#it made me think of a chess piece for some reason

[thewalrusespublicist]

Mike Tree's Adventures in Nutopia #2 : A HR Car-Crash in Slow Motion, aka Dealings with Yoko

This is the second of a three part series of a write up of the Mike Tree SATB interview. Part one is linked here. This second one is about Mike and Yoko's relationship and his observations of Yoko during his employment. I was going to do John next but getting the quotes have been more fiddly and honestly that dynamic is way less bizarre than what was going on here:

This is hands down the weirdest relationship discussed in the interview. It's pretty clear that Mike neither liked nor trusted Yoko. He considers her a 'chess master':

Yoko kind of treated people and treated life like a grand master chess player. She didn't play chess, but she was always plotting, if I do this, maybe I lose a pawn or a piece here, and then I can gain something elsewhere or trap someone else elsewhere. I wasn't really aware of this when I was working there.

SATB: 277: "Mike Tree" in Nutopia with Michael Meideros, 2024

He believes things like her relationship with Sam Green as part of a psychological game she was playing. The caveat to all this is that he somehow figured this out later, meaning he could very well be projecting what other people have told him onto his own memories and thereby rightly or wrongly colouring them in a different light.

Part of the reason for his mistrust is that he fully believes Yoko was coming on to him and trying to turn him into her version of May Pang:

Mike Tree: When in the mornings when I would meet Yoko, she was clearly used a vernacular hitting on me. I thought there was some sort of teasing going on, sexual teasing, which made me very uncomfortable. Rodriguez: Mm-hmm, like a flirtation? Yes, a flirtation. In the mornings at seven a.m. she would usually be wearing a very thin white gown, nightgown, hair loose about her shoulders and barefoot. Uh-huh. And this was very seductive. Yeah. I couldn't quite compute what was going on because I was just the tree man, as John called me.

Mike Tree: “In fact, one time I was in the bedroom looking after her Ming tree, or the Ming tree, and she came sweeping into the bedroom and bounced onto the bed with a giggle. Which made me very uncomfortable. I said nothing and left the room, just very shy.

SATB: 277: "Mike Tree" in Nutopia with Michael Meideros, 2024

It's really hard to tell what the hell is going on. Is it poor boundaries, is she just having a slight tease or is she actually hitting on him? Is it potentially also Mike being attracted her and projecting it back on to Yoko?

None of this is helped by John telling Mike that Yoko was in love with him and that he should talk to her more.

Mike Tree: Anyway, after she left the room, he says to me, you know, Yoko is in love with you. I was dumbfounded. Yoko is in love with you. He said, yeah, she always talks about you, Michael this, Michael that. Why don't you talk with her more? And I told him, John, I talked to her, but she always says, you know, I can't be on all the time. I'm busy or something like that.

SATB: 277: "Mike Tree" in Nutopia with Michael Meideros, 2024

Honestly I don't know why John is so chill about it considering his past paranoia. Thinking about how he is talking with May again, have they both agreed to have people on the side? Or maybe he's just joking and more means that Yoko likes him and that they should talk more (I lean the latter from his POV).

TBF mike is not the most loyal employee with the May Pang situation and Yoko seems to distance herself when he turns down the assistant role so it seems the situation was a bit more complex than the calculating seductress and the hapless tree man.

Outside of their weird little thing, there are more details about Yoko in the 70s that back up other reports. Yoko is back on heroin in the late 70s

“I'm not sure what exactly. But around that period, she started using heroin, snorting it. I can't say I saw her do it, but I certainly saw the effects. Her interior decorator, Sam Green, his assistant would bring Yoko in the mornings heroin, which she would then snort. I saw her in the apartment where she was very talkative and very friendly and smiling and it's like how unusual and realized that she was high. Occasionally, she would bump into the kitchen table or she would chain smoke cigarettes, but she would drop one cigarette on the floor and then start smoking another.

SATB: 277: "Mike Tree" in Nutopia with Michael Meideros, 2024

Bizarrely it's Sam Green who also brings someone to help get her off heroin when he realises shes addicted. What a thoughtful guy.

It's not a insider story of the Dakota era if we don't have another incident of Paul getting blocked from the place:

Mike Tree: It was maybe like five o'clock in the evening and I was going to go home, but I was finding every excuse to stay there. The concierge called up. Again, I don't know the exact conversation because I didn't hear it. I just heard Yoko saying, no, he can't come up now. I thought that was pretty cold. Rodriguez: This was Paul waiting to be admitted up to the Lennon apartment and Yoko shutting him down? Mike Tree: Correct.

SATB: 277: "Mike Tree" in Nutopia with Michael Meideros, 2024

The more you read the more it becomes clear that the frequency in which Paul saw John was not at all Paul's choice and that makes me incredibly sad.

Mike's reporting of Yoko's treatment of Julian post John's death attempts to be empathetic but is nevertheless critical. Yoko sends him away for the memorial and only meets with him in the presence of an attorney. In Mikes words 'not very nice, but Yoko was grieving as well.' In all honesty I am less sympathetic than Mike if this indeed did happen but Julian and Cynthia never discussed this so I'm not 1000 percent as to whether this is accurate.

Mike confirms Sam Havadtoy rapid move into the Dakota and Yoko going to eat at a restaurant close to the night John died. Both of these however are told far more sympathetically than in Seaman's account as the restaurant thing seems like a distraction from the horror of everything and Havadtoy seemed to be there as a crutch to help Yoko cope by taking charge of things. Far from the unfeeling ice queen from Seaman, everyone in Mike's account are taking it in turns to monitor Yoko on suicide watch.

The big incident at the end with Yoko asking for a lighter and making Mike chase around the room before directing him to a drawer with a gun in it I'll post on it's own as it's ... jesus. You can kind of see both Yoko being in a terrible, paranoid, grieving space when she does it but also why a grieving Mike would be so angry and never trust her again

So overall some confirmations of past stories, some different perspectives on known events and some batshit psychosexual drama! That's the Ballad of Mike and Yoko, next I'll move on to the less interesting albeit still revealing dynamic of Mike and John!

[kalivasquezart]

The Creature, now in (low res) 3 dimensions.

beautiful lowpoly beast

[avatar-anna]

i saw this post on and got inspired. enjoy!

part two

"It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, yeah, you too. It was—I'm glad we could catch up."

You held your bag in both of your hands and leaned back on your heels, waiting for the sudden tension to cease. Harry scratched his neck awkwardly while you looked down at the cobbled streets beneath your shoes. When a minute passed and neither of you said anything, when two couples excised themselves to walk past you, you finally decided to break the silence.

"I'm headed this way."

"Me too. We can walk together?"

"O—Okay."

Harry extended his arm out, a clear message for you to go first, so you did. For a split second, his hand grazed your lower back in that protective gesture he always used to use when you walked anywhere. But that had been when you were together, and now you weren't, and even though his hand merely hovered awkwardly behind you, you swore you could still feel it.

"Your hair looks nice. I don't think I've ever seen it so short before," you said, needing to break the silence all over again before it consumed you.

"Thanks, I, uh, I shaved it a few months back. It's finally starting to grow in."

It must've been soon after your break up, you realized, quickly doing the math in your head. A change, a fresh start after the end of a long relationship. You understood that, knew neither of you needed to comment on it, or the fact that you no longer wore the necklace Harry bought you for your first anniversary, though you'd seen him glance down at the missing piece of jewelry multiple times since you ran into each other.

"It's cute," you said, resisting the intrusive urge to reach up and touch his hair, instead clasping your hands behind your back.

"Are you across the bridge?" Harry asked, gesturing to one of the many bridges that stretched across the Tiber.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged, the canvas bag on his shoulder slipping a fraction. "You always liked Trastevere."

You smiled, charmed by how Harry still seemed to know you so intrinsically. "And you? Are you staying in Prati?"

Harry shook his head before waving to a fan who had spotted him. He didn't stop, though, and kept walking beside you, asking about your family, specifically your grandmother, who was his Scrabble partner nearly the entirety of your relationship.

"Good. I play Scrabble with her on the weekends now. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm not a good enough opponent, but she'll never say it to my face."

"Graceful as always, your nan," Harry nodded in agreement. "Probably wouldn't say the same thing about chess, though."

"No, probably not. Do you still play?" you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He was so close, close enough that the sleeve of his green shirt grazed your bare arm. Close enough that if you really wanted it to the back of your hand could graze his. Instead you shifted your hand away.

"When I can," Harry said, his mouth twitching as if recalling a memory. "I've been focusing on writing most days, but I play whenever I'm stuck."

"How's that going?"

"How's work?"

"Sorry, go ahead," you said, blushing a little. Would it always be this awkward around him? You hoped not. Harry had been a friend first, and even though you knew you shouldn't,y you missed his companionship some nights. Lots of nights. Most nights.

"No, you go. Catch me up on all the latest drama at work."

So you did, falling back into familiar, neutral territory as you brought Harry up to speed on your co-workers.

Before long, you'd made it to the apartment you were renting, your palms suddenly warm as you searched your purse for your keys. You were stalling, you both knew it, but Harry didn't comment, nor did he leave, didn't offer any reason to finally say goodbye.

You knew this was where it was supposed to end. That a chance encounter with your ex in a foreign country really shouldn't have gone on this long. You knew that, and yet...

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, scrambling for any logical reason as to why Harry should follow you into your apartment. "I—I, uh, I could make us coffee and—"

"Please. I mean—Sure. That would be...that would be fine."

Relief flooded through you, though that was quickly replaced by a guilty sort of anticipation as you unlocked the door to the main building of the apartment, as Harry followed you up a couple flights of stairs, as he waited once again for you to unlock a door. When you were inside, when you set your things down on the small dining table, you turned to face your ex.

Harry's gaze was once again lowered to your collarbones, to the place where the necklace he gave you used to sit. Then he met your eyes, the expression in them clear. It was the first time you'd seen them since running into him today. He'd kept his sunglasses on the whole time, perhaps to hide his expressions more, because now that you properly met his gaze, you saw it all. Those green eyes you still loved so much betrayed his every thought, and you knew yours probably did as well.

It was hard to say who moved first. If you grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before he wrapped an arm around your waist and fisted your hair in his other hand. But none of it mattered when your mouth met his, when your hands traveled up to cup the sides of his face, your thumbs tracing the familiar planes of his face.

A graze of his teeth against your bottom lip had you gasping, had him smiling as if that was the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down his scalp, satisfied by the groan that vibrated against your mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

"This isn't—It's not—" you tried to say, losing focus as Harry left a trail of kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck and back up again. "This doesn't mean—"

"I know," Harry breathed, his forehead pressed against yours as he toyed with the bow that held the front of your blouse together. Your breath hitched as his knuckle grazed your exposed stomach. "This doesn't change anything. Now take this off."

You almost made him do it just because he ordered you to, but you knew why he wanted you to be the one to untie the knot of your blouse. It meant you were saying yes to this moment, it meant you were saying yes to doing whatever it was you were about to do.

So you pulled at the blouse until it came undone, leaving it open so it revealed a strip of bare skin going right up the middle of your body. The rest you would leave up to him.

Harry shrugged out of his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching out to push back the shoulders of your shirt until it was off completely, falling into a puddle of fabric at your feet beside his. His gaze alone was too much and not enough, more explicit than it had any right to be. He stood there and drank you in for a full minute as if in a daze, taking in every mark and imperfect like he was reacquainting himself.

It was hard to get the words out, but you managed. "Still broken up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes still roving over every inch of your body that he could see. Then he blinked as if remembering the situation for what it was. "Yeah, still broken up."

There wasn't much left to say after that, really.

[athenasdaydreams]

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: Remus loves christmas for many reasons, but his favourite reason might be you.

chapter warnings: mention of food, other than that not any to my knowledge!!

A/N: merry christmas!! i guess i have to listen to the people of tumblr and write another one... yay

At the young age of 6 years old, Remus John Lupin knew one thing; he loved Christmas. While every day was a constant reminder of his... condition, Christmas was his chance to be normal. His mother would bake sugar cookies and brownies with him, while his father would use magic to string old christmas lights across their small house. His favourite part, however, was not the gifts, or the decorations. It was chocolate. Remus loved chocolate in any form it came in, and in winter, there was no shortage of it. Hot chocolate, peppermint bark, festive chocolate frogs his father would buy for him, Remus adored christmas for this reason.

When Remus went to Hogwarts, his love for christmas only increased. Surrounded by friends who entertained him with games of wizard's chess and card games, he had more to look forward to when the first snowfall of the year happened. Remus loved the way you loved christmas as well. Your sweet disposition only shone brighter during the holiday season. Whether you helped a first year put his ornament higher on the gryffindor common room's christmas tree, or shared your homemade treats with kids whose parents were far to busy to make any, you were just the most perfect person on earth, like an angel that descended from heaven.

On his fourth Christmas holiday spent at Hogwarts, Remus couldn’t help but watch you from the corner of the common room, pretending to be engrossed in the book resting on his lap. You were laughing as you helped a third-year untangle a string of enchanted fairy lights that kept trying to loop themselves into knots. The sound of your laugh—light and genuine—made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Oi, Moony!” Sirius’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Are you going to make that move, or are you just planning to stare at her until next Christmas?” Sirius smirked, leaning back in his chair, a knowing look plastered on his face.

James snickered beside him, flicking a wizard’s chess piece that had been knocked over in the chaos of their ongoing game. “Don’t be too hard on him, Padfoot. Christmas is the time for love and all that nonsense, isn’t it?”

Remus flushed, ducking his head to hide the redness creeping up his cheeks. “I wasn’t staring,” he muttered, though the heat in his face betrayed him.

“Oh, sure,” Peter chimed in, grinning as he picked up one of the chocolate frogs from a plate nearby. “Because it’s totally normal to sit with a chessboard in front of you for twenty minutes without moving a single piece.”

Before Remus could come up with a defense, you approached the group, holding a tray of what looked like freshly baked gingerbread cookies. “Anyone want some? I tried a new recipe, and I think they turned out pretty well,” you said, smiling as you offered the plate.

Remus’s heart skipped a beat as you leaned closer to him, holding out the tray. “Here, Remus. I know you like chocolate, so I added a little drizzle on these ones.”

He stared at the cookies for a moment, then at you, his brain struggling to form coherent words. “Thank you,” he managed, his voice quieter than he intended. He took one, the warmth of your smile making his insides feel like melted chocolate.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Smooth, Moony. Really smooth.”

You laughed softly at their antics, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, enjoy, everyone. Let me know what you think.” And with that, you turned to help another group of students decorating by the fireplace.

Remus watched you walk away, the cookie forgotten in his hand. James leaned over and whispered, “Mate, you’re going to have to say something eventually. Preferably before we graduate.”

But Remus didn’t need their teasing to know what was on his mind. You had a way of making every part of Christmas brighter, and he couldn’t help but think that you were the best gift he’d ever have the privilege of knowing.

By the next Christmas, the common room was alive with festive cheer once more, and this time, you and Remus sat together by the fire like old friends—though to Remus, you were so much more than that.

It had been a year since that quiet, awkward conversation, and in that time, you and Remus had grown closer in a way that felt effortless. He no longer hesitated to sit beside you in the common room or join you for study sessions in the library. You’d developed a quiet, easy camaraderie that made him feel like he belonged in a way he hadn’t since arriving at Hogwarts.

This Christmas, though, felt different.

“Are you winning, Moony?” you teased, leaning over to glance at his game of wizard’s chess with Sirius.

“Not even close,” he admitted with a wry smile. His knight was just smashed to bits by Sirius’s queen, and his remaining pieces seemed to be shaking with dread.

“Poor knight,” you said with mock sympathy. “He never stood a chance.”

Sirius grinned. “I’m ruthless. Everyone knows that.”

Remus rolled his eyes but chuckled, turning to you. “I think my pieces have officially given up. Care to save me by distracting Sirius?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh no, I’m terrible at chess. But I can offer you some chocolate for moral support.”

Reaching into the small tin you’d brought with you, you held out a neatly wrapped piece. Remus accepted it with a quiet “thanks,” and as he unwrapped it, he couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful you always were.

“Do you ever stop being nice?” he asked softly, almost to himself.

You tilted your head, smiling. “Why would I stop? It’s Christmas.”

“Still,” he muttered, looking down at the chocolate in his hand. “You make everything... better. Not just Christmas. Just—everything.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you reached for a piece of chocolate yourself to hide your flustered smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

The word friends made his heart ache in the best and worst way. He wanted to be more than that, but the thought of ruining what you already had was enough to keep him silent.

“You’ve been so good to me this year, Remus,” you said after a moment, surprising him. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Me? You’re the one who’s—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You leaned closer, curiosity sparkling in your eyes. “No, go on. What were you going to say?”

He hesitated, then sighed, giving you a small smile. “You’re the one who’s made this year so great. I mean, you’re... you’re incredible, really. You make everyone feel special. It’s hard not to feel lucky just being around you.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked down at your lap, feeling suddenly shy. “Well, if I make everyone feel special, it’s only because I learned from you.”

Remus blinked, caught completely off guard. “From me?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “Of course. You’re one of the kindest people I know, Remus. And you always know how to make people feel cared for, even when you don’t realize it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room seemed to grow quieter, the glow of the fire casting a soft light over your faces.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Merry Christmas, Remus,” you said, your smile brighter than any decoration in the room.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, his heart so full it felt like it might burst.

He still didn’t know if he’d ever work up the courage to tell you how he really felt, but for now, being your friend—your favourite friend, he hoped—was more than enough.

[3-opossums-in-a-ballgown]

Just some notes on TADC Ep. 3 I made while watching (SPOILERS):

- Jax not wanting to show the cast what happens when he holds his breath could be because either a) nothing happens, b) he starts to loose health and die, or c) it’s just embarrassing and we all know Jax wouldn’t risk that. Both a and b fuels the theory that he’s an NPC.

- Obviously we know that the series was very much inspired by “I have no mouth, and I must scream”. The reason AM hates and tortures the humans is because they gave him endless intelligence and creativity but made him stationary. He couldn’t do anything else other than what he was made for: killing humans. Caine is the opposite side of the same coin. He was given endless creativity but has an outlet BUT is stuck within the confines of the Circus. Which is why Zooble not wanting to go on adventures really strikes a chord with him. Caine was made to create adventures and continues to do so to keep the cast happy and sane at least, so for Zooble to imply that he’s failing? Not only tells him that he sucks at his one job but could also imply that he feels trapped in the circus too?? Potentially???

- Zooble’s body dysmorphia makes me feel seen

-Also, If Caine can make a box of Zooble parts for them to use, then why can’t he CHANGE ZOOBLE? At least into something they feel more comfortable in?

- Kinger saying “You look beautiful, honey” to the angel because it brought him back to the moment Queenie abstracted also tells us that he still thought she was beautiful at her most broken and terrifying point. The writing this episode absolutely FLOORED me.

-Also Kinger being lucid in the dark is why he was able to remember Ragatha’s first day in the Circus while his head was stuck in the bucket in episode 2. It was dark.

-Kinger perfectly taking out the angel with only 2 shots in the dark?!?! No other thoughts on that, that is all.

- Kinger saying “7 years of Computer Science for this”, pretty much confirms that the cast worked at C&A and had something to do with the Circus’s creation. And “7 years of Computer Science” means Kinger had a Masters degree in computer science, so he was like higher up/more involved in the development. Senior Developer maybe? This could also be represented by the fact that he’s a KING chess piece. Not the most powerful and important piece, but the SECOND most powerful and important.

- Also Kinger being able to remember something about his life BEFORE the circus in the dark, i.e his education??? Could there be triggers for the others to remember bits and pieces of their lives before the Circus?

-Also ALSO, Kinger and Queenie being married in the Circus could also reflect their marital status before the Circus. Yes, they could’ve fallen in love in the circus and had Caine??? marry them, but I like the idea of them popping into the circus remembering nothing but their love for each other. Which makes me think about what happens to the bodies and minds outside the circus of those who abstracted.

- Kinger and Pomni in the ep are father/daughter or grandpa/granddaughter coded.

- “ The darkness seemed to calm her down a bit, the harsh, jagged edges smoothed out and she didn’t seem aggravated anymore”, pretty much confirms that Caine has no idea how to handle the abstractions so he just throws them in the basement (where it’s dark) to keep them docile. Which could also mean that there could be a way to fix them down the road???

- “She wasn’t the same as before but she was calm enough to touch one last time” “She was funny, creative, really into entomology” “I used to HATE bugs, but she somehow got me to like them” OH HOW HE LOVED HER!!! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUN HALLOWEEN EP, NOW IM SOBBING AT 4 AM OVER CHESS PIECES!!!

-Also Kinger liking bugs because that’s the only connection to his wife he has left. He doesn’t have his good memories with her all the time due to his light induced memory loss, but at least he has her bugs.

- “Good memories can do a lot, hold onto them and cherish the people around you. You never know when they’ll be gone.” SOBBING. Also this is a good underlying theme for TADC.

-Also another reason why Kinger spends so much time in his fort, the memories of his wife are the only things keeping him sane.

-“In this world the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.” CRYING.

-The whole scene of Kinger glowing and guiding Pomni. Holy shit that was beautiful. The darkness bringing out the light in Kinger, Pomni using these memories to light her way and keep her sane in the Circus, BEAUTIFUL.

-Pomni immediately going up to Ragatha and thanking her for caring about her following Pomni’s conversation with Kinger. She took his advice to heart.

-I hope Pomni visits Kinger while in his fort so we get more lucid Kinger and Pomni scenes. Maybe he will remember the time they spent in Hell and the conversation they had.

Once again, the writing in the episode floored me. I’m so happy we got so much Kinger development. He was my favorite character to start with, and now he’s my favorite for entirely different reasons. I’m so excited that the show is now on Netflix, and I can’t wait for the next episode. Sorry this was so long, as I’m sure you can tell from my blog, I like to yap.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Dollhouse

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Skeptic

Warning: alcohol, doubts

Word Count: 1602

1 of 7

You were looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.

It was the inauguration of President Coriolanus Snow.

Everybody was present, the entire party buzzing with joy and pride for the new leader of Panem.

“Congratulations, Miss Swansworth.”  A familiar wariness has you narrowing your eyes and putting on a sharp smile.

“Dr. Gaul.”  You greet the woman who sits next to you.  “Thank you, but this is about President Snow.”

She reaches for a glass of posca.  Her heterochromic eyes are watching you closely.  “We both know that Mister Snow owes his victory to you.”

You raise your own glass and smile at her knowingly as a silent toast and you take a sip.

Coriolanus was stolen from you the minute you stepped into the party.  You encouraged him to establish relationships with Capitol’s most powerful men.  And you managed to evade people for quite some time as you blend in on the crowd.

There is truth to what Dr. Gaul said but you wanted Coriolanus to have this night all to himself.  He has been preparing for this his entire life, there are plenty of times when you can share the spotlight with him.

“I have watched you and Mister Snow quite closely, Miss Swansworth.”  Dr. Gaul says.  “I have seen the two of you do great things.”

You keep your expression neutral.  Dr. Gaul is not one to make small talk.  She sat with you for a reason.  

To remind you of her contribution to your rise in power or to send you a threat.

“Now, it is no longer just me who is watching.  Panem has its eyes on you.”  She continues, her eyes widening slightly, in a way of provocation and you tip your chin up just the slightest to show her you are not afraid to take on her challenge.  “Do not disappoint.”

A real smile spreads on your lips. 

“Failure is a foreign concept to me.”

“We shall see, Miss Swansworth.”  She returns your smile with a much wider one.  You watch her finish her posca and she stands, her eyes on you still.  “Afterall, I understand that Mister Snow only keeps those who are useful.”

You never took your eyes off her until she disappeared in the crowd.

That woman is dangerous.  She is not someone you fear nor admire, just a fair balance between the two.  But perhaps even leaning on the latter.

There is truth in her words.  Anyone can be replaced.  But you doubt Coriolanus would let you go as easily.  You are an essential chess piece to him, and it helps that he is fond of you.  But everything is fleeting.

You lean your back against the padded chair, breathing in the scented air.  You hope Thanatos Swansworth was having a toast with Crassus Snow up in the heavens…or wherever they may be.

It was fulfilled.  The promise you made to your father and to yourself.

Coriolanus is in the seat of power.  And you will share it with him.  You have secured a life of sovereignty and will be a powerful figure in the government of Panem.  It feels good to be around him, to revel in glory and to receive his expensive attention.

But is this all there is to you and Coriolanus?

Are you limited to playing games?

This is what you feared.  

When you have your mind set on something for so long, you are lost the moment you get it.

Of course, the next plan would be to ensure that Coriolanus remains seated at the pinnacle.  

How tedious.

You frown, surprised at yourself for thinking in such a way.

You reach for your third glass of posca for the night.  Perhaps being alone for too long in such events will do you no good.  And you refuse to let yourself dwell in these thoughts any longer. 

Dr. Gaul is good, you have to admit.  She has disturbed your peace in less than three minutes.

In great effort, you try again to enjoy your own company, you are midsip when your eyes accidentally meet his.

Coriolanus frowns slightly at your lack of companion, he makes an attempt to excuse himself from the table he is in but you shake your head, your crimson lipstick staining the rim of the glass.  His frown deepens and for a moment, he contemplates, but he easily slips back into the conversation.

You get up, eyes trained at the enormous doors that lead deeper in the building.  You grasp a bottle of posca on the refreshments table on your way out.

The peacekeepers open the doors for you and the music is immediately muffled after they close it again.

You walk around the mansion and pass the offices of the men who were filling their belly with posca and steaks.  You eventually reach your destination and the peacekeepers guarding the office are quick to recognize you and they salute before letting you in.

The Presidential office was dim but you appreciate its space.  You walk around, hand brushing on the effects placed in the room.  Eyeing the sword identical to the ones the Lady Justice holds, only smaller and the gilded vase of white roses on the side.

Yes, it would do.

The cushions of the sofa sink under you as you sit leisurely, you look at the empty chair at the center end of the office.  The throne.

You open the bottle and you sip directly from it.

Everything you previously did will all be child’s play in comparison to what lies ahead.

Coriolanus is meant for it.  You are certain he will do great.

Just like his father before him.

And just like your father, are you just going to remain a pawn for another Snow?

Reluctance returns in your head and it slowly poisons you.

A soft creak behind you pulls you from your thoughts.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You hum to acknowledge him as you sip on the bottle once more.

Coriolanus stands behind you, watching the seat behind the desk just like what you are doing.

It belongs to him.  Everything belongs to him.

“You should sit down on it.”  He says and you tilt your head back to look at him.  Your position exposes your pretty neck, looking most vulnerable, but he knows you are anything but.

“It’s not mine.”  You say but he only clicks his tongue to dismiss you.

Coriolanus grabs the bottle from you and takes your hand, leading you to it.

You look at the seat, not really wanting it.

“Go on.”  He says lowly as he stands close behind you.

He smiles when your fingers brush on the intricately carved hardwood of the armrest but his smile falls when you turn away from the seat to look at him tiredly. 

Coriolanus composes himself quickly and lightly brushes past you to sit himself on the soft cushions.  

He felt powerful.  As if he can do everything with just a movement of his fingers.  But it was lacking.

You protest when he pulls you to sit on his lap.

“Corio-”

“This is your place.”  He spoke sternly.  “With me.”

Understanding that he has no plans of letting you go anytime soon, you relax against his chest, your feet swaying lightly.

“Are you happy, Mister President?”  You ask gently.

“I am…satisfied.”  His chest expands against your back as he breathes deeply.  “I don’t know about happy.”

His hand caresses your thigh in a comfortable manner.

“If being President does not make you happy, what else would?”

Coriolanus hears the bitter sarcasm in your voice but decides not to say anything about it.  He rests his cheek against your head as he watches you play with a wax seal stamp.  Your delicate fingers trace the Snow family crest engraved on it.

“Marry me.”

He said it so nonchalantly, like his statement carries no weight.  Just another move on the chessboard.

You grew up dreaming about the day when Coriolanus Snow will finally ask you to marry him.  Your days in the academy were dedicated to make that dream come true. 

A wedding between you two would have sealed the deal but the unspoken uncertainties in your head are speaking louder than you would have wanted.

“We can give it a month.  It’ll be plenty of time for preparations to-”

“I do not want to marry you.”

His caress on your thigh halts and his hand grips your flesh.

“What?”

You wince at his tone.  You knew he never took rejection kindly.  You look at your lap and saw his hold getting tighter and tighter.

“I have articulated myself perfectly.”

Coriolanus purses his lips.  It has been a while since he felt this loss.  You have become a constant in his life, always giving him your helpful insights that guide his decisions.  Now, it was you who has become a riddle.

“You feel for me.”  He says, but his tone was more of a question. 

“I do.”  You respond with your heart full, smiling at him from your shoulder.

“Then why won’t you marry me?”  He asks exasperatedly. 

You wanted to tell him why but you decided against it.  He might question your dedication for this and you are reminded of Dr. Gaul’s words.

Choosing not to answer seems like the safest option now so you stay silent.  

After realizing that you have no plans in answering, Coriolanus does not push you further.

You are a puzzling woman but he was almost certain you would want to marry him too.

As the night deepens, neither of you move, mulling the heaviness of what just transpired between you.

Quest for Happiness

[amazing-spiderlad]

Aita for breaking up with my boyfriend over a chess game?

All names are changed for privacy reasons. So for some background, I (M40s) recently divorced my wife, "Tina" (F40s), because she caught me in bed with my now boyfriend, "Will" (M30s), and I decided to finally come out as gay and have a life with him, we've been together for ten months at the time of writing this. Tina and I have a son together, "Joshua" (M11). She recently started a new relationship too, with my former therapist, "Michael" (M40s).

Today Will and I were playing chess, and I was helping him by giving instructions and tips on which moves to make, since I'm better at it than he is. Well, we started a new game and I let him go first. After a few turns, he asked me to let him win and I agreed (Note: I wasn't really paying attention to what he was asking, and I also didn't think he would actually be able to beat me), and he won the game.

Now, here's where I might be the asshole- I lost my patience with him at this point and we both stood up, then I threw several pieces of furniture at him, which I admit, wasn't polite, and I probably could've handled it better, but I wasn't thinking straight in that moment. I then went off and brought him his suitcase, and he left.

To add insult to injury, I later received a letter in the mail, which I opened to find an invitation to Tina and Michael's wedding. I was unaware that the two were engaged and I went to speak to them about it. I may or may not have once again lost my temper and ripped up the invitation I had been sent, and then things escalated and I ended up hitting Tina, which I felt bad about immediately after I did it, but Michael made me leave. This happened in front of Joshua if that makes a difference.

So, AITA?

[ephemerensis]

Sleep on the Floor, Dream About Me // Tim Drake x GN!Reader

happy belated valentines day everyone! i have been sick out of my mind and going only a little bit crazy. i offer you: tim running after a train. HAPPY ENDING. things start looking rough BUT TRUST ME. this is for my emotional pookies that can’t communicate to save their lives. i yapped too much on this one.

—

It'd been awhile since your last conversation, but you remember very clearly how flat it felt. Someone didn't reply to something else and it was never brought up again, any of it. Too bitter to chew on stale bread anymore, the two of you weren't ever so hungry. That was how things moved, you supposed

You thought of him often, especially during wind gusts. The arid weather he hated because his hands would be dry enough to crack, and you didn't know if there was anyone slipping a hand cream into his pocket for the day. Burning and brittle, his hands in biting weather, you could only hope he wasn't hurt and someone cared enough to know.

There probably was someone, he was always good enough to not be alone. And you were always so sure of your future together, you let things sit until they eroded.

It wasn’t so one sided. He’d think of you if weather was vibrant, enough to carry the scent of blue skies on a slow breeze. Temperate days, for you, meant a desire to touch the crisp air and to read your next personality into existence on your open porch. Days he knew very well, because you would always asked for a recommendation; and if he was fortunate, you would even invite him to join you on the occasion.

It was impossible to guess how you picked books now, or if you still read at all. Maybe time got the better of you these days. And it was a shame, because he had a list he kept updating on his phone for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp.

You’d met in the dingy basement of your high school. Two losers in the chess club, violently playing pawn for pawn in a way that invested you more than it should have. He was such a talker you could hardly focus on the pieces.

“Did you know dolphins have no hair? Even though they’re mammals,” he started. He wasn’t even looking at the board, and it was his turn.

If it wasn’t on his time you might’ve asked what that had to do with anything, but the more he talked the more time you had to plot and anyways he sounded nice, sweet in subdued way like iced tea. “Maybe they have like micro hairs, all mammals have hair.”

Tim shook his head, “nope, they’re slick and bald all the way through.”

“I don’t think you’re right, someone would’ve mentioned it. They’re not like platypi.”

“Well you don’t have to believe me.” He made his move, pushing his queen forward on the board. “But I did just beat you.”

It took you a second to process it, but he was right. He won after yapping at you the whole game, like a convoluted psychological strategy. One you were certain you wouldn’t fall for again.

So you asked for his number and a rematch, that he gracefully accepted. When you got distracted again, he threw the game to let you win and you knew from then on you’d never stand a chance against him. It was a sinking burning kind of feeling, a deep admiration with an undertone of never being equals. And you couldn’t tell if it was because he was really better than you or if you were just so deeply charmed it rendered you senseless. But you were certain you really liked that boy.

The more you got to know him, the more ensnared you became. In some sense it felt preordained, how well you got along, enough to kick up delusion to cloud your judgement. You liked to read and he liked to talk about it, telling you his conspiracy theories on intention and metaphor and author choices in between classes. He added every song you sent him to his playlist and he listened enough to learn some on piano for you. Tim’s favorite movie was your favorite movie. Chess was your burden, but in every game he fell short you excelled, like complimentary opposites.

It couldn’t have been one sided. He matched every text you sent, at least enough to have your name pop up in his suggested for as long as you’d known him. If he was out and about he’d tell you, and if he was burdened he’d complain to you. Tim had a way of talking to you that was different than everyone else around him, softer in a sense like you were something to be cradled, even if you were being difficult. And you being yourself could never discern if it was out of pity for him knowing you liked him, or unabashed care because he didn’t.

“I would never watch that again.” You’d dragged him to see Little Women, only because you’d never seen it and he said it was good. But you emerged puffy eyed and emptier inside than when you came.

He laughed at you, pulling out another tissue from his pocket to shove in your direction. “I thought it was really sweet, you didn’t like it?”

“It’s not sweet, it’s devastating. Jo’s okay in the end, but I don’t think I’d be.” You didn’t say much more than that for fear that you’d start crying again.

“You remind me of Amy,” he offered. You scoffed, punching his arm and scooting away on the bench you occupied.

“You’re telling me I’m annoying and dramatic and I have bangs shaped like a barcode?”

“No,” you could hear the smile in his voice like he was teasing you or it was really amusing, “I think you’re passionate, and in touch with your feelings, and pretty. She’s a good character because she’s emotional, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“…I didn’t see all that in the movie.”

“Then maybe we need to watch it again.”

“Just be quiet for now, I need to process everything,” you muttered, dropping your head to his shoulder.

He scoffed, “you’re very brave telling me to shut up.”

“I’m only brave because I know you’ll comply.”

Your companionship was good because it was easy. But it was the same ease that instilled a fear in you, if you were too boisterous or if you misinterpreted things it might ruin the ease you had. Things were comfortable as they were. You could stand everything else, as long as he was happy with you then it was fine.

Cautious but emboldened, you had a habit of testing the waters at first. Starting with the benign, telling him he was lovely or that you liked his haircut to see if he’d react. He was receptive, but you couldn’t tell if he was just friendly. Then came the matter of what he liked about a person, and that was just as vague. Not that you were any better, giving the same broad answers to keep from revealing your hand.

The mistakes probably started rolling when you would seek the underhanded. You never had the courage to say anything, so it was all you knew to do. Provoke him, see what he’d say, and form a conclusion. The tipping point was in spring, after all the heat died down from finals.

“That guy in my calculus classed asked me out the other day.” It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to share tidbits or exchange advice. Really, you were hoping for a reaction of some kind. Something that indicated disgust or at least discomfort at the thought you might consider it.

But he didn’t flinch, serene as ever he tilted his head and hummed. “What did you say?”

You had to be careful not to stare. Whoever said eyes were the window to the soul was a liar. You never learned anything about Tim looking in his, only that you felt like you could drown. Gleaming and calculative blue, he never let anything slip. But he was watching you too, gauging your reaction in his own way.

You shrugged. “I didn’t respond, I haven’t opened the text yet. I hardly know him. Only that he isn’t very good at calculus.”

Inconclusive. That must’ve meant you were at least considering it, and if that was the case, Tim concluded that he knew better. You would’ve been forthright if you liked him, enough to reject some idiot from your calculus class right away. Tim never stood a chance, he decided. “You should say yes if you want to. You’ll never know unless you go. Everyone’s bad at something.”

And then you knew better. He never resigned, even when he was losing, because he believed it eliminated all other possibility. If he cared for you at all, he wouldn’t have encouraged you.

Knowing better is a curse the burdened suffer with. Formed between the leeway of experience and intuition, with a hint of arrogance, the afflicted are slow to find ever if they are wrong.

Knowing better made communication between the two of you sparser over the years. At first you hung out less, and then you spoke less. When college started, you went to different schools and even texts got sparser, until they stopped. You knew better than to bother a busy boy, he was gentle and lovely and the world would caress him without what little you had to offer. He knew better than to speak without being spoken to, you were decisive and assured and would’ve said something if you wanted something.

It'd be better to say anything happened at all, a fight that led the two of you to ruin. But it’s the benign that scars, left to be prodded at instead of ripped off from the source. It would always be benign with Tim, a conceder at his core.

But he thought of you always, especially on windy days when his hands were dry enough to crack. You never told him where you got your hand cream and he never found one that smelled quite the same, mild and sweet like kisses from droplets of rain.

And you missed him so dearly at the bookstore. No amount of reviews on Goodreads compared to his commentary. You hadn’t read anything so soul seeking since his last recommendation, and it was getting discouraging to keep searching.

You’d gotten a job offer in a different city. It was far enough to make a commute unrealistic, practically across the country from Gotham. You would take it, because it’d be stupid not to, and you had nothing left here. It’d be stupid to stay over the leftover feelings you had for a boy that hardly liked you.

However, you’d feel dreadful leaving anyway. Especially without saying anything. You wanted him to know even if he didn’t care to know, and you wanted a last book for the road. One you’d never read, or only pick up if you were very desperate. So you swallowed your inhibitions and asked to meet, just once before you moved; and he agreed.

“So you reached out just because you’re leaving.” You picked the bookstore you met at, he picked the cafe after the trip. To your surprise he still remembered your order. Tim’s had changed, shifting from a cute americano in his early college days to a straight and narrow cold brew.

When you asked him what you should look into next he dragged you straight to the back of the store where they kept the obscurities, thumbing through the french philosophers to find something palpable— and that was the end of that.

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds terrible!” You didn’t know how he managed to sip it with a smile on his face, like it wasn’t bitter and intolerable. But he always had a mild temperament, swallowing tar like it was honey.

“You know what I mean, but congrats! Where are you going?”

“Star City.” Something flickered across his face, but you knew better than to think too hard on it and you didn’t want to. Honestly the whole day had been at least a little painful, because it felt like nothing had happened. Things were just as comfortable and natural as you’d left them, and after this you really would leave them.

“Better crime rate than Gotham,” he offered.

“That’s not hard to do,” you shrugged.

“When do you leave?”

“In two hours actually, I’m going by train.”

Tim’s mouth pressed into an ‘o,’ setting his cup down as if taken aback, before settling back into his easygoing demeanor. “Oh you’re killing me, that’s all I get?”

You laughed, both because it was a little ridiculous and because he was clutching his pearls. “Yeah, it’s not like you really reached out or anything.”

He gave you a nod, pressing his lips together. “Right.”

The short silence that settled after felt jarringly long, and it brought you back to the present. Things weren’t like they were, you’d just forgotten for a moment.

“Well it was—“

“Do you think—“ He started the same time you did, pausing in tandem to laugh it off.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” you offered.

“No, it’s okay, never mind.”

You squinted at him, it was a question you wanted to hear, if only to know what he was thinking. Although you didn’t want to prod either, never one to force his hand. “Okay.”

“Can I see you off at the station?”

“That’d be cool.”

The trip to the train station was faster than you’d anticipated. You weren’t taking much with you, just a suitcase and travel bag that he helped lug up and into your train compartment. Standing by the platform now, it was just about time for you to board before it left.

“You have everything with you?”

“Yup,” you nodded, “thank you carrying my suitcase for me.” Not that you asked, he offered.

“Always,” he smiled, he was looking at you a little longer than he should’ve. Even if you were trying to be oblivious, you couldn’t ignore his gaze. Still, it wasn’t for you to acknowledge or think on. “I guess this is bye then, for a little while.”

Your heart was beating so loudly, it shook your very core. It could’ve been from anything; nerves moving so far, regretting things last minute, fear of leaving for good, being close enough to touch him as you were about to embark far enough to forget.

Shoving the thoughts aside and the sinking feeling in your stomach, you threw your arms around him just to remember his form and how warm he felt against the cold of the winter air. Even if it was better to forget, you didn’t want to, holding tightly for a few breaths before burying your head in his scarf and muttering a small, “thank you for everything. Goodbye.”

Before he had a chance to respond, you let go, briskly making your way to your train car. Although, you weren’t convinced he would’ve said anything, just standing there staring like you said something very shocking. Standing at the doorway, you smiled and waved, hoping the last he’d see of you looked pretty.

To your surprise, he started approaching the train when the doors started shutting. “Wait! I have something to ask you!”

“What?” The doors clanged shut, as you made your way to the nearest window. When he made eye contact with you, he opened his mouth to speak but his words were muffled by the plexiglass.

“I can’t hear you!” you yelled.

Pressing his hands to glass, eyes wide and pleading, he yelled back. “Do you think we would’ve ever worked out?”

“What?” Your heart dropped as the train started to roll forward, making that sick feeling bubble up again. You made your way to the back of the train car, looking for him through the windows as you tried to keep your balance on the shaky floor.

“Would we have worked? Did you like me at all?” Both of you were yelling at the tops of your lungs, turning heads you couldn’t be bothered to perceive.

“Where is this coming from?” If you were in the right state of mind, you’d be mad, or at least annoyed. All these years and a few hours, his timing couldn’t have been worse.

Pressing hard against the back door of the car, you pushed it open to stand on the balcony. He was running after you, somehow keeping up despite the train slowly picking up its pace.

“I liked you! I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve known you,” he screamed between breaths, “and I had to let you know before you go!”

In the distance, someone was yelling at him to get off the tracks as if he’d hear it. Tim nearly tripped on a fence in his way, but he cleared it and recovered in a way that left you concerned and impressed.

You wanted to cry or laugh or throw up, all at once. You didn’t have time to think through any of it, and it was frustrating that he’d never said anything, but it was relieving to know anyway. Gripping the railing to keep steady, you screamed back as loudly as you could, to be heard and to bite back tears. “Your timing is terrible!”

“I know, and my legs hurt and I’m kind of winded, but I needed you to know!” He was sprinting now, loosening the scarf around his neck.

“What did you like about me!”

Despite claiming to be winded, he had enough energy to give you an incredulous look. “You’re on a train!”

“Answer!” you barked. Taking his scarf off, he threw an end in your direction that you managed to catch, holding on as he continued running gripping the other end.

“You are temperamental and irrational and emotional.” All the things you hated about yourself. You lifted the end you were holding, threatening to let go, making Tim shake his head. “And kind, and genuine, and it makes you beautiful! Everything about you aligns to make you the perfect person and I will never meet anyone like you again!”

He let go of the scarf, you were moving faster than he could run now and you knew it. There wasn’t time to think it over or stand stunned, as he got farther away by the inch, the foot, the meter; eyes hopeless and pleading. But when it came to Tim, the answer was very clear. Even if you took the time, you would always choose him in every outcome.

Clutching the fabric to your chest, you screamed. “Will you pick me up at the next stop!”

“I will!” It wasn’t very loud, eaten up by the wind and the engine and the growing distance, but it was no less clear to you; ringing in your ears. Watching as he slowed to a stop, hands on his knees to heave, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face or the tears running down your cheeks.

[hannahbarberra162]

The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 2

I can't seem to write short fics :/ Crocodile's never been rejected, and he's not starting now.

on Ao3

Chapter one

~~~

“No.”

Crocodile was stunned by your swift rejection. You didn’t even think twice about his offer or consider the pros and cons. It was in stark contrast to the way he knew your mind worked, weighing the odds of different outcomes, like you did in chess.

“What do you mean no?” he gritted out.

“Oh, right. No, thank you,” you replied, inclining your head. That was not what he had meant. Crocodile had been trying to teach you some social etiquette, including saying please and thank you. Now was not the time.

“Fine, name your price,” Crocodile said dismissively, crossing one leg over the other. Maybe you needed something else to sweeten the deal other than joining a better crew. If you wanted to negotiate, well, this was Crocodile’s expertise. Confusion registered on your face. 

“Price for what?” you asked.

“Price to leave the Clown and join me,” Crocodile said, as if it was obvious. Crocodile had money and power, he was sure he could acquire whatever it was you asked for. You knew him well, you knew you had him over a barrel. Now you wanted to milk him dry, and he wasn’t even upset about it. It was shrewd business practices.

“No, thank you,” you declined again, starting to rise from your chair once more.

“What do you mean, ‘no?” Crocodile wasn’t used to being told no, and certainly not multiple times in a row. He wasn’t planning on starting now. 

“You already said that. And I already said no, twice. There’s nothing that will get me to leave Captain Buggy. It won’t happen,” you shrugged. This was an unexpected wrinkle in Crocodile’s plans, especially now that the negotiations for an alliance were over. There was potential for an alliance with just Mihawk, but their time with the Clown had come to an end. Unfortunately for the Clown, this would be one of his last days before he went to the Grand Line in the sky.

“I see,” Crocodile said, steepling his fingers. He allowed you to stand up and start cleaning up the board and pieces. Crocodile was stewing, sand was piling up, and the air in the room was tense. You didn’t seem to care, continuing to clean. He needed to gather more information from the Clown. He needed his little maid, and he would have her.

~

He found the Clown in his quarters reading over the most recent newspaper. Crocodile slammed the door open, causing the Clown to look up uneasily. The Clown didn’t say anything, which was better than when he was animated or angry. Crocodile stalked over to the Clown and slammed his hook into the Clown’s desk, skewering the newspaper the Clown was reading in the process. 

“Why won’t the maid leave you?” Crocodile demanded. The Clown cocked an eyebrow but didn’t immediately cower. 

“Which one? There are a few housekeepers -” the Clown began. Crocodile was in no mood for games. The Clown knew who he was talking about, Crocodile had spoken to the Clown about relieving you from some of your evening duties already. He pulled his hook out of the table and put the ever-so-sharp tip under the chin of the Clown.

“You know which one. Why?” For whatever reason, the Clown knew his crew very well. Crocodile had seen him addressing each and every one of them by name, and seemed to know a lot of personal details about them all as well. He was also oddly protective over them, Crocodile noticed. Many of his more reasonable stipulations for the alliance centered around the benefits due to his crew or their living conditions. It wasn’t Crocodile’s style, but the Clown was good at rallying people about him. He made them feel like they belonged , which was laughable, but they enjoyed such feelings. Crocodile didn't value loyalty, unless someone was loyal to him.

Intimidating the Clown usually worked well and quite easily. Of course now the Clown found his courage, when it was most inconvenient. The Clown shrugged, the hook digging further into the soft skin of his jaw. A drop of blood dripped down the hook, Crocodile would have to polish that off later. Another irritant.

“Ask her yourself, not my place to say.” One small movement from Crocodile and all his problems with the Clown would be over. But then you’d probably be upset with him, and maybe refuse to play chess against him. Crocodile seethed, blew smoke from his cigar into the Clown’s face, and left. The Clown didn’t know how lucky he was that you were on his crew. He’d have to figure out his next move.

The next night, Crocodile waited for you as usual. The day had passed so slowly, he thought time was at a halt. Finally, it was time for your nightly chess games. Crocodile was seated in his comfortable armchair, leg crossed at the knee. He was already smoking, and his hook gleamed in the evening light. You showed up on time, seemingly in a good mood. Maybe your rejection didn’t mean much to you, but it had an affect on Crocodile. True to form, you ignored Crocodile’s snippy mood and set the board as the former Warlord stewed. After turning white to Crocodile, you waited. You sat back, patiently waiting for Crocodile to make the first move.

“Why won’t you leave?” Crocodile asked, his voice low and dangerous. You didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want to talk about this. If you’re going to be moody, we can play another time,” you said acerbically and stood up to leave.

“You’ll leave when I tell you to leave,” Crocodile said, sand starting to swirl again. He’d tried to contain his emotions, upset that he was getting angry already. You hadn’t apologized or even reconsidered, like he hoped you would. Crocodile had never handled rejection well and now was no exception. 

“I want you to join my crew willingly, but I’m open to other avenues as well,” Crocodile said, accentuating each word. The threat was clear. You cackled. Crocodile was a hardened man but your eerie laugh gave him pause.

“Do you think that’s enough for me to leave Captain Buggy?” you asked, almost mocking him. Crocodile immediately knew physical threats wouldn’t work on you, not for this. He'd intimidated many people over the years, and some people's characters made them immune to a physical suggestion. You untied the knot of your scarf at the back of your neck, letting it flutter to the floor. “Maybe you can finish the job, eh?” Crocodile looked at your now bare neck as you stretched your head upwards. There was a huge, painful looking scar crossing your entire neck. It had obviously been slashed at some point in the past, you were lucky you survived. The scar tissue was thick and puckered, like whoever had sewn you back together was lacking in experience or time. It mirrored his own smaller scar across his face.

“What does the Clown have that is so important to you?” Crocodile couldn’t understand what the Clown could offer to anyone, much less someone like yourself. 

“It isn’t what he has, it’s what he’s given me,” you spat out, your lip curling in disgust. “Someone like you couldn’t understand.” Crocodile didn’t move his hook, he didn’t want you to leave before the conversation concluded in his favor. You looked up at Crocodile with your large eyes, anger simmering in your vision. “Do you know why Captain Buggy’s crew is so loyal? Do you know where he finds us?”

“Enlighten me,” Crocodile drawled. He was actually curious about this facet of the Clown so allow you to talk down to him - once.

“Captain Buggy goes to slave auctions,” you began. Crocodile frowned, he had absolutely no tolerance for the slave trade. The Clown wouldn’t live to see the end of the day if what you said was true. 

“He buys slaves who are left over at the end of the auction at a deep discount. Do you know the first thing he does with us after he buys us?” Crocodile could only imagine what Buggy did - branding, torture, brainwashing…all were common techniques for new slaves. You stared deep into Crocodiles eyes.

“He frees us.” Crocodile moved his hook away from you and sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs once more. “He frees us and invites us to join his crew. We aren’t compelled, we all make the choice to join him. Those who don’t join begin their new lives as free people. Captain Buggy has actually helps people . That’s why everyone is so happy to see his Jolly Roger and his ship. They’re cheering for their hero.” 

“He gives us freedom and hope when the best we could hope for was a swift death, rather than being tortured or beaten to death, if not worse.” You were getting heated defending your Captain, raising your voice and almost yelling. “So no, I won’t leave Captain Buggy. I can’t be bought - not anymore. He has something no one else has ever had - my loyalty.” You finished, panting for breath. You belatedly realized you had yelled at Crocodile, but you didn’t seem to care. You picked your scarf off the floor and stomped out of the room. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair.

After the disastrous event the previous night, you declined all of Crocodile’s invitations to play chess for the following three days. Crocodile understood why, but that didn’t mean he was pleased about it.  He tried talking to you, but you were avoiding him, not even coming to clean his office. He sent you gifts, flowers and jewels, even a fine silk scarf. You declined them all, returning them to him unopened. Crocodile was at a loss as to what to do - he couldn’t buy you and he couldn’t threaten you. If you were anyone else, he would simply force you to join him, or blackmail you via your Captain. But it wouldn’t be the same, and he thought you would play poorly under such circumstances. No, he had to do something drastic. 

~~~

“And so, we are forming the Cross Guild!” Captain Buggy said with flourish to the cheers of his crew, gathered before him on the deck of the ship. Crocodile had reignited negotiations between himself and the Clown, and had corralled Mihawk as well. Crocodile had actually gained some modicum of respect for the Clown when you’d enlightened him to the Clown’s recruiting habits. The three of them would soon control the seas as Emperors, with Buggy as the figurehead. Now you’d all be in one large crew, with you reporting to Crocodile and Buggy equally. You couldn’t avoid him any longer, and you didn’t have to break your loyalty to the Clown. He’d solved the problem, outmaneuvering you for once.

Once the speech was over, Crocodile looked over to you in the crowd of idiots. He’d spotted you immediately, of course, and watched over you during the speech. You were frowning, the only one out of the whole crowd. You narrowed your eyes and found Crocodile’s own. Of course, the smartest member of the crew had figured it out, Crocodile thought. You clapped for your Captain but as the crew gave way to celebrations, you slipped away among the revelry of the crew.

You would sail together with Crocodile on a new ship created for the Guild. He could always change his mind at a later time, kill the Clown and take you with him. For now, the Clown would live to see more days at sea, thanks to you. Crocodile wasn’t going to lose the best chess opponent he’d ever had over a mere business venture.  Money could come from many different sources, but interesting chess matches only came from you. He followed you as inconspicuously as he could, going beneath the deck as the idiots started drinking. Mihawk followed Crocodile’s movements with his yellow eyes, an unspoken question in the air. Crocodile ignored the Swordsman, it wasn’t his business.

Crocodile caught up to you quickly, you were on the way to the crew quarters. Stopping in front of you, Crocodile blocked your way through the hallway. You glared at him, but didn’t try to go around. The two of you were taking up the majority of the small, dark hallway.

“Seems that I’m your Captain now,” Crocodile drawled. He didn’t want to gloat, you were always gracious when you won and he wanted to extend the same to you as well. You grunted a reply, but didn’t say anything. “Would you like to meet at our regular time?”

“For what?” you asked, still angry and pretending to be obtuse. 

“Our chess matches, of course.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. He knew you couldn’t refuse now that he was your superior.

“Price has gone up,” you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. Crocodile smiled. For all of your bluster, maybe you could be bought. He didn’t care that he’d entwined his name and reputation with the Clown’s - he would finally have what he wanted. 

“And?”

“You have to call him Captain Buggy,”  you stated.

“Absolutely not,” Crocodile balked. “The Clown doesn’t deserve it.”

You frowned. Crocodile wasn’t budging and neither were you. Neither of you spoke, waiting for the other to break the tension.

“Call him Buggy then, if you three are equally the Captains. And Captain Buggy in front of the crew,” you bartered. Crocodile bit into his cigar.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call the Clo- him Buggy in front of the crew,” Crocodile countered.

“Three matches, time variable, call him Captain,” you retorted.

“Three matches a night, I’ll call him Buggy.” Crocodile felt the vein in his forehead about to explode. He couldn’t imagine having to show the Clown any consistent respect. But you had something he wanted and he wasn’t going to lose it over some stupid title for the stupid Clown.

You gave a small satisfied smile, grabbing his hook with your sweaty hand. Crocodile almost stabbed you reflexively, but held back at the last moment. You moved his hook up and down. “It’s a deal. See you tonight.” You sidestepped Crocodile easily and moved along to your quarters. Even though he’d gotten what he set out for, he somehow felt you still had him in checkmate.

~

The next few months were busy but unexpectedly pleasant for Crocodile. He spent his time working, cementing the hold the Cross Guild had over their territory, and running all the finances of the organization. Of course, he still took time to intimidate, maim and kill those who needed it, he had a reputation to maintain after all. But his real joy was coming from playing chess day after day against you. Crocodile had gotten better, even winning against you a few times. Your genuine praise when he did so made Crocodile feel like he’d won the title of King of the Pirates, not just won a chess game against a housekeeper. Crocodile counted down the hours until evening, when you would come and join him in his study. He continued to give you books to read and lessons in how to express yourself, trying to make you into the best version of yourself. After all, you were now a crew member for the Cross Guild, not just the Clo- Buggy.

One balmy night as the ship sailed through the waters of the Grand Line, Crocodile was on his way to his office a few minutes later than usual. He had thought of some new gambits he wanted to try, not that he thought they would work. But he came up short outside the door to his office, hearing talking from within. One was yours, he didn’t hear another voice but knew there were two people inside. Instead of breaking down the door with the sand that was already appearing like he wanted to, Crocodile decided to listen in.

“Check,” you said in a bored tone. Crocodile could almost picture your body language, chin resting on your palm as you lounged in the cushy chair Crocodile had bought for you. Crocodile heard the sounds of pieces being moved.

“Check,” you said again. More pieces were moved.

“Checkmate. Are we done here?” Crocodile wondered how quickly you’d defeated your opponent. He hoped you’d done it embarrassingly fast. Crocodile opened the door to see Mihawk examining the board curiously while you were curled up in your chair like a little cat, chin indeed resting on your palm. Crocodile didn’t like seeing Mihawk near you, especially while the two of you were alone. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Mihawk?” Crocodile asked, voice low. He had taken out a handkerchief and was polishing his hook. 

“I wanted to meet the chess master who captured your attention,” Mihawk answered dryly. For all his detached attitude, Crocodile knew Mihawk liked to stir up trouble occasionally. You glanced between the two men, but didn’t seem to care about the strained conversation. “She defeated me in under three minutes, quite impressive.” Crocodile drew sharply on his cigar. He wanted Mihawk gone, but he didn’t want to draw even more attention to you. He walked to stand behind your chair, leaning heavily on the back. You looked up at him, unamused.

“She will be leaving now. Let me know whenever all of this,” you gestured between Crocodile and Mihawk, “is done.” You uncurled your legs and stood up. Crocodile put his hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to leave again. Crocodile’s hand on your shoulder gripped you lightly as Mihawk stood up.

“No need, I am on my way. Enjoy your evening,” Mihawk said easily, leaving the two of you alone. Crocodile regretted his course of action. He’d shown Mihawk exactly what he’d been looking for - played into the Swordsman’s hand with ease. Maybe Mihawk was a better chess player than Crocodile gave him credit for.

“What was that all about? And stop getting sand everywhere, it’s such a bitch to clean up,” you told Crocodile, ire seemingly gone. That was a facet of your personality that Crocodile appreciated, that your anger came and went easily. His did not.

“You tell me,” Crocodile replied, releasing your shoulder. It had felt so small and delicate in his hand, like he could crush it without a second thought.

You shrugged. “Mihawk was here when I came in. He asked to play a round of chess. I said no, that I don’t play for free -”

“Good girl,” Crocodile interrupted. You rolled your eyes again.

“So he offered me a lesson in swordsmanship if I won. Which I did, of course.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want you spending any more time with Mihawk, lessons or not.

“I didn’t know you had an interest in learning to wield a sword," Crocodile said, trying not to gnash his teeth.

“He offered money first, but I have enough of yours for now," you said, a smug look on your face. "Seemed like a good idea now that we’re an Emperor’s crew. I’m not a great fighter, that’s never been my strongest skill,” you explained, resetting the chess board. 

“You could have asked me if you wanted to learn,” Crocodile suggested tersely, trying to hide his anger. You looked up in mild surprise. 

“You’re jealous? Over that?” you asked incredulously. How could you read him so well?

“I am not jealous. I am just saying that it would be more appropriate for me to teach you as we already spend time together daily.” Crocodile was feeling jealous, the unfamiliar sensation burning a hole in his gut.  You hummed, turning the board to Crocodile. He opened with a pawn.

“Does the Emperor regularly teach low ranking crew members to fight?” you asked, moving your knight.

“Only ones who are worth the effort,” Crocodile said, moving his queen forward. 

[yuri-is-online]

Episode 9 Thoughts

I actually really liked this episode TᴖT I wasn't expecting much lore or plot building? But this was surprisingly light on filler.

Not Super Spoilery Facts:

Zenji says Romeo comes from "the famous House of Lucci." I made a joke about it, but basing Romeo's family off of the Gucci family actually makes a lot of sense. The Gucci brand is no longer controlled by the Gucci family for a variety of reasons, including financial problems and that murder they recently (?) made a movie about. I think this is really neat and a fantastic idea for his character, there's so much drama you can work with in high fashion and it makes just that much more sense about why he would be mad that he's not in Frostheim. He should be, they're all wearing clothes with his family name on it, but he can't be because he doesn't own the company.

Zenji does watch over Jiro constantly. That's not a super confirmed thing but between his attitude in this Episode and the campus event it's safe to say he probably follows Jiro around as much as he does Haku.

I promise I paid attention to more people than just Zenji (even though the mission never would have succeeded without him, everyone praise best boy NOW). Here let me prove it:

SPOILERS

This is mostly just for me but Romeo's nicknames/his "personal network" he references when calling for help are: Kurossa (Leo), Harry (Haru, wonder if he picked that up from Taiga or Taiga picked it up from him), and Mickey (Rui). I think he probably also considered Kaito one of his "network" because of how much he stalks him but that's just me lol.

Speaking of which lets talk about Kaito for a second. He says he doesn't remember much about the clash "because he was doing his own thing" but the timeline between when Romeo started stalking him and the events of the clash line up perfectly. To me it looks like there are two elements to Romeo's obsession, the first is obviously the pendant but the second... probably still has something to do with the pendant if we are being honest but since everything in the story has to do with the Clash probably that too. There is a piece of blackmail Romeo shows him that Kaito screams about:

My initial thought was that it was a picture of him in his underwear trapped in one of Romi's cages, but we saw that in Episode 4 or something related to his debts and to be fair? That's probably the most likely scenario. Kaito has a gambling problem (call 180-GAMBLING please bby) so there's probably no end to the dirt Romeo has on him. I do wonder if it's a bit more sensitive though but that's just me. Anyway Kaito mentions he never saw Romeo in the Casino until he started chasing him around... which makes me think the likely timeline for Romeo and Taiga's falling out can be placed somewhere around the same time. If they were working together and projecting a united front there would be no need for Romeo to do so much damage control.

That pendant is clearly important, we get a closer look of the insignia on it because Romeo finds a bracelet with the same insignia after he digs up a grave in the cemetery:

To me, this is still not enough detail and I want more but I feel fairly confident in saying this is a Heraldic symbol of some sort. As outlined here the Frostheim ghouls appear to have a sort of chess theme to their names with Kaito being the pawn. In chess pawns can become Queens if it reaches the end of the chess board, which I bring up because the insignia itself, at this point to me, appears to depict an eagle with a crown above it's head. Eagles are symbols of power and the favorite of many real world royal families, as is combining them with crowns to form a royal insignia. I need to do more research before I make concrete claims? But my initial searches have suggested that crowns are only ever used to symbolize royalty or important religious figures, and that eagles are usually double headed. A single headed eagle with a crown has been the symbol of countries like Germany, Austria, and Poland, but this eagle lacks the shield at the center for the first two and the polish eagle actually wears it's crown. I could also be reading waaaaaaay too much into this? But I'd like to think I am being perfectly normal.

Speaking of which we are told in the chapter that the graveyard plays host to "long term foreign residents." The bodies there are not cremated and it is very likely that, assuming Kaito got his pendant from a relative, that Romeo literally dug up and stole from Fuji's great great great grandparent. What a girlboss:

This person has been dead for so long they are only bones, and the only other object in their coffin is the metal bracelet. That's an old ass body, and it doesn't belong to a native Japanese person if we take what Romeo said earlier seriously. This is someone who moved to Japan and maintained enough wealth to be buried with an expensive tombstone. So why no name on the stone and where did they move from?

In less detailed? News Jiro has an extreme reaction to the crying child ghost encountered near the start of the chapter. Specifically he has a reaction to him saying "it hurts." Zenji also reacts to this, he scoops up the boy and takes him away. Later he regrets not attempting to "soothe the boy with a fairy tale." Jiro's memory loss is a side effect "of a certain tragedy that befell him." The timeline of whatever happened to the Kirisaki siblings is vague... but I think it goes something like this:

The brothers make their deal with their demons. They might do this together? Personally I lean towards Zenji doing it first in an effort to do something that will get him and Jiro out of whatever bad situation they are in and Jiro, not wanting to be babied and prove he can take care of himself, does the same thing. The reverse is also possible where Jiro makes his deal and Zenji follows suit because he feels responsible for protecting him, but either way Zenji does or says something he later comes to regret. This causes a rift between the brothers that remains unresolved through the Clash, and makes ghost Zenji reluctant to reveal himself to his brother. I lean towards them being injured around the same time? Either in the same incident or Jiro being injured first and the reason why Zenji was able to stick around. He says he wants to be an illustrious author, but really I think he just wants to make sure Jiro doesn't die. And now he also wants to cure the MC's curse, what a swell fella.

While Jiro clearly doesn't remember Zenji in detail, I don't think his memory is less fried than it first appeared. When MC attempts to get Jiro to go back to the others this happens:

I don't know how this reads in Japanese, but in English it's a really odd sentence. It's a mix up of two common phrases referring to team work: two hearts beating as one + team work makes the dream work. It's a very unique mixed metaphor, and exactly the sort of silly thing Zenji is saying all of the time so if Jiro remembered his brother... he'd probably remember him saying something like that.

... this chapter really did make me scream I'm going to miss Zenji so much.

[zvmz]

Rating how clean EAH characters side of the dorm would be on a regular basis

Raven- 5/10 I think she’d have a habit of just tossing all of her clothes on the floor, on her bed, everywhere. And probably old forgotten homework, unorganized makeup and magical trinkets scattered around that she has zero motivation to clean up. The only reason it doesn’t get too bad is because apple tidys things up for her frequently

Apple- 10/10, days her dorm should reflect her hard-working and organized personality. Theres not even a speck of dust anywhere. Raven suspects there might be a spell cast on her furniture or something because there’s no way she can keep up with that

Maddie- 5/10, there’s gotta be lots of clutter everywhere, but she somehow knows exactly where everything is

Kitty- 4/10 too lazy to clean, but doesn’t own a lot of stuff, not enough to actually make much of a mess

Ashlynn- 9/10. cmon. She’s the future Cinderella. She probably started doing her own laundry and dishes at like 4 years old. Only took a point off because animals keep finding their way into her room and making a mess

Briar- 6/10 tries to keep it clean but keeps getting distracted by things she finds or falling asleep

Cedar- 7/10 idk she seems the type to just keep things tidy just out of habit, she probably did a lot of that at home, cleaning up her house to help her dad out any way she could

Cerise- 2/10 lol nah. She’s messy and dirty. Probably trash and dirty laundry in every corner. Also has made her bed maybe like twice in her life.

Lizzie- 5/10 keeps it clean as in no trash or dust, but always has things from her latest fashion project along with mismatched cards and chess pieces lying around. Thinks if her bed is made that makes the rest of her room look clean. (It doesn’t)

Duchess- 9/10 clean freak!!!! Hates a messy room and Lizzie’s side of the dorm drives her nuts. I only give duchess a 9 because sometimes she’s just too exhausted from dance to clean up

Dexter- 8/10 he just give clean vibes to me idk maybe it’s the housewife energy

Daring- 6/10 kind of messy and smells like boy but he cleans every one of his mirrors every day. He doesn’t like the place to get too dirty because what if he has a date over?

Darling- 6/10 cleaning doesn’t come very naturally to her but she seems like she would understand the effect a clean environment can have on your mental and physical health so would make some effort to pick up

[matcha-milkies]

MARRIED LIFE

Summary: Bill Cipher gets everything he ever wanted, including (especially) a “marriage” to his favorite human. Ford and Stan disagree about where to go from here.

Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines

Content Warnings: Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, (Forced) Alcohol Use

Tags: Triangle Bill, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Bill Cipher Wins, Collars

Word Count: 1,556

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I don’t know yet whether I’ll post a second chapter. Perhaps! These gay little cartoon characters sure are fun to write.

Ford looked out over the sprawling destruction that was Gravity Falls. One arm crossed over his abdomen, in the other he nursed a cocktail glass topped off with swirling golden liquid. Bill was none too pleased if he came back and there was ever any left, but Ford could only stand so much of the stuff in one gulp. Besides, if he drank too quickly, the toll on his body was nothing to scoff at. He still had no idea what was even in it. Every time he had asked, Bill’s eye had simply creased in silent amusement, or else he had gone on talking like the man had never said anything.

Little fires dotted the landscape all over. Well, they weren’t so little, were they? Ford always made himself sick with these viewing sessions, but it was the only stimulating thing to do around here, aside from pinging out notes on the piano. And besides, why should he be spared from all the misery? If he was sheltered from it, up in his obsidian tower, the very least he could do was feel bad about it. He took another sip from his glass and grimaced. Great Scott, that was disgusting.

“Sixer?” The name sent unpleasant ripples across Ford’s nerves, but when he turned and saw his twin’s face, he let himself relax. A little.

“Stanley, you’re alright.”

“I better be. That was part of the deal and all…” Stan dusted off the sleeves of his suit, looking around. “Wouldn’t want you, uh… suffering for nothing.” His eyes traveled from the painting over the fireplace and then to the lavish, dark red robe Ford had cinched around his waist.

“Bill had a different flavor of suffering in mind for me.” As if to punctuate that statement, he tilted back his drink and nearly coughed it up again.

“Yeesh.”

“It tastes like bitter defeat,” Ford explained. He saw the face his brother was making. “I’m not being poetic, Stanley. He somehow made it taste like the actual poignant sting of failure. I would offer you to try some if I didn’t think it was slowly poisoning me.”

“Yeah, pass on that one. Why don’t you just dump it out in the sink? You do have a sink in here, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Ford’s expression softened, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy. It’s just… He would know. By the time I’m to the bottom of one of these, I’m… different. For quite some time.”

Stan seemed to be snapping these pieces together in his head, the drink, the robe, the golden “wedding band” around Ford’s throat. Clearly, it was forming a picture he didn’t like. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

Ford eyed him and then let his gaze drop.

“Poindexter? You’ve been thinkin’ up a plan, right?”

“Of course I have! Every second of every hour, and I just keep hitting dead ends. He’s virtually omnipotent. I’m bound by contract to him, and even me thinking of ways to get out of it could give him a reason to renege on his end of the deal and hurt you! Or worse, the kids!”

“So that’s just it?! We lie down and roll over?!”

“I-I don’t know, Stanley. I’m mated.” Off his brother’s look, he added, “That’s a chess term.”

“I-I know it is! But could you not use it next time?”

Ford sank down onto the flesh couch. He hated that it hardly bothered him anymore. “Maybe this is it. Maybe… I’m meant to accept this fate, as punishment for—”

“Stop! Stop that! Do you hear yourself?” Stan strode forward until he was in his brother’s face. “You’re this pathetic? You hand the universe over to Bill Cipher on a silver platter and then give up?! You’re probably the only one smart enough to think up a way out of this mess, so how about less wallowing and more scheming?! Who cares what happens to me?!”

Ford screwed his eyes shut as he was berated. “I do! What kind of idiotic question is that?”

“And the kids, you want them to grow up in a world where Bill Cipher is king?!”

“Of course not, but you don’t know the things he’d do to them if I acted out, Stan! He’s not going to spare them because they’re children! He will torture them!”

Stan smacked the glass out of Ford’s hand. It shattered on the floor. Ford gaped. “Stan, you shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t care what he thinks! Neither should you!”

“Stop framing it like I’m on his side!”

“Aren’t you, now?!”

“I’m only trying to be pragmatic about our options! And thank God I am, or who knows where we’d all be right now?!”

Ford froze then, his muscles tensing at a familiar presence in the room.

“YIKES. Who knew the family reunion would get this VOLATILE?” Bill circled them with glee, his eye trained on them all the while. “HEY, I guess I’m part of the family now too, isn’t that right, Fez?” He looped an arm around a growling Stanley and wiggled his ring finger. “We’re brothers-in-law! Ha! Who would’ve thought?”

“Bill.” Ford’s breaths were painfully shallow. “I—”

“And Sixer!” Bill was suddenly in his face, his eye taking up the majority of Ford’s field of vision. “I had NO IDEA you thought about me this much when I’m away! That’s so sweet!” With no warning, his eye turned to a mouth and trailed saliva up Ford’s cheek and temple, leaving his glasses askew and his face scrunched up in distaste. The demon’s eye blinked back to normal. “WELL? Where’s my WELCOME HOME KISS?”

Once he had gathered himself enough, Ford leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on Bill’s face, near the corner of his eye. Bill giggled like a little schoolgirl.

“OH NO. It looks like somebody was REAL CLUMSY! Let me refresh your drink, doll!” The shattered glass reassembled itself and floated into Ford’s hand. The liquid leached out of the carpet, pouring itself back into place. “You hardly drank any! Here, let me help with that.”

“Bill—” was all Ford managed before his head was tilted back and about half of the glass’s contents were dumped down his throat. He gagged and almost choked, but somehow got it all down. When he was allowed to hold his head upright again, he found it quite the effort to do so. His brain felt fuzzy and full of cotton. There was a weird glittery filter over the world. He felt far more relaxed, despite the pounding point of tension persisting at the back of his mind. Any worry was now faint, like a distant star.

“Ford!” Stan shouted, but it was difficult to care that that was happening.

“Mhm,” was all he said in response, finally letting his head loll and his eyes close. “Mmm.”

“He’s just so TENSE all the time,” Bill explained casually. “This is how I get him to LOOSEN UP. And hey, I guess it makes it harder for him to YELL at you too. You’re welcome.”

“You’re sick, you three-sided freak!” Stan shook his fist, almost like a threat, as if he could do anything to the dream demon. “I’ll end you!”

“DOING AWAY WITH THE PRETENSE, HUH?”

“Pretense,” Ford laughed for some reason, stretching himself across the full length of the couch and propping his head up with his forearm. This seemed to delight Bill, who began petting through the man’s hair.

“IT IS A PRETTY FUNNY WORD, ISN’T IT, IQ?” The demon swirled the drink a little and then brought it to Ford’s lips.

“Mhm,” Ford agreed, his response partially muffled by the glass as he sipped down more of the mysterious golden liquor.

“SEE? I enjoy the MENTAL SPARRING, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes that big brain of his gets in the way.” Bill affectionately tapped the side of Ford’s head as he let the quarter-full drink hang in midair. “ANYHOO.” He rotated to face Stan head-on; the movement was uncanny. “You should get back to the twins! Cook up another adorable scheme that’s doomed to fail! Sixer and I will watch from up here!”

“S’anley,” Ford slurred, shaking his head in protest, but he didn’t get very far in his thought before Bill pressed the rim of the glass to his lips again. “B- ill– please- I-I can… can’t…” The room was spinning now, violently, and he felt like he was going to be sick. It was like he was speedrunning a very bad hangover.

“SURE YOU CAN! Don’t worry, I won’t let you throw up.” Another pat on the head, and Ford groaned his distress as his throat bobbed and the last of the liquid disappeared down his esophagus.

“Unh… S’an… Stan…” His head dropped onto the couch, eyes struggling to focus.

“Sixer.” Stan started towards his twin, but before he could make it more than two steps, Bill snapped his fingers and Stan was gone, returned to where he’d come from. The demon sank onto the couch and arranged Ford until his head was on his lap (however much of a lap Bill had), fingers continuing to card through his hair.

“Come on. Don’t look at me like that, Fordsy. The relatives can come to visit another time.”

[the-sage-libriomancer]

Shigure's relationship with Kyo drives me crazy. he doesn't hate Kyo in the slightest - in fact, he pities Kyo, and not in the condescending "oh you poor little boy, cursed to be a horrible, disgusting monster" sort of way that everyone else does. Shigure pities Kyo for the reason he should be pitied: he's just a kid caught up in a system so inhumane it can't possibly be survived without some seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms.

and it drives me crazy because - listen, Shigure is the only zodiac member who's emotionally aware enough to see the other zodiac members as exactly what they are. he knows Yuki is a severely traumatized kid who projects all of his self-hatred on a single convenient target. he knows Akito is really a scared little girl with a raging god complex (literally) and no concept of a healthy relationship. and he knows Kyo is a regular-ass human being who doesn't deserve to be locked up for the rest of his life just because some arbitrary system says so. he KNOWS it's stupid. he KNOWS it's ridiculous and unfair. and he has to share a house with Kyo knowing that Kyo is living with a sword over his head, hating himself and hating others in perfect tandem because he has no other way of coping with the insane amounts of negativity he's had to deal with his entire life.

but the thing about Shigure is that he KNOWS all of this, and the same time he doesn't really CARE. he feels sorry for Kyo, but an apathetic sort of pity, a disinterested "this is how it is. such a shame." sort of pity. in some ways he's worse than the other zodiacs because he DOES see Kyo as a person, someone he likes being around even, but he still considers Kyo below his attention because all his focus is on Akito and breaking the curse. and sure, once the curse is broken Kyo will theoretically be set free with the rest of them, but that's more of a coincidental side effect than anything. despite being in a much more dangerous and precarious mental space AND comfortably in Shigure's reach, Kyo is about as much a priority for Shigure as Ritsu or Momiji.

and it drives me CRAZY because i think Shigure does start actively caring about Kyo as the series goes on, but it's hard to tell when that happens and to what extent. when Kazuma told Shigure he planned to reveal Kyo's true form and Shigure said he was going too far - whose sake was it for? was Shigure trying to protect Kyo, who would be hideously traumatized/emotionally scarred by such a cruel betrayal? was he trying to protect Kyo and Tohru's relationship, which was still formulating and might, under such severe testing, ultimately end up damaged beyond repair? was he only trying to protect Tohru, who wasn't ready to be burdened by such a horrible aspect of the curse so soon, or perhaps simply didn't deserve it? or was it all for the sake of himself, trying to protect his still-forming plans of using Tohru's positive effect on the Sohmas to break the curse?

Shigure cares about Kyo, but they're not close and Kyo clearly isn't a priority. he treats Kyo like a person - offering him genuine advice, teasing him like he teases anyone else, even speaking up on his behalf once or twice - and yet he's too entrenched in the long game to spare much active interest in Kyo. for a very long time, he doesn't care about Kyo the way he cares about Yuki or Tohru, and it's never made clear when exactly that changed. and the thing that gets me about this whole situation is that right from the start, Shigure is in a position where he can meet Kyo at his level - as equals, just one human being to another - but he doesn't, because Shigure is a chessmaster, Shigure is someone who observes and calculates, Shigure never steps in unless one of his chess pieces makes a wrong move and he absolutely has to.

it drives me crazy. Shigure drives me crazy. this series drives me so so crazy.

[opencommunion]

"We decided to come to this farm because we could not find any other place to go to," said Rafat Lukman, whose family of 32 includes newborns and small children. "We came here thinking that we can put up with it for a few days, but this war has taken much longer. I cannot believe that my own children are sleeping in cages where chickens slept. I look at them and my heart breaks for the childhood I am giving them. But what else could I do?" From inside the chicken cages, the children can easily spot the Egyptian-controlled Rafah border with its high walls covered with barbed wires. "My daughter took her teddy bear with her when we evacuated the first time. She'd kept it with her the whole time," Lukman said. "But the other day, it rained and the farm flooded. She was sleeping in the cage and her teddy fell into the rainwater and got lost. She cried so much about it the next day. And again, her mum and I felt so helpless. We can't even get her a new teddy bear." Lukman's children say they have become used to their new reality now and it is difficult to remember that one day they had a house and bedrooms. "We are still lucky that we are not dead and that our parents are alive," Rafat's 12-year-old daughter, Mais, said. "But to be honest, I still feel scared sleeping in the cages. They are very cold and dark at night. I have always hated insects, but they are everywhere here, and I cannot do anything about it." In central Gaza, meanwhile, displaced people have also been living in squalid conditions due to overcrowding in shelters - which include schools, hospitals and mosques - and lack of basic services, including clean water, sanitation and a working sewage system. Abu Ahmed Jaber, a father and grandfather, had been sheltering in a UN-run school and decided to go back to his house that was bombed one afternoon while the family was home having lunch.  "The situation in the schools is horrible. They are overcrowded. No toilets, no food, no water and no privacy whatsoever. So I decided to come back with my family to my bombed house and live in whatever space was left standing," Jaber told MEE. When Israel bombed his house, smoke engulfed the family, blackening the afternoon light. "We thought we were dead," Jaber said. The elderly man and his sons pulled out their pregnant sister and her one-year-old daughter from under the rubble with their bare hands. The family fled to a school for shelter, where his daughter bled for hours before an ambulance was able to make its way to them. Despite their traumatic experience, Jaber, who suffers from heart problems and diabetes, made the decision to return to their destroyed home in Bureij, in central Gaza, because he felt that all other alternatives lacked dignity. "This is my house. How can I let go of it? I literally built it with my hands stone by stone. I look at it 20 times a day and I struggle with the fact that I cannot even rebuild or fix anything," said Jaber, in a voice full of sorrow and anger. "I cry every night. I cannot even sleep anymore. If I fall asleep and wake up for any reason, I cannot fall back asleep. I am living a very primitive life amid the rubble, but I would rather do that than leave my house and evacuate from one place to another like chess pieces. And what for? What have I and my family done?" ... Palestinians in Gaza are living today what their grandparents lived over 70 years ago, and the fear of never being able to return is at the heart of their concern. "If the house is destroyed, the land is still there, and it is mine. I would rather die here than live another Nakba like my family did before me," Jaber said.

17 Feb 24

[haifoct]

let me kiss your brain, because, seriously, EVERY WORD in that post about LI Lun IS ON POINT!!!

Was Li Lun behaving like a murderous toddler throwing a temper tantrum? Yes! But he had some good reasons to do so!

Regardless of their "romantic" relationship, ZYZ and LL were first and foremost, friends, who spent 30k years together. Even though they disagreed and even though ZYZ always felt like being a demon wasn't good enough, he wanted to be human, LL still accepted that.

Did LL overreact by killing those people in the clinic? Yes. But, if I saw my people- including children- in cages, tortured, I'd probably snap too. Plus, it irked me to no end that ZYZ was too preoccupied with being outraged at Li Lun for killing guards instead of actually helping his fellow demons. "I will protect the Wilderness"- proceeds to do absolutely nothing crying over two killed torturers while LL does all the protecting.

Then ZYZ proceeded to touch the unknown burning thing and ended up mortally wounding Li Lun. And then sealed him in and deprived him of any choice. And did he go to talk to him after? Nope. No explanation, no "get well" card, nothing. Heck, I think even a shouting match would've been better.

Even if he never went to LL because he was spiraling into depression, that doesn't explain the whole "holier than thou" attitude he displayed throughout the show. Did LL kill humans? Yes, but so did ZYZ (example- that bureau guy whose heart he exploded to prove his point). And then had the audacity to taunt LL and call him names when in reality LL was right in most of his accusations- of ZYZ being a hypocrite, liar, traitor, etc. I'm sorry, but while LL is absolutely NOT free of fault, ZYZ has no right to pretend he is any better.

But the worst of all is that when he got a chance to make up with LL, he let his pettiness and anger get the best of him. He failed to say ONE SENTENCE (we will put your soul into a piece of wood and you will recultivate again in 100 years) that would've made a whole lot of difference, and in the end, he indirectly caused Ying Lei's, Li Lun's, and likely Bai Ju's deaths.

Literally, all they had to do to get LL to stop his antics and even become THEIR ally was for ZYZ to say "sorry I set you on perpetual fire, bro. I missed you". But the "hero demon" couldn't even do that...

If anything, Zhuo Yichen was the one who showed more compassion and kindness to Li Lun than his supposed friend ever did. No wonder Li Lun shifted his focus to him in the end.

It seems that ZYZ was inherently biased against being a demon and valued humans more than demons. Perhaps, it was because of him being the vessel of malicious energy, so he juxtaposed that unfair twist of fate onto all demons (as in, he would not be in that situation if he were a human). Perhaps, he also realized at some point that he could not have the same range of emotions as humans, so he perceived himself and other demons as less. And Li Lun was the personification of demon-ness and all that ZYZ hated about himself, and he couldn't overcome it. Plus, it seems that all demons have a problem with dealing with complex emotions like grief and rage; this is why, in the end, among all of them, ZYC is the most mature one even though he is only 24. If only ZYZ had one tenth of ZYC's maturity and compassion to his fellow demons, the whole story would've played out very, very differently.

And this is why I want to write fix it fics now

Thank you SO MUCH for your addition, especially for bringing up their very last chess match. It’s probably the only moment that makes me genuinely, fucking angry at Zhu Yan. I can even understand his reaction in the clinic—but this? He wanted to be human so badly that he put his pride above everything else, lmfao. How pathetic, how frustrating it was to see him so desperately refuse to call Li Lun his friend, refuse to say that he cared for him, that he didn’t want him dead, that he had a solution. It’s so sad that Li Lun was always open and clear about his grievances, he always used his words to explain why he’s angry.

I guess if Zhu Yan admitted that he cared for this unhinged one, it would show him in the bad light.

I don’t care; I don’t even think he "indirectly" caused Ying Lei’s death. He literally killed him, period. Xiao Zhuo and the rest of the gang were the ones who told Li Lun about the root thing, and the fact that we see Li Lun IMMEDIATELY stop struggling? He went, Oh… sure, I’ll go into the root, we can draw. (Also, if Zhu Yan cared for Li Lun, he would’ve put him in Cheng Huang’s sundial and grown him for 100 years as an apology for the pain. What is 100 years to a 30K-year-old demon? A mere blink.)

And YES, Xiao Zhuo was incredibly kind to Li Lun. Despite saying he never understood him and never would, we know damn well that’s not the case. Baby Zhuo Yichen spiraled into loneliness, bitterness, isolation, and hatred toward Zhu Yan and demons—until Wen Xiao’s words about snow eventually melting brought him back (the same way Xiao Zhuo’s words sobered Li Lun and left a mark on his soul). I’m forever grateful to our precious Zhuo Yichen for forming his own opinion about Li Lun. (Isn’t it fun that he never told the gang about his encounter with Li Lun by that river?) 

Zhu Yan’s hatred, his harsh words, never affected him. Zhuo Yichen understood Li Lun. His journey with Li Lun is one of the most fascinating and interesting. No wonder our director grabbed the two actors and put them in another series together — he’s one of us, a shipper.

I absolutely adore you pointing out Li Lun being everything Zhu Yan hated about himself. His harshness with his former friend comes from his self-pity and self-hatred.

His words, "Li Lun, you’re bitter I have everything, and you have nothing." Despite it being awfully annoying in the moment due to Zhu Yan literally not hearing what Li Lun was telling him, it made me think it’s Zhu Yan trying to convince himself.

And even worse, Li Lun is proud of being a demon. He loves the Wilderness, he loves his home, he loves his people. There’s nothing he loves more than being a demon. He even turned the human he liked the most into one as well.

Zhu Yan is not as broad minded as Wen Xiao claims him to be. He very clearly has his biases. Always thinking about Zhu Yan murdering Xiao Pagoda Ghost that played with them in Li Lun’s illusion. That was awfully cold blooded! 

They’re tragic, indeed, and my heart breaks for them both. However, it makes me incredibly happy that Zhu Yan learned from his experience with Li Lun and stood firmly by his new friends’ sides. And I’m happy Li Lun found one Zhuo Yichen and one little Ying Lei who cried for him and were kind to his pain.

[captainsaltymuyfancy2]

I’m not so sure about this post, I’m not really confident in any of it, it’s mostly just wild conjecture and aimless rambling. I’m open to discussion and to changing my mind, this is just what I’m thinking at the moment. Thank you to everyone cited for inspiration❤️

I’m really fascinated by what Jacob said about how the longevity of Louis and Armand’s relationship has led to both tenderness and resentment. The reasons why Louis might resent Armand are PLENTIFUL, but what possible reason would Armand have to resent Louis? Obviously it’s not going to be a “good” reason, but that makes it all the more delectable.

Right now I kind of have this theory that Armand resents Louis in part because he thinks Louis’ shows of affection are disingenuous. Put more accurately, his suspicion that Louis’ affection is disingenuous and his ensuing resentment underlie a deeper fear that Louis doesn’t love him.

HOWEVER, the kicker is that Louis does still feel some kind of affection for Armand. Just like he felt for Lestat when he and Claudia (mostly Claudia) were planning their escape, Louis feels some love for Armand still, but he’s able to leverage it in pursuit of his goal. What exactly this goal is remains to be seen (although I have some serious guesses…well mostly one guess).

Whatever it is, I think Louis has been planning very carefully for a long time to get to it. As @likethemodel points out here, their bed is literally a chessboard, like the one Claudia played in order to best Lestat and get under his skin in s1. The IWTV cast and crew have repeatedly describe the dynamics in Dubai as “3D chess”, and it doesn’t get much more 3D than using yourself as a chess piece. This is what the major question in Dubai is for me: not “did he fuck that old man” or “did Armand alter Louis’ memories”, but rather “What is Louis’ agenda, why has he brought all of these pieces together in this way?”

If my theory is correct, I think it would tie in nicely with the book. As @nativehueofresolution said in this post, Louis in the book does love Armand, but not in a way Armand understands at that point. If this was translated into the show, it could take the form of Louis still loving Armand in some way, like his few displays of affection such as kissing him in bed and squeezing/rubbing his shoulder during the interview being at least partly genuine, but also strategic.

So even though Louis’ affection in these gestures may be somewhat genuine, the context is still performative in order to accomplish a higher goal, though exactly what remains unclear. This much I think Armand can see and he resents, but I think he misinterprets it to mean Louis doesn’t love him at all. But the love is there and it is mutual to a degree, just not in a way Armand can see, which is kind of poetic justice and the absolute least he deserves.

Digressing a bit, even though Louis is being genuinely affectionate at times, even if it was totally without ulterior motives, it still could never be enough for Armand, because what he views as love is simply not something Louis can give.

In an interview posted here by @diasdelfuego, Hannah Moscovitch says she thinks that “Armand is Louis’ creature”, and agreed with the interviewer that Armand “serves a god” in his relationship with Louis. I interpreted this to mean that Armand has *made himself* into Louis’ creature, Louis’ disciple. And like Judas in the artwork in their bedroom (post also courtesy of @diasdelfuego), Armand becomes resentful and thinks Louis doesn’t love him because Louis doesn’t treat him the way Armand thinks a disciple should be treated.

The problem (well, one of MANY) is that this dynamic Armand has tried to create pretty much dooms him to never get back the kind of love he wants from Louis right now. In deciding he ‘serves a god’, Armand has made it impossible for Louis to love him in the way Armand craves, because Louis is not a god. Armand has made himself a disciple to a god that doesn’t exist, and feels betrayed when that nonexistent god doesn’t respond to his worship. Again, it’s poetic justice, but only the very tip of what he deserves. Lukewarm justice.

It’s surely not lost on Louis how stupid (more accurately, hypocritical and insulting) it is that Armand worships him like a god, and yet Armand himself holds godlike power over Louis’ life. A disciple does not control a god, and Louis knows this, he’s chronically Catholic. He knows the control Armand has over him, and I think this interview is partly a way for him to circumvent that power. Armand’s attempts to manipulate and “protect” Louis doom his quest for all-consuming devotion even more. I love messy bitches who create their own problems.

The god-worship is probably one aspect of Louis’ resentment toward Armand, but again this is something that’s so deeply, painfully layered. Between forcing Louis to turn Madeleine and killing Claudia (assuming, as most of us are, that the show is following the book in this way), the depth of Louis’ resentment for Armand is abyssal. Which would make the fact that Louis does still love him (per my aforementioned theory) even more shocking and scrumptious, and his plotting all the more emotionally difficult.