.”

There’s a pause, a small lacuna of conversation where she could protest, where she could play utterly innocent— but she’s too slow to take it. Too surprised at being caught to invent something more benign, and now—

Now her ears ache from all the squealing.

“Who is it? No”— Yamane holds up a hand, pressing the other to her temple— “wait, let me see if I can guess. No, wait, actually, give me a hint first—”

“Really?” There’s a small wrinkle between Yuki-chan’s eyebrows, the tiniest hint of concern. “But I thought...?”

It’s Kawata who seizes the initiative. “Are you seeing a scary movie?”

“Er.” A good question; being invited had been such a novelty, Maria hadn’t actually bothered to ask about the title, let alone the content. “I’m not…sure?”

“If you are, pretend to get scared.” She says it so breezily, like it’s a foregone conclusion that Maria couldn’t actually be scared of anything that wasn’t covered in red pen. “Then you can get him to put his arm around you.”

“Oooh, yes!” Yamane claps her hands together, far too eager. “You can do that no matter what kind of movie it is, can’t you? There’s always something surprising going on. You just have to grab him and then—”

“I— I’m not going to do that.” The spectral weight of Kashima’s arm settles over her shoulders, hypothetically warm even through two layers of fabric, and oh, it says something about her that it’s so tempting. Just what she can’t begin to speculate, but something. “Resort to…to deception.”

“It’s not deception,” Yamane insists, wide-eyed. “It’s just tricking him into comforting you!”

“That,” Maria informs her, “is exactly the same thing.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Kawata says, waving Yamane off with a sigh. “Boys like it when girls act vulnerable. It makes them feel important or something. That’s why they all like Yuki-chan so much.”

“I’m not vulnerable!” Yuki’s cheeks puff out petulantly, only deepening her pout. “I’m just…indecisive.”

“Same difference,” Kawata deadpans. “That’s your problem, though, Mari-chi. You don’t seem like you need anyone.”

If that were true, she’d hardly be here, asking about boys and clothes and the hundred other things girls her age were born knowing. Or begging scraps off anyone that seems to have a halfway decent idea of how to interact with someone outside of a group project. But--

“I don’t,” she lies, fists trembling in her lap. “If some boy can’t handle that I’m a…er…strong, independent woman, then there’s no reason to get into a relationship in the first place!”

But it's better, isn't it, if everyone thinks it's on purpose? If it isn't just her fumbling through the dark, failing to find even one friend she can make stick. If boys don't like her because they're weak, instead of--

“But everyone needs someone sometimes, don’t they?” Yuki-chan frowns, that concerned little wrinkle deepening. “Not just a boyfriend, but— you can’t be strong all the time, you know? It’s not good for you.”

“I’ve been doing fine this far.” Friends didn't earn a top spot in the most prestigious Tokyo universities, and, if the girls in the academy were any indication, having a boyfriend seemed to preclude them. Or the ambition to try for one, at least. “I don’t see why I need to change just because a boy needs to feel useful, or whatever.”

It's terrible the way Yuki-chan looks at her, sweet sincerity making her eyes water so much they shine. "But, Maria--"

“You may not wanna change for a guy," Kawata continues, utterly undaunted. "But I'm sure we can figure out a way to make you look cute." She flicks her hand. "Come on, what do you have in your closet?"

Maria hesitates. “Well, I would say most of my wardrobe is skirts, but…”

*

Maria has never been personally complimented on her ability to read any given room, but Yuki lingers behind pointedly enough that even she realizes that she should slow down, letting her pace match the snail-speed one Yuki’s decided to take on. By the bright smile Yuki turns on her, thrilled with every foot they put between them and Kawata and Yamane’s backs, it’s the right thing to do.

At least, that’s how it feels until it’s just the two of them, standing in an empty courtyard, only the birdsong for conversation. This is where she’s probably supposed to say something, explain why she decided to keep after Kashima when even Yuki called it a lost cause, and—

“You know…” Yuki rocks onto her toes before settling back back on her heels, and ah— she’s nervous, just the way Maria is. “I didn’t really expect you to move on from Kashima-kun.”

“You didn’t?” Between the two of them, she’s always been the one to give up easier; the one who runs into one speed bump and needs to regroup. The one who's discouraged by a stray breeze and needs to be built back up. You don’t seem like you need anyone, that’s what Kawata had said— funny, since it’s only because of Yuki’s constant encouragement that she didn’t let this silly crush on Kashima go the way of the piano way back in first year.

“Of course not! That’s the way you’ve always been, Maria-chan. Determined.” It’s a nice way to say stubborn, at least. Just like she’d expect from Yuki, even if the heartfelt handclasp is…a lot, as usual. “I’m proud of you for taking control of your own destiny! Drinking the nectar of our youth. It’s just…”

Maria blinks. “Just…?”

Yuki’s smile stretches thin, a grimace rather than a grin. “Don’t you think you might be coming on a little strong?”

“Strong?” Between school and studying, she’d hardly had more than a few minutes to speak to Kashima the past few weeks, and though she’d maybe sent him some lingering looks through the daycare’s windows, she can hardly count that as interacting, not when she’s reasonably sure he hadn’t seen her. “I don’t think I’m doing anything different than I normally do.”

Besides her research, but well, Yuki doesn’t need to know about that.

“Ah, really? But…” Yuki glances at her, concerned. “You do come to the classroom every day.”

For Kamitani, she nearly says, but that’s the last sort of misunderstanding she needs to stumble into. “I don’t think he notices.”

Not to say more than a friendly hello, at least. He always seems much more invested in whatever strange shenanigans his friends seem to be up to.

“He doesn’t?” Yuki stares at her for a long moment, then sighs. “Maria-chan, leave it to you to pick a harder challenge than Kashima-kun.”

"I'm not! It's..." The same it's always been. "I'm better prepared."

“Can you just tell me if he’s…he’s nice to you at least?” she asks, strangely desperate. “Not, er…?”

Maria blinks. Kashima has trouble killing fruit flies, let alone being anything but unfailingly polite to anything with a pulse. “I don’t think there’s a mean bone in his body. Not ones he knows about, anyway.”

“Really? But…” Her delicate brow furrows. “Well, I suppose they do say love changes a person…”

“Yuki?”

“Ah! Never mind me.” Her hands squeeze tight around Maria’s. “As long as you’re sure, I’m here to support you. No matter what!”

A weight lifts from Maria’s shoulders; one she hadn’t even realized she was carrying. Yuki isn’t mad that she’s still stuck on Kashima. She isn’t disappointed she won’t move on. She isn’t jealous that she—

Maria hesitates. Why would she be? For all her research, it’s not like she has much to show for it. Not yet, at least.

“Thank you,” she says, her own fingers tightening around Yuki’s. “That really…means a lot to me.”

Yuki’s nose wrinkles, playful. “Of course. It’s going to take more than a boy to come between us!”

*

It occurs to Maria later— much, much later— that maybe she should have asked Yuki to be more specific on which one.

[episodicnostalgia]

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, 109 (Mar. 14, 1993) - “Move Along Home”

Teleplay by: Frederick Rappaport, Lisa Rich & Jeanne Carrigan-Fauci Written by: Michael Piller Directed by: David Carson

This is the episode where…

Sisko makes first contact with a game-obsessed species, so they make him and his crew hopscotch for their lives, while Quark places bets because it’s his fault. No one thinks this is funny, and it is treated with the utmost seriousness, but also it’s fine for some reason.

The Breakdown

It’s an auspicious day on DS9 as Sisko and his chief staff (Kira, Dax, & Bashir) prepare to make first contact with an official delegation from ‘the Wadi’, a new species from the still-mysterious-and-exciting Gamma Quadrant. Naturally Sisko rolls out the red carpet, but his guests have little interest in diplomatic formality, and ask to be taken directly to Quark’s bar so they can play his games of chance. What could go wrong?

Initially, not as much as you’d think. …Initially.

The Wadi are quite taken with Quark’s Dabo table (essentially, Space roulette), much to Quark’s chagrin, because they keep winning. Since Sisko is also kinda bummed that his new guests seem to have no use for him, he selects Quark for babysitting duty, leaving express instructions to keep the Wadi happy. Unfortunately, Quark is… well, Quark, so he promptly orders his staff to start cheating so he can win his money back. Predictably, the Wadi call bullshit on Quark's scam, and insist that the only way to reconcile their grievance with him is to play “an honest game,” and they’re not talking about monopoly!

…because they’re aliens and that’s a human thing, but they did bring their own board game, called ‘chula’. With the opening of a box, Quark’s Dabo table magically scientifically transforms into another gaming surface [It’s hard to describe so feel free to reference the weird triangle frame, with multiple bridging levels, pictured above]. Basically, the game starts Quark off with four pieces which are placed near the top of the “board,” and then he rolls the space-dice in order to get them safely down to the lowest level, while placing bets. Simple enough, right? If you said yes, then …come on. Really? This is Star Trek, so clearly there’s gonna be a catch.

You see somehow the game has simultaneously transported Sisko, Kira, Dax, and Bashir (who were all asleep in their quarters) into some kind of virtual/alternate plane of existence (it is never explained). It turns out that the pieces on the board are all avatars representing Sisko and the gang, who are made to participate in a series of increasingly difficult (and seemingly dangerous) tasks. Of course all of this is unbeknownst to Quark, who unwittingly chooses the difficulty-and-nature of each new challenge, while placing wagers on their success.

Eventually Odo figures out that something is wrong when Sisko and his team fail to show up for work the following morning. His investigation leads him to Quark, who is finally brought up to speed, but unfortunately it’s too-little-too-late. The Wadi explain that the only way for Quark to get his people back is to safely navigate them to the end of the game. Naturally, this goes poorly, and Bashir is evaporated (he was kind of being annoying though, so honestly no big loss), and the others all fall down a bottomless cave shaft to their doom. Quark loses. The end.

Just kidding.

I mean, Quark does lose, but Sisko and co. are all perfectly fine, and instantly transported back into the bar safe and sound (somehow). Upon Quark’s realization that his friends (using the term loosely here) were never in danger, the Wadi are like “well duh, it’s just a game, man. But also you’re a douche,” and make their exit. Since a major diplomatic scandal has presumably been avoided on the grounds that no one died, the Wadi are free to go; likewise Quark is also off the hook for... reasons, I guess.

The end. For real this time.

The Verdict

There are a not-insubstantial number of fans who would regard this as the worst episode of the series, and I can see why, but I honestly can’t entirely bring myself to hate on it that much either. The main point of contention for most folk seems to be that the Wadi’s game is ultimately revealed to be harmless after 45 minutes of implying the severity of the situation. It’s a fair criticism, and certainly a part of the reason I won’t be giving this one a high rating, but I think the greater sin is that ‘move along home’ is mostly kinda boring.

Some of my favourite Star Trek episodes are also the most ridiculous, and they succeed specifically by leaning into that silliness. As alluded to in the opening paragraph, one of the games Sisko is forced to play does legitimately involve playing a game of hopscotch while reciting a children’s rhyme. Historically speaking, none of that is inherently out-of-place for Star Trek, and a perfect opportunity for some comic relief, but the scene falls flat, and feels kind of cringy, almost as if everyone involved was embarrassed (except Avery Brooks. That guy always commits). The rest of the episode tries to lean more heavily on traditional life-and-death drama, but even that feels stifled by (I’m guessing) budgetary constraints. Likewise, the sequence with the most impressive set piece (the rocky cliff that everyone except Bashir falls over), drags on for way too long, with the aforementioned lack of pay-off.

But it’s not all bad either. We do get a chance to see a little bit of Quark’s humanity (for lack of a better word) shine through when he believes that he’s responsible for the safety of the players. It’s also nice to see the dynamic between Sisko and his officers in an unconventional situation, and there are a handful of other character moments (which I’ll touch on below) that were enjoyable, if not enough to save the episode outright. Ultimately, there’s no denying this is a ‘growing pains’ episode, but there is something to be said for watching the creative process unfold as the show finds it’s legs, even as it stumbles.

Less “Bleh,” and more “Meh.” I’m giving this…

2 stars (out of 5)

Parting Thoughts

Super-Tech: We need to talk about the Wadi’s technology for a second, because these guys seem pretty stacked, and it’s just sort of brushed over. For starters, they activate the “game board” by opening a small box, that instantly replaces/reconstitutes Quarks Dabo table into an entirely different structure (and then returns it to it’s original state, after they’re done). Then we have Ready-player-Sisko and his team, who are all transported from their bedrooms, and into… somewhere. We know their physical bodies are no longer on the station, and that’s about it. Are they in a holodeck of some kind? Has their consciousness been uploaded into a virtual plane? Are they in some sort of alternate quantum-game-realm? At one point Odo tries to beam over into the Wadi’s ship, hoping to find the missing crew, but he’s thwarted by a bright flash of light that just transports him back into Quark’s bar. However the Wadi do what they do, it’s clear they’re technologically advanced enough to give the Federation a run for it’s money. Bearing in mind, we’re only ever shown how these people apply their technology towards recreational games, but it doesn’t take much to imagine some fairly awesome (and potentially horrifying) alternative applications. At the very least, you’d think they would have made a valuable ally against the Dominion (I mean, who?), but this is the last we’ll hear from the Wadi; Well, at least on this show (they make a brief cameo on ‘Lower Decks’).

Diplomatic Cover-up: I feel like Quark would have faced considerably more severe consequences over scamming the Wadi if this had happened on the Enterprise, but upon further consideration it kind of makes sense that Sisko would let this one slide. After all, the Commander did abandon his guests (who he was responsible for establishing good relations with) just because he was bored; worse yet, he left them alone with Quark! Sure, he’s a lying-capitalist-scumbag, but Sisko knew all that when he blackmailed Quark* into staying on the station! So I figure ol’ Benny decided to keep things quiet, in order to avoid having Quark snitching to Starfleet about how their newly appointed Commander shit the bed on his first major diplomatic assignment. [*it happened in the Pilot, although I failed to mention it in my review]

Parental Guidance may be advised: The closest thing this episode has to a B-Plot, is when Sisko finds out that Jake and Nog spend their downtime together, scoping out the young Bajoran ladies. Sisko has misgivings over this, on the grounds that Nog is both a troublemaker and a Ferengi. Interestingly, I’ve seen a few online threads with people arguing that Sisko is being intolerant towards Nog’s cultural upbringing, but I’m more-or-less with him on this one. Amongst other things, the Ferengi tend to be deeply misogynistic (let’s just say, they got problems, as the show will go on to highlight), so I think it’s reasonable for Sisko to express some concerns about his son taking dating advice from a young man who was raised to believe that women shouldn’t have rights (or clothing). This also nicely plants a seed for Sisko’s own relationship with Nog, as that character becomes further developed.

Security Breach: The previous episode introduced us to Lieutenant Primmin, who was brought in as Starfleet’s Chief security officer (but second to Odo as “head of security” under the Bajoran Provisional Government; gotta love Politics). Primmin shows up again in this episode, when Odo goes up to ops in search of Sisko and Kira. Primmin’s main contribution is when he reluctantly (because regulations) beams Odo into the Wadi ship, and then he’s never heard from again. Like, ever. I’m assuming the original intention was for him to return as a recurring foil for Odo, and was then forgotten/dropped in favour of more pertinent characters and storylines. But according to my headcanon, he was quietly fired (aka “transferred”) due to his critical lack of care and initiative over the disappearance of four chief staff. The dude hardly even sat up in his chair when Odo brought the situation to his attention, which is not a great look. So long Primmin! I’d say you’ll be missed, but I’d largely forgotten you existed in the first place.

[sleepyjump]

very curious about the username! what does sleepyjump mean?

oh gosh.... i didn't think anyone would ask. um. ahaha.... this is so embarrassing.... um. sleepyjump's actually not really my name. i mean, i took it from her, but.... i named my blog after someone else. i guess i should probably talk about her, huh?

i think she had a first and last name at some point, but by the time she got to me, everyone just knew her as the sleepyjumper. i think for a while there, towards the end, i was closer to her than anyone else and even i didn't get to know her real name. maybe she didn't want it. maybe she didn't even know it.

but for one reason or another, that's all she was. the sleepyjumper. i think a newspaper called her that first? she picked it up right away and soon it was on her all business cards. it was painted on the door outside her shop, too, the day i limped in and ruined my whole fucking life. ahahaha. i can still remember that faded paint.... the way the bugs were crawling around the sandwich board, like it was made of meat. like they already knew what was about to happen and they were just whipping up an appetite.

i brushed past them-- all the flies and maggots-- and walked in. now, most doors make a little ring-a-ling, but this one? it went tick. tick. tick. tick. as soon as i turned the knob, some sorta system of strings and wires made a metronome somewhere in the wall start swinging back and forth. i play the piano at a local blues club, so i know a metronome when i hear one.

this one was gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as the dame before me. she had eyes like two blue moons splayed across the lake at night, a smile like a gash in the side of a wounded deer, and a hat that cast them both in inky black shadows. it was like she preferred to work in the dark, so she took it with her everywhere she went.

there wasn't a light source in the whole office. my heels clicked against the hardwood floor, my sequined dress sparkling from the light cutting through a crack in the door i'd just opened.

"close that door, doll," she said in a voice huskier than a pack of dogs. it pulled me like a sleigh-rider and i slid towards her, cold as ice and lonely as a polar bear in the woods. her breath was like cigarette fumes and dark chocolate had bled together into a new amalgamation, addictive as it was delicious, poisonous as it was sweet.

"you're that private eye, right? um, th-the one that... goes into... dr-dreams?" i was out of my depth. the click of the door made me stand up a little straighter.

"the sleepyjumper," she said back, smug. she wore the title like a suit, and it fit her as tightly as the long coat around her shoulders. "why? got a case?"

"u-u-um. m-ma'am, i-i..."

"shhhh." she tilted her head. i couldn't make out any of her face save for her big, toothy smile. "you've got a case, alright. everyone who comes in here has one. some of 'em just don't know it yet."

"o-oh," i said, eyes glued to the pitch-dark floor. behind me, above me, the metronome kept ticking.

"that's perfect," she said, speaking rhythmically. it occurred to me that her words were perfectly following the tick-tick-tick of the metronome. she'd start on one beat and end on another. like clockwork. "look at me, sweetness. we're going to figure out what the problem is, together. right?"

i didn't have any more words in my throat, so i just nodded. tick. i raised my head. tick. i lowered it again.

tick. she smiled even wider.

tick. she held out a hand.

tick. i took it before i even saw it.

tick. it was like i was already in a dream.

tick. she started to shake it--

--and then she pulled me towards her and threw an arm around me and all of a sudden her perfume was a dizzying mist of chocolate and cigarettes and sleep and passion and fruits and metal and sugar and poison and bugs and meat and flowers and rain and i was limp, on her shoulder, and the ticking was gone, and i--

--she was in a clearing, and there were trees taller than the moon is high, and it was pitch dark, and too bright, and i--

--she was poking and prodding my skin, and my eyes fluttered open for a moment.

tick.

tick.

tick. she leaned forward,

tick. and blew air directly into my face--

--i was in her arms, and i was her dog, and i was her goddess, and i was her assistant, and i was the moon and she was the sun, and--

--she found the stopper and pulled, sharp, and all of a sudden i could think again. like someone had stuffed me into a box and pumped all the air out and suffocated me--

--i could think, i could focus, i could breathe. i was crying, sobbing, shaking, she was holding me--

--my husband was drinking, he was talking to someone, he was whispering to another man, they were staring at me, and then there she was and then they were gone--

--it was her, and the smell of beer, and me--

--we were in the clearing, and she was opening a door--

--and then i reached out, and grabbed her hand, and closed it.

tick,

tick.

i was a lion.

tick,

tick.

she smelled like cigarettes and chocolate.

tick,

tick.

if she left,

tick,

tick.

i'd be alone again.

tick,

tick.

in the woods again.

tick,

tick.

all by myself.

tick,

tick.

she tried the door, and i lunged--

...

the metronome wasn't wound very far. it slowed, and then stopped, and i was awake.

god, what a mess. they tried to find enough pieces of her to put her back together and find out who tore her apart, but nobody knew where she was really hiding.

she kept protecting me, in my dreams.

i took her name.

how embarrassing, to be so intermingled with another woman...! my husband would shriek if he saw me like this. if he knew the thoughts i'd thought about the sleepyjumper... i'd be the mess on the floor and he'd be the one swatting flies away.

i don't think he ever woke up, anyway.

[gentil-minou]

wlw wangxian for @wlwangxianweek

Day 1 - In Over My Head (aka short girl Wei Ying being in over her head with her crush on the tall new girl Lan Zhan)

Wei Ying has sat in the second row from the front of the board since the very first day of school. It was the perfect spot, actually. Right next Mianmian and in front of her brother so maximum annoyance potential. Perfect. Best of all, no one sits in front of her, which is soooo important because no one tells you how awful being the shortest girl in your grade is until you're trying to see over their dumb big heads so she can see what the teacher's writing.

As long as they don't elbow her (though if they do, Wei Ying is much stronger than she looks. She can take them These thighs are all muscle, baby), she's peachy keen. Even when assholes like Wen Chao try to make fun of her, being this short gives her the perfect angle to look down at his crotch, frown, and say, "Wow, I'm so sorry. I think you can get surgery to fix that." Before running away cackling. She's fast, and these lumbering idiots will never catch up to her anyways, hehe.

So Wei Ying is feeling pretty damn good about everything, until the new girl walks into their homeroom.

She's laughing at something Nie Huaisang said and so isn't entirely paying attention until their teacher draws their attention. When she turns around, all she can see is the back of someone very, very tall, with incredibly long hair that goes all the way down their back.

Shiny and silky, the kind she'd seen in hair commercials, with the shower running overhead and soap streaming down a stranger's body…

Wow, Wei Ying must be envious. She's always liked her messy waves, but maybe it's just that she's interested in growing her hair out and straitening it or something.

Anyways, that's not the most important thing here. The most eye-catching thing about this new kid is how incredible tall she is. Like, almost reaching the top of the blackboard, taller than most of the boys tall. Wei Ying's head would probably wouldn't even reach her shoulders.

"So cool…" she whispers, subconsciously. Jiang Cheng elbows her to quiet down and she yelps, "Hey!" which unfortunately draws everyone's attention to her, including the new girl.

And…oh. Wow. New girl isn't just tall. She's so pretty. Model pretty. Pretty pretty.

Wei Ying's struck dumb by the way New Girl fixes an intense gaze on her, peering above wire-rimmed glasses with eyes honey-brown and lashes long enough the must brush against her glasses all the time. She's staring at her, well, glaring at her more like, but wow, Wei Ying doesn't mind at all.

She gulps as her eyes trails down the side of New Girl's perfectly sloped nose, down to thick plump lips that are pursed in a frown and just…ah, her throat feels parched.

Wei Ying has never cared much about other people's bodies before. She's touched herself, of course, but she hasn't had more than a peripheral interest in others. Her breasts are small and she's perfectly fine with them. The rest of her female friends are a bit larger than her, but it's never been much of big deal for her. She changes in front of them all the time and there's never been even the smallest hint of anything more untoward.

Now, she can't look away. She doesn't think she wants to.

New Girl's breasts are…incredible. Wow. She buttons her shirt all the way to the top, but she must have the wrong size or something because one of the buttons is stretched a bit and Wei Ying can just barely make out the lace edge of her—

Mianmian clears her throat beside her.

Oh. Wei Ying was staring. With her mouth wide open in an o. And standing up over the desk to lean forwards on the palm of her hands.

Oh.

Wei Ying drags her gaze back up to New Girls face and…yup, New Girl's glare is 1000% times worse now. But her ears are also tinged pink, peaking through strands of her long hair.

It's cute…really cute. She's super cute. Yeah.

"Wei Ying?" the teacher asks, "Are you perhaps volunteering to guide Lan Zhan around the school?"

"Huh?" Wei Ying says around her still dry throat, the name echoing in her head. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Wow.

She's a bit speechless still, but Jiang Cheng elbows her again and that seems to do the trick, fixing whatever got dislodged from her brain, and sending her back into high gear.

Yeah, she can totally show New Girl— Lan Zhan, wow, around! She's great at that.

She beams her brightest grin across the classroom, and okay Lan Zhan just frowns more but somehow that just makes her even prettier. "I'd be happy to!"

"Wonderful," their teacher says, amused. "Lan Zhan you may take a seat in front of Wei Ying then and she will give you a tour around the school after class."

Lan Zhan nods and walks over, except it almost seems like she glides over, the ends of her long uniform-issued skirt swishing around her ankles revealing plain white socks and matching shoes. It should be ridiculous but with the way her hair fans out behind her just makes her look ethereal. Wei Ying can almost imagine the sparkles that would follow in her wake.

Lan Zhan stops in front of her new desk and glances at Wei Ying, who smiles back up at her, all friendly and everything so she feels super welcome. Lan Zhan's face doesn't change at all, just gives her an impassive look before she sits down and...

Oh. That's a problem.

She blocks the board…Wei Ying can't see at all.

Normally, Wei Ying wouldn't think twice about telling someone to move their big head…except Lan Zhan doesn't have a big head.

Her head is small and perfect actually, and her hair slides over her shoulder and it's taking everything Wei Ying has in her to not touch it and see just how soft it is….but that's not the point. She can't see, and she's feeling so hot and flustered by it for some reason she doesn't know what to do at all.

Then, almost as if she can read her mind, Lan Zhan glances at her and, seeming to understand, shifts to the side so Wei Ying can see perfectly just around her shoulder.

Wei Ying smiles at her and taps her shoulder to say thank you, earning a static shock that's electrifying and sends sparks down her spine to pool in something low and deep within her.

Lan Zhan nods again, eyes cast and demure, and turns back to the board.

It's worked. Wei Ying can see the board again perfectly. So even if the new girl is kinda mean-looking, she's kind. The realization makes Wei Ying's heart flutter and her cheeks turn an embarassing pink. She tucks her chin into her hands, palms at her cheeks hoping her cool skin can relieve some of the heat.

But there's a new problem now. With the way Lan Zhan is sitting now, towards the side and angled a bit as she jots down notes with perfect penmanship, Wei Ying can study her profile. An unobstructed view.

It's very distracting, she can't focus on anything the teacher is saying, at all.

A very pretty distraction. Oh dear.

TBC

(threadfic here)

[sarah-cam]

What other songs on TTPD do you think are Bonrad??

okay i’ll do what i did for 1989 so this list goes from 'the entire song fits them so perfectly it hurts' to 'most/some of the song fits but i'm still sobbing' to 'this specific lyric punched me in the face'

most of these are about their break-up era re: conrad’s self-sabotaging and belly’s inability to get over conrad while she’s with someone else… also tbh much of this album is more 🪼 with all of the allusions to cheating and toxic relationships lmao

the alchemy, so high school, fresh out the slammer, guilty as sin, i hate it here, i look in people’s windows, fortnight, the tortured poets department, the albatross, my boy only breaks his favorite toys, the prophecy, down bad, so long london

once again choosing the best lyrics from each

1. the alchemy

This happens once every few lifetimes These chemicals hit me like white wine What if I told you I'm back? The hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever end I circled you on a map I haven't come around in so long But I'm making a comeback to where I belong Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

2. so high school

I feel so high school every time I look at you I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me No one's ever had me, not like you You knew what you wanted and boy you got her

3. fresh out the slammer

But it's gonna be alright, I did my time Now pretty baby I'm runnin' back home to you Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to As I said in my letters, now that I know better I will never lose my baby again All those nights you kept me going Swirled you into all of my poems Now we're at the starting line, I did my time Now pretty baby I'm running to the house you still wait up and that porch light gleams To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake Here at the park where we used to sit on children's swings wearing imaginary rings

4. guilty as sin?

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind One slip and falling back into the hedge maze, oh what a way to die I keep recalling things we never did Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name Building up like waves crashing over my grave Without ever touching his skin How can I be guilty as sin? If it's make believe Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow? What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy? If long suffering propriety is what they want from me They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly I choose you and me, religiously

5. i hate it here

All you'll ever be is my eternal consolation prize You see I was a debutant in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside If comfort is a construct, I don't believe in good luck Now that I know what's what I hate it here (jeremy) so I will go to secret gardens (conrad) in my mind I'm there most of the year 'cause I hate it here I'm lonely but I'm good, I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine I'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and I'll get lost on purpose This place made me feel worthless Lucid dreams like electricity, the currents flies through me And in my fantasies I rise above it And way up there, I actually love it

6. i look in people’s windows

I had died the tiniest death, I spied the catch in your breath North bound I got carried away as you boarded your train south A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing You had stopped and tilted your head, I still ponder what it meant now I tried searching faces on streets, what are the chances you'd be downtown? Does it feel alright to not know me? I'm addicted to the "if only" I look in people's windows in case you're at their table What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time

7. fortnight

And for a fortnight there we were forever Run into you sometime, ask about the weather Now you're in my backyard, turned into good neighbors Your wife waters flowers, I wanna kill her And for a fortnight there we were together Run into you sometimes, comment on my sweater Now at you're at my mailbox, turned into good neighbors My husband is cheating, I wanna kill him I love you, it's ruining my life I touched you for only a fortnight

8. the tortured poets department

But you're in self-sabotage mode Throwing spikes down on the road But I've seen this episode and still loved the show Who else decodes you? Sometimes I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me So tell me, who else is gonna know me? At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding

9. the albatross (role-reversal)

They tried to warn him her about her him Cross your thoughtless heart, only liquor anoints you She's He's the albatross, she he is here to destroy you So I crossed my thoughtless heart, spread my wings like a parachute I'm the albatross, I swept in at the rescue The devil that you know looks now more like an angel I'm the life you chose and all this terrible danger

10. my boy only breaks his favorite toys

Oh, here we go again, the voices in his head Called the rain to end our days of wild My boy only breaks his favorite toys I'm queen of sand castle he destroys He saw forever so he smashed it up Just say when, I'd play again He was my best friend, down at the sandlot I felt more when we played pretend than with all the kens Cause he took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart Left all these broken parts Told me I'm better off, but I'm not

11. the prophecy

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle Oh, but it's gone again And it was written, I got cursed like Eve got bitten Oh, was it punishment? Oh, still dream of him

12. down bad

Show me that this world is bigger than us Then sent me back where I came from For a moment I knew cosmic loveNow I'm down bad crying at the gym

13. so long london

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

bonus🪼: florida!!! (belly burying herself in her new relationship), i can fix him (no really i can) (spoiler alert no she can’t), the smallest man who ever lived (cheater alert!!), chloe or sam or sophia or marcus (cheater alert!!), the black dog (cheater alert!!)

[wozman23]

The Best of Not-E3: Summer Game Fest

I'm still bummed that E3 is no more. I moved out to LA shortly before its demise and thought I'd have plenty of time to attend the event. Yet here we are, in this post-E3 world, with glimpses of the joys of the past like that with Xbox Showcase, and plenty of lulls, like with practically everything else. I think the world of gaming is in a weird place. Development costs are unsustainable. I've said time and time again that the “bigger is better” trend has be ruining games and stifling creativity for over a decade now. Games take way to long to make these day, and the risk is not often worth the reward. Indie games have rebelled against that trend, but all the unique, fun B tier games that used to occupy the space in between are either dead, dying, or under duress. Still, gaming is one of my biggest hobbies, and I can't help but be excited about what is to come the next few years, even if those experiences feel fewer and farther between.

Best Announcement: Alan Wake II: Night Springs DLC

It's no secret that I'm a massive fan of Alan Wake. Don't believe me - look at my last post. So the events started on a high note with Remedy's studio lead, Sam Lake, making another trip from Finland to LA to announce the Night Springs DLC. Seeing him dance his way out on stage put a smile on my face. I was giddy. And then announcing that the DLC would be out the next day came as a surprise. I just finished up the last game I was playing yesterday, and I'm so excited to hop back into the warped, insanely creative world of Alan Wake. I can't get enough of it. I want to see what vision Sam and the team have for where the franchise goes next. And I want to continue to try to string together my own theories about Alan, his story, and how he intertwines with the Remedy Connected Universe. As much as I could easily fall back into my psychosis and make this post about how that announcement was the “Game of the Show” for me, I want to shine some light on the little guys.

Best Indie: Screenbound

The second announcement to blow me away was the indie game Screenbound. It's such a cool concept! And the art style looks so great. I love puzzle-y platforming games, and it looks to mix both genres well. It reminds me a lot of one of my favorites from last year, Viewfinder, which was also love at first sight. And before that there was Toodee and Topdee, which merged 2D and top down game play perfectly. In each of these game's cases, they immediately stood out as games that were looking to take me on experiences that I'd never been on before. Viewfinder and Toodee and Topdee were two of my most anticipated games, and in the end they were my Indie GOTYs the years for those years. Lets hope Screenbound follows in their footsteps.

Best of Show: South of Midnight

I remember looking forward to Contrast from Compulsion Games. We Happy Few was lost on me. But when they showed off their teaser trailer for South of Midnight at last year's Xbox Showcase, I was interested thanks to the rich atmosphere. Now we got a better look at it, with a fleshed out world, some interesting characters, and some game play, and it shot up my Most Anticipated list. I've always been fascinated by the Cajun accent. In almost every case, a heavy accent is a distraction for me. I've always joked that if someone has a noticeable accent, I assume they're dumb. Southern, New Yorkers and New Jersey-ers, all those weird Chicago/Mid-west/Wisconsin/Minnesota accents – all a bunch of dummies. But that Cajun and Creole accent rises above the rest. And here, it is on full display as a love letter to Louisiana. The second that massive catfish showed up, I was sold. He looks cool. He talks cool. He's just cool. This trailer had a lot to take in. A massive gator. Cool looking traversal options. That really cool, stop motion-like animation style. I'm so on board for this one! Apparently it's been drawing a lot of comparisons to Kena: Bridge of Spirits, both good and bad, but I loved that game to death as well, so bring on all the comparisons! I'm always a bit scared when a developer gets acquired by Microsoft. We've seen the ugly side of that with the closure of Tango Gameworks, fresh off their best game Hi-Fi RUSH. And while I applaud Microsoft for their approach with Game Pass, bringing all of their games to the platform on Day 1, I question how profitable that is, and how they decide what is a success and what isn't. And I find it absurd that I can still stream everything via my outdated Xbox One without the pressure to upgrade to a Series X. (Although I recently found my first sacrifice: In Senua's Saga: Hellblade II I couldn't use photo mode since Cloud users stream the PC version which doesn't have a dedicated in-game button for screenshots. But that seems like a small sacrifice to make considering I that by working some gift card deals I just gave them like $150 to play everything they release for the next 3 years.)

Outside of the Xbox Conference, and the initial Summer Game Fest salvo with Geoff, there wasn't much to be excited about. And while Sony did have a show a little while ago – that would have been abysmal if not for Astro Bot – I'd have liked to see more this weekend. I've been critical of Xbox for quite some time now, but they really knocked it out of the park this weekend, at least in terms of putting on a good show. I just renewed my PS+ yesterday, but I feel like I get far more value from Game Pass.

Honorable Mentions:

Doom: The Dark Ages – I loved Doom (2016). Eternal lost me a bit, largely in part due to that one pain in the ass enemy type that felt like it didn't mesh with the series' core ideas of fast, action-packed, brutal game play. Going to the Dark Ages is a really cool twist, and the shield looks like it will be a ton of fun!

Indiana Jones: The Great Circle – I've never seen any of the films. But this feels like a first person, spiritual successor to Uncharted, which I know is a bit odd since the former inspired the latter. And more Uncharted-likes with giant, dynamic set pieces are fine by me.

Deer & Boy – I love cinematic sidescrollers. This one looked so gorgeous and cute. Nothing more needs to be shown for me to add it to the heap of cinematic sidescrollers I'm anticipating. Some join the Pantheon of Greats among the Playdead games, Little Nightmares, and a few others. Others fly too close to the sun. Let us hope this one can keep up with the gods.

Atomfall – Fallout 76 got some new content or something. But I'm over it. Move on. Give me Fallout 5. Atomfall could fill that gap much like Atomic Heart tried to. Let's just hope it strays closer to Fallout in game play than it does to Atomic Heart in namesakes since it was a pretty big letdown when I played it at launch.

ASTRO BOT – The dissolution of Sony's Japan Studio was disheartening. They made some great games over the years. One of my favorites being the criminally underappreciated Puppeteer at the end of the PS3's life cycle. It was such a creative piece of art. The amount of love that went into shaping its world, aesthetic, characters, bosses, levels, and game play variety was absurd. It felt like they out-Nintendoed Nintendo. The game sold so poorly that I believe I may have bought the only copy. From there, Japan Studio went on to make a few Astro Bot demo experiences for PlayStation VR, then fleshed out a terrific full game, ASTRO BOT: Rescue Mission, then baked ASTRO's Playroom into the PS5. All were brilliant platformer experiences that Sony needs more of. So it was bittersweet when it was announced that most of Japan Studio was being shuttered, with the only remaining team being ASTRO BOT's Team ASOBI. ASTRO BOT and Puppeteer seem to share a lot of the same design philosophy. They're super creative and feature some really great boss design. I have to assume that some of the developers who worked on Puppeteer are still working on ASTRO BOT. And I'm really grateful for their contributions. Sadly, outside of this, most of the big Sony studios are in between games right now. We really don't know when Naughty Dog will release something next. Marvel's Wolverine probably still needs some time to cook. Sucker Punch's future is unknown. And the same could be said for countless others like Santa Monica and Housemarque. Usually I walked away from E3s and Not-E3s really excited about what's on the horizon – oohh, we don't know what Guerrilla is doing... what's on the horizon for Sony and wondering what the heck Xbox is doing. But this year they pulled a complete switcharoo. Also the Lego Horizon game could be fun. Let's throw it in this category.

[supersetfiction]

F-Week & G-Week - Flight Path and Ghost 16/10/23-29/10/23

This isn't my greatest one I've written. It was such a struggle to come up with what to write. I feel like I had a good idea, but the words weren't coming and it was just really difficult for me to write anything good. I hope that I do better the coming weeks.

The roar from the engine was deafening in the cockpit where David sat wrestling with the controls of the ship. The more he struggled to right his ship, the more it threw it off balance. The atmosphere of this planet was nothing like earth. It was heavier and it was bringing him closer to the surface.

As he sped towards the ground, he started to lose consciousness. His thinking became sluggish and doing anything to stop himself from passing out seemed to him a colossal mountain that he couldn’t quite start to climb.

----------

“We’ve followed your work since your work on the black hole incident on Turin IV and feel you’d be most qualified. We think you might be exactly who we’re looking for.” Two men sat opposite David. The younger of the two had rattled off David’s accomplishments as a scientist and linguist.

“Is that so? Because up ‘til now you’ve only shown me that you’ve done your homework. You haven’t told me anything about the job.” David leant back in his chair and regarded to the men carefully.

“You better get talking quickly, or I’m walking out of here.” He left the question hang in the air for a moment. The two other men opposite him looked at each other unsure why to do.

The younger man started, but the other man cut him off before he could continue. “We believe that there is a sliver of hope for the retrieval of a man who has gone out past the last settled colony. You may know him from your training on Mars, Commander Owen Hoey. We need you to head into the outer reaches past the colonies and investigate a potential message sent from Commander Hoey. His last known location and message was from the colony orbiting Enceladus. We haven’t heard anything from his since and have assumed the worst.”

“What did the message say?”

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a flat silver disc. As he placed the disc on the table between them, he pressed a button on the side and the image of Commander Hoey appeared above it. The audio crackled for a moment before Hoey spoke.

“This is my last message for the foreseeable future. My name is Commander Owen Hoey and I am currently 1300 kilometers from the Enceladus colony and travelling further out in search for what I believe is a relic in deep space from the days of the old Earth. If I find this facility I will collect as much data as I can and return to Enceladus to upload. God willing I will return and you will hear from me again. Commander Owen Hoey, signing off.”

The image shut off and the man replaced the disc into his coat.

“Will you go and find Commander Hoey, David?”

David looked down not saying anything.

“How long will I be gone?”

“That’s hard to say. At a minimum, it could be two years. One year to the origin of the response, and one year back to earth. That’s if everything goes perfectly. It could be longer. That’s the risk you’d be taking.”

David sat thinking. It was a long time to be isolated and lonely. There would be no one to talk to and most of his time would be spent in cyrosleep dreaming his life away. It would be the chance of a lifetime to travel out to the furthest reaches were no one had ever been before. The information he could collect and things he could learn would be incredible. It was a difficult decision he had to make.

“I’ll do it.”

-----

“The plan is simple enough in theory. All you need to do is take this shuttle to the Interplanetary terminal orbiting earth. From there you board the solo shuttle and take the year long journey out to Enceladus. It would be wise to use the cryosleep to pass the year. A year in isolation is not healthy, and sleeping will help with that. The ship will auto pilot and send back to us periodic updates.” The younger man had said over the headpiece as David boarded the transport shuttle. 

David sat in the tight seat in the ship, buckled and ready to leave. He adjusted in his seat and found little room to move. (The trip shouldn’t take too long. It’s just three hours. I can sleep it.)

The ship rumbled to a start and soon after he was thrust into the atmosphere. Being so tightly packed made David feel more comfortable, that he wasn’t being thrown around as the ship sped further into space. The rumbling stopped and David found it easier to close his eyes and sleep.

-----

Upon getting to the Interplanetary terminal he was led from his gate to a private section of the terminal where his shuttle was waiting to take him to Enceladus. A terminal employee walked him through the ship and functions. The ship wasn’t big. It didn’t need to be, but there was enough space to walk around and house functions like a dining room, shower, treadmill, and lounge. (A year alone is a long time. I hope it doesn’t make me too stir crazy in here.)

After the tour, the terminal employee left, and David made his preparations to leave. The shuttle was ready for him to launch, The computer was locked on Enceladus, and the latest maps were loaded to avoid any damage to the ship en route.

David was finally ready to make his trip to Enceladus and find his friend Owen in the deep reaches of space.

[forestwater87]

Secret Santa 2019, Ch. 3

July 8, 2016

7:29 PM

“Ohh, goodness.” David clutched his hands close to his chest, eyes darting around them as they crossed the near-empty parking lot toward Muffin Tops. He huddled closer to Jasper’s side despite the oppressive heat. “Oh my gosh.”

“Will you fucking chill?” Gwen snapped, David’s nervousness clearly getting to her as well. “It’s not like you’re gonna be up on stage.”

“Okay, but I vote we get him up there at the first opportunity,” Jasper cut in, smiling despite the fact that he was feeling pretty weird himself. It wasn’t like he normally took his friends to strip clubs in his spare time, after all. He wasn't that kind of guy (namely, a frat bro or the President). “I bet we could talk Bon into it if the place is dead enough.”

David’s fingers dug into his sleeve, hard enough to drag blunt painful lines down his arm. “Don’t!” he cried, once again glancing around.

Jasper leaned in and kissed David’s temple, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all good,” he assured him. “And none of our campers are local this year, so you don’t have to keep worrying about parents seeing us.”

“I’m not . . .” He trailed off, seeming to realize that it wasn’t worth trying to lie. His shoulders slumped defeatedly as Jasper ushered them into Muffin Tops. “Thank you,” he murmured, slipping inside, and he knew it wasn’t just for holding the door.

“Always,” he replied, and they fell into step behind Gwen. 

Or -- took a few steps, then immediately stopped because she had faltered to a halt, looking around the dim, noisy space with a panicked look in her eyes.

He leaned in close to David’s ear and said, “Remember Davey, we’re being supportive.”

His eyes widened and he stood upright with a start, like he’d just been caught falling asleep in the middle of a camp activity. “Oh! You’re right!” He pulled away from Jasper, bouncing up to Gwen’s side. “Where should we sit, CBFL?” he chirped; his enthusiasm was a little too child-friendly for this situation, but Jasper watched, impressed, as David led her to a booth near the back of the club with the determined good-naturedness of a sheepdog, settling her in and immediately hopping up to get drinks. “Would you like anything, Jasp?”

“Beer’s fine. Literally whatever’s closest.” He took a seat across from Gwen, and for a moment they both watched David disappear into the gloom. “Doing okay, sport?” he asked; they both winced at his profound dorkiness, but he tried to shake it off. “You look nice.”

She chuckled self-consciously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You sure?” For once they didn’t have to wear their counselors’ uniforms, and Gwen had blown her hair up like a 60s soap opera star and done . . . something to her face; Jasper wasn’t sure what, but it kind of made her look like a magazine cover version of herself. (If he’d ever managed to get his face to look like that, he’d probably stare into a mirror until he died of starvation like Narcissus. He resolved to look up men’s makeup later, just for the hell of it -- even though he’d probably come across more like an overweight vampire than David Bowie.) They’d had to talk her out of calling the whole thing off when she’d emerged from her room looking dressier than Jasper and David combined, but in the flashing colors and low light of the club Gwen looked infinitely more like she belonged than Jasper did in his vintage -- which was really a nice way to say “old and kind of trashy” -- technicolor clothes and David’s impossibly wrinkle-free polo shirt and jeans.

Jasper suddenly realized how improbable the three of them looked together, like they came from different planets. A supermodel, a Mormon missionary, and a sentient pile of thrift-store rejects walk into a strip club . . .

“Gwen,” he said sincerely, “I would bet a hundred bucks you could take anyone in here home if you wanted to.”

She snorted, looking pleased despite herself. “And yet it’ll just be you two.”

He leaned back, grinning. “I know,” he agreed, catching sight of David weaving through the tables, which were finally starting to fill up. “Aren’t you lucky?”

David set their drinks down with the grace of a bartender (which he was, the rest of the year) and slid into the booth next to Jasper. “Well, Gwen,” he said, folding his hands on the table like he was going to pray, “what do you think?”

She froze with her glass halfway to her mouth, eyes wide and wary. “About what?”

“All this, of course!” He gestured around the room, where a steady stream of people were picking their way through the tables scattered like islands through the low warehouse; where women, wearing glittery scraps of nothing that caught the lights like fireflies, were ferrying drinks to and from the bar and flirting with apparent regulars. No one was onstage at the moment, but there was an expectant hum underneath the pounding music, and two poles were lit up by spotlights. “Where should we begin?”

“Begin . . . what?” Gwen glanced over at Jasper, looking like she was regretting every recent decision. He shrugged, thinking that maybe David was being too supportive now and wondering if he could possibly tone that shit down before something really stupid happened.

The sunshine drained from David’s face slightly, and he also turned to Jasper. “Gee, I don’t know.”

They were both looking at him, and he groaned. “Well, I don’t know either! Pretty sure the only place I’ve ever been like this was some . . . furry vore land in Second Life. That was a weird afternoon -- remind me to tell you about it later,” he added to Gwen, winking. “Why don’t we just ask Bon?”

David’s face brightened as Gwen’s paled. “We so don’t need to --”

“What a neat idea, Jasp! Come on!” David leapt to his feet, taking Jasper’s hand before giving Gwen an appraising look. “. . . On second thought, maybe you should wait here. With . . .” He widened his eyes, jerking his head in her direction with all the subtlety of Groucho Marx.

Jasper reminded himself to never allow his boyfriend to consider a career in espionage. “What exactly are you expecting me to do? Tackle her if she makes a break for it?”

David either didn’t hear this comment or chose to ignore it, turning away with a wave and a cheery “Be right back!” before diving back into the growing crowd. Jasper just sighed and lifted his beer, clinking it against the drink Gwen had set down on the table.

“Cheers.” When she didn’t respond, slumping back in the booth like she was going to disappear under the table, he placed his hand on her forearm. She jumped at the sudden touch, nearly knocking her glass over, and with his beer-laden arm he gingerly slid it out of her reach. “What gives, Gwengarry Gwen Ross? I thought you liked Bon.”

The dumb nickname didn’t make her smile. “I mean, I do,” she said with a miserable shrug. “But of all the people here to talk to about this? After that play disaster?”

He winced at the memory. During one of Preston’s earliest plays of the summer, Max had stolen Gwen’s phone and changed everything from her “Looking For” (all genders, “anything as long as it’s nasty”) to her photo (Neil, who was at that age where boys kind of looked like gangly, awkward young women in the right light) and had snagged the attention of one of the few eligible townies in Sleepy Peak. That debacle had ended in an extremely awkward date between Gwen and Bonquisha Harding, a woman with the body of a pro wrestler and the personality of a monster truck. They were pretty good friends now -- and the four of them got together every few weeks to watch old movies -- but he could see why it might be uncomfortable to chat with her ex about lap dances or . . . whatever.

“I mean, I told her I was straight! And now what? Like, is she gonna think I’m stalking her at work?” Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh fuck, what if she thinks I want to go out with her or something? Or what if she thinks I don’t wanna go out with her? We decided this wouldn’t work because I was straight! And if I’m not? That’s so insulting! What if --”

“Breathe, Rumpelstiltsgwen.” She glared at him -- he had to admit, it wasn’t his best work -- and he handed over her drink along with his beer. “I think you need this more than I do.” She took both drinks, finishing them in record time, and despite the situation he was impressed. “You must’ve been fun in college.”

She snorted, glancing over Jasper’s shoulder and swallowing hard. He turned to see David scurrying back to their table, dwarfed by the beautiful gold-glittery amazon at his side. “H -- hi, Bon,” she said weakly as they approached.

“Hey, sugar!” Bonquisha kissed the air next to Gwen’s cheek and settled into the booth. She was wearing a shimmering bikini-type-thing (he wasn’t very good with women’s clothing) that reminded him of Princess Leia, and sparkles were splashed across her cheekbones and shoulders like freckles made of stars. “It’s fantasy night,” she explained at his curious look, hoisting up a fake spear before turning her attention back to Gwen. “Hear you’re looking to join the other team?”

Gwen buried her face in her hands with a groan, sinking down into her chair. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Aw, come on! It’s a great place to be!” Bon spread her arms across the back of their seat and grinned at Jasper and David, a wide, expansive smile that was impossible not to return. “Right, guys?”

David looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so Jasper jumped in: “Bonnaroo, I think Gwen’s a little nervous about how to . . . you know . . .” He raised his eyebrows, not sure how to explain what exactly they were here for. “Do it. Not -- not it, but like . . . stuff. All of it. I should stop talking.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Gloomy,” she said to Gwen, flicking her ponytail affectionately, “we get a lotta women like that coming around here, so all the girls know it’s standard procedure. This is a good place to figure yourself out.” 

Gwen had been staring steadfastly at the table, but glanced over at Bonquisha, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Really?” she asked hopefully.

“Totally! Now, I gotta get back to work because they don’t pay me to pal around with my friends --” She winked. “-- but start by just looking, all right? You two,” she added, pointing at Jasper and David (who glanced at each other with some alarm), “you’re Gwen’s straight friends tonight, got it?”

Jasper suddenly felt like he needed a snapback and a sports jersey, maybe a shark-tooth necklace. “Guess we should get more beer,” he said to David, shrugging. “The more it tastes like horse pee, the better.”

“My man!” Bon held out her fist, and Jasper bumped it (feeling like the single whitest person on earth as he did so). “I’m due up onstage now or I’d get your drinks for ya. Tip Brandi well, she’s good people.” She put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, her smile softening. “I’m proud of you, gloomy girl. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, okay? Just have fun.”

As David escorted Bonquisha to the stage on his way back to the bar, Jasper studied Gwen’s face. She wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, which was good, but she still seemed to have trouble looking away from the small tea light in the center of the table. 

He supposed this was where his role as “straight friend” came in. “Uhh . . . she’s cute,” he finally said, glancing across the room at a woman decked out like a mermaid, complete with shimmering waves of black hair and a blue-green tail . . . skirt . . . thing (he really wasn’t good with women’s clothing) and feeling like the single skeeviest person on earth. 

Which . . . was probably good, considering where they were. He was in character.

She glanced up, following his gaze to the mermaid in question. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Not really my type, though.” She covered her mouth as a sharp, nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “What the hell am I saying? I don’t have a type. I . . . god, what the fuck am I doing . . .”

“Hey,” Jasper said, leaning forward so she had to look at him instead of spiraling further. “It’s me, brah, your straight friend Jasper.” She snorted, some of the panic fading from her eyes. “And I’m telling you, as your straight friend, that we can leave any time you want. We’re here for you, Gwen.” 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “No pressure, right?” she asked, and the look on her face was so sincere, almost plaintive.

“Not even a single psi.” He wasn’t sure he was saying that right, having slept through most of his science classes in both high school and college. But it brought a smile to Gwen’s face, so he considered it a job well done.

She shook her shoulders, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand, and examined the crowd with interest for the first time since they’d arrived. “All right,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. After a few seconds of silence she sat up straight again. “Oh,” she breathed, then tapped Jasper’s arm and gestured unsubtly toward a woman wearing fairy wings and wreathed in pink flowers. “She . . . uh, makes my chest feel kinda fizzy?” Her eyes met his, uncertainty mixed with excitement in her face. “Is that . . . ? ”

He glanced back in the fairy’s direction just as David bumped into her, balancing three beers. Despite his lack of hands, David steadied her with his elbow, his smile turning apologetic as he made sure she was okay before returning to their table. Their eyes locked and David’s smile widened. 

And . . . well, yes, the feeling in Jasper’s chest was somewhat fizzy, because it turned out he wasn’t very good at being straight after all. 

“Yeah,” he assured Gwen, unable to stifle a silly grin as he watched David approach. “Yeah, that’s definitely in the ballpark.”

Keep Reading

[sugawaraxo]

sex tape

warnings: smut ofc

characters: yu nishinoya, ryu tanaka, tetsoru kuroo, koutarou bokuto

request: Hc of asking your man to make a sex tape with you? With Nishinoya, Tanaka, Kuroo, and Bokuto please! 🖤

a/n: i really like bokuto’s, his was fun to write lol

nishinoya

- with nishinoya traveling all the time because of volleyball, it gets extremely hard not to miss him a lot when he’s gone

- especially when you’re craving his touch 

- most times you’re able to satisfy yourself decently well, but sometimes it’s just not enough

- and porn does absolutely nothing to help you because watching other people fuck just isn’t the same as watching as nishinoya fucks you

- so you get an idea that sparks both yours and nishinoya’s attention

- he’s very excited

“babe, can i ask you something?” you say while you massage noya’s scalp, his head resting in your lap comfortably as you two lay on the couch.

“hm?” he hums, teetering on the verge of sleep at the gentle feeling of your touch.

“what if we made a sex tape?” you question and noya’s head shoots up to look at you, eyes wide with interest.

“is this a joke? like some sort of prank? please tell me it’s not a prank.” he begs and you laugh at his response.

“no, it’s not a prank. i was just thinking about it and sometimes, when you’re away, i get really needy and it’s hard to get the kind of pleasure i’m looking for without you here. so maybe if we make a little sex tape, i can have something to watch and help when you’re away.” you explain. nishinoya stares at you blankly, his brain slowly processing each word you just said. the thought of you getting all needy when he’s not here and touching yourself while watching a video of him fucking you was more than enough to make him and his mini noya very excited. 

“is that even a question? i’m so down, can we do it right now?” he asks eagerly causing you to laugh at him again. 

“i mean, i don’t see why not.” you shrug.

nishinoya props himself up so that he’s hovering above you and he kisses you deeply. your lips always work together so perfectly, synchronizing in a nice steady rhythm. his hands are traveling all over your body in an attempt to get you as aroused as he already is, and it works without a doubt. noya continues kissing you and lightly grazing your sides with his fingers or rubbing small circles on your inner thighs until he earns a moan from you that makes him grin. 

“i know how i want to start the sex tape.” he says confidently.

“how?” 

“grab your phone and start recording.” is his only response. you grab your phone from beside you on the couch and open the camera app, pressing record and waiting for noya’s next move. he slides down your body and effortlessly discards your shorts, tossing them off to the side somewhere. he looks down in between your legs then up at you, you watching him through the screen of your phone. he gives the camera a small smirk before pressing a kiss on the lower part of your tummy, trailing more soft kisses all over your thighs, hips, and waist. he then lightly moves his lips over your core which was only being covered by the thin lace of your underwear. you begin to grow a bit impatient at nishinoya’s teasing, writhing under his gentle yet alluring kisses.

“noya, please.” you whine softly and he looks up at you for a quick second before pulling your panties down and tossing them somewhere unknown. he wastes no time pressing his mouth against your warm folds, licking circles around your clit repetitively. you to let out an airy gasp of his name and he continues to work his mouth around your clit for awhile, progressively sucking and licking more and more aggressively, just so he could selfishly earn more moans from you that make his dick painstakingly hard. and as if his tongue relentlessly moving around your clit wasn’t enough, he sticks two fingers inside of you and curls them upward to hit your spot. 

“holy shit noya.” you moan, reaching your free hand down to grip onto his hair lightly while trying to maintain a steady grip on your phone with the other. he looks up at you and you nearly cum at the sight. his eyes are blown with lust and his face is flushed a pretty shade of pink. you just know this part of the video is going to constantly be on replay when it’s finished. you absentmindedly start jutting your hips against noya’s tongue, a thing you do when you’re about to unravel.

you giving him the clear sign that you’re about to cum is noya’s cue to stop, so he removes his fingers from your soaking hole and wipes his mouth clean as he sits up between your legs. you whimper a little at the cum denial, but you know exactly why he did it.

“wanna see you cum with me inside you.” he mumbles, confirming your guess. 

“me too.” you respond and he smiles down at you softly which makes your heart jump. he pulls his pants down along with his boxers revealing his member. his tip is dripping with precum and you feel your pussy clench as you look at it. nishinoya takes his shirt off before saying, “yours too” and you remove yours aswell. he looks at your now fully nude body and sighs,

“how’d i get so fucking lucky?” he coos and for the second time, your hearts jumps and you can’t help but smile at his words. he presses himself at your entrance, teasing it slowly and you adjust the camera angle so that you can get more of noya’s face and body in it because that’ll come in handy later. he slides into you at a teasingly slow pace, drawing out the loud moan that’s leaving your lips. once he’s all the way in, he looks at the camera and winks before pulling out and thrusting back into you, hitting your spot perfectly. you planned on rolling your eyes at his cockiness, but your eyes end up squeezing shut at the sudden excess of pleasure.

“that feel good?” noya asks, already knowing the answer but still wanting to fuel his ego. you can’t even answer in actual words as he continues to thrust into you deeply, so you just nod and moan in response. he grins in satisfaction and thrusts into you a bit harder, not letting up on wanting to milk you of every moan you could possibly utter. he wants this video to be really nice for you since he feels guilty about being away for so long sometimes. he wants to make you feel so good so that every time you look back at this, you remember how amazing he can make you feel. he reaches down to play with your nipples a bit, making you squirm in pleasure. you use your free hand to start playing with your throbbing clit, not being able to hold back the lewd noises building in your throat. you’re a moaning mess beneath him, shaking and struggling to keep the camera steady as you get closer to your orgasm.

“here, let me take it.” noya says, grabbing the phone from you as he notices you struggling. he focuses it down on you, watching himself go in and out of you on the screen and he lets out a groan.

“noya, i’m so close.” you whimper, your chest heaving heavily as you start rubbing your clit more aggressively.

“good girl, cum for me.” nishinoya coos, making his thrusts sharper and deeper against your g-spot.

a few more thrusts and you’re arching your back off the couch and practically screaming nishinoya’s name. he smirks as you tremble beneath him, the sight completely destroying him aswell. he pulls out of you and cums all over your stomach, grunting and panting while he reaches his peak.

he wipes his mess up with his fingers then places them at your mouth, you sucking all of his faintly salty remnants off obediently and his cock twitches. after getting that all on camera, noya stops the recording and collapses next to you.

“that felt so good.” you sigh before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“it really did.” he replies, returning a kiss on your forehead. “now you can watch it whenever you want. and you better send me that video, i need it too.” he continues, handing you back your phone. you laugh at his statement and give him a quick peck before sending him the video.

you guys definitely watch it that night and go for another round.

tanaka

- he would be the one to bring it up actually

- tanaka just enjoys taking lewd photos of you in general

- he’ll come up behind you as you look at yourself in the mirror after getting ready and take a handful of your boob before snapping a pic

- or he’ll have you sit on his lap, facing towards him so he can take a mirror pic of him grabbing your ass like that

- he doesn’t post them or anything, but just likes looking at them every once in awhile

-  he did print out the ass grabbing one and put it on the dash board of his car though

- it makes him feel a sense of security that he’s the only one you’ll pose in pictures like that for 

- and he’s always had the desire to film you guys while having sex, to have a permanent memory of the encounter

- which is no surprise to you

tanaka is balls deep in your mouth, fucking your face at a slow yet rough tempo while muttering all sorts of nonsense as he does so. he’s leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter and you’re resting on your knees in front him, pleasing him the way he loves the most. your eyes are shut tightly as you try your best not to choke on tanaka’s length, them beginning to brim with tears a bit at the feeling of him continuously thrusting into the back of your throat. you open your eyes so that the tears would fall and you could wipe them away. but when you open them, you’re met with tanaka’s phone camera facing down at you and him looking at you with a shy smile.

“is this ok?” he asks, motioning to his phone.

“mhmm.” you hum, your mouth too full to talk.

you think it’s kind of hot being recorded actually. knowing that tanaka will go back and watch this vid countless times the same way you always catch him looking at the nsfw pictures that you two take every so often. it also gives you the motivation to be a little extra with your sucking. you wanna make tanaka weak with moans so whenever he goes back to watch the video, he’s reminded of just how crazy he is for your lips around his dick.

you hollow your cheeks a bit more, moving your wet mouth down his shaft at a teasing pace, maintaining eye contact with him in the process. he throws his head back and lets out a deep groan as your nose touches his abdomen, you completely taking tanaka’s length down your throat. 

“holy fuck y/n.” tanaka pants and you smirk, now circling the tip of his dick with your tongue. you suck the tip gently, remembering to slide your tongue over the slit occasionally which causes tanaka to grip your hair roughly as he moans your name. he watches you through his phone screen, basking in the fact that he knows this will be his favorite video on the planet.  

“i’m not gonna last very long if you keep this up.” he sighs breathlessly, looking down at you through hooded eyes. it’s taking every bit of his strength not to just release in your mouth right then, because you look so destroyed on his cock. there’s saliva and precum on your swollen lips and rolling down your chin in thin clear strands, your face is stained with the tears that spilled from your eyes whenever you took tanaka’s full length down your throat, and your hair is a little messy from tanaka instinctively gripping it whenever he feels his tip hit the back of your throat. it’s definitely a sight to see, a sight that has tanaka teetering on his edge. you’re about to try deepthroating him again, but he pulls you off by your hair and gestures for you to stand up.

“bend over the counter.” he grunts.

you get up and rest your stomach on the edge of the cold counter, bending over for him. he lifts one of your legs, placing it on the counter while you maintain balance with the other still planted on the floor. now your cunt is fully exposed to him and both of you shiver, you at the feeling and him at the view. tanaka makes sure he has a decent camera angle before thrusting into you. no teasing, no gimmicks, just straight to it. your body lurches forward a bit, tanaka is not taking it easy on you today and you don’t mind at all. his eyes are glued to your ass on his phone screen, watching it bounce every time he thrusts into you.

“fuck.” he moans, the grip that his free hand has on your hip growing a bit tighter. you’re whimpering with each thrust, each and every one of them hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. if anyone were to speak to you right now, anything you tried to say would sound like a bunch of babbling. that’s the power tanaka’s cock has over you, and he absolutely loves it.

“you ok down there baby?” he asks but you can hear the smirk he’s carrying in his tone. you say nothing, just continue to let your sweet, loud moans bounce off the walls of the kitchen. tanaka pulls you up so that your leg is still lifted on the counter, but your back is pressed flush against his body. he switches to the selfie camera and sets the phone down, resting it against a vase on the countertop so that both of you are in view.

“i want you to cum like this, ok?” he says and you nod eagerly in return. he begins thrusting into you again, placing tender kisses on the sides of your neck while his hands roam all over your body. you watch him on the phone screen, he looks just as fucked out as you do which makes you pulse around him. you move your hand down to your clit, knowing that neither of you would last much longer. tanaka slows the speed of his thrusts, but increases the precision as he aims directly for your special spot. 

“oh my god ryu, i’m gonna- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” you moan, throwing your head back against his shoulder and he looses it, just as well as you do.

he pulls out of you and cums all over your backside, some dripping onto the floor as you use the counter to stable yourself from your weakening legs. he kisses your shoulder before reaching down to grab his phone and stop the recording. then he grabs your hips and turns you towards him and plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“that was insanely hot.” he says as he uses the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“you’re telling me.” you sigh, still shaking slightly from your orgasm. he cleans up the mess he made on the floor with a paper towel, then makes his way back over to you and picks you up bridal style. 

“well let’s go shower and maybe we can record another one while we’re in there.” tanaka smirks and you shake your head as you laugh.

i guess that’s what happens when you have a boyfriend with high stamina.

kuroo

- like tanaka, kuroo would initiate it

- kuroo loves to take pictures and videos of you to show you off

- like he’s definitely one of those boyfriend’s whose instagram has more pictures of their partner than themselves

- he just thinks you’re so cute and wants the whole world to know you’re his

- but he doesn’t want them to know what you guys do behind closed doors

- so those pics and videos stay private, for his and your eyes only

- but he definitely loves taking them while you guys are in the heat of the moment

- is 100% the type to fuck you while watching your own sex tape

“kuroo, i’m kinda in the mood to ride you.” you say bluntly to your boyfriend who is sitting across from you on the couch. he pulls his phone away from his line of vision so he could look at you, searching for any signs of a joke in your expression. but you’re dead serious.

“i mean, what am i supposed to say to that? no?” he smirks that infamous smirk of his and you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“just wanted to give you a heads up is all.” you say, climbing your way over to him and straddling his lap. he lays his phone on his chest and his hands instinctively find their way to your thighs, rubbing the smooth skin gently. 

“hm, go for it. i’m all yours.” he grins then lifts his arms above his head as if permitting you access to his body. you smile down at him amusedly, desire eating away at you as you process his appearance. he’s shirtless, so his muscular build is on full display for you to inherently drool over. he’s wearing a pair of shorts made of the same material sweatpants are made out of, the fabric loosely resting on his hips dangerously low now that you’re sitting there and unintentionally pulling them down a bit. he catches your wandering eyes and chuckles at you.

“you know you can look and touch, right kitten?” he teases and you allow yourself to roll your eyes at him this time.

“sheesh, can i not just admire my hot boyfriend?” you huff jokingly before rubbing your hands up his chest and down his torso tenderly. you don’t fail to miss the slight blush raising over the bridge of kuroo’s nose which makes you smile.

“only if you let me admire you back.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt as a signal for you to take it off. you do, bringing the piece of clothing over your head slowly, quite literally feeling kuroo’s gaze burning through you the entire time. once your top half is just as naked as kuroo’s, he starts massaging your boobs lightly and you let out a sigh at his touch. he moves his hands down your sides and over your thighs, letting them rest there again while rubbing his thumbs over your now tingling skin. 

“can’t wait to watch you fuck yourself on my cock.” he groans as he scans over your entire body with eager eyes and a flush of heat runs through your body. 

“yeah?” you question, beginning to roll your hips over his clothed shaft. his breath hitches and he picks up his phone that’s still laying on his chest.

“mhm, i’m gonna record it. so put on a show for me.” he grins and you feel a surge of arousal flow through you. you pull off the only piece of clothing you have left which is a simple pair of underwear, and pull down kuroo’s bottoms just enough so that you can get what you need. you grind your damp cunt against kuroo’s now hardening member in an attempt to get him fully erect. it works with ease, him getting hard for you in just a matter of seconds as he watches you desperately rock your hips against him. 

you reach down beneath your body, grabbing his length and giving it a couple strokes before placing his tip at your center sinking down on him and feeling every inch stretch and fill you up perfectly. you let out a shaky breath and kuroo holds back a moan by biting his lip harshly. you begin to set a steady pace for yourself, lifting your hips up and letting them fall back down slowly enough for you to get used to kuroo’s above average size. you sturdy yourself by placing your hands on his chest, now picking up the pace of your movements. 

“you’re so hot.” kuroo groans as he reaches down to grab your ass before giving it a harsh spank. you wince at the pain, but also moan at the pleasure from him massaging the cheek afterwards. you lift yourself a bit higher off of his length and sink back down quickly, causing you and kuroo to moan in unison. you continue this, lifting your body all the way up to his tip and then crashing back down to take all of him inside of you, making you both just a jumble of moans and pants. 

“fuck, turn around. i wanna see that ass.” kuroo smirks and you follow his order. your now facing away from him, reverse cowgirl style, while he teases your hole with his tip. he has a firm grasp on his dick as he rubs it against your glistening folds, admiring the view in front of him.

“you ready?” he asks.

“mhm.” you hum. you move your hips around, eagerly waiting to feel him fill you up again. he chuckles at you before pushing himself into you, thrusting a couple times before letting you take the lead again. you start bouncing your hips up and down his shaft and kuroo nearly passes out. watching you ride him with your ass on full display for him is testing his strength, but he pushes through. he grabs onto your ass tightly and guides your hips to move at a bit of a slower pace.

“jesus, fuck.” kuroo moans, his grip on his phone faltering a bit as he begins to feel overwhelmed with pleasure. he tightens his grasp on the phone and starts fucking into you, matching the movements of your hips. 

“yes kuroo, just like that.” you sigh, throwing your head back at the sensation. 

“touch yourself, i want you to cum first.” kuroo breathes and you do as told. you rub your clit as you continue to grind on kuroo’s cock, meeting his thrusts halfway. 

“mm, kuroo-” is all you manage to get out before you’re trembling and moaning, your core pulsating as you orgasm.

“fuck.” kuroo pants as he pulls out of you, giving himself a few tugs before spurting warm cum all over your ass. you two sit like that for a few seconds, letting yourselves regain stability. once you feel as though you can move again, you turn around and lay on kuroo’s chest. he’s still recording so he flips the camera to face you guys, lifts your chin, and presses your lips together lovingly.

“probably the hottest one we’ve recorded yet.” kuroo says after ending recording.

“yeah?” you laugh at his enthusiastic expression.

“mhmm, because you’re the star of it.” he smiles. 

bokuto

- he comes home from practice and finds you waiting on the bed naked with your already recording camera set up on the side table

- babie is FLUSTERED

- like he just stands in the doorway, mouth gaped open, as if he’s too scared to walk in

- he’s seen you naked numerous times but you still take his breath away every time

- he’s so adorable 

- finally snaps out of his trance and joins you on the bed

bokuto removes his shoes and climbs into bed with you. the contrast between him being fully clothed and you being completely naked makes both of you blush a bit.

“what’s all this about?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow, scanning your entire body which makes you tense under his stare.

“umm well, i was thinking about it and i thought it’d be really hot if we made a sex tape.” you explain.

“you wanna make a sex tape?” he questions.

“i mean yeah. it’ll be nice to have something to look back-”

“say less.” he cuts you off and practically tears off his shirt. you giggle at his excitement, already knowing that he was probably going to react this way. within the next few seconds, you aren’t the only naked one anymore and your eyes trail down bokuto’s body. just like how you never fail to amaze him, he never fails to amaze you. the way his toned muscles flex whenever he moves makes all your heat rush to your core. 

“the view’s nice huh?” he teases and flexes his biceps a bit.

“shut up.” you laugh, “but yes, it is.”

bokuto grins at your compliment, then cups your face in his hands and captures your lips with his passionately. your lips mesh together effortlessly, as if you guys were made to kiss each other. bokuto deepens the kiss by swiping your bottom lip with his tongue, alerting you that he’s about to insert it into your mouth. he does just that and you let out a breathy moan that shoots right down to his dick. he hardens at your noises, kissing you deeper just to earn more. you could honestly kiss bokuto for hours. the way he always makes you feel like you’re the most fragile and precious thing he’s ever touched when he kisses you makes you feel overwhelmingly loved. though today’s makeout session is unfortunately cut short when bokuto pulls away and flips you over onto your stomach as if you weigh nothing. you let out a gasp, a little startled by the sudden force.

“sorry babe, i just really need to be inside you right now.” he admits and you laugh a little. you prop yourself up onto your elbows and knees, preparing for bokuto to insert himself into you.

“mm, look at that. all pretty and perched up for me.” he groans, rubbing your exposed cunt with two fingers. you tense at his light yet arousing touch, desperately wanting him to do more. as if he read your mind, he inserts those fingers inside of you at an antagonizing pace. you move your hips back in an attempt to speed up the friction but instead he pulls his fingers out and rests his hand on your ass.

“be” he spanks one cheek, “patient.” he finishes as he spanks the other. you whine at the stinging yet pleasurable pain and bokuto smiles sadistically while entering his fingers back inside you at a much faster rate. you moan as you watch yourself on your phone screen. you intentionally set it up using the selfie camera so that you could watch as bokuto fucked you senseless on the screen, and boy are you glad you did that. the smug look on his face while he fingerfucks you and thrusts into his own hand makes you clench around his fingers, craving something a bit bigger than the two digits.

“please just fuck me kou, i need it.” you moan. bokuto tries to pretend he’s not flustered by your words but is clearly taken aback. he could be the dominant one all he wants, but it’ll never change the fact that he goes completely weak when you beg for him.

“yeah? you want me to fuck you?” he grins, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the tip of his painfully hard member.

“mhmm, please kou.” you hum, knowing that begging gets you anything you want with him. this instance just further proves that statement because he begins pushing into you at the same antagonizing speed he moved his fingers at. but you can’t complain since it helps a lot with getting used to his size, because he most definitely does not have the smallest tool in the shed. he continues slowly pushing his way in until his lower abdomen is pressed against your ass, his cock buried deep within your tight hole.

“fuck, you feel so good.” he moans. you glance at your phone to see what he looks like and his head is thrown back, eyes shut tightly and mouth open slightly. your body tingles at the sight, pleasure is written all over his expression and you love it. he pulls out of you and thrusts back into you with brute force. his favorite thing to do ever since he learned that it makes you scream. he pulls out of you exceptionally slowly, waits a short second, and then slam back into you relentlessly. your toes curl at his his little trick and you bury your face into a pillow in an attempt to muffle your loud moans of his name and plenty other profanities. he does this a few more times, smirking at the way you’re completely falling apart beneath him, then takes a break and fucks you at a more steady pace. though he’s no longer pounding into your sweet spot, his tip is still brushing against it and your head goes fuzzy with pleasure.

“you fuck me so good kotaro.” you moan into the pillow, gripping the sheets around you tightly.

“only the best for my pretty girl.” he smiles “here, turn over. wanna see your face.”

you flip over onto your back, now looking up at bokuto who’s smiling down at you lovingly.

“beautiful, so beautiful.” he coos, rubbing his thumb over your cheek softly. your heart drops into your stomach. you know you probably look a hot mess right now. makeup ruined from you shoving your face into a pillow, face flushed from the immense pleasure, and hair a bit messy from it all. but he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in existence and your heart almost can’t take it.

“can’t wait to make you cum.” he finishes and without any warning, he grinds his hips into you smoothly yet assertively. he has a tight grip on your hips as he rocks into them and you are just about losing it beneath him. you’re gripping onto his biceps, surely leaving bruises that’ll form by tomorrow. but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. he loves seeing you all fucked out as he pounds into you, sputtering all sorts of moans and lewd words here and there with each thrust. he can tell you won’t be able to hold on for much longer, so he brings his thumb to your clit and rubs small and quick circles on it. he matches the tempo of his thrusts and watches you turn into a blabbering mess at his touch.

“fuck kou, jesus christ. i can’t-you’re gonna make me-oh my god-i’m gonna-“

you’re grip on his arms gets a bit tighter as you succumb to your forceful orgasm. your eyes roll back, your back arches off the bed, and you swear your vision goes dark for a few seconds. bokuto can almost never get a full thrust in after seeing you cum and this is no exception to that. as soon as he sees you come undone, he pulls out of you and releases all over your stomach with a rich moan of your name.

“i came so hard i went blind there for a second.” you admit and bokuto busts out laughing.

“shit sorry. not really though.” he shrugs, collapsing next to you.

“hush. i’m just glad we got that all on camera. i’ll definitely be watching that soon. speaking of, can you hand me my phone?”

bokuto reaches over to grab your phone of the nightstand and you stop recording.

“twenty minutes of gold content.” you say as you look at the length of the video.

“wanna make it twenty more?”

“say less.” you reply smugly.

[orionsangel86]

SPN Conspiracies - Applying Logic to Chaos

Its been over 2 months now since the Supernatural finale aired. I am still so angry, hurt, and confused by it and I don’t think I will ever get closure unless someone like Andrew Dabb, or Jensen Ackles, actually opens up and gives us an explanation that makes sense.

What annoys me most right now is people trying to gaslight fans into believing that we should accept the narrative we have been given at face value: That the finale was always planned to be that way, that Destiel was never on the cards, that there was no Network interference, that the only changes made were due to covid and were minor at best.

This harmful gaslighting is FALSE.

NO ONE KNOWS THE TRUTH OF WHAT HAPPENED.

Look, I don’t agree with some of the crazier conspiracy theories. I don’t believe that there was some huge campaign among the CW Network execs to remove anything remotely gay out of homophobia. I don’t believe that the finale was changed because of some desire to make it into a Walker promo. I don’t believe that the finale was really bad on purpose in protest by Dabb for not getting to do an ending he truly wanted. I don’t believe that Dabb left us smart fans a bunch of secret messages in the finale to hint that he was on our side all along and that everything was fake.

I do, however, believe that all of these conspiracy theories have some elements in them that are plausible. At least, more plausible than the bullshit narrative mentioned above that some people are pushing in some desperate attempt to defend the Network (which imo is really strange behaviour anyway - why would anyone care about a TV network with a history of terrible behaviour?!?)

We have facts, based on information provided before the covid lockdown, which for some reason, people like Misha have since backpeddled on. So let me try to outline some of the information that makes no sense.

Below the cut I go on a deep dive into the conspiracies and statements I have heard about the SPN finale and try to make some sense of this whole fucked up situation. It gets long.

1. “Cas was never gonna be in the finale”.

False: We have many fan accounts of Misha confirming that he was filming the finale. We have video evidence of Misha confirming he was going back to film the finale after the lockdown. We have confirmation from fans in Misha M&Gs from March that he had about 5 days of filming left.

We also had fan accounts of discussions with Alex Calvert (I think) where he confirmed the final shot of the final episode was all four of them though I would LOVE if someone can find a source for this.

2. Okay, Misha was gonna be in the finale, but only as Jimmy Novak

False: I heavily side eyed Misha when he said this. But I think I can come up with a plausible explanation for it. Per above, Misha was supposed to film for 5 days. This does not align with the half a day he described of filming as Jimmy Novak. My own belief is that after Cas was cut from the finale (for whatever reason we don’t know) someone (probably Jensen Ackles) put up a fight and complained that Misha should be there for the final episode. The writers probably tried to come up with a way to bring Misha back without having to deal with Cas, and pitched the idea of Jimmy Novak being in Heaven. Misha, obviously annoyed about this, turned this stupid pitch down.

3. Destiel was never a thing, never planned, never part of Dabb’s ending. Bobo and Misha pushing the confession was the part of the season that was Wrong.

False: We have a SPN writer on record saying that Castiel’s confession was the first thing written for Season 15 when the writers returned to the writers room. If it wasn’t planned, why was it the first thing written, why does it align so well with the rest of season 15? Look I know some people either a. hate destiel and refuse to see it even if it slaps them in the face, or b. have major heteronormative goggles on, or c. are just homophobes in denial, but 15x18 fits in perfectly with the narrative of season 15. Everything Cas says, everything that happened in that scene was so in character it just works. It fit. If you just rewatch the season whilst applying some critical thinking skills and pay attention to the narrative and character arcs, trust me, the confession fits in with pretty much every other plot point, and character story in the season.

Also: We have known for a while that the network did market research into Destiel, wanting to know if it would go down well or not. They were well aware of its popularity and considering it. Where would this have come from if not pitched by the showrunner? Dabb must have at least been considering it. If you take all of Dabb era into consideration, starting with mid season 11, all the way through the season 12 build up, season 13 grief arc, and then Bobo’s Destiel break up arc in late season 14, early season 15, it is clear that there was some toing and froing on the issue of Destiel, but ultimately, I still believe that Dabb was on board. He wrote 13x01 for christs sake. No way he wasn’t taking it seriously.

 4. It’s always been about the brothers. The finale just stays true to what Supernatural is all about.

*rubs temples* Fundamentally FALSE: The show has time and again reasserted the message of “Family don’t end with blood”, as well as the messages of AKF and YANA. Sam and Dean may be at the heart of the show, but a heart can’t exist without a body to support it. Without bones, and lungs, and blood, and muscles, and a BRAIN. The finale abandons the shows core messages. It forces the characters back into their season 1 characterisations and the whole thing becomes hollow and souless. But I’m not here to complain, I’m here to lay down the facts. Dean’s heaven was supposed to be surrounded by loved ones right? We know OG Charlie Bradbury was gonna be in his Heaven, we also know CAS was gonna be in there. So this idea that the finale as it currently stands was how it was meant to be is wrong. Dean was supposed to die and reunite with his found family and loved ones. This alone would have been a far better ending than the one given. Do I think this was solely a covid issue? Fuck no.

The randoms that WERE in the finale are proof alone that they could have got people in and quarantined. We also have several actors on record saying that they WOULD have quarantined for the finale had they been asked to return but they WEREN’T.

Lies have been told. Samantha Ferris and Chad Limberg have confirmed that we have been lied to about the original plans for the finale.

This alone is proof enough that there is more plausibility in some of the conspiracy theories than any bullshit narrative some people are pushing in defence of the barbaric mess of a finale we were given.

So lets address some of the conspiracy theories now:

Conspiracy No.1: The CW Network reviewed Supernatural during the covid break, and due to homophobia, refused any Destiel arc that wasn’t already filmed, shut down any potential reciprocation from Dean, and forced Dabb to change his finale.

I don’t think this is entirely what happened. But I do think it is very strange how there is a such a huge disconnect particularly in Dean’s characterisations between what had come before the lockdown, and what came after. The one fact we have here, and please someone provide a source if you can find it because I know there is one, the finale script was still going through changes up to only 2 weeks before it was filmed. We know that there was some weird editing in 15x18 (which was still in post and uncompleted before lockdown) and we know from Jensen’s own mouth that there was more to the confession scene on Dean’s side that was cut. We also know that this isn’t the first time that Destiel heavy moments have been changed in post - the prayer scene is another big scene that went through a lot of changes and Bobo fought to have his script play out the way he wanted it.

There are certain things that in my own opinions, are basically true of SPN which I have put together from years of keeping one eye on the writers room, the network, and all the various comments made. My opinion is this:

The writers room has always been split on Destiel. Some writers heavily supported making it canon, others did not care, or were against it.

The Network considered it over the course of several years, did market research, green lit it, then changed their minds, possibly several times over the course of Dabb’s era. Destiel was pitched to the Network early in Dabb era.

The crew on set were also split. Some people heavily supported it, and worked to assist the reading, whereas others did not care/did not support it. The same can be said for the editing room.

Bob Singer supported the subtextual homoeroticism, but never supported bringing it into text (this is an opinion, but I think it aligns with everything we know about him.) IMO Bob Singer also supported subtextual homoeroticism between Sam and Dean - the guy is gross is what I’m saying. He isn’t exactly a progressive person.

Fun fact - a while back our old enemy Sera Gamble went on a Twitter rant about writers rooms and the ways a script goes through changes. I don’t think this was in relation to the SPN finale wank but she basically inadvertantly confirmed that the Network can step in and make sweeping changes to a script if they want to and if they decide they don’t like the direction of a story. Sera Gamble confirmed this as a fact.

Now. I’m not saying that this is what the CW did with Destiel. I just think its very strange how pre lockdown, the last thing filmed is a heartfelt homosexual declaration of love between Dean and Cas, and we have a finale script that Misha had not seen, but knew that he was meant to film as Castiel for 5 days (5 days on set is over half of an episode as far as I know). Then all of a sudden, Covid happens, and Cas is cut from the finale completely, a desperate attempt to bring Misha back only as Jimmy Novak takes place, which Misha rightly refuses, leading to a finale which makes zero sense narratively and appears in every way completely and utterly butchered.

The only explanation provided by anyone involved is that Covid meant changes had to happen - but that covid didn’t change the actual story at all.

But this makes no sense because we know that Cas was cut from the finale. This is FACT. Do not let anyone gaslight you into thinking otherwise. Misha was preparing to quaranting to return to set as Cas post Covid, so whatever happened to cut Cas from the finale, it wasn’t Covid.

I’m gonna have to Occum’s Razor this and say that the most logical explanation here is the one that is most likely true. Someone got cold feet with the Destiel story, and to prevent any possible interpretation that included Dean reciprocating, any hints of Destiel were removed from the finale script, including Castiel’s whole appearance.

Now, this isn’t me saying I think that Dabb’s original finale was full of Destiel love confessions and a homosexual kiss or whatever, but I am asking you all to really think about it and ask yourselves WHY Cas would have been totally cut from an episode he was supposed to be in at LEAST half of? 

We will probably never know the real reason Cas was cut, but he WAS cut. I’m not saying it was all homophobia, but some fuckery went down.

Conspiracy No. 2: The CW Network changed the finale to make it into a Walker promo because they only cared about raising up Jared and not Jensen and Misha as they were losing them anyway.

I don’t agree with this in terms of the finale being butchered solely to make it into a Walker promo. There are however moments in the finale that are clearly supposed to be Walker Easter Eggs and added to excite fans of Jared/Sam in particular such as Sam’s gratuitous and unnecessary topless scene, as well as the call on the “case in Austin”.

I will take this moment to say something pretty damn controversial though.

*Deep breath*

The fact is, Dean Winchester has been the “lead” character of Supernatural’s narrative for years now, with Sam often being sidelined and not given great storylines himself. Even in Season 15, right up until the finale, I myself felt bad for Sam sometimes because so much of this show has become all about Dean. Jensen Ackles is clearly the better actor when it comes to emotional story arcs, so the emotional heart of the story has most often leant on him.

So you can understand my confusion, when this is turned on its head in the final episode, to make Sam carry all the emotional weight, and have the most lines/screentime, and story resolution (even if his story resolution was just as crappy as Dean’s).

If we pretend that Destiel is not a thing, and ignore Cas’s confession, the story change in the finale from Dean focus to Sam focus is still rather suspicious. Again, I’m not saying I completely approve of or agree to the conspiracy theory that Walker influenced the butchering of the script, but I can believe that perhaps a note went down from the CW to someone like Bob Singer, to emphasise Sam/Jared more than they perhaps would normally, because the CW wanted to shine the spotlight on Jared to raise excitement for Walker.

I can also believe this note might have said something like “we wanna cater to fans of Sam/Jared the most - don’t do anything to piss them off.” but now I am getting into my own conspiracy theories so by all means dismiss this as me being bitter.

Conspiracy No.3: Dabb purposely made it bad, as a secret message to Destiel fans that he had been silenced, by layering meta clues into the episode that he knew fans would notice.

I doubt this one is true. Though some of the theories are quite compelling. The old vampire silent movie theory for instance starts off quite well, but loses me the moment it brings up Urban Dictionary slang.

Sometimes I have just had to accept that Supernatural is a bad show that is sometimes accidentally a masterpiece. However, some writers really did go That Deep with their stories - anything by Ben Edlund or Steve Yockey for instance, their episodes are meta masterpieces with a hundred different layers of beautiful subtextual storytelling and are a joy to analyse. Bobo Berens has certainly done some A+++ work especially now we KNOW that he was working hard all this time to bring Destiel to canon text (so any analysis of Destiel in the subtext in his episodes is very accurate). There have been many other key elements analysed over the years which have been confirmed true. Cas’s death in Season 12, Dean’s time as a demon in season 10, Season 11 ending in unity of dark and light, these were all plot points predicted by meta writers just by analysing the narrative. Sometimes the writers really have been very smart and they do add things to the show to aid us in our meta.

Richard Speight Jr for instance, confirmed that SPN has a visual library that the production team use to give clues and hints in the narrative. Pizza, for example, always means a lie has been told. Whenever Pizza is being eaten or even just mentioned on screen, there is dishonesty in that particular moment.

The beers also have a very specific message and the one thing I can’t let go about the finale, was that Dean was drinking El Sol beer. The beer his dad gave him, that was terrible.

El Sol has been used in the show to indicate something being wrong, a fake reality, or another lie, for the longest time. It is the beer of deception.

The fact that in the final episode of this entire show, Dean is in Heaven, supposedly at peace, and then he gets handed an El Sol beer to drink? Thats a HUGE red flag for any meta writer watching who can read SPNs visual library.

If they had given him the Margiekugel beer of family then it would make sense. Dean is in Heaven, with Bobby, his family, at peace. Margiekugel should have been the beer of choice. But nope. El Sol. Something is wrong.

I don’t know if it was Dabb, or Singer, or some disgruntled ADs and crew members who added these elements into the finale, but their very presence confirms some message of Wrongness.

I could go into a huge rant about Vampire Mimes not making sense and the very glaringly obvious symbolism of cutting out peoples tongues too, but that is high school level film analysis. It’s obvious. It means to silence someone. There is validity in interpreting this as Dabb saying he was silenced. I don’t know how true it is, but i can’t 100% dismiss it, because as I said, this is high school analysis levels of obvious subtextual storytelling.

So in summary, whilst I don’t think that Dabb intentionally went out of his way to sabotage his own script, and leave a breadtrail of secret messages for savvy fans to put together to confirm that he was silenced by an evil network into not getting what he wanted... I do think that there is validity in questioning these odd choices for the finale. Cutting out tongues? Vampire Mimes? El Sol beer?

The evidence is somewhat compelling is all I’m saying. I don’t believe the full conspiracy theories, but as I have said many times before, some fuckery went down.

So What Do I Believe?

That some fuckery went down and whatever company line they are pushing is bullshit.

I believe that the original script included Cas (since thats fact). I believe that the original script probably always had Dean dying on a vampire hunt (due to Jensen’s issues with it and in particular, his sarcastic comments about vampires in the past year or so which in hindsight are hilarious and prove he never really came to terms with Dean’s idiotic death). I believe Dabb’s original script was some less crappy version of what we got, which potentially included showing Jack rescuing Cas from the Empty and resolving the outstanding Empty plot points (potentially this was actually a 15x19 plot since Mark P commented that his final scenes were supposed to be with Jack and Cas), had Cas reunite with Dean in Heaven and had them have a discussion about Cas’s confession. I believe that there was probably a lot of back and forth over how to handle that with some people wanting Dean to obviously reciprocate and others believing they should keep it ambiguous. I believe that Dean and Cas would have reunited with Charlie Bradbury, and Bobby Singer, and possibly others (though if this was the case it must have been very early on since no one ever looped in Sam Ferris, Chad Linberg or any other Roadhouse people).

I believe that Sam’s ending probably didn’t change much, but I do feel that initially they were planning on him ending up with Eileen, because it is the only thing that narratively makes sense. Cutting Eileen and giving him a blurry wife is something I won’t ever understand and Jared’s bullshit explanations are quite clearly pulled out of his ass to appease bronly types. I believe the reunion on the bridge would have included Cas and Jack, with a final shot of all four of them together, at peace (as this aligns with Alex’s comments from around a year or so ago that the final shot was all four of them). (I also am not sure it was always supposed to be on a bridge since the foreshadowing in an earlier episode showed Dean, Cas and Sam all in the Roadhouse together).

I believe that script went through countless changes and redrafts, and not even production people or the types that some fandom people claim as their “sources” would even have seen those early scripts, since even Misha never saw it. I believe that these rumours of Dabb never having Cas in his finale and ignoring all Destiel elements likely come from people who only saw later versions, weren’t party to network discussions and felt bitter about the final scripts they did see (being the crappy butchered one that was ultimately filmed). Those “sources” are now spreading rumours to discredit Dabb.

I obviously believe Dabb is a weak ass pushover who either didn’t care enough to fight back, or gave up since he’s been stuck with fucking Bob Singer on his back for years, but I will NEVER believe he didn’t care about the DeanCas love story, because he has been one of the few writers who has championed for it for years. You can’t look back at Dabb’s episodes in earlier seasons and claim he didn’t care. Dabb was a writer whose creative ideas were beaten out of him by an unforgiving Network only concerned about where their future money was coming from. Do I think he gave up too easily? Yes. But I also have one other huge reason for not believing the bullshit about Dabb being this anti-Destiel villain.

Bobo. Because if Bobo truly believed Dabb was gonna fuck that up at the end, I don’t think he would have given us Cas’s love confession to begin with. If he had known it was gonna end like that, I think he would have reconsidered, because had Cas not confessed his love, I don’t think he would have been cut from the finale. Bobo - a gay man, would not have wanted such a horrible message for queer fans being put across in the show he worked so hard on. He started writing that confession scene the day they returned to the writers room. Dabb would have been there, would have seen what he was writing, probably discussed it with him, after all, other episodes were written with the confession in mind. No way was Dabb planning to fuck up the ending knowing what Bobo was giving us. Nope.

Something went very wrong over lockdown. Someone, somewhere up the chain of power caught wind of the confession scene in 15x18, realised that it demanded a resolution which would make Dean Winchester, their protagonist, queer, and pulled the plug. I believe this did not come from a place of homophobia, but of bad business sense.

The CW is constantly trying to win the approval and attention of the one demo group that they seem to fail at getting the most: young straight men. Supernatural was one of their only remaining shows that appeals to young straight men, and Dean Winchester is more often than not the fave character of those young straight men who project onto him. Making Dean Winchester, established Han Solo of Supernatural, queer and in love with his best friend in the finale would have come across as a betrayal to those young straight men. The CW probably feared they would lose that demo group for good, and with a show like Walker starting soon with Jared at the helm, they couldn’t take the risk.

Hence there was probably a whole bunch of back and forth script redrafts with the Network, with Dabb and Singer fighting to make a finale that would appeal to everyone. There was most likely no way that they could bring Cas back without addressing what had already been filmed, because any resolution of that plot would either a. make Dean queer, or b. address it awkwardly by having Dean reject Cas (this storyline would probably have been slammed by critics worse than the finale because it meant addressing it. It might have got the attention of LGBTQ activist groups and caused a bigger shitstorm than what we got). The best option was therefore C. Bury it and Cas, pretend it never happened. Never address it again and distract Dean with other things. Hope that Destiel fans will accept no answer from Dean as ambiguous enough to imagine a future reunion rather than shutting it down with a rejection, and still keep hold of the blissfully ignorant heteronormative straight boys so they can carry over to Walker when it starts.

I also believe (controversially probably) that there was concern that any resolution of Dean and Cas would have overshadowed network darling Jared Padalecki. If Dean and Cas had come together in the finale, with a very clearly textual homosexual reunion, then that would have been all anyone talked about. The reviewers, the critics, the audience, everyone. It would have been nothing but Dean and Cas (and look, if they did think this, they were right, Destiel trending over the US ELECTION.)

So what is the network to do, when they are losing the two stars who would get the most attention from this storyline? The one star they were holding on to and getting his own show, relegated to third place in the finale of the show where he was first on the call sheet? Nope. That’s pretty unacceptable. Even without Walker I can imagine people at all levels side eyeing the Destiel thing over the years. This IS a show about two brothers, and their relationship should be the core relationship, we can’t have one brother pushed aside in the finale to make way for a queer relationship that will get all the attention instead. It was never gonna get approved for this reason ALONE.

At the end of the day, if I look at it from a business perspective, it makes far more sense that the CW shut down Destiel, rather than “oh Dabb never cared and ruined it because he’s an idiot.” The writers cared, and had built on that story over years. But their mistake was leaving any Destiel resolution to the finale. If they had instead gone and got Dean and Cas together in early season 15, then they could have ended it in a way that satisfied everyone. Destiel wouldn’t have threatened pulling focus away from Sam and Dean, and the show could have gone out on a high.

When I lay out all the conspiracy theories, and line them up next to the cold hard facts, the conspiracy theories in some way or another, make more sense. To believe the company line, the narrative we have been fed, is to ignore your own eyes, ears, and memories pre March 2020.

All I’m asking people to do is take a look at the show, the narrative presented in the show, and the information presented above. I’m not telling you to believe what I’ve written here, half of which is just my own opinion. I’m asking you to ask yourselves if it makes sense to you. Because it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied.

[peachyaone]

saviour

Pairings: Rengoku Kyojurou x gn! hashira! reader

Warnings: Kimetsu no Yaiba the Movie: Mugen Train spoilers!

A/N: I saw the new KNY movie, so I wrote this fic to cope with the pain.

plot: what if you were there just in time to save him?

You knew something was off from the moment Oyakata-sama gave Rengoku the mission of slaying the demons on board the train, not that you disagree on his judgment, but your intuition tells you that something bad would happen.

And some of your intuitions were never wrong.

So you requested to go in disguise, in case anything goes sideways. You have explained the situation to Oyakata-sama, who actually agreed with your proposal, after all those years you had your "predictions", most of them actually came true.

So you sent your crow after them, obscured from the eyes of civilians, but still visible to you. You waited. But then the incident happened, as the ticket inspector punched your card. Your head felt dizzy and you fell asleep.

You dreamt of a life with your family again.

It was warm and happy.

*timeskip*

By the time you woke up, it was chaos. You sluggishly stood up, everyone was still asleep. The train was shaky and the walls had seemed to turn into a flesh-like substance. You heard explosions and the train turned sideways. You unsheathed your blade and stabbed it into the floor to maintain your footing. You could hear your crow pecking at the windows.

"Attention! Upper Rank Three Demon has been spotted! Rengoku and the younger slayers are battling him as we speak." It squawked. You groaned as you pulled out your blade and sheathed it into your scabbard. "Where are they now, Hideyoshi?" you asked it. "Few kilometers west from here!" It squawked again. You thanked it before dashing off to where they were.

*3rd person*

Tanjiro and Inosuke were watching the fight with awe and also fear. In awe, because they have never seen a hashira in battle like this before and in fear because Rengoku was heavily injured and was still fighting. They were both afraid to join in because Tanjiro was injured and they were moving at a speed that the two of them can keep up.

They could see that Rengoku's movement was getting more powerful at every strike he made, Tanjiro gulped. "Goddamn it!" He thought, if only he could do something, anything but to watch the person he looked up to get destroyed like this. He prayed to the skies above that someone could help them.

And the skies answered him, like a flash of light passed by him and Inosuke. The person seemed to be glowing with light. He recognized you, you were one of the hashira's, you were sitting on the tree with the serpent hashira, Obanai.

He thanked the skies for answering his prayers.

*Back to your POV*

In the distance, you could see the flames coming off Rengoku's breathing styles and you could smell the blood in the air. You pushed yourself to move faster. You sped through the two younger slayers and attacked the demon.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?!" You heard Rengoku said as he dodged another attack from the demon. "Ah? Another Hashira I see, you're as strong as Kyojuro! Maybe even stronger!" The demon said as he shifted his attention toward you. You were his target now. "Now is not the time, Kyojuro!" You said, moving into position.

"Breath of Light, First Form: Aureate." You said, your sword turned a bright golden color as you swung your attack at him. It sliced through his arm, the demon yelped. You saw that he was struggling to regenerate. He looked at you, burning in fury and wonder. "So you ARE stronger than him, wow, I have never seen anything like this! I'm Akaza." He laughed.

After a few moments, his arms regenerated. You stood beside Rengoku. "He's badly injured." You noted. "His eye is crushed, broken ribs, internal bleeding." You thought. It amazed you how he still managed to move right now. "Kyojuro, take it easy okay? I got this." You assured him, giving him a small smile.

"Join me, Y/N! Become a demon and let us fight with each other forever!" You heard Akaza say. You growled. "As if I become a filthy demon like you!" You shouted at him. "You are incredibly strong, you would be perfect among our ranks, join us." He said. "Never." You said. "So be it!" He said, charging towards you. "Breath of Light-" "Breath of Flames-" The both of you said. "Combined attack: Blazing Light!" A light that could rival the sun shone from both of your attacks.

He tried to dodge it, but it was too powerful. The lower part of his torso was wiped clean. You smirked and walked towards Rengoku and the two children.

Your eyes widened.

You felt pain shot up your spine. You coughed up blood. "Y/N!" Rengoku screamed. You looked down to see Akaza had punched you.

Hard.

"You ass-" You spitted blood on his face. Making him take a few steps back to regain his senses, you distanced yourself from him. You gripped on your sword tightly. Blood streamed out from your lips and dripped into the ground. You could see Rengoku came running toward you. You held out your hand to stop him. "No." you thought. You can finish him, and you will.

You sprinted, sword beside you, with an intent to kill. "Breath of Light, Third Form: Fluorescence." Your sword glowed again, even brighter. You slowly take in your breath, successfully maintaining your breathing technique. You could feel your internal bleeding stop.

Akaza didn't have any time to react when your blade met his neck. It pierced halfway through, before getting stuck. "It's stuck!" You turned your head, to look at Rengoku. "Kyojuro!" You called out. He looked at you knowingly. He took his sword. "Breath of Flames, Ninth Form: Rengoku!" He dashed to where you're standing. Akaza laughed and gave you another punch.

CRACK!

It was your ribs.

You coughed out more blood. Rengoku looked at you worriedly. "Don't stop! Keep going, Kyo!" You said to him.

"Breath of Light, Fifth form: Dawn." You said. You gave your sword a push, as Rengoku's met yours. Akaza screamed in pain. "Die!" you shouted. You watched as his body start to disintegrate. "It was a pleasure, batting with you both." You heard him say before he dissolved into the air.

You staggered. Dropping your sword before collapsing to the ground. You looked up to the sky. You could hear the footsteps of the two slayers. "Hang in there!" said the burgundy-haired boy. You felt arms helping you up, it was Rengoku. "You scared me a little. I thought you were gonna die," he whispered. You chuckled. "You think I would be defeated that easily? Dream on." You said, breathlessly.

"Are you kids okay?" You asked. "Kamado-boy over here is injured," Rengoku said. "And boar boy?" You asked again. "I'm perfectly fine." He said cockily.

"Let go home, okay?" you said.

*timeskip*

You and Rengoku reached the Butterfly Estate after getting the civilians somewhere safe. Lying down on the bed, Shinobu came in with bandages and medicine. "Well, the both of you look like you went through hell and back." She said. "We technically did." You groaned as she wrapped the bandages around you.

"How's Rengoku, is he okay?" You asked. "He's fine. Like you said, crushed eye, three broken ribs, and internal bleeding." She said. "And the Kamado boy?" "He'll make it, he's lucky that he stopped the bleeding in time." She said.

"How bad is mine?" You asked her. "Two broken ribs, bruised torso, and a fractured ankle." She said. "It surprises me, how your body could withstand those punches." "Try training with Sanemi. It's hell." You chuckled.

"You and Rengoku will be off duty until your injuries healed completely. No sneaking around." She warned. "Yes, ma'am," You said before drinking the medicine she brought earlier. A knock came from outside. "Come in." You said.

Rengoku came in. "Hey, Shinobu!" He said, brightly. "Rengoku, your not suppose to move, you'll strain your injuries." She said. "But I wanted to see my Y/NNNN~" He whined. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you two lovebirds be," she said, leaving the room.

"So..." You said. He turned around, cupped your face, and gave a passionate kiss. "Wow, what was that for?" You whispered.

"I almost lost you today."

"Kyo, I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[21st-century-ninja]

so he was sent to bed

“Oh, Kai, why couldn’t you just have gone to a shop?” his mother scolds, once the doctor has left after prescribing a cleanser and instructions to call her back if the infection spread. “If you had to do that to yourself, dear, why didn’t you have a professional do it? It’s not like we don’t have the money.”

It’s true. Kai’s definitely got the money for it.

or:

the fine line between filial piety and puppetry, told in a series of vignettes about earrings.

          🔺 Kai & Cole, Kai & Nya, Kai & Maya           🔺 Alternate Universe - University, Modern, Monsters           🔺 2054 words, complete           🔺 wild things au           🔺 read it here!

first ninbingo fill!  read it here or on ao3 as linked above :D Fic and board below the cut; my squares were parent(s) and creator’s choice: acceptance!

The first time Kai pierces his ear, he gets an infection in it.

Their family doctor arrives at an hour when she can’t possibly still be on the clock to take a look at him.  She presses gloved fingers to the lobe of his ear, tilting his head back and forth in a not-ungentle way, tutting at the swollenness and red that she finds there.  And Kai stares straight ahead and won’t make eye contact with anyone.

“Oh, Kai, why couldn’t you just have gone to a shop?” his mother scolds, once the doctor has left after prescribing a cleanser and instructions to call her back if the infection spread.  “If you had to do that to yourself, dear, why didn’t you have a professional do it?  It’s not like we don’t have the money.”

It’s true.  Kai’s definitely got the money for it.  He could rent out an entire studio if he wanted, be served tiny drinks the whole time with tiny pink umbrellas poking out the top, blast his (lame-ass, according to Nya) music at top volume from the speakers without anyone able to stop him from doing so.

But the idea sends revulsion trickling down his spine, so much so that he physically shudders with it.  

He nods and pretends to consider her words, and she smiles and runs her fingers through the loose feathers at his neck.

The next time he does it, he makes sure to sterilize his needle first.

---

His father gives him a pair of ruby earrings for his eighteenth birthday.

Objectively, they’re gorgeous.  The stones are perfectly symmetrical and a rich red color.  The tiny diamond chips set around them sparkle in the light.  The gold metal twisting them both together is cool against his skin when he puts the earrings into his ears.

They’re also small, so small that they barely cover his lower lobes, and every centimeter the demurest of earrings.

Kai fastens the backs on the studs.  In the mirror in front of him, they glimmer like pinpricks in his ears.

“Looking handsome there, son,” his father says, smiling at him in the mirror.  He places his hand on Kai’s shoulder, rubbing there gently.  

“Thanks,” Kai says, tilting his head this way and that to try to catch the earrings in the light.  

His father laughs.  “Your mother commissioned these herself.  Now she won’t have to have the stylists put your hair in front of your ears anymore.  Bet you’re glad about that, huh?”  

Kai laughs too.  He steps out from his father’s touch.  “Yeah.  Definitely.”

His father grins.  When he goes, he leaves Kai with one last instruction and a box on his dresser.  “Make sure you wear these to your birthday celebration tonight, alright?”  

When Kai opens the box, he finds a necklace inside that compliments the earrings perfectly.  

He obeys the command and wears both pieces to his birthday celebration.  He smiles and laughs and charms the crowd all through the night.  There are greetings to be given and pictures to be taken and relationships to be strengthened.  It’s his responsibility to see that all of them are accomplished before the night’s out.

The jewelry isn’t heavy.  In fact, it’s the opposite.  But it weighs on his ears and his heart for the entire evening.

---

It’s one of those late nights of studying at university, and Kai sits with his textbooks spread out on the kotatsu in front of him and his computer screen open to his latest set of problems.  

The numbers swim in front of his eyes.  He groans and fights the urge to slam his head against the table.  He has to get this.  As the eldest child, running the company will be his job one day, and he has to get good at numbers before that happens.

Nya could do it, his mind has whispered to him on more than one occasion.  She’s smarter than you, she could do better at the top than you can.  But as much as Kai might think it, might wonder at defying the expectations of his family and society and refusing his destiny, he knows he can’t.  Nya has her whole life ahead of her.  She’s brilliant and she knows what she wants, unlike Kai, who’s predestination from birth ended all that dreaming before it could ever bloom.  

He opens his eyes and glares at his screen.  The unanswered problems stare mockingly back.

“Hey, uh, you doing okay over there?”

Kai glances over his shoulder.  Cole, his roommate and childhood friend, peers at him from the kitchen table.  He’s wearing glasses propped up on his nose and a concerned expression on his face.  

“Yeah,” Kai sighs, and gives in to resting his forehead against the kotatsu’s surface.  “Math.”

Cole laughs a little.  “Math,” he agrees, lion ears relaxing at the top of his head.  He stands up and crosses the room to Kai.  “Oh my gosh, when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

Kai blinks a couple of times at such a non sequitur.  “Huh?”

Cole huffs, and suddenly there are fingers sifting in his hair.  Kai stills before he consciously realizes it.  “Yeah, shit, and your feathers are all out of wack too.  Hold still, I’ll fix them.”

His hands are like magic.  Kai melts into his touch as the minutes tick by, soothed by the repetitive motions and little tugs against his scalp.  Cole starts to gather his hair in a ponytail.  His fingers brush over Kai’s ears as he smooths the strands out.

“You don’t wear earrings anymore,” he remarks.

Kai’s eyes slide open.  “Yeah?”  He tilts his head to the side to see Cole easier.  “Huh.  I guess they just slipped my mind.  I’m so busy with everything else.”

“But not too busy to spend half an hour on your hair?” Cole asks, raising an eyebrow.  He grins when Kai scowls at him.  “What, I’m right!  It’s not like you have to wear them or anything.  I just think that if you really wanted to wear them, you would.  You were so excited when you pierced your ear the first time.”

“You mean the time I got an infection and almost had to get my ear cut off?”

Cole snorts.  “It wasn’t that bad, you drama queen.  The only danger you were in was your mom’s anger.”

“Aren’t I paying you to be nice to me?” Kai asks rhetorically.  “Why aren’t you being nice to me?”

Cole’s fingers stutter in his hair.  “Right, sorry,” he says, returning to his movements, but there’s a slightly different quality to his voice.

“Cole, it’s a joke,” Kai says, twisting around.  He sits up, and Cole steps back.   “It’s okay.  You can ask.”  He runs his hand through his hair, the now-detangled strands passing easily through his fingers.  “I don’t know.  It just- it wasn’t fun anymore.  I pierced my ears because I wanted to, because I wanted to just do something myself, you know?  And then it wasn’t anymore.  Ugh, I’m probably not making any sense.”

“No, I get you.”  Cole grins, and Kai’s relieved that it looks genuine again.  “I’ve been around your crazy family since I was a cub, remember?  I’m probably the person who understands the most.”

“Besides Nya,” they both say at the same time, and break into laughing.

“Thanks,” Kai says, once their laughter has subsided.  “I needed that.”  His eyes land on his computer screen, and panic shoots through him like a flame.  “Crap!  It’s 11:30!”

“Crap!” echoes Cole, and both of them scramble back to their respective workstations to get their assignments done by the midnight deadline.

Later that night, once everything has been submitted and their fate is out of their hands, they curl up on the couch together and watch some superhero movie.  And Cole preens Kai’s hair and feathers until his head is silky smooth beneath his hands.

---

Right before they set off for home on their winter holidays, Kai gets a small box from Cole.

It’s out of the ordinary for them.  Cole usually gives him a New Year’s present, but it’s usually a pack of candy or something and much closer to the date.  Kai takes the box with a bit of surprise.  “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, looking from it to Cole’s face and back again.

Cole grins a bit lopsided.  “So, uh, I know we don’t typically do stuff like this,” he says, echoing Kai’s thoughts.  He puts his hands on his hips and takes them off again.  “But I saw these online the other day and I just immediately thought of you.  Hopefully you’ll like them, but no pressure or anything.”

Intrigued, Kai opens the lid of the box.  Nestled inside is a pair of earrings, gold and formed into facsimiles of the feathers in his hair.  He picks one up, marveling at the weight it has and the chunky, dangly sections of the feather.  

“Cole, these are-”

“You like them?” Cole asks hopefully.  

“Like them- they’re so cool!”  Kai fumbles with the earring.  His piercing hole is a little hard to find, and he’s briefly devastated that it might have closed, but he finds it and the metal slips in with only a little resistance.  The end of the feather brushes against his chin as he beams.  “Dude.  How- but why?”

Cole’s answering grin is almost as bright as the gold in Kai’s hand.  “You said it didn’t feel fun anymore,” he says simply.  “I thought these might help to bring that spark back.”

Kai sweeps him up in a hug.  There’s nothing else he can do.  Cole oofs softly, but a moment later, his hands are coming up to wrap around Kai too.

“They’re perfect,” Kai whispers.  “I love them.  Thank you.”

---

Nya shows up to the family’s New Year’s party with two new piercings.

It’s not the talk of the night- the various promotions, closed deals, and other such business-related ventures occupy that slot- but tittering sweeps through the tables anyway when Nya appears in the door, a blood-red pair of jewels glittering in her upper lobes.  

Nya pays them no mind.  She slides easily into her seat, the only sign of the effect the attention has on her the deepened color of her scales.  “I did them by myself!” she says when one of their aunts asks her about them.  “I think they turned out pretty good.”

“Can you believe it?” gossips the aunt next to Kai, loud enough for him to overhear.  “All by herself!  Oh, I wonder what Maya thinks of that.”

Kai finds his mother near the head of the table, sitting beside his father.  Maya is smiling, but to Kai’s expert eye, he can see the performance to it.  His mother looks surprised.  Nya must have just done them if she didn’t know about it beforehand.

He takes a step into the room.  His mother’s eyes zero in on him immediately.  “Kai,” she says, and yep, she’s seen them.  Instead of making him want to hide, her attention causes something in him to bolster.  

“What earrings are those you are wearing?” she asks.  “Where are the ones we gave you for your birthday?”

I saw these online the other day and I just immediately thought of you.

“Sorry, mom,” Kai says, fighting to keep his sudden swell of happiness from his face.  He has to look appropriately contrite.  “I lost them.”

“Lost them?  Kai, those were incredibly expensive!”

“I’m sorry.  They were just so small, it was impossible to keep track of them.”

He and his mom stare each other down for a moment.  His mother’s lips part, and her eyes are wide.  Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth turn up.  

“Alright, dear.  Next time, perhaps we’ll find you larger ones.”

Kai’s grin pops out, and his heart beats a war in his chest.  “Thanks,” he says.

Both of them know they’re not just talking about new earrings anymore.

His mother smiles back.  “Dinner is about to start," she says.  "You should take your seat now.”

Kai slides into his seat beside Nya.  As conversation starts up again around them, he leans into her side with a whisper.

“Hey.  Nice earrings.”

She grins.  “Thanks.  I was inspired by you.”

And Kai’s answering smile feels as golden as the jewelry in his ears.

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hi do you think you do the 4 lords reaction to finding out their GN s/o has a shadow demon that goes wherever they go and some time find the 2 of them playing board games

Hiii!! okay important note here! i decided to go a little off topic (sorry) for the purpose of a part 2 where the lord’s s/o will be an angel!! of course still gender neutral and there will be a shadow demon but the s/o will be a demon that hasn’t fully formed yet!

i’ve been really uninspired lately so this probably isn’t my best! i apologise :((

Devil or Angel? Pt.1

General HC’s

It was strange how quickly your life had changed. One morning you were just a normal villager in some godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere Romania and the next day you woke up from the cold dirty ground with a pair of huge dark wings and sharp nails.

You had been exploring some of the woodlands surrounding the village, looking for a water source which was running low when a dark figure came barrelling towards you. It felt like hours, when really it was only a few seconds of sharp searing pain. Maybe it was a bad idea to leave the village alone.

You didn’t die however, or maybe you did? You weren’t quite sure what was happening to your body. All you knew was it must have been something supernatural to make the huge black wings appear.

“Looks like you finally woke up! Do you know how fucking boring it is just waiting for you to wake up?”

You screamed in terror at the large demonic creature floating above you. It was surrounded by a cloud of black mist with red eyes that pierced through its silhouette. It had a large wicked smile aligned with sharp teeth and a set of wings that matched your own.

Behind those eyes was something much more human however, in fact it looked rather bored.

“Who, or what are you?! And mind that language!”

The creature only laughed at you, amused by the whole situation which bothered you beyond compare.

“Well I’m a demon, if I didn’t swear you’d probably think me an angel with these playful charms I posses! And to be more specific I’m your demon, it seems you fell prey to one of the other demons condemned to this world it’s quite the tragedy really.”

You were shocked at just how easily this creature, this demon talked to you. As if it was a completely normal morning and life in the village had not changed at all.

“Oh don’t act so shocked, you medieval villagers have been worshiping my kind for a lot longer than that Mother Miranda. You’re one of us now!”

Surprisingly over time the creature, who’d you’d nicknamed “red” for their glowing eyes, was slowly growing on you. You might even call them a friend.

Sure Red was cocky as all hell and didn’t hesitate to cause trouble amongst the village but they became very protective over you and showed you the ropes on life as a demon.

Life can get kinda boring when you’re practically immortal and so you and red pass the time playing old Romanian board games and solitaire. When village life got really boring you even stooped so low to play go fish together.

A lot of the time you cause mischief in and around the village while Red was practically the devil on your shoulder, egging you on to stir the pot. The lycans were particularly enjoyable to taunt.

Regardless of everything, you couldn’t see yourself without Red and to lose them would crush you. There had been one too many nights when you’d chat about everything and nothing until you fell asleep curled up underneath your wings.

That was when you felt a protective wing curl around you, one that wasn’t your own.

“Always gotta fall asleep on me don’t you, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll have you partying all night before you know it kiddo.”

Alcina Dimitrescu

It started out as a stupid dare when Red dared you to sneak into Castle Dimitrescu and steal the Lady’s lipstick after hearing the village gossip that it was expensive.

You did not expect however to get caught in the hallway, starting straight up into the eyes of Alcina Dimitrescu, a stuttering and blushing mess. It was something that Red would tease you for until eternity ended.

After winning her favour, both you and Red were invited to stay in the Castle with Alcina and her daughters. She thought you were much better company than her brother and her affluent but gothic lifestyle totally appealed to you.

As it turns out you and Alcina had a lot more in common, both being creatures of a supernatural nature. You enjoyed the lazy afternoons curled up on the couch, a glass of maidens blood in your hand as she gentle stroked the back of her hand against your wings.

You had the finest outfits that matched your black wings perfectly and everything was tailor made so you were comfortable.

Red taught you how to fly so you were able to use your wings to be at eye level with Alcina which was perfect for hugs and kisses.

It turns out that Red is a great babysitter for the girls and keeps them entertained with hunting maidens and chasing them around the Castle while you and Alcina can spend some time together.

Donna Beneveinto

At first, Donna is truly scared of you and Red much like how you were in the beginning. But eventually, with the help of Angie she saw that you were not going to harm her.

You loved to spend time with Donna and watch her make her dolls or sew her dresses. Sometimes Red will come back with Angie from a day of causing trouble to find you reading to her another encyclopaedia of plants. Her head is resting on your chest and your wings are wrapped around her protectively while you read.

Your favourite thing to do together is to take Donna into your arms and fly to the top of the mountain where the waterfall begins and watch the sunset together. She’ll always have a deathly grip on your hand the whole time even though you’ve reassured her that you’d never drop her.

One time when you leaned in and gave her a kiss, a rather loud noise was heard from the corner and interrupted you.

“EWWW you guys are too cute!! All that lovey-dovey stuff makes me sick!”

Red is standing to the side with Angie on their shoulder who is sitting there making her own dramatic faces. One of Angie’s wooden hands covers Red’s eyes while the other is held on her forehead as if the kiss was enough to kill her.

Besides from their comment both Angie and Red act like your wing man for your relationship with Donna. They absolutely love you two together and have set up many dates for the two of you.

Salvatore Moreau

You meet Salvatore Moreau one day when you’re at the reservoir playing hide and seek in the near by mines with Red.

As it’s your turn to hide you end up ducking between some planks to find a tv set up and a small couch. Sitting in the middle of it happens to be someone you now know as Sal.

He thought you were going to kill him at first, hiding his face in his hands but very slowly after some months he saw that you weren’t a threat.

Over this time trying to convince Sal that you weren’t going to hurt him and trying to spend more time with him, Red took the opportunity to tease you for your crush.

“I think someone’s in got a little crush hmm??”

Eventually you become very close with Sal and the two of you will playfully chase each other at the reservoir. Sal will swim just below the surface while you fly just above it and your fingers brush together just where the water meets the air.

One time when you were chasing Red around the rooftops of the old village, you slipped and fell into the water, something that your large feathery wings did not enjoy and Red had to pull you out.

You ended up bundled on the couch with Sal, a bunch of blankets around you as your wings dried out. It took forever and you ended up a giant bundle of fluffy feathers but Sal thought you looked adorable.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl caught you and Red taunting the lycans when he went to check on them at their den one day. At the site of you two he raised an eyebrow and proceeded to light a cigar.

“I think you two may be lost, don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?”

You can hear the sarcasm in his voice and you spread your wings out to be intimidating, Red’s black mist behind you adding to it.

“Indeed it is very dangerous out here, I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

It was then when the three of you burst into a fit of laughter knowing that you were the strongest creatures in these woods and nothing could really hurt either of you.

Both you and Karl had a mischievous side and spent a lot of time causing trouble for his sister in her Castle.

It was fun to spend time with Karl and you both grew rather close. He even trusted you enough to let you help him on some of his plans and designs.

Red was particularly fond of the idea of killing Mother Miranda.

“Ooh when she’s gone can I have my picture put back up?! Pretty please!”

Karl designed his soldats with a red glowing chest plate that reminded him of your red glowing eyes which now matched Red’s.

While Karl will deny it forever, he’s completely in awe of you and finds you absolutely breathtaking. He can’t get over how soft your wings are and always cuddles up to you complaining that it’s cold even though it’s sweltering hot in the factory.

One day Karl took you by surprise and kissed you gently but with a degree of confidence which took him months to find. You melted into him and wrapped your arms around him securely, completely forgetting Red who’s hovering in the room.

“Guys I hate to break it to you but I’m kinda third wheeling here…”

Needless to say, Red third wheeled a lot and ended up befriend Sturm as an alternative to watching you guys make out.

[moiraineswife]

Jasnah and Wit - Presentation Meta

Part 1 of the great saga of Witsnah “WELL ACTUALLY” metas I plan on doing bc y’all have just pushed me That Far. 

Well hello there. I’m GRUMPY. And what I do when I’m grumpy is I channel it into a little thing called spite meta. That’s what this is. It’s me angrily yelling for several thousand words about why this thing is a GOOD thing, actually. 

Today’s subject, the much controversial post Rhythm of War canon pairing that is: Wit/Jasnah. 

So let’s (angrily) explore why this is actually a positive thing for both characters, on a nuanced, meta, character analysis level. Because that’s the only level that I have. 

I admit, I was sceptical and uncertain. But when I actually sat and thought about this for a hot second...It started making a lot of sense to me. And then I thought about it for, like, a hot minute, and it made a LOT of sense to me. And now I’ve thought about it for a hot month, so come. Step into my thoughts, and I will explain my perspective on this all…

Firstly we’re going to talk about clothes. Yes, clothes. Clothes and  what they symbolise for this pair, together and individually. 

He was immaculate, as always, with his perfectly styled hair and sharp black suit. For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over. - RoW, 64

Wit and Jasnah have bonded over the idea of presentation and the effects it can create. Both of them have used this idea to great effect multiple times in the series. Wit displays himself as a more appropriate form of an Alethi highprince at war - a crisp, tailored, military suit in a colour that makes him instantly and easily identifiable in a crowd. It’s part of his subtle mockery of those around him - that the King’s Wit is a better presented highprince than the REAL highprinces. It also makes him recognisable, and it makes him seem professional and able to move easily in high society. 

Equally, we’ve seen him take the guise of a poor beggar so as to sneak into Kholinar and go unnoticed and dismissed when he sneaks into the palace to recover Design in Oathbringer. 

Jasnah, meanwhile, gives a memorable and impactful speech to Shallan at the beginning of Words of Radiance about the illusion of perception. About how by presenting herself as a princess, looking the way others expect, she is able to effectively use her authority. And would be able to similarly do so if she simply convinced people she was a princess, by manipulating their perception of her.

Both Jasnah and Wit understand this idea - of presenting yourself, not necessarily in the way you want to look, but in the way you want others to look at you. Creating for them the thing you want them to see, which enables you to better be that thing. 

It also runs deeper than that. They’re not just people who like to dress well. They understand that this has a power to it. They understand the effect it will have over others. And it’s this deeper thing that I believe they’ve bonded over. 

Because they don’t simply appear put together in their clothes; they appear put together in their everything. Wit and Jasnah are people who are consistently calm and composed regardless of the situation. They do it in very different ways. Jasnah  with calculating stoicism and intellectual calm. Wit with indifferent frivolity and nonchalant acceptance of what’s happening around him. 

The core effect is the same. When the walls are crumbling down, the armies are sweeping in, and everything’s on fucking fire, Wit and Jasnah are two people you expect to be able to look to for direction and a bit of sanity amidst the chaos. 

They’ve both cultivated personalities and personas that revolve around appearing and seeming in control and unperturbed whatever is happening. It’s like their whole Thing. 

So the presentation is not only about clothes and make up, it’s about who they are deep down as people. The fact that they’re always the strong ones. Always the ones in control. Always the ones who aren’t panicking despite the fact that everything’s on fucking fire. 

They’re  people that others EXPECT to behave a certain way. There’s a predictability to them. A dependability. In Wit’s case, it’s that you can rely on him to be esoteric, confusing, and unpredictable, but still. 

There’s a pressure in that. There’s a pressure in always being THAT put together. In always being THAT on top of things. In always being THAT person who can never break down screaming when things go wrong because that’s not who they are and not what people expect. They have to be more than that. They have to be BETTER than that. 

They’re also people that other characters tend to other/deify. Shallan remarks several times about Jasnah being inhuman/beyond ordinary people, and even goes so far as to compare her to the divine, despite her being a heretic. 

Wit, meanwhile, gets asked if he’s a Herald, has that odd air of always knowing things that he shouldn’t, and being in places he shouldn’t at the right times. 

They’re both ‘positively’ outcast. And I don’t mean that in an overly posh English way and being positively outcast, darling. What I mean is that, instead of being shunted outside of the circle of normality, they’re both placed on pedestals above it. Which is a different sort of outcast, but comes with its own package of problems. 

And this brings us to: vulnerability. Because they’ve bonded over this presentation thing, but they’ve ALSO bonded over the fact that they’ve found someone they don’t have to do that around all the time. Someone they can let their guard down with and just be themselves. Someone they don’t have to present and perform for. Someone they can just be HUMAN with. 

So we’re going to look more closely at the clothing aspect of this. Because there’s symbolism here, and it deeply interests me. With a focus on Jasnah, because Wit’s a mystery by design, and Jasnah’s got some more intentional stuff going on here I feel, re narrative symbolism. 

So from the moment we’re introduced to her, Jasnah always looks immaculate. She always looks perfectly put together. Shallan remarks multiple times on her havah, on her make up, on the intricate and perfectly done braids of her hair. Which is a little bit gay on Shallan’s part (which is valid) but it’s also significant, symbolically. 

I talked already about Jasnah’s idea of ‘power is an illusion of perception’, but I feel it’s worth coming back to. Both because of how much it shapes Shallan, but also how much it shapes Jasnah, and informs what we know about her. 

Jasnah is ALWAYS put together. She is ALWAYS perfectly made up, the absolute ideal of the perfect Alethi princess. Even in scenes of distress or ‘downtime’ scenes - such as waiting for Shallan in the hospital, or visiting her after her betrayal, or the relatively more relaxed setting being on board the Wind’s Pleasure. The text makes a point to note that Jasnah is perfectly done up and presenting exactly as she wishes. 

The times we see slips in that are DEEPLY interesting to me. 

The first one I want to look at, briefly, is That Controversial Scene in the way of kings, where Jasnah uses Soulcasting to kill the men who attacked her and Shallan in the alley. 

Just prior to this we see her bathing, where Shallan still remarks on how composed Jasnah is. This is also part of her presentation. She’s entirely naked, but that illusion is still up. She’s still more in control than other people are fully clothed. 

What I find interesting is the specific note that Jasnah does not take the time to have her hair braided before she sets out with Shallan. It’s mentioned as being unbound a few times. 

Symbolically, I like this, because I feel like it speaks to a slight loosening of her usual control. There’s something about that scenario that sets Jasnah on edge. There’s something about it that makes her feel. 

Besides, men like those…” There was something in her voice, an edge Shallan had never heard before.

What was done to you? Shallan wondered with horror. And who did it?

Shallan is unnerved because Jasnah seems calm. But I get the sense, from this line, and from the intense repetition of how unnaturally composed Jasnah appears, that her composure is a front. And that if we had her perspective on this scene, it would look very different from how Shallan imagines it. 

There’s something driving her here. Something beyond the logic she explains to Shallan, about making the city safer, about the guards not doing anything, about how innocent women will not be able to protect themselves from this, and how she wanted those men gone. All of which I believe is true, but that line from Shallan, and the way in which Jasnah goes about this...It feels personal. There’s something else going on behind the scenes that we don’t know or understand.

Regardless. This is the first time we see Jasnah step out of the cultured, reserved, stoic scholar. She’s something other than an ideal Alethi princess and studious mentor in this scene. And the detail of her hair being unbound, contained, wild, for the first time since we’ve met her feels..Significant. It’s an important detail to linger on, I think. 

Which brings us to the next exception to Jasnah’s exceptional presentation rule: her murder! 

Even in the scene before where we see Jasnah, arguably, the most vulnerable that we’ve seen her, in the cabin when Shallan confronts her about her fear of the upcoming apocalypse. It’s only a moment. Only a moment of genuine emotion that Shallan manages to glimpse before the mask comes back. 

This was not the Jasnah that Shallan was accustomed to seeing. The confidence had been overwhelmed by exhaustion, the poise replaced by worry. Jasnah started to write something, but stopped after just a few words. She set down the pen, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. A few dizzy-looking spren, like jets of dust rising into the air, appeared around Jasnah’s head. Exhaustionspren.

Shallan pulled back, suddenly feeling as if she’d intruded upon an intimate moment. Jasnah with her defenses down. Shallan began to creep away, but a voice from the floor suddenly said, “Truth!”

Startled, Jasnah looked up, eyes finding Shallan—who, of course, blushed furiously.

Jasnah turned her eyes down toward Pattern on the floor, then reset her mask, sitting up with proper posture. “Yes, child?”

The text notes in this segment that Jasnah’s poise and presentation is a mask, but it also describes it as her ‘defenses’. This is her armour. It stops people looking too close. It stops them reading her emotion, her weaknesses. This is also one of very few times we see Jasnah attracting spren in the series. 

However, even in this scene, clearly exhausted, overworked, and overwhelmed, Jasnah remains perfectly put together. All of her armour, her immaculate  havah, her make-up, her braids, are all in place. Even in this moment. 

Which makes a stark contrast to the next scene we find her in where she’s dressed only in a “thin nightgown”, and is lying on the floor with a sword in her chest. The vulnerability of unexpected assassination. 

When next we see Jasnah, in the epilogue, is when she’s freshly spat out of Shadesmar after an apparently harrowing ordeal. 

Her clothing was ragged, her hair formed into a single utilitarian braid, her face lashed with burns. She’d once worn a fine dress, but that was tattered. She’d hemmed it at the knees and had sewn herself a glove out of something improvised. Curiously, she wore a kind of leather bandolier and a backpack. He doubted she’d had either one when her journey had begun.

Even in another plane, apparently being hounded and in fear of her life, she’s managed to acquire some appropriate clothing, a glove, and a damn bandolier. Because of course she has. Perception. Iconic. 

After that we don’t see her out of anything beyond her famous havah-braids-make up combo. Even when she’s with her family, and Navani remarks in her setting down the mask of the queen, she remains masked. There are still defences up. She never fully lets her family in on her plans, or her thoughts and fears. 

No, the next time we see her symbolically, and emotionally, vulnerable: is with Wit. Perhaps for the first time, fully, without ANY of her usual masks and pretences, and under her own steam and of her own volition. 

Locked away in a central room on the second level—sharing no walls with the outside, alone save for Wit’s company—she could finally let herself relax.

She DELIBERATELY picks a house with a second floor, and an interior  room with no outside walls, with multiple fabrial traps to warn of assassins or intruders. But she manages to relax in  Wit’s company. There’s a trust there. An understanding. A much needed vulnerability. 

Clothing wise, in this scene Jasnah is dressed only in a nightgown and a dressing gown, and is carefully noted to have her safehand uncovered. Jasnah isn’t Vorin, strictly speaking, but she’s still been raised her entire life in a society that views safehands as something inherently sexual/to be hidden. So much so that she takes the time and care to sew herself a safehand glove while in Shadesmar. So all of this is a fairly Big Deal. It’s a Big Deal for anyone. For Jasnah? More miraculous than Kaladin giggling. 

Jasnah Kholin is not vulnerable. Jasnah Kholin is never unguarded. Jasnah Kholin never willingly lets her guard down. Jasnah Kholin is absolutely as paranoid as Elhokar, if not more so. 

She’s made herself a BUNKER at this point. She’s in an interior room, surrounded by traps, there’s spheres sewn into her dressing gown, and she has a wholeass BOAT waiting for her in Shadesmar JUST IN CASE someone manages to get through: guards, an entire BUILDING, multiple rigged traps, then her, with her plate, her blade, her Soulcasting ability, and all of her wit and skill, to somehow manage to wound her badly enough that she has to retreat to Shadesmar. 

This woman does not do trust. She does not do vulnerability. To the point that it is absolutely 1000000% a fault. This IS Jasnah’s greatest flaw. Her isolation. Her mistrust. Her paranoia. 

Anyone that comes into her life she’s suspicious of. She blithely warns Shallan about Kabsal stating he’s only using her to get close to Jasnah to steal from her/kill her. 

We dismiss this, and look at it as brilliance/Jasnah knowing all, because she’s right. But it’s flawed brilliance. Because it’s the ‘broken clock’ fallacy, you know? If you suspect EVERYONE around you of being an assassin...Well, some of them will be. 

Jasnah’s paranoia is another meta, however. But the point here is that: Jasnah doesn’t do anything by halves. She has an ideal for how she wants to live her life and she COMMITS to it. And part of that is her presentation, and the perception she projects, to an unhealthy degree, even around trusted family. 

So the fact she has found someone she can relax all of her INCREDIBLY strict and overzealous masking and enforced personal presentation? Is both very significant in terms of her relationship with Wit, but also herSELF? 

Because Jasnah NEEDS this. She needs it like Kaladin needs therapy yesterday. 

Jasnah is a “strong independent woman” but if you double down on that idea, and follow it up with “Jasnah is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man/anyone” then you are absolutely 1000% missing the whole entire point of her character. 

All the Stormlight characters are deconstructions of classical fantasy tropes, to varying extents. 

Jasnah is the ‘strong independent woman’ trope except asking what if you ACTUALLY apply that to an actual human person? What would that do to them? How would that hurt them? And what it does is everything Jasnah is.

Which has been done so MASTERFULLY because we look at all of these flaws, and these objectively negative things that she does to cope with having this label slapped onto her, and we golf clap quietly in a corner and go ‘wow that’s so badass, that’s so cool, let’s totally romantacise all of these actually deeply worrying coping mechanisms and not look at them at all until Brandon smashes us in the face with them like a baseball bat with the nails of Jasnah’s trauma pounded into it’. 

Okay maybe that was SLIGHTLY dramatic. But my point is: Jasnah’s apparent omniscience can also be looked at as extreme paranoia and mistrust. 

Her independence and ability to ‘get shit done’ on her own, to the point she doesn’t tell another living soul about the LITERAL APOCALYPSE for more than HALF A DECADE is actually self-inflicted dangerous isolation. 

Her constantly being poised, and on her game, and never displaying any emotion is actually extreme repression, to the point her own MOTHER describes her as ‘having the empathy of a corpse’. 

Her consistent othering by all of the other characters, from her ward to her mother, deifying her, and othering her, and considering her immortal is actually putting her on a pedestal and cramming an INCREDIBLE amount of pressure to reach an impossible, unattainable, and inhuman level of perfection that becomes so normalised and commonplace that her return from the dead is just like ‘well yeah that’s just Jasnah’. 

And all of these things are INCREDIBLY unhealthy!!! They’re not something any real person should have to do just to exist. Especially not in the middle of an apocalypse. When her father was killed in front of her. And then her brother was murdered. And the apocalypse she tried to warn everyone about is happening. And she’s the most experienced Radiant. And she’s also suddenly a queen of her kingdom. Which has been taken over by the enemy btw. And they’re in the middle of a war. And people are dying. And she’s responsible for those people dying. But also some of her highprinces are treacherous bastards. And oh look here’s a couple of slightly mad Heralds she’s taken charge of and- OH MY GOD PLEASE LET HER NAP!? 

Again. Slight hyperbole on my end but I feel like I’m #Justified. The point is, her suddenly, after FOUR books, having a single person that she can confide in, and be vulnerable with, and admit she’s afraid, and uncertain, and doesn’t know what she’s doing, and isn’t sure she can actually do this, is not ~anti-feminist~ and it’s not “out of character” and it’s not damaging her ideal it’s actually deeply positive, and healthy, and a symptom of Character Growth. 

Jasnah’s is choosing Wit. With her eyes wide open. And she has some reservations about things, because she’s JASNAH, of course she does. But she listens to him. She confides in him. She lets him see HER. She lets him help HER. She admits that she needs that help. She actually says to him, out loud, with full human words, to his face, right in front of him, that she’s frightened. SHE ADMITS THIS!!! Jasnah’s having all this stealth background character development that y’all are sleeping on but I am personally deeply hype about. 

And it’s because Wit UNDERSTANDS her. And she understands him. And this is really the crux and core of this whole relationship for me, you know? This whole idea around them always being The Strong One. and finally FINALLY (for him, too) having someone that they don’t have to be strong for. Or regal. Or composed. Or poised. Or in control. Or even knowing what the fuck they’re doing. 

She can just...Be. She can ask questions. And show uncertainty. And admit to fear. And to doubt, of herself, of the other Radiants, of humanity in general. And have someone to look to, when everyone is ALWAYS looking at her. 

It’s the beginning of an actual support system. Because she needs this SO badly. Because she has her family but she also...Doesn’t have her family? She looks after them. She protects them. From assassins, and then from what was happening in the world/her role in it. Because there’s that line in Oathbringer that she has, about people loving her but still hurting her. 

Navani mentions that after she hit adolescence (and after her parents locked her in a dark room and let her scream herself hoarse because they called her mad, lol) she withdrew. And she no longer asked questions. And she no longer wanted a mother, or a support figure, or someone to take care of her. She rejected all notions of that. Because there was something broken there. That trust was gone. And Jasnah will set aside the crown, and the mask of the queen around her family, but she is only fully vulnerable, and fully HERSELF with Wit. 

And I cannot understate (i feel like I’m doing a Good Job of not understating this here people) how absolutely fucking ESSENTIAL that is. 

Jasnah is NOT a machine. She is not a divine being beyond trauma and pain. She is a human being who has suffered, and who has responses to this. 

Jasnah accepting Wit’s support and companionship is as big a step in processing and healing from her trauma as Kaladin accepting he can’t protect everyone and does not deserve to always carry that guilt. 

I don’t care if you don’t like the ship. I don’t care if you think it was rushed (there was...a year long time skip. Things did not remain in stasis. Things changed. This is an interesting narrative device bringing us into them and letting us extrapolate backwards). I don’t care if you hate the bones of Hoid and never want to see him on screen: I DON’T CARE. 

If you have any respect and regard for Jasnah as a character I need you to acknowledge that this relationship is a positive and healthy thing for her. I need you to see that it’s a step forwards. I need you to see that, from a purely narrative standpoint: this is a thing that should be celebrated for her. 

In terms of Wit, too, this is a good thing. I am not about one-sided relationships where only one person is getting something out of it. Even when that one person is the light of my life Jasnah Kholin who deserves all the things ever. 

For all his talk of frivolity, he knew exactly how to present himself. It was something they’d bonded over.

Coming back to this RoW quote let me make things as abundantly clear as possible re why I’ve bonded over this ship: They’re kindred spirits. They understand each other. In a way that no-one else has understood them for Jasnah possibly ever, for Wit in a very very very very very very very very very long time. 

They’re both brilliant. They’re both intellectually at the pinnacle of humanity. They both know that. They’re also both damaged. They both  cover up that damage with a carefully crafted presentation. Jasnah’s is regal composure and Wit’s flamboyant nonchalance, but it’s a mask in both cases. 

They understand each other. And they understand the need to have what they’ve found in one another: someone they don’t have to be that way around. Someone they can just be with. Someone who understands why they have to be that way with everyone else; but can give them the freedom to be themselves. 

Such parallel. Much power. Very choice. 

I was gonna talk about Other Stuff in this meta but lol. 4k words of clothes screaming later and I feel like maybe this should be part 1 of an ongoing saga. Ahem. 

The take away from this is: I totally understand why Brandon put these two characters together. For the amount of characters he has, he actually has relatively few romantic relationships. None of them are done on a whim, and they’re always healthy, mutual, and positive for both characters. They make sense, in short. 

And these two as a pairing makes sense. On more than a “”””business transaction””””” level of them wanting and getting information out of one another. It makes sense even if there was no Desolation, and no threat to the world, and they were two randomers who met in a tavern and connected. 

There’s a personal connection there. There’s an intimacy, and an understanding, and a sense of looking into another person’s eyes and saying ‘yes. You know. You feel it too’. They go through life in much the same way - standing out, never quite fitting, never finding anyone on their level that can relate to them or compete with them or challenge them. 

They have someone who can fulfil them. Someone who can actually meet and exceed their abilities for once. But equally someone who can ground them, and meet them at their lowest point, and allow and even encourage that vulnerability. 

TL;DR: this relationship is positive for both characters, and healthy, and important for both and this is a hill I WILL fucking die upon. Just watch me. 

More metas to follow. Bc I have more to say. Not as long as this one, in all likelihood, bc I feel like this is the Lynchpin argument for this pair. But still. More to say.