#metaphorical strings attached to her

[tuxxydo]

penny coming back to life really is a matter of “when” and not “if.” between the weird details in volume 9, and the fact that volume 8′s final episode emphasized that “[penny] is a part of [winter] now,” i can already list like 3 different methods.

[yandere-writer-momo]

For my birthday, I decided to finally drop the Jack Hanma smut piece! Enjoy

Yandere Baki Short Stories:

Carne

Yandere Jack Hanma x Female Reader

TW: Cannibalism as a metaphor for love, blood kink, smut, YANDERE, etc.

Hands desperately clawed at the table in front of (your name) in an attempt to ground herself. Pants and wanton moans spilled from her lips as she was driven to the brink of insanity…

“This is what you get for teasing me.” A deep voice snarled in her ear and his hips pistoned into hers. His monstrous length slid between her damp folds as a puddle of their fluids dripped beneath them. (Your name)’s toes were over feet off the ground while her legs dangled in the air since Jack held her body up with his strong arms. “Always flaunting yourself around the other fighters. Parading around in those tight clothes like a whore.”

(Your name)’s head lulled to the side, a loud groan spilled from her swollen lips. Jack had been abusing her poor lower lips with his monstrous length for hours now. The stream of fluid leaking from her pussy was unending. (Your name) wasn’t even aware that Jack had any feelings for her. Their relationship was mostly physical. A no strings attached sort of arrangement. How was she to know he would grow jealous of her friendly banter with the other martial artists?

Jack was simply an outlet for her pent up frustrations, just like (your name) was an outlet to build ‘strength.’ His half brother, Baki, had put a worm in his ear that sex made one more powerful and Jack had approached her with that intention only… until he became attached. Until Jack became so overbearing and protective of her.

Wherever she was, Jack was never far. The blonde tank always stood guard over her. Whenever she’d confront Jack, he’d deny that he had feelings but (your name) knew the truth. She just didn’t care to correct him. Jack was a man one never wanted to anger. Jack was more of a beast than a man, one who would rip his apart like wrapping paper if they even looked in his direction funny. And she would like to keep that animalistic nature of his strictly in the bedroom.

Jack used to leave her in early hours in the morning after a nightly tryst, but now he stayed with her and cuddled. Sometimes he even made (your name) breakfast in bed. This development terrified her because (your name) never gave him any indication that she wanted a romantic relationship. She was always civil with him and treated him like a human being. She didn’t understand why he interpreted kindness as love. But perhaps it had something to do with his rough upbringing.

Jack was a man who felt like he didn’t deserve love nor life since he was brought into this world from hate. A man who only lived for revenge and nothing more… a man who now found solace in (your name)’s arms and in between her legs. A man who would never leave her side until she was completely his. Jack would drown her in his sea of affection until she adapted to be able to breathe in it.

(Your name) was swallowed whole in his musky, woodsy scent. The strong scent of pine overwhelmed her senses. All she could feel was Jack. All she could smell was Jack. Jack. Jack. Jack.

She came undone once more when his titanium teeth lightly grazed against the soft skin of her shoulder. Her walls grasped the empty space while his length ran between it. (Your name) desperately wanted him to fill her. To stretch her poor, weeping cunt until she was satisfied.

And in an instant his teeth sunk into her neck hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to rip a chunk of her off like he did to his opponents. His strong pink muscle darted out to greedily lap at the blood that trickled down her skin. His mouth now stained scarlet.

“Everything about you is so delicious… I can’t get enough of you.” Jack muttered into (your name)’s skin, his cinnamon eyes hazy with lust. “What kind of witchcraft have you cast on me?”

(Your name) gasped when he used a hand to tilt her chin up to look at him. A smirk on his face at how dazed her expression was.

“You’re so beautiful.” (Your name) could barely move when he bent down to kiss her. She could taste the iron of her own blood on his tongue as the strong muscle dominated hers. His large hand lights pressed against her through that left her absolutely breathless. The pace of his brutal thrusts never ceased.

Drool dripped out of the sides of her mouth and onto her bruised chest. Various bruises and bite marks littered her skin in a grotesque picture of love.

(Your name) was so lost… where did she begin and where did Jack end? How could a man consume her entirety to the point that she melted into him? That her blood mixed with his in a gory display of devotion?

“I love you. I love you so much.” Jack whispered in her ear as he dragged his tongue across the salty tears that fell down her cheeks. Had she been crying? (Your name) hadn’t even realized. “I love you so much, I want to become a part of you.”

A loud cry escaped her lips when she felt Jack’s hips start to slow, his grip on her throat never ceased. His cinnamon eyes filled with a voracious hunger she knew only her entire being could quench.

“You’re mine. No one else can have you. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

And that’s when he finally shoved himself inside. His tongue tangled with hers and (your name) came on his length again. She could feel him spill himself inside her fluttering walls with a goal in mind. A goal he’d never reach since he was infertile from excessive steroid usage.

(Your name) went limp like a noodle while his viscous seed spilled from between her legs. Jack’s strong arms still held her up. His lips pressed hot kisses all over her face.

(Your name) slowly reached her hands up to cup his cheeks. A few tears spilled from Jack’s eyes while he shuddered. His lungs gasped for breath but he couldn’t help but hold his in anticipation. Jack wanted to know her answer, he wanted to know if his twisted feelings were reciprocated.

“I’m yours.”

Yes, she’d accept Jack. There was no one else in this world that has ever been attached of this broken man’s side and she’d be that person. She’d be his solace. (Your name) would be his meal.

For limerence and love were merely separated by a thin line.

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; in true ramshackle fashion, you confess to vil through a chaotic song, and it doesn't have the intended effect.

— notes; this was fun to write hehe. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ After weeks of pining, you finally decide to pluck up your courage and confess to Vil in a way that feels grand and romantic — because, of course, Vil deserves nothing less.

❋ You consult with your friends before finally deciding on a grand romantic gesture: a heartfelt serenade under the stars.

❋ Grim, Ace, and Deuce eagerly volunteer to help, sensing both chaos and entertainment in your (poorly thought-out) plan. And you manage to rope in Epel, of all people, to help you compose a song.

❋ You would have been better off enlisting Rook’s help.

❋ Epel takes his role of the group’s lyricist very seriously. Unfortunately, most of the song consists of poetic potato metaphors, given Vil’s penchant of calling everyone by that nickname.

“Your hair is as golden as a potato, it surrounds your face like a beautiful halo.” “You’re the flawless gem in my potato patch; my heart turns to mash around you.”

❋ You think it’s an absolute masterpiece, and none of your friends have the heart to tell you otherwise.

❋ The four of you sneak over to Pomefiore in the dead of night, armed with precisely two things: nerves of steel, and some old instruments you’ve found up in the dorm’s dusty attic.

❋ Grim provides lighting and ambience with his flames, Ace makes a valiant effort to pluck at the strings of his borrowed guitar, and Deuce shakes his tambourine with far too much enthusiasm, it’s almost enough to drown out your painfully off-key singing.

❋ And there you stand in the centre of it all, holding a bouquet of wildflowers (still with the muddy roots attached) and warbling singing your heart out, your voice cracking from nerves and the lack of practice.

❋ Instead of romantic ambiance, it’s pure chaos. Birds startle out of the trees. Lights flicker on in nearby dorm rooms. The nearby students think a murder has just taken place on the grounds.

❋ All the noise music has the intended effect of summoning the object of your affections.

❋ Draped in a pink satin robe, Vil appears at the window, his hair in a perfect loose braid, and a silk sleep mask pushed up to his forehead. Really, it’s unfair how effortlessly flawless he looks even in the dead of night. He doesn’t interrupt your performance but instead folds his arms and watches, his expression caught between bewilderment and judgment.

“You’re the apple of my eye, my sweet potato prince, please go out with me, don’t make me cry!”

❋ You finish the song with a dramatic flourish, slightly out of breath. You’re still holding onto that bouquet, staring up at Vil with wide, hopeful eyes.

❋ There’s a pause before Vil pinches the bridge of his nose with a deep exhale. In a flutter of pink, he descends the stairs to meet you, looking like a queen poised to address her court.

❋ Instead of swooning into your arms, Vil stands before you, his eyes narrowed and his voice a mask of carefully controlled calm. “Prefect,” he begins. “Do you honestly expect me to be wooed by that . . . Performance?”

❋ And you’ve opened up the floodgates; Vil’s perfectionist tendencies take over and he spends the next ten minutes giving a detailed breakdown of how the performance could be improved.

“Prefect, your pitch is horrendous, and you’re completely off-tempo.” “Ace, never pick up a guitar again. Your rhythm was an assault on my ear drums.” “Deuce, why are you even here? Your tambourine skills are atrocious." “And you — Grim! What were you thinking, using fire in such a haphazard manner? Do you want to set Pomefiore ablaze?” “The lyrics are positively horrendous. Who even writes about potatoes in a confession?”

❋ Vil’s lecture lasts for all of ten minutes (Ace kept count).

❋ You remain silent through it all, but you’re just about ready to combust from embarrassment as Vil continues his critique.

❋ Finally, he falls silent with a final, dramatic sigh. "If you wanted my attention, you didn’t need to orchestrate such a . . . Spectacle. Though I will admit, the effort is . . . Endearing. Misguided, but endearing.” He softens just slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reaches for the bouquet of flowers, careful to avoid the muddy roots.

❋ He turns on his heel to leave, but pauses on the doorstep, his back to you. “By the way . . . I would prefer some red roses the next time you come for a visit.” He disappears back into Pomefiore, leaving the group in a stunned silence.

❋ Wait.

❋ Next time?

❋ Was that . . . An invitation for a second chance? Ace immediately confirms this with a triumphant yell, and you can’t help but grin, feeling like a love-sick fool despite your bruised ego and the lingering humiliation.

[inkedaway]

Hot and Cold (Dandadan)

Title: Hot and Cold

Notes: I don't often post fanfiction but man, something about this show grabbed me, so here I go. This is just me having a lot of speculative thoughts about Okarun's Turbo form and me just wanting to put them down on paper. This is a what if scenario - what if it took time for him to calm down instead of returning back to normal immediately?

Pairing: Momo/Okarun romantic undertones, this is fluff

Rating: G

Summary:  But the one thing she did remember from her several few ordeals with him so far in his new form, was the strange attitude shift, and the fact that he curiously, ran cold. Temperature wise. Temperament wise… everything, really, but specifically, to the touch. She clearly recalled the first time she'd gripped his hand, and he'd closed it around hers, and how the surprise had been only just glazing the shallow parts of her brain that oh, he was quite a few degrees colder than he'd been just a few moments ago, and wasn't that interesting? Ao3 link: Here Can also be read under the read more here.

Momo hadn't really realized that she hadn't spent a lot of time observing Okarun's newer form. Every single time he'd used it, she'd had, metaphorically speaking, much bigger fish to fry, and hadn't managed more than the cursory surprise the first time, and just plain acceptance that this was, indeed, just a thing now.

Not once had events slowed down enough for her to actually pause and process what she was seeing, or what he was really doing beyond the surface level. In her defense, it was quite hard to think on her feet, while running away from potentially life and death situations, and also take a moment to appreciate the changes her new friend had gone through. She could not be blamed for it, really, but the one thing she did remember from her several few ordeals with him so far, was the strange attitude shift, and the fact that he curiously, ran cold.

Temperature wise. Temperament wise... everything, really, but specifically, to the touch. She clearly recalled the first time she'd gripped his hand, and he'd closed it around hers, and how the surprise had been only just glazing the shallow parts of her brain that oh, he was quite a few degrees colder than he'd been just a few moments ago, and wasn't that interesting?

Still, like with everything in those situations, it had been swiftly and efficiently shoved to the back part of her brain, in favor of focusing on figuring out how they were both going to get the fuck out of their current situation with at least (most) of their parts still firmly attached.

This wasn't to say she hadn't thought of his form, or the boy in general. She had.

Unfortunately, it had become a common occurrence for her thoughts to stray to him throughout the day. Sometimes, she wouldn't even begin the moment by thinking about him, and then her train of thought would veer right and into a mountain side, as she got entirely distracted by some stray notion, landing back on Okarun.

Despite this, she hadn't really given that form... much thought outside the obvious. Which was, perhaps, why she was so surprised when the door to exit the school roof opened, and rather than the hunched over, geek boy she'd been expecting to join her for lunch, it was the other form that practically dragged itself over.

He looked tired.

But then, he always looked tired like this, and for a moment, she remain quiet as the boy walked over and then, just... allowed himself to flop on the ground near her feet, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, boneless, lifeless, "What happened to you, anyways?" she asked between bites of food as she angled her head to look down at him, "What's with all... this?" she gestured vaguely at him, from head to toe, waving the food she'd been holding on one hand at him.

For a moment, all she got was a grunt, or perhaps a sigh, it was hard to tell like this. His position remain flopped on the ground, both eyes having closed, before one opened and settled on her. Red, unblinking and strangely reminding her of a large cat, "Got mad," this explained absolutely nothing to her, and must have been obvious from the way she stared at him, because he let out a long, soul wrenching sigh as he closed his one eye again, "Can't change. No idea why. Not that it matters."

Granted, he wasn't entirely wrong; most students couldn't see the difference like she could. There was little danger in him being in that form at the current moment in time, "Uh...huh," she said as she ate, "You still mad?"

She got no response this time, just a small flick of a large hand that she interpreted as a vague negative, but otherwise he remain stretched on the floor, near her legs.

It was then the notion came to her; he reminded her of a sunning lion, too lazy to move in the heat of the day, but still dangerous enough that he could spring into action at any given moment, "Cool," another bite of food and soon enough, her sandwich was finished, and Momo scrunched the paper it'd come in within her hands, "So, just a thought but... every time to use your powers, you tend to go back to normal. That likely hasn't changed. Give it a go maybe?"

A whine exited his mouth, or... his mask, without it moving. Heavy, mournful, like she'd just asked him to give up his first born or something equally ridiculous, "I don't wanna move, Momo... I don't wanna do anything, just leave me here."

"For the love of-" Momo rolled her eyes and swiftly decided this just would not do, "Get up. C'mon, up, up, up!" her hand reached out and began to move him, pushing his shoulder several times, to no avail, "If we tire you out, you'll stop this downer bs thing you got going."

Despite her best efforts, the most she got out of him was another small sound, the one eye reopening to fix back on her, "Nooo... what if I need to use those full bursts later? I ain't gonna do that," and, well, he did have a point, not that she wanted to concede that to him. As such she continue shoving on his shoulder, until one of his hands shot out, lightning fast, grabbed her arm, destabilized her, and forced her to crash half on top of him awkwardly.

"Okarun!!" her first reaction was mild panic, swiftly followed by severe annoyance as she hovered over him. He was still looking at her, almost languidly, from that one open eye. And perhaps Momo had misrepresented him; less of a lion, more of an overgrown, lazy dog, flopped over, refusing to move. She lifted a hand, and gave his shoulder one last smack before she righted herself back so she was sitting beside him once more, instead of partially over him. A huff of breath escaped her lips before she looked at him out the corner of an eye, "Were you aware you run cold in this form?"

"Is that why you won't lay down with me, Momo?"

There was zero innuendo in the question, no sort of implication to the words, just curiosity, and perhaps, melancholy there. She turned her head fully to watch him then, "No, you idiot, of course not," rather than actually responding to his question and following that very dangerous train of thought to its inevitable conclusion, instead she frowned down at him, "You're cold, but not uncomfortable. Also, why do you only call me Momo while you're like this, anyways?"

Both his eyes opened then, and strangely enough did a full on blink, "Momo is Momo," as if this were any sort of explanation. When all the response he got out of her was a clearly confused look, he apparently gave up explaining himself and closed his eyes again, "I'm tired..."

"You've literally done nothing today, it's noon, Okarun. You can not be tired," The small huff of sound he made, like an upset, annoyed dog seemed to contradict her, but since he didn't really use his words, Momo let out a sigh and rolled her eyes at him, "You plan on returning to class like that?" another sound, this one sad almost melancholic, like he couldn't be arsed to even begin thinking about class at the current moment, nor any moment in the near future.

Lifting her phone out of her pocket, she looked at the time; there was a bit more than half hour before they'd have to leave, which gave them, hopefully, enough time to fix their current predicament, though Momo guessed it couldn't be that bad. Worst case he'd just flop on his desk and no one would pay him any mind.

Given her previous thoughts, she turned her head and simply watched him for a while, taking note of the way his spiritual energy merged with his hair and his clothes, specifically, making both look almost engulfed in flames. From her own experience when she'd held onto him, neither hair nor clothes were heated whatsoever, though then again, she hadn't really paid it that much mind, what with the killer crab chasing them at the time.

Before she even knew what she was doing, her hand had lifted and reached out towards his hair, curiosity taking her. Her own movement didn't register until he apparently sensed the hand and both eyes opened to settle on it, before they slowly moved to fix on her own, languid and unblinking, but a clear question there, "Oh, sorry, just..." there was zero judgement in his gaze, if anything, a vague curiosity there, "Your hair," his expression did not change, not even an eyebrow twitch, though he did offer her a very slow, once again, almost feline like blink, and given he did absolutely nothing to stop her, she moved her hand in the direction of his hair.

Momo wasn't someone that kept herself from doing or saying the things she wanted to often, and besides, she was more than well aware that had he wanted no contact, she would have never even been able to get close to him. He may have been still at the present moment, but he'd demonstrated twice already that he was more than cognizant of the world around him, "It looks like fire, Okarun. I was wondering why it also runs cold, is all. Do you mind?" her hand had stopped only a few scant inches away from his strands, and she waited for him to make a noncommittal sound before she lowered it into the white mass, sweeping her fingers like they were a brush.

She watched him close his eyes against her ministrations, and once again, the animal like comparison returned in her mind, "C'mere," she said after a few moments, and slowly moved herself and him, fully aware that the only reason she was managing to move him, was because he was allowing it. He remain mostly dead weight but he did nothing more than make a vaguely whine like sound at losing contact with her hand in his hair.

"Momoooooooo..."

She grabbed at his shoulders and he offered no resistance to her when she pulled his head on her lap, "Maybe if you fall asleep, you'll change back," no response other than a small huff, but his eyes didn't close again until one hand returned to sink in his hair, moving carefully through it. It felt, to the touch, much like normal hair would, and if she closed her eyes, and blocked out his looks, she was certain she would not have noticed the difference.

Idly, it made her wonder if she would ever manage to get the boy to lay down like this while not in this form, and would the texture of his hair be any different. She focused her attention on the phone she had clutched in her free hand, and as she petted him, her mind drifted, her thoughts discombobulated while she scrolled through her phone. On instinct, she knew it was still a while before the bell rung and they'd be forced to move anyways.

Her attention only returned back to him when she heard a soft snuffle like sound, her eyes tracking down to see her hand now moving through black, unruly hair, which interestingly enough, did indeed feel the same, the boy having actually managed to fall into a light sleep in place, his form having returned to normal.

Less of a dangerous predator in this form, more of a lap dog, cute and vulnerable, she thought, but her hand did not stop its movement.

She still had five or ten minutes left after all.

[elliesbelle]

wish she was you

ellie williams one-shot

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you call your ex-girlfriend ellie late one night, needing to hear the sound of her voice.

content warnings: modern au, angst, mentions of break-up, ex-girlfriend!ellie, cheating (both ellie and reader), mentions of a slightly toxic relationship, slight mentions of sexual yearning (nothing graphic or descriptive), one line that implies reader has a vagina but if you do not have one we're gonna say it's just a metaphor or something :), brief description of violence (just ellie wanting to punch an inanimate object but she doesn't), red string of fate trope, no comfort? idk it's up to you to decide, minors do not interact

word count: 1.3k

based on the hinder song "lips of an angel"

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?�� Ellie whispers into her phone as she warily peers through the murky glass of the balcony windows into her apartment’s living room. 

Her new girlfriend Haru was lounging on the couch, lazily scrolling through different streaming services for something to watch. Ellie had excused herself from the room after her phone suddenly began to ring incessantly with a phone call. She’d muttered hastily that it was Dina and that she should go answer it or she wouldn’t hear the end of it the following day. Haru smiled plainly and told her to go right ahead and to not take too long. She was completely oblivious that it was, in fact, not Dina who kept blowing up Ellie’s phone with call after call. It was you. 

“Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?” She asks quickly and quietly. Her eyebrows furrow when she hears you sniffle. 

“I just—I don’t know, I…” You start to stutter. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, honey.” 

You let out an involuntary sob upon hearing Ellie’s old pet name for you. 

“I just… I just needed to hear your voice.” 

Despite having been broken up for over a year, Ellie still melts hearing you this. 

It was both shocking and yet expected when you and Ellie had called it quits. It was more than clear to everyone just how in love you were with one another. You were rarely ever seen without each other in public, always attached to the hip. Her presence was almost like an essential part of your body, and to be without her made you feel lacking and unfinished. You were so ardently enamoured with each other that it felt like you’d be blissfully in love for life. 

But with the passion came drama and fury, and this ultimately became the downfall of your intense relationship with Ellie Williams. Your ways of expression and articulation were so vastly different from each other’s. She was restless and fervently independent, sometimes far too much for your liking. Her constant need for attention and validation eventually led her to greener pastures, leaving you stuck and alone in the wake of her chaos. 

The magical red cord that tied you to Ellie, however, never severed. Even during times that you wished you weren’t, you knew instinctively that you’d always remain connected to each other. Even when you’d both found different partners to attach yourselves to in distraction, her with Haru and you with your new girlfriend Jessica, your pull towards each other never ceased to fail. You never really moved on as you always came back to her and her to you. 

“Is Haru there?” You ask. 

“Umm,” Ellie hums, glancing at her girlfriend through the glass that separated them. “Yeah. She’s in the next room.” 

“Oh.” You say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.” 

“No, no, we’re just hanging out. We weren’t doing anything important.” 

You smile slightly at Ellie’s familiar need to reassure you. 

“That’s why I kind of have to whisper right now. C-Can’t be too loud.” She continues. 

“I see.” 

There’s a moment of silence between you two, not awkward but still thick and heavy. 

“Everything okay with Jessica?” Ellie suddenly inquires. 

“U-umm, y-yeah.” You respond hesitatingly. “Everything’s good. She’s still at work right now. Working a late shift.” 

“I see.” 

Another moment of silence. 

“Does… does she know you’re still talking to me?” Ellie asks. 

“No.” 

“Won’t that start a fight between you two?” 

“Probably.” 

“Honey…” 

“Does Haru know you’re still talking to me?” 

“N-no. Not a clue.” 

Another moment of silence. 

“I had a dream about you last night.” You murmur. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What was it about?” 

“I-I don’t think I should say.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” 

Even over the phone, Ellie can feel the heat that was rising to your cheeks at her boldness. 

“Ellie, come on.” 

“Hey, you brought it up.” She whispers with a smirk, trying to ignore the sickly sweetness that came with the way you say her name. 

“Whatever.” You sniggle. 

Another moment of silence. 

“That’s funny, though.” She sighs softly. “I dreamt of you too. Last night.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah. I did.” 

“What was it about?” 

“Hey, you didn’t wanna tell me about your dream. Don’t think it’s fair for you to hear mine.” 

“Oh, come on.” You whine at her cheekiness. “That’s not fair.” 

“What do you mean it’s not fair? You brought up a dream that you had about me but refused to tell me about it. So you don’t get to know about mine either, angel.” 

Fire ignites every inch of your skin upon hearing her whisper yet another old pet name for you. Your favourite one, in fact. And you know that she knows it. 

“Mine is… a little too risqué to repeat out loud.” You admit. 

“Oh? Risqué, huh?” 

“Far too crude to repeat to my ex-girlfriend.” 

“A little cruel to tease me like that, angel.” 

Ellie feels the flames engulfing your entire body at her tantalizing flirting, grinning slyly and proudly to herself over the way she can still fluster you after all this time. 

“I mean,” She continues. “For all you know, my dream may have been a little ‘risqué’ too.” 

She hears you gulp heavily. 

“Was it?” You whisper. 

“I guess you’ll never know.” 

Another moment of silence. 

“It’s… it’s really good to hear your voice, you know.” She reveals, her voice serious. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I missed yours.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Good?” 

“Want you to always be missing me, angel.” 

“Ellie…” 

“Can’t help it. Not if it’s you.” 

“I-I know. It’s the same for me too.” 

“I know.” 

Another moment of silence. 

“Why am I always so weak for you?” She whispers, frustrated. 

“Because I have a magic pussy and you can’t help yourself.” 

“Babe!” Ellie exclaims loudly. 

“Yeah?” 

Both you and Ellie freeze, knowing neither of you had said that. Ellie whips her head towards the inside of her apartment, spotting her girlfriend Haru still sitting on the couch but now glancing towards her on the balcony. Ellie gazes at her innocent but inquiring expression, feeling deep remorse immediately flooding her senses. 

“N-nothing! Never mind!” Ellie calls out from behind the closed glass doors. 

“What’s up?” Haru presses. 

“I-I’ll ask you later!” 

“Oh, alright!” Haru relents, going back to watching some innocuous show on the television. Ellie turns her back to her girlfriend and faces the starry night sky, sighing both in relief and guilt. 

“I-I should go.” She murmurs to you. 

“Do you have to?” 

“Honey, you know I do.” 

Ellie’s heart cracks slightly at the sound of more sniffles from your end. 

“Why?” You ask stubbornly. 

“You know why.” Ellie fights an amused chuckle at your bullheadedness. 

“Yeah… I know.” 

Another moment of silence. 

“I love you, El.” You whisper riskily. 

“I… I love you too, angel.” She replies. Your heart breaks at the hesitation in her voice. 

“I’ll talk to you later?” You ask desperately. 

Another moment of silence. 

“M-maybe.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Your eyes well up with tears at hearing her unclear promise. 

“Bye, angel.” She murmurs. 

“Bye, honey.” You whisper. 

Three robotic tones signal the end of the phone call. 

You immediately break down in more hot tears, your misery and desolation worse than before. You knew it was your choice to reach out to Ellie once more, and you knew and accepted the chances of your heart getting crushed again. But hearing the voice of your ex-girlfriend sweetly whispering for you before returning to her new girlfriend was still an agonizing feeling. You would spend the following nights laying next to Jessica, tossing and turning as you over-analyzed Ellie’s every word and wondering if she still really loved you back. 

Little did you know that Ellie was fighting the urge to punch the glass doors of her balcony at that very moment, the feeling of despair and yearning matching that of yours. The red string tugs at her soul once again, cruel and unrelenting and forever refusing to let her forget the sound of her name on your lips. 

author’s notes:

wrote this late last night in a drunken stupor after listening to this song in the car with my ex (live-in ex) and my sister after a fun, halloween-y night. i got randomly inspired, it's such a banger. raise your hand if you first hear this song from a remix on dance dance revolution.

don't worry, i am very much writing all the other works y'all have been asking for (i know i keep saying that, but y'all know i'm a crazy perfectionist). i just try to write when i can, and somehow drunken me knew they could write this in basically one go, and since i haven't been publishing much in a while, i thought i'd do it anyway. hope y'all liked it <3

as it always is in all my works, the names in this fic are very intentional, so the name of ellie's new girlfriend “haru” is purposeful. but i shall not disclose the reasoning because heehee

a lot of the exposition and descriptions of ellie’s and reader’s relationship may have been inspired by my co-star chart with someone very specific, shut up don’t judge me

the “magical red chord” i mention is meant to represent the concept of “the red string of fate.” y’all know how much of a slut i am for the soulmate trope.

reader’s new girlfriend jessica is named after this girl i’m kind of seeing, is it crazy yes it is but whatever

the line of "not if it's you" is based on the euripedes quote that anne carson translated

the quote is kind of part of my brand on my personal main tumblr account cause a post of mine went viral with me talking about that quote and people associate it with me so often to this day (literally friends would be sending screenshots of my post that other people uploaded onto twitter or instagram or facebook, it still makes me scream). thought i'd include it for funsies (if this gives you a clue to what my personal tumblr account is and you realize who i am, no you don't <3)

hope y'all enjoyed this spur-of-the-moment fic of mine :) i'm working on publishing the rest of my works sometime soon, so be patient with me please! my life has been awful and not great recently, but writing is my love and my passion and my escape, so i would never abandon y'all <3

taglist: @carmellie, @idkshaiz, @sawaagyapong

[yazthebookish]

I loved all of what Sarah highlighted in her interview today and I'll elaborate a bit especially on the romance part:

In Maas’ fantasy worlds, love interests often exist as fated “mates,” with invisible strings between them that are powerful and often poetic. Readers can see the literary metaphors, like complementary powers between two characters. But other times, there are no metaphors, with their connection initially seeming random.

She's too attached to the mate trope and I like that she gives us different cases and scenarios for it, otherwise it'll be boring.

“Sometimes, I will write a scene with two characters that I’ve planned for them to get together, and then they have no …” She shakes her head slightly at me. “It’s like holding two dolls and being like, now kiss! And they won’t. … And then sometimes a different character will walk in and they will just” — she snaps.

I yelled at this part because it's as if she plucked the scene from Azriel's bonus chapter and used it as an example. Those parallels between Elain and Gwyn are intentional. It doesn't mean Elain is bad it's just their dynamic doesn't work as a couple and it was obvious to the author. I know she didn't specify who this was about but like, come on, who tried to kiss and which character showed up in a bonus chapter after that depressing scene and gave a glimmer of hope?

“It feels like magic in a way where, as much as I tried to plot out things years in advance, I let my characters guide a story. And they usually wind up with the people that they need to be with and who offer them the most growth and joy.”

I love this so much and allow me to speak about my favorite ship and its because the snippets we saw of Az and Gwyn together especially in the bonus chapter brought out a lighter version of Az. His scenes with Gwyn were light-hearted and the bonus chapter ends on a hopeful note for them. It's hard to deny that connection between them whether you theorize she's luring him or they're mates, those theories wouldn't exist if she had no ties to him (she's in his own chapter like come on).

I go the philosophical route with my next question: We’re talking about fate here, but at what point is a character the agent of their own fate? What happens if someone rejects their mate? (Listen, if I were Fae and I didn’t like my mate, whatever God chose for me is not my business.)

People are jumping the gun and assume this example is set to be Elucien but... we have Helion and Lady of Autumn likely being an example of a tragic rejected mates story (if you read ACOWAR and their history it's obvious they're mates). Maybe it's Mor and Eris and that's the secret that ties them to each other. We have other characters from other series too.

For a convincing mate rejection story in my opinion, it needs more than one book or it's a case that we see with side characters where we can see their history and the long-term implications of a rejected bond.

It's too easy of a story to have one person's central conflict be the words "no I reject you" and they're done. Again, this is not exclusive to ACOTAR but also her other series.

“That’s something I find to be very interesting,” she replies. “What if the forces that be put you with the wrong person? Or what if you just decide, eh, I’m not interested. … There’s a lot to explore within the concept of mates and your agency about it.

The concept of agency is something many readers in the fandom discussed especially when it comes to mating bonds and there were arguments on (would Rhys fell for Feyre if she wasn't his mate or would have Cassian fell for Nesta if she wasn't his mate). We know that some mates don't work out but stay together because their dynamic is unhealthy (Rhys's and Tamlin's parents). We got examples of a loveless mating bond already.

We also saw that Nesta didn't immediately accept the term "mate" because it would mean cutting off her last tether with humanity. It's not a matter of "you're my mate" "yes I'll be with you", the dynamic between the mated couple is important to explore.

“I’m not going to say if I am exploring it in future books or not,” she continues, “but it definitely offers a wealth of things to explore with this concept of freewill and what is true love. Is it something that’s destined? Or is it something that you make? Is it both?”

This part aligns with what I think about Elucien. We never had a mated pairing who knew they were mates but are not in love with each other. Every mated couple found out they're mates when they were already in love.

Can a destined love turn into true love? Or do you settle for a destined love without love being in the equation. Love wasn't in the equation for Rhys's parents, but love was the equation for Feysand and Nessian. Elucien was left unexplored for a reason and both Elain and Lucien view each other by label "mate", they didn't have a chance to get to know each other. So it's going to be very interesting to see them navigate their feelings for each other despite the mating bond.

I didn't expect her to elaborate a lot on this but I love that she did and I hope in future interviews she gives us more good bits about her writing and examples of the decisions she took for some characters and couples.

Didn't expect this post to be long but happy reading! I'm still reeling from HOFAS 🥲

[witchofthesouls]

I love your bayverse Isekai AU, will there be any more snippets on the shenanigans with our feral wildling prime with equally feral newsparks and politically rogue sentinel actively failing and somehow successfully courting the said feral prime while simutaneously giving the metaphorical middle finger to the council regime.

You're standing in the middle of a pale desert. The white sand ripples without wind, and it's endless without anything in sight. A stark divide between the ground and dark sky. The stars are strange. Dripping like a child's clumsy first ventures into watercolors; saturated, vibrant hues fading into weak trailing brushstrokes. With enough concentration, you parse out the shapes of the stars, outlines squirming, moving back and forth, bleeding across the night like odd-shaped marbles.

Someone calls out, and you turn to see a fluttering-

______

You wake up, and the dream fades. The remaining echoes of crying easily meld into the newsparks' wails for your attention, even under Thundercracker's crooning engines, calm field, and fuel production. They look for you, blindly reaching out, fields refusing to settle until well entangled under your own and dozing on your chest.

______

Because you and information slugs don't mix, you're learning the old-fashioned way: direct practice.

And there's nothing in this current life nor your past human one that could prepare you for Iaconi dining etiquette and their culinary practices.

Sentinel is surprisingly patient and encouraging. Star Saber, on the other hand, is demanding and pompous as usual.

A few pieces of the cutlery are familiar in a vague shape-sense, like a spoon should be a spoon, but the spoons' handles have delicate metal leaves with tiny bundles of shiny berries. One grouping is so fragile that the shells jiggled as it rose from a well-hidden compartment from the table. Another clutch isn't round but more hexagonal. A blue hexagon-like raspberry with reddish fuzz.

There's also a tool that looks like a love-child between a well-used slinky and nunchucks and a doohicky that combined a two-pronged fork with a honey dipper.

There's nothing on the table that looks remotely close to honey or a sauce to use said dipper.

You deeply yearn for the simplicity of Thundercracker's cubes and her endless supply of snacks.

Biting the bullet, you commit to a spoon, and Star Saber exudes disdain as you try to scoop out the plain tofu lookalike on your plate. It jiggles and warps the moment the utensil touches it, and the berries, every single one, fall off. The hard ones bounce off, tinking across the table and floor, and the fragile ones splatter the tofu. A contained mess of color and sound clash as discordant strings and chimes overlay and warp.

Sentinel is then right by you. "Like this," he says, and he takes your hand to pick up the fork end, guiding you to twirl the dipper right over the plain tofu block. It quivers, and there's a lovely wind-chime noise before the entire thing flows upward, carving into long, unbroken chains by following the grooves, and artfully twirling backdown into a nest.

A plate of color-splattered noodles now sits before you.

Sentinel uses the slinky, applying the nunckuck ends to his thumb and middle finger and gently bounces the slinky over the noodles. The noodles slither their way into the middle, and after a mouthful is gathered, he brings the contraption near his face, flicking off the thumb attachment and the flexible tubing and 'drinks' his food as if it's a straw itself.

A sharp, ringing hum grabs your attention, prickling over your senses at vibrates in your field. When Star Saber stops circling the rim of the wine glass, the hum dies down as well.

"You failed when we entered." You stare blankly at the Seeker, and he clicks his glossa before explaining, "The most prominent member signals the rest to sit."

"But I waited for you because you're the most experienced!" Star Saber had literally spent weeks beating it into your processor about the teacher-student dynamic: who sits, who stands, who dismisses, and many other important, little steps of social nuance.

"Yes. If this was an educational setup, but this is a formal meal, it's the established Prime that signals to everyone else to sit."

You throw all caution to wind and reach over to the turn table in the middle. Sentinel laughs as you manually spin it until you reach your target: the deconstructed savory pies basket.

Star Saber remains unamused as you take a bite of the sphere, and spices flood your senses, coating your glossa with a hearty, thick gravy. The 'wrapping is supposed to be peeled, but it's completely edible and flaky layers.

It's a performance piece with the right sounds and gestures. The wrapping would gracefully unravel, and the contents reorganize itself into a sophisticated piece of art before settling into cups to be eaten one by one.

You find it more comfortable to eat the pie in one whole go. Star Saber deeply sighs at your atrocious manners and actually snaps at Sentinel when the mech decides to follow your lead.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Can you do a fic where Hobie and reader are really good friends and she's just horny af at the moment so she asks him if he has a friend that'll fuck her with no strings attached cause she don't want a relationship. Hobie ends up doing her.

Oooooooh! I actually have never written something like this before!

No Strings Attached

(Like literally also listened to the song by *NSYNC while writing this don't judge me pls I still like boy bands :'>)

Hobie x Fem!Friend Reader

Because I'm tired of repeating myself: HOBIE IS AGED UP IN THIS FIC

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Sex, PIV sex, condom usage, safe sex (wrap before you tap!), friends, FWB(?), marijuana/weed smoking, some booze is involved, hook-ups, nipple piercings, nipple play, sensitive nipples, Bratty(?)Reader

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

It was a typical Saturday night, you were chilling in your flat with Hobie, shooting the shit, watching some stupid program on the telly, drinking some foul-tasting beer and passing joints back and forth between the two of you.

There was an uncomfortable silence that annoyed the fuck out of you.

So you decided to break it.

"Hey, Hobes?" You coughed slightly, passing the rapidly shrinking smokeable to your friend.

"Yea?" He asked as he took the last drag as deep as he could, letting the smoke out through his nose with a soft sigh.

You leaned down and got your grinder and papers, beginning to prep another joint to be inhaled by the two of you; Hobie taking another swing of his beer as he watched you and waited for you to finish your thought.

The sickly almost sweet scent of pot wafted the air around you like a foul incense; but you two were hardcore potheads so the smell was more comforting to you than anything.

"I really need to get laid." You sighed boredly, and look at him as you blindly roll the paper between your fingers, bringing it to your mouth to lick it before giving that final twist.

"Fuckin what--" Hobie choked on his beer, setting it on the coffee table as he looked at you, his pierced brows raising just to check if he heard you right.

"Look, it's been a while and a vibrator can only do so much before it gets boring. And forget shit like Bumble, can't trust freaks on the web." You snort, rolling your shoulders before you look back over at him.

His jaw was hanging open slightly.

"You got any friends that'd be willing to hook up? Not looking for a whole thing... just a one time or even just like... fuckin' booty calls at this point." You finish.

"Uh..." Hobie settled back on the sofa and looked at you, his mind drawing a blank. Both for available friends he knew you could trust and words to finish a thought.

"It's alright if you don't, I just figured it'd be faster to ask you." You smirk at him like it was the most casual request in the world.

You let Hobie drop his head back as he looked at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought; lighting the joint and taking the first hit.

Interesting. Not often you were able to render Hobie Brown speechless. Not since he walked in on you walking around in nothing but your panties that one time because he didn't fucking knock on your front door before letting himself in--

"Shit." He mumbled. "Hell... I'd do it, 'f ya comfortable."

You almost drop the joint onto the sofa.

"Wait, what--"

"You got rocks in ya ears?" He grinned, suddenly regaining his momentum.

"I said I'd be willing to fuck you if that's what ya want. Hell, it's been a while for me, too."

He leans forward and takes the joint, pulling it between his lips before leaning back comfortably, taking another nice deep drag as he breathed it out in a cloud.

You blink dumbly.

"Oh."

"Is that an I'm not interested "oh" or a Shit, really? "Oh"?" He smirked, coughing a bit.

You chew your cheek in thought. You didn't trust anybody more than Hobie, you'd been friends for years. You had so much dirt on each other you could probably pin murders on either one of you (metaphorically).

"This doesn't have to be anything more than sex." You tell him.

"I know." He replies.

"This isn't some kind of declaration of love--"

"Noted."

"I still want to be friends."

"Good, cause s' do I."

You fall into a silence again, before looking back at him.

Hobie had his head tilted expectantly at you, waiting patiently for your decision, not wanting to make a move without your go-ahead.

"Ah, fuck it." You say, turning so you can crawl over him, straddling his lap, splaying your hands over his chest before pushing him down into the cushions.

"This is just a... casual thing. Nothing else has to come of it. We can still go back to just bullshitting like we always do."

"Already said that, luv. Read ya loud 'n clear. So's that mean you're in?" Hobie smirked, his large hands quickly grabbing and kneading your ass through your pyjama shorts.

You finally grin back down at him, gripping your t-shirt and swiftly pulling it over your head, the chilly air of your flat sending goosebumps up your spine as your nipples hardened.

"Hey hey hey!" Hobie said, sitting up so his face was right at your breasts, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at them.

Hanging from your cute, perked nipples were two stainless steel bars with little chains and a small metal flower hanging from them.

He was immediately transfixed.

"When did ya get these?"

"I got them like, six months ago when--"

Your voice dies in your throat when his mouth latches onto one of them, pulling the chain between his teeth, tugging it with his tongue as he pinches the flesh with his teeth.

"Shit!" You gasp, being caught off guard.

You always had sensitive nipples, and deciding on going with piercing them had not been easy. The artist at the shop however loved it, she kept bringing up previous clients who were the same.

Since you had those bars put in? It made everything feel worse. That's secretly why you liked the chains. The way they gently tugged on the fabric of your shirts or bras always had your head a little fuzzy in the best way.

And Hobie? Right now, Hobie was downright abusing your nipples, his tongue and teeth tugging, rolling, flicking and nipping at them; taking great care to make sure the chain didn't get snagged on his own piercings, both tongue and lip.

You already felt a heavy pool of arousal start to drip straight from your core, and when Hobie turned his mouth to the other neglected breast and toyed with the chain between his fingers on the one he left, your hips bucked against him of their own accord, the friction from the growing his jeans sending searing jolts right through your shorts, panties, and straight to your clit.

"Fuck..."

Hobie's hands were both occupied now, one hand gripping and squeezing the tit he was biting and sucking now, the other toying with the piercing on your other nipple.

One of your hands gripped at your hair and the other held onto the back of the sofa as Hobie continued to abuse the sensitive flesh, and you whimpered when you felt a wave building up already just from the stimulation he was applying there, alone.

"Fuck." Hobie growled into your tit, the vibrations from his voice making your breath hitch. "You're fuckin' soakin' through."

"C-can't help it--" You panted, urging him on with a roll of your crotch onto the bulge in his jeans.

"You gonna cum like this, eh?" He grinned, looking up at you with your nipple between his teeth, his fingers snaking down to press the soaked fabric of your shorts and panties into your aching sex.

The sight alone has your pussy drooling lasciviously.

You manage a breathless nod and he moves his mouth back to the other nipple, tugging the chain he just abandoned with his fingers.

"Then fuckin' do it. Don't jus' grind in 'ta me, luv."

Hobie presses hard, your swollen clit craving the friction he was promising as he strokes it through the offending garments with his hand.

You make a mewling nose as you buck into him, his mouth latching on and sucking your nipple, as if he enjoyed the metallic taste of your piercing on his tongue as he pinched and tugged forcefully, drawing your orgasm out sharper and faster than any previous sexual partners had from you.

"Hoo-oollly shiii-iit!" You moan into the smoke-heavy air.

Hobie grins and bites down a little harder this time, and that sends you careening over that edge, your mouth opened in a weak groan as you cum, gushing through your clothing and onto his hand, the excess dripping onto his jeans.

Hobie continues to stroke you, helping prolong your orgasm as you dumbly hump into his hand.

He pulls away to allow you to breathe, bringing his wet fingers up to his mouth and slides them in, his tongue laving around each digit as he sucks them clean.

"Not bad. Sweet. You must be drinkin' that pineapple juice again, eh?" He grins up at you.

You smirk down at him and shake your head.

"Fuckin' git." You chuckle.

Hobie grunts and grabs you by the thighs, practically knocking you onto your back, narrowly missing the arm of the sofa as he lifts and pins you down, all but ripping your shorts and panties off.

He looks like the cat about to eat the canary.

And you're the canary.

"You gonna sit there or do something?" You challenge.

Hobie laughs at you and leans in, the promise of a kiss barely there on his lips, before he pulls back, unzipping his fly and tugging his aching cock free.

"Uh, hey Hobes--"

"Yeah, I know. I got one or two." He waves you off, reaching for his old beat up leather wallet (that was honestly more duct tape than wallet at this point) and tugged out two gold-foil packages from between some notes.

He tears them apart and tosses the spare onto the table with his wallet and rips the other open with his teeth.

Hobie rolls the latex down his length, the rubber promising a good time with the ridges and bumps along the length of it.

You grin and bite your lip. This was promising to be a great night. You wonder why you haven't asked him to do this sooner.

Before you have a second to realize what's happening, Hobie deftly picks you up again and spins you around, so your back was pressed against his chest as he spread your legs over his thighs, your pussy bare and exposed as he reaches down and spreads your lips with his fingers, toying with the delicate, weeping flesh, there, avoiding your puffy clit entirely.

"Jus--fuck--Hobie!" You squirm, gripping his forearms with your hands with an impatient whine.

"Ay, you're the one bein' a brat, luv. Brats don't get rewarded for bad behavior." He hummed, continuing to play with you like he had not a care in the world, teasing your hole, gliding back up again--but still avoiding your clit.

"N-now you sound like those fuckin' assholes in charge!" You grunt, impatiently trying to arch into his touch to get the friction you crave so badly.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that.

"Oh, am I now?" Hobie hummed innocently, his mouth at your shoulder.

You could feel the bastard smirk as he pulled his hands away from your slick and aching cunt, making you whine in protest.

You were quickly silenced when one of his hands smooths between your shoulders and forces you forward a bit, his other hand guiding your hips where he wanted it as he lined his cock up.

"Y-yeah you f--ffffuuuuuck!" Your voice raises in pitch when he slams you down on his dick, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible.

He groans at how tight you are, feeling your velvety walls squeeze and flutter around him through the condom.

"Oh, fuck, luv. Goddamn." He hisses through gritted teeth.

When you tried to straighten back up again, his hand goes back to in-between your shoulder blades, forcing your upper body forward again, his other hand kneading your ass and spreading your cheeks as he started ruthlessly snapping his hips up into yours, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched his latex-wrapped cock get swallowed by your greedy cunt again and again, already leaving a nice, creamy little ring towards the base of the condom.

Fuck. This was hot. One minute you two were hanging out, chilling, and now you're pitched over as Hobie just ruts into you like a horny animal.

"Fuck!" Hobie grunted, pulling you back against him, one of his hands snakes around you to tug on one of your nipple piercings, making you moan pathetically.

"Don' make me do all the work, luv. Help me out." He pants in your ear.

The only sounds you can let out are breathy little "ah's" and "fuck's" with each grind of his hips.

Your arms have to stretch to grip at something, anything to give you a bit of leverage as you just keep bouncing on his cock with everything you have, the ridges and bumps of the condom combined with his calculated thrusts hit every single spot inside of you; his hand fondling your piercings sending fresh sparks down your spine, driving your second orgasm closer and closer to crest.

"Fuckin'... damn. Look at you go." Hobie chuckles heavily in your ear, sweat beading and dripping down his brow.

"Taking me so nice... Bouncing on my dick a good girl." He hisses when he feels you tighten up around him.

"Shit, you're so fuckin' greedy--" He growls, fucking up into you with more force, your tits bouncing so much now that one more tug of your piercings send you over the edge, your vision blurring slightly as you cum around Hobie's cock, still pummeling your cunt with purpose.

Your pace slows a bit as you whimper and whine, and that isn't enough for Hobie.

He forces you back over again, gripping your hips in his hands as yours grip the coffee table in front of you for stability.

"Not... fuckin'... done yet!" He grunts, his hips completely lifting off the cushions with each roll and thrust as he chases his own orgasm, the squeezing muscles of your pussy choking the air out of his lungs as he feels his balls draw taut.

He grits his teeth tightly, his abs flexing with effort as he fucks into you, his cum spurting and filling the condom as he huffs and groans, riding his orgasm out like you were some sex toy.

He pulls you against him, his cock still inside you, twitching as you both breathe heavily, your head leaning back against his shoulder.

"Fuck... god." You groan with satisfaction.

"Yeah, you just did." Hobie grins like the cheeky shit that he is.

"Fuckin' git." You laugh, smacking him with the back of your hand softly; his hand catching yours as his thumb caresses your knuckles.

"Wanna go for round two?" You snicker.

"Well, we got one condom left." He tilts his head.

"What are friends for, right?"

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

New series idea: analysing my favourite (underrated) lines from Six of Crows

I feel like I haven't given you any analysis in a while, and I've had this idea for some time now so I thought it was worth giving it a try. This is going to be a list of my personal favourite quotes in Chapter 2 of Six of Crows with explanation/analysis for any that I have an explanation/analysis for - but if a famous or popular quote isn't included then it's not because I don't like it, it's just because I don't feel I have anything new to add to the existing analyses around it. And yeah, if you guys like this then I'll make it a more regular thing and go through chapter by chapter (probably sometimes including multiple chapters in one post), so let me know what you think!

(Also, I chose to start with Chapter 2 on purpose because I don't have loads to say about Chapter 1, but if anyone is interested I'm open to trying it in the future)

"every favour came with enough strings attached to stage a puppet show" - ugh words cannot explain my love of this quote. Not only is this a gorgeous and vibrant metaphor that brings forth very clear imagery, it also achieves two different concepts relating to the idea of the "puppet show". Firstly, we have the idea that Kaz is the puppet master and Ketterdam is his stage; he is in complete control, he can bend the city to his whims, and it's ultimate his say that can make or break someone. This is definitely the image we're given of Kaz in the opening two chapters, and this singular line really reinforces that, however the rest of the book and many of the descriptions in Crooked Kingdom unravel this view very quickly. This description far better fits Pekka Rollins, which brings me onto the other concept relating to the "puppet show": the question of who it actually is pulling the strings. Arguably Kaz is a puppet on Rollins' stage, and Rollins a puppet on the Merchant Councils'. each has power but each is ultimately at the whims of the other. This brings worth the suggestion that something darker is at play and that there's far more to Kaz than initally meets the eyes before we've even met him, so in short it's just completely and utter genius.

"Kaz hated a puzzle he couldn't solve, and he and Inej had concocted a hundred theories to account for the murder - none of which satisfied" - again, Kaz has thus far said a single line, and not one with a lot of information in it ("Yes and no. It's always good to have a country in debt to you, makes for friendlier negotiations) and yet we know so much about him - and even some details about his relationship with Inej! It even tells us a lot about Inej; we've been presented with a figure heralded as near-omnipotent in his city, someone no-one wants to be on the wrong side of, someone who has complete control over every conversation he has with you, and she is someone with whom he will spend hours trying to solve a riddle? So then, the reader is forced to think, what kind of power does she has? What makes her worthy of his closeness, why does he trust her, and why does she know him well enough to so intimately know his likes and dislikes? Inej hasn't even spoken yet.

"But it didn't feel neutral to Inej. It felt like the hush of the woods before the snare yanks tight and the rabbit starts to scream" - ok most of my enjoyment of this quote is just of the beautiful prose, however I would like to add that all six Crows experienced this sort of 'calm before the storm' leading up to the most painful experiences of their lives - Wylan thinking he could go to music school, Inej at the beach with her parents and calling sleepily to the man she though was her father, Kaz staying at the cafe and meeting Margit and Saskia, Matthias knowing he was going to be a big brother, Jesper seeing his mother for the last time when she picked him up and hugged him even though he was up past his bedtime, Nina feeling that she had purpose and loving the way she could help her country - so this could be considered foreshadowing.

" 'Care to place a wager?' Jesper asked.

'I'm not going to bet on my own death,'

Kaz flipped his hat onto his head and ran his gloved fingers along the brim in a quick saulte. 'Why not Bolliger? We do it every day,' "

"Kaz had done his best to teach her, but she didn't quite have his way with breaking and entering, and it took her a few tries to finesse the lock" - my main source for liking this quote comes from an analysis I did a while ago when someone asked me about comapring this quote and Kaz's self-proclaimed "shoddy job" of teaching her to pick locks. It's a while since I posted that so I'll run through it here briefly, basically it's very indicative of their relationship dynamic. Whilst both place the other on a pedestal, they do it in different ways, and Kaz particularly often glorifies Inej and almost finds it difficult to accept that she, like anyone, must be flawed. So if she fails at something, like picking locks as well as he can, and she cannot possibly be flawed then the error must be in his teaching - it can never be with her. It's also a glaring example of Kaz's self-destructive nature. My other reason for liking this quotes is just that it once again tells us about the characters so early on and without having to directly explain it to us - we know Kaz is good with locks because he tried to teach Inej and she isn't as good as him, but she still manages to get it open.

' "I'm a business man,' he'd told her, 'No more, no less,'

'You're a thief, Kaz,'

'Isn't that what I just said?' " - I ADORE this, but honestly all I can say for analysis is that it sums up the entire theme of the novels beuatifully.

"Now he looked like some kind of priest come to preach to a group of circus performers" - this sets up a great parallel that I've mentioned before in one of my "little details you might have missed/forgotten" posts, but it's also interesting to have it come from Inej's perspective since she's incredibly religious and performed as a travelling acrobat with her family. It's probably drawn from personal experience, someone in dark clothes who judges the brightness of Suli traditional clothing and/or culture and tries to preach religion to a group who've already long found it because they don't align with thier idea of religion. It's even possible that she links that idea with Kaz, not because of his actions but because he's from a country that has perversely sexualised and condemned her culture and he dresses like the rich merchants who would preach this exact kind of message - and possibly even have visited her at the Menagerie, where she was forced to appropriate her own heritage and way of life for the enjoyment of those who look down it with no reason for doing so.

"Inej pitied the boy who might die alone with no one to comfort him in his last hours or who might live and spend his life as an exile. But the night's work wasn't over yet, and the Wraith didn't have time for traitors" - this is one of the few but fabulous examples we get of the idea that "Inej" and "the Wraith" are separate entities; Inej being the girl she was, the girl she should have been, and the Wraith being a creation of necessity to aid survival. Inej is a religious young woman from Ravka who has been through far more than she should have done, but the Wraith was born and raised on the blood-soaked streets of Ketterdam and has every intention of surviving them - no matter the cost. This concept is only mentioned a few times, however it runs a beautiful parallel with the distinction between Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker, or Kaz and Dirtyhands depending on how you look at it.

Ok I realise this is a pretty long post but thanks for reading it if you got this far, and I really enjoyed making this so please let me know if you guys would enjoy seeing more. And, in summary, Leigh Bardugo is a genius

[solar93-osc]

okay I'm going to write a little something about the this real quick* because it's actually annoying me

*this took over an hour

this is going to be a long post so I'll put it under a cut

THE TACO AND MIC REUNION AND HOW IT WAS HANDLED

BACKSTORY

now, I feel like we should clear up the timeline first. this scene was, honestly, a lot worse than it probably should've been, but I think we should explain what has happened so far so you have a good idea in case you forgot.

taco's side first:

mic, her closest friend in her life, has recently left, turning a metaphorical knife in her back that was there since the end of s1

she has tried to convince the rest of the contestants to leave - to her knowledge, nobody did

taco has just tried making up with pickle, only to be terribly rebuffed

pickle has disappeared and is unrecoverable

taco has been sitting next to his body, possibly even thinking it was somehow her fault

mic, who she never thought was coming back, just has entered the room

and from mic's side:

she has left taco, someone who she was close with but whom she knew to be toxic and manipulative for however long the show has been taking place

contestants are beginning to disappear. they can't be revived

her current closest friend (by the looks of things), soap, has also disappeared

all the alive contestants are gathering so they can protect each other

baseball and mepad have just said, though subtly, that taco is in the hotel. she's decided to go with them.

she briefs baseball and mepad on what happened (and vice versa), then opens the door to find taco sitting beside her dead friend

so yeah. a lot has happened - keep in mind at this point it hasn't even been a full two days since ii14 in canon. which is, surprisingly enough, not a lot of time to process.

we know mic is, by design, an empathetic person. this does not mean she forgives easily.

we also know taco is, by design, a manipulative mastermind. she has no motivations, due to having no past.

now I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent here.

as someone with a typically dislikable characteristic as their main trait, taco is not one who can gain friends easily. the first thing taco ever did was hide behind a mask, one of immaturity and recklessness. her first ever friend was someone loyal and trusting, who's heart latched on and completely broke when taco was revealed to be someone else

pickles main trait, his loyalty, is one that goes great with manipulativeness until that mask is uncovered - and when it is, hatred and hurt can set in easily.

taco's first friend was one who would instantly leave if she revealed herself. so when she snapped, the bond that had been made despite her cover disappeared too. her first friend was one destined to leave her.

you can probably understand how this feeds into taco having problems with trust. when she saw mic struggling with having any sort of friendship, she understood the feeling. she knew what she could do to pull her strings.

she also knew she shouldn't get attached quickly. anything she did was for the prize, which was, in taco's eyes, rightfully hers. she couldn't get carried away again, as any friend she had she thought would leave, as it was the only type of friendship she had felt.

eventually, taco began to get attached to microphone, and as they spent more and more time together taco felt closer with her than she had anyone else, despite her attempts to stop herself clinging on.

so, when mic left her, she broke again. she thought it impossible for herself to be redeemed, she only hurt and hurt, both herself and others, and the cause of it was the game. after all, there's no point being a mastermind if you have nothing to aim for.

meanwhile, mic has being experiencing this differently.

she could barely ever win challenges, and when she did she gained no recognition from her teammates. everybody she knew hated her from the beginning, from her disabilities (like controlling how loud her voice was), and any help she could be was instantly disregarded.

her first interaction with taco was taco reading out her insecurity back to her. not a solid first encounter. taco was, on the surface, taking advantage of her. it should've been obvious.

key word: should've. mic, however, was so desperate for connection at the time that she only grew more and more attached, ignoring any red flags. taco was slowly getting more kind and considerate of her too rather than just being a behind-the-scenes controller, spurring her to disregard anything she had previously suspected.

knife slowly helped her. he helped her think more about everything going on, his repeated statements and clear hatred of taco making her start to doubt the person who was almost everything she had.

eventually, when the story of taco's old alliance was brought up, she thought there was no way out. that at some point soon, taco would leave her behind and only hurt her more.

so, she took initiative. she left first.

leaving someone you're close to isn't easy, but it clearly had a good impact on mic as in ii16 we see her a lot happier than she was, with a lot more stress off her back and a good friend in soap. but you can tell how she still clings on if you look hard enough. but she can't let herself trust taco again.

they certainly have parallels, at this point. not letting themselves trust the other, a lack of close friendship, struggles with their insecurity.

THE SCENE

so, when you put two people in a room together during a world-threatening situation, apologies have to be a little rushed. but even with this, I still don't think it was written too well.

the first words mic speaks to taco since she turned a dagger in her back are:

"I hear everything, remember?"

I think you can tell a lot from this line. no awkward entrance with the tension that should obviously be necessary for this scene, rather, an intense need to cut to the point. she quickly follows it up, telling taco she knows what happened after she had left.

taco is clearly clinging on. the first full sentence she says in this conversation is trying to reassure mic that she hasn't hurt her more by letting the secret out. mic cuts her off, saying she knows. taco is scared about how much mic knows about her - they aren't working together anymore, so any piece of information she has let out can be turned against her.

when mic sits down, taco moves away. the way mic is talking makes it clear that there is something wrong here. she left taco. taco thinks she hates her, yet mic still talks to her like she had never left.

mic is still acting all buddy-buddy with taco, despite what happened. it's obvious how this makes taco uncomfortable. both her friends have left, and the first time this happened they were so distant and cold to her when she tried to apologise. in taco's eyes, this shouldn't be happening. mic should be distant and cold like pickle was, not still kind and warm.

mic changes the subject when it drifts too close to her departure. it's a sore wound for the both of them, and she's treating taco carefully as they need her on board, not even more distant.

taco definitely feels old connections coming back. you can see in truth or flare how scared she is of the idea of microphone coming and finding her. and yet, in this scene, taco finds herself telling mic what happened between her and pickle, albeit a summarised version.

heck, she even apologises to mic just because taco's moral compass has shifted and mic says that it's the right thing to do. she follows mic, despite only having a one minute conversation on the edge of falling off and cracking again. she spends the whole time opening herself up to mic, apologising, doing anything she can to try and make mic feel better.

this scene, from taco's side, is odd, so, so odd, but sweet.

if viewed from mic, though, it's different.

she never lets her feelings slip during this conversation. not once. sure, she mentions she thought taco would dispose of her, but look into it, is there any emotion behind that line?

she's walking a careful path the whole time, cautious to not fall too far into distance that taco won't come with her, yet not too close, either, so that she won't grow attached again or things won't be too rushed, delayed, or complicated.

she doesn't console taco when she says pickle hates her. rather, she points out taco's mistake, that what she's done is objectively wrong.

she changes the subject again when it gets too close, thinking she's done enough to have taco on board. but one thing here sticks out to me the most about mic:

MIC NEVER SAYS SHE FORGIVES TACO.

mic is a truthful person, who finds it hard to lie. that is a core part of her arc, a core part of her personality, a core part of the reason she left.

she mentions that "you don't say sorry to make it better".

I think though mic will forgive her eventually, the moment is far too soon. they both need a lot more time and in a moment where the lives of everyone they know are literally crumbling before them.

CONCLUSION

yeah so this scene pretty much sucked. there are a few good parts, yes, but there is nothing there. there is tension, I suppose, but it feels forced in, the conversation doesn't feel natural in any way. I'm actually tempted to rewrite it.

taco apologised far too quickly. this I will stand by. mic needs to have more emotion in her dialouge (though to be fair so does taco), I feel like mepad should've had a larger part too. there is so much that's just... missing.

tl;dr: they should've spent more time on this scene. mic didn't even leave two days ago, and when you take that into account along with everything else, nothing is natural.

this took over an hour please fucking help me

[toastedcinnamonflakes]

Guide on How to Improve Your Reading Level

So. You want to improve your reading level. You currently read only “easy” stories – for example Colleen Hoover. But you want to challenge yourself. You want to read more.

Well, let me help you. I am compiling a guide for you here to help you get more advanced with your reading. I have sorted literature into different levels, and will give you suggestions for each level. This is not an all-encompassing guide, more like a guideline – obviously I don’t know every single author. I will try to stick to authors that are all also available in English, but if one or two sneak in that are not available in English, or your main language, I apologise. I encourage you to seek suggestions outside of this, too. A good place to get good recommendations and not just the same five #BookTok books over and over again are actually newspapers and magazines with a Feuilleton! You can also message me for some tips, or find other book blogs on tumblr. I am sure most are glad to help.

I am not sorting these books by categories like “Children’s books”, “Young adult” or similar, because I find that within those loose categories, books can vary wildly. Instead, I am focusing on complexity, length, necessary existing knowledge and other factors. Without further ado, let me begin!

Level 1: Books that are short, to the point, without complex vocabulary. There usually are no metaphors there, and if there are, you do not necessarily HAVE to dive into them, the story makes sense nonetheless. You do not need to have any pre-existing knowledge to understand them, either. They are also either stand-alones or can be read as stand-alones, so you do not have to commit to a long series.

Such books are:

Most books by Dyanna Wynne Jones, especially her Fantasy novels

Books by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Most books by Leigh Bardugo (although is STRONGLY discourage you from reading the Shadow and Bone trilogy, those books are messy, unimaginative and kinda sexist. She found her literary footing after that.)

Books by Michael Ende

Most books by Erich Kästner (his few excursions into adult literature are more complex and require some previous knowledge about the Weimar Republic)

Books by Alexander Kielland Krag

Books by Walter Moers

Most books by V.E. Schwab

Books by Axie Oh

Books by Naomi Novik

Books by Casey McQuiston

Books by Kai Meyer

Books by Marissa Meyer

Books by T.J. Klune

Level 2: Now we are coming onto books that, while mostly still short, use a bit more complex vocabulary and/or metaphor. So, you might be required to not take everything literally and do a bit of interpretation. Occasionally, you might need to do a quick Wikipedia read to get context for the book. The characters are becoming a bit more complex, too, but often the text itself explains character’s motivations/thoughts directly.

Books that fit that description are for example:

"Convenience Store Woman" by Sayaka Murata

“Swimming in the Dark” by Tomasz Jędrowski

“Kim Jiyoung, born 1982” by Cho Nam-Joo

Books by Phillip Pullman, in particular his “Golden Compass” Trilogy

“Iron Widow” by Xiran Jay Zhao

“Fire and Hemlock” by Dyanna Wynne Jones

Books by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Books by Celeste Ng

“The last Unicorn” by Peter S. Beagle

Level 3: Now we are reaching books that use complex vocabulary, maybe you even need to look up a word or two (but this is how you expand your own vocabulary). The sentences are more complex, the stories are constructed in a more complex way (but still usually follow one narrative string), the characters are most of the time nuanced. You will need to pay attention to the subtext and do some interpreting of your own. Some of these books have the labels “classic” attached to them, but don’t let that scare you – in fact, for most classics, you will be able to look up information/interpretations online if you are struggling. We also have some books now that are either parts of a longer series or parts of a bigger canon (not all of them, some are still stand-alones).

Such books are for example:

Books by Agatha Christie

Books by Selma Lagerlöf (although I have to say, she very often uses metaphors, dream-sequences and similar narrative devices)

Books by Terry Pratchett

Andrzej Sapkowski’s “Witcher”Saga

“The Shadow land” by Elizabeth Kostova

Books by Joan Lindsay

“A hero of our time” by Michail Lermontow

“Sauhund” by Lion Christ

Most books/short stories by Nikolai Gogol

Some of Stanislaw Lem’s books, like “The Star Diaries”, “Tales of Pirx the Pilot”

Books by Hanne Ørstavik, particularly the books before “Love”

Books by Gerd Brantenberg

“Revolutionary Road” by Richard Yates

“Carmilla” by Sheridan Le Fanu

The “Sherlock Holmes” Stories by Arthur Conan Doyle

Level 4: On this level, the vocabulary is advanced and the sentence structure is complex. The characters are multi-dimensional, complicated and explored on a psychological level.

The books want to say something, and often say it through the use of metaphors. You need to be attentive while reading, maybe even take some notes, if you really want to get to the bottom with your interpretation. Still, the books follow a (mostly) clear plotline and while there are occasionally some “non-realistic” elements in them like Dreams, they are still somewhat grounded in a fictional reality that mostly mirrors our own. Many of these novels are also long.

Jane Austen’s books

Fyodor Dostoevsky’s books

“Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier

“Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte

“Wuthering Heights” by Emily Bronte

“Agnes Grey” and “The Tennant of Wildfell Hall” by Anne Bronte

Plays by Friedrich Schiller

Plays by Henrik Ibsen

Most books by the Strugatzki brothers

“War and Peace” and “Anna Karenina” by Lew Tolstoi

“Dracula” by Bram Stoker

“Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley

books by Jeannette Winterson

books by Charles Dickens

Short stories by Anton Tschechow

Books by Michail Bulgakow

Level 5: Now we have reached the territory of the truly advanced reader. These books are not simple by any stretch of the word. These novels are not always more complex than the ones on level four vocabularly-wise, but they require you to have pre-existing knowledge of other works of literature (they often make references). You need to pay close attention while reading, perhaps re-read passages multiple times. The structure of these novels is often non-linear and/or experimental. They are mostly not “realistic”, rely heavily on metaphors, symbols and signs within the text. They can be confusing at times. Often, they play with the language and experiment. The meaning of these novels is multi-layered, and interpretations can differ wildly.

Such books are:

“If on a winter’s night a traveler” by Italo Calvino

“The experiment” by the brothers Strugatzki

Almost everything by Karen Blixen (“Out of Africa” is a bit easier, though still very complex and there are many symbols in that novel, too)

Books by Jon Fosse

“The Key” by Junichiro Tanizaki

Books by Osamu Dazai

“Catherine House” by Elisabeth Thomas (okay, I was conflicted where to put this – the vocab is not that difficult, but the structure is very unclear and dream-like and it puts a lot of emphasis on symbols. Maybe it would be good to start your journey to Level 5 novels with this one, if you are not very confident in your reading abilities)

Books by Han Kang

“The futurological congress” by Stanislaw Lem

Books by Günter Grass

“The Man Outside” by Wolfgang Borchert

Books by Slavenka Draculic (specifically her novels, her essays have a different style, obviously)

Books by Sjon

Short stories by Edgar Allan Poe

Books by Vladimir Sorokin

Books by Angela Carter

“Kult” by Ljubko Deresch

Most books by Vladimir Nabokov

Tales by E.T.A. Hoffman

The differing factor between these last two levels often is the STRUCTURE of the novels. I am making this distinction because I have seen that quite a few people struggle with experimentalist/surrealist/non-linear structure.

Others of these stories have a more linear structure, yes, but require you to dig deep beneath the surface to find out the meaning of various symbols in order to interpret the story.

Also, pay attention to the language! Many of these authors, like Nabokov, play around with double-meanings, similar sounding words (homophones) and even more than one language.

I hope this guide helps. Obviously, it is not perfect, but it should give you an idea where to start and where to progress. It is important to have fun while reading, and there is no shame in jumping between the levels. But, you should challenge yourself: You are smart! You can understand difficult things! Yes, it might be hard at first, but precisely because of that you should keep trying. If you never challenge yourself, you will never get better.

I wish you all the best on your reading journey <3

[hal-1500]

Extremely important to me that Jenny spends the entirety of her canon relationship with Giles being flirty and bantery and taking great delight in flustering him and deliberately pushing him out of his comfort zone and generally broadcasting an aura of, "Haha, this is such a fun, light-hearted, casual, sexy distraction with no feelings or strings attached!! Haha!! I can stop any time I like!!"

BUT pretty much any time Giles expresses insecurity or uncertainty about their relationship or tries to give her an out or pulls away, she metaphorically steps closer to him, totally giving the lie to her already-paper-thin assertions of detachment.

A non-exhaustive list of my favourite examples of this:

Exhibit A: Even in I Robot, You Jane, every time Giles tries to escape Jenny and her needling, she follows him around like a little cat, or reminds him that, hey, we were fighting, actually, so come back here and pay attention to me!!

Exhibit B: At the end of Some Assembly Required, when Giles is clearly thinking that their first date has gone badly off the rails, *she's* the one who floats the idea of a second date.

Exhibit C: In School Hard, when Giles suggests that he'd understand if Jenny didn't want to see him anymore, she *literally* takes his arm like they're the romantic leads in a Golden Age Hollywood film, and the look on her face shows she knows *exactly* what she's doing.

Exhibit D: During Ted, after the conversation with Giles in her classroom, she fucking chases him down mid-patrol, in a cemetery, at night, in a vampire town, on the Hellmouth to patch things up - even though he's the one fled her classroom after failing to respect her boundaries.

And the best bit is that so much of Jenny's character and arc are the result of shoddy writing but it all combines to create this situation where she's both transparently in love with Giles and completely in denial about it.

She's holding him at arms-length all the time but, if he even *looks* like pulling away, she holds on so tight! If he runs, she chases. She's got it so bad and she doesn't even know!

And, really, how can you not love her for that??

[theromanticscrooge]

Mr. Gar, a Fount of Masculinity and the Step Dad that Stepped Up

Mr. Gar is introduced as this stoic, gruff picture of manliness. The most promising up-and-coming heroes at the Plaza, Rad and Enid, work and train directly under him. Most Boxmore threats are small enough that Mr. Gar trusts Rad and Enid to handle things but when the stakes get a little too high, he parts the clouds themselves and enters the fray. He's a slightly mysterious, larger than life figure; the pinnacle of role models and exactly who K.O. aspires to be when he's older.

At the start of the series, viewers only see the stoic facade crack around Carol. He becomes an anxious, tongue-tied wreck. Its an achievement if he's able to string together anything close to a coherent sentence around her. The first hints viewers get about their history together are the Silver Spark portrait on Mr. Gar's desk and the sub sandwich flashbacks. Everyone is aware of how he feels about Carol and even ship them together to some degree. Carol wants to talk to him and reconnect, even when she has to take the initiative in general conversations. So, the question becomes what's actually stopping Mr. Gar here?

--

In the POINT flashbacks, the young Mr. Gar is the anxious, meek, tongue-tied luchador-themed hero El Bow. El Bow was very much a capable and talented hero. He was one of three hand-picked junior candidates to join the prestigious hero team POINT. Before that, he was known and highly respected for his lucha libre, as revealed and fangirled over by Punching Judy. Though these parts of his character are dramatically overshadowed by his seeming lack of confidence and self-esteem. The handful of screen time El Bow has are usually centered on how hard he's crushing on his coworker Silver Spark. He's so focused on drumming up the courage to confess his feelings that it takes a comment from Rippy for him to clock how obvious Silver and Laserblast are. Laser made a move the minute he met Silver. El Bow knew her long enough to develop a rapport and become close friends, but he was waiting for the 'perfect moment' to say something.

Because Laser and Silver were getting more serious, El Bow felt a 'now or never' compulsion to confess. During the three-man mission to discover what was going on with the donut shop, El Bow was focused on confessing over everything else. Seeing Laser flirt with Silver was agony. It was the final pin pull on the metaphorical grenade. The confession had to be now. El Bow still wasn't quite ready, hence the hemming and hawwing and stumbling over his words, but he finally had the momentum to follow through. He 'distracts' Silver long enough that she can't reach Laser in time. The donut shop gets sucked into a black hole. Laser is presumably dead. Silver and the entirety of POINT wrongfully blame El Bow for the tragic event, his friends ice him out, and he's unceremoniously dismissed from his position.

Another dimension to El Bow is his cultural identity as a masked wrestler. A luchador is traditionally part of an established family stable and has a legacy attached to their mask along with their title. Lucha libre typically features teams of three, too. In El Bow's case, his stand-in for the classic lucha team were Silver and Rippy. They're as much extended family as they are friends and teammates. When El Bow loses his mask, its a dramatic visual signifier for the death of both his identity and former life. That's why Mr. Gar deliberately refuses to go by that previous title and refers to it as something separate or other. He had to completely rebuild himself as well as the parts, pieces, and meaning of his life from the ground up.

Mr. Gar has a literal wanderer phase of his life where he walks aimlessly long enough his clothes get tattered and his hair grows into a long, unruly mass. He's lost and confused, but always stops along the way to help people in need. Even without POINT or El Bow, he became a hero because of an earnest desire to help others and stop bad guys. El Bow was just a moniker. The essence of who he was is still there; the new journey is figuring out what to do now and who he wants to become. Then Mr. Gar meets the President of the Universe and is assigned a new mission that aligns better with who he is and what he can do: protect the glorb tree and build a supply chain store for heroes.

The President of the Universe could be seen as a fun, campy stand-in for a person finding newfound purpose through religion. Or someone reconnecting with their spirituality in general. Sometimes, the parables, teaching, and morals connected to a religious practice or diving more into philosophy give a person that feels lost and directionless a good foundation for introspection. It can be a line thrown out to sea that guides them back to shore. Its a starting line that gives them the means to start exploring and learning about the more abstract part of 'what is life' that leads to growth, change, and hopefully, self improvement. Mr. Gar building the Plaza leads to him becoming the hero and legend of Mr. Gar. He's not attached to POINT. He lives and sustains a separate venture that promotes a more independent, self-discovery approach towards being a hero. There aren't concrete benchmarks or specific guidelines, but Mr. Gar gladly gives advice and presents a great space to help somebody figure out what direction works for them.

Enid in particular benefits from how much more open training at the Bodega is vs the more structured training and education at POINT. There's three particular classifications a POINT Prep student could be sorted into: logic, strength, or charisma. While the different areas overlap, there's still pressure to conform to titles like 'the smart one' or 'the charismatic one.' The charisma students, ala Elodie, are the most likely to be popular and well liked. In short, POINT Prep promotes and curates specific visions of what a hero should be like. With Mr. Gar, he pinpointed Enid and Rad's respective strengths and encourages their next moves or training based on what makes sense for them individually vs a strict, one-size-fits-few curriculum. Enid ultimately chooses Gar's Bodega over POINT Prep because his more free-form approach as a mentor is a better fit for her. She's still trying to figure out what kind of hero she is and wants to be. As it was, POINT Prep is a better match for someone that already knows who they are and what their ultimate goals are (hence why Elodie thrived in that environment).

--

While Mr. Gar eventually recreated himself, he still bottled up and buried El Bow, Laserblast, and POINT. He refuses to confront what happened and as a result, has stilted, awkward run-ins with Carol. Talking to Carol in a deeper, more meaningful way than "How are you?" means he has to unpack his guilt over Laserblast's demise. Carol has processed what happened, realized that if she had run in she might have 'died' along with Laser, and that she lost an important friendship. She learned to live with what happened, in large part to be an aware and active parent for K.O., and is trying to live as full and satisfying a life she can now. Yes Mr. Gar built the Bodega and became an impressive, respected figure in his own right, but part of him is stuck in the past on that horrible night.

In his mind, he might as well be the one that killed Laser instead of the black hole. The angry, upset Carol in the constantly rewound tape of his mind's eye is more tangible and immediate than Carol in reality. Mr. Gar is so scared that if he actually tries to talk to her, it would be an instant means to transport him back to that painful transition period between losing El Bow and who Mr. Gar is now. Its a weird balance: the tragedy rules his life to the point that it makes it difficult for Mr. Gar to be vulnerable but admitting it happened would supposedly shatter what peace and status quo Mr. Gar managed to achieve otherwise.

Traditionally, men are encouraged to ignore and bury trauma. Its presented as a simple obstacle that can be overcome with enough will power. Instead of the overcome by willpower tack, the dramatic slow-mo sandwich drop and ensuing story beat build towards similar 'talk things out' deconstruction that toons like Steven Universe regularly visit. One particular episode depicts Mr. Gar cowering at the sight of a younger Carol on a giant flying sub. It shows that Mr. Gar's attempts to ignore that particular event and the heavy emotions around it have been ineffective. He's a lot more self-confident and actualized. He can handle rude customers, tough bad guys, and most things that come his way, but brute force will not overcome trauma. Its something that haunts him like a ghost. Posing this as his greatest fear helps paint just how overwhelming trauma can be if not the importance of recognizing its effects on mental and emotional health period.

When Mr. Gar finally does talk to Carol, it's like opening a pressure valve. Its a release. Carol reassures him that he's not responsible for what happened with Laser and that she's sorry for blaming him. Hearing someone say this out loud, even if Mr. Gar had come to that conclusion himself, makes this concrete. Now he fully recognizes that the Carol in his mind is a projection; nowhere close to the present-day reality of the person he's talking to. After they finally talk, they start to reconcile, grow close again, and even start dating.

Their romance is a more in-the-background slow burn with the exception of the cute picnic date, but its rewarding to see play out. If anything, it shows that Mr. Gar is working through his trauma to the point that he has more meaningful and deep conversations with Carol. He trusts her enough to fully let his guard down and honestly let her in. Granted, it'd be nice to see a more detailed conversation between them about her still working for POINT in secret. Though, its not too much of a stretch that they built a strong enough foundation to work through that and fully talk things out later.

--

After working at the Bodega for awhile and Mr. Gar dating his mom, K.O. openly admits to Mr. Gar that he sees him as a father figure. At first, Mr. Gar looks baffled, but he ultimately decides to fill this role as best he can. Employing K.O. started as a favor to Carol. Through his general interactions and one-on-one time with the kid, he comes to care about him as much as his other pupils Rad and Enid. He recognizes the gravity of the role K.O. is asking him to fill. As far as they both know, K.O.'s bio-dad is dead, Carol's immediate friends and clients are other moms and older women, and Mr. Gar's pupils/adoptive family are pretty much K.O.'s older siblings anyway. K.O. is expressing his need for an older male role model; not just the ambiguous figure of Chip Damage he only ever gets cues from through TV appearances and action figures.

Mr. Gar is right there. He's reliable, he's a powerful hero, he's an enthusiastically Carol-approved symbol of masculinity. He's the picture of what K.O. wants to be like. The montage revealing that Mr. Gar and Carol started dating features happy, domestic scenes with Mr. Gar filling the role of 'dad' well enough that K.O. reflects on that with a smile. That particular scene with K.O. and Mr. Gar on the Bodega roof for a stake-out is the result most blended families hope for when a new parent enters the scene. The new parent, in this case Mr. Gar, has organically meshed with the existing family and carved out a spot that's unanimously accepted.

Considering how Mr. Gar is written and presented, he's an example of a positive masculine role model. He's tough, he's stern, and he kicks ass, but he's also patient and learning how important it is to be open and vulnerable. In the very last episode, its a mark of how much of an impact Mr. Gar had when an adult K.O. not only takes over the Bodega, but also his spot for an aerial attack from the clouds.

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Deathless Thoughts:

I only read this book in full once in 2017 and have only really paged through it a lot since. I definitely found it much more deliberate and thematically coherent this time around. I remember initially feeling like the surrealism and constant jumps ahead were disjointed but it reads very cohesively to me now. I’m very curious if that will continue past the latter 50% which I haven’t reread yet. I remember starkly disliking that portion and I have no idea if I’ll feel similarly this time around— because I already enjoyed the second act much more on reread and acknowledged its purpose, when up until now I did not lol

My initial thoughts were that the fantasy elements were too surreal to care about and that the relationship was too much of a nothing, with too little not unpleasant screen time to justify its centrality to the plot. But having read more classic surrealist Russian lit has familiarized me to the former and makes me actually understand what it’s going for. And for the latter I think I’m just more onboard with unpleasantness and abuse being the point. So currently, my perspective is almost wholly positive.

I enjoy the book’s use of its subject material— fairytales set in actual history— as many many metaphors. First folktales and fantasy specifically in the Soviet era, so rife with censorship, as a vehicle for allegory, their use and importance in literature itself being a motif. Then the metaphor for inexorable class hierarchies and unchangeable power structures before and after the revolution, the way only the branding changed, but the power structures remained. And also, most pervasively, as a way to examine gender roles and gendered loss of agency; the politics of a marriage.

I really liked the way the novel built up Koschei and how everything is about Marya’s relationship with Koschei (her relationship with agency and the lack thereof) even when he’s fairly infrequently on screen. From her sister’s bird husbands in the opening, and child Marya’s musing on the potential transformative nature of marriage— but also the inherently unequal power dynamic and resolving that she will do/be better because she knows more than they did. To the metaphor of her thinking that a secret will treat her well and then later the line where the personified secret is then likened to a husband who will be her ruin. Even that when Koschei finally shows up to take her away it’s compared to being taken away by the revolutionary government/the police.

Marya is herself highlighted for her knowledge and her desire for it. Specifically the ability to see discrepancies in the stories she is told whether that is the magical or ideological and political. The sisters in the opening marry into seemingly static unmoving snapshots of history. Meanwhile Marya’s singled out in her precociousness and open admittance of there being anything completely beyond the ideologies presented by each suitor in his human form [the power structure of the Tsarist state, and the Soviet Union]. She’s defined by wanting to see beyond dichotomies and limited scopes of propaganda. She sees it as a skill, and it is, but it’s also something that singles her out for misery, both by her peers (the scarf incident) and by the likes of Koschei who is specifically drawn to willfulness and a lack of adherence to a particular role with the intent of breaking that will.

The entire seduction segment that is turning all the food and her illness into an erotic power exchange is also just explicitly about breaking her will, and fostering perfect obedience and dependence on him. It’s also really interesting that, in going with him, she does somewhat lucidly give up and trade away her agency/ability to dictate a story/her own perspective in exchange for being physically well cared for. (But then even that is very thorny and with many strings attached)

So by part two, she is stuck in the dichotomy of “who is to rule” and either she can be a Yelena/Vasalisa or a soon-to-be Baba Yaga. Yet, either way, she is never good enough and it is still inevitably an exploitative and draining situation.

Marya being successful in her willingness to do degrading and cruel things to earn Baba Yaga’s blessing and Koschei’s favor being punctuated by all her friends— who without which she would never have succeeded at all— dying horribly illustrates that so well. In her success she is only further isolated. She will never repay their help, because being Tsaritsa of Buyan, and having any sort of power, is inherently antithetical to that.

The emphasis on Lebedeva’s girlboss magic makeup and the passage about Marya being told that girls must care only for vapid, pretty things, among other moments, might feel extremely dated. But I do think they’re intended to be employed in a way where traditional femininity presents a sort of deliberate and acknowledged safety? And it goes hand in hand with Marya, while never choosing to be a “Yelena” in traditional soft femininity, does end up choosing to try to leverage soft power and soft manipulation within deliberately gendered terms fairly often. But again it’s just presented from a very dated and particular context.

So far, the sheer dedication of the book to being an explicit Bluebeard tale and a story about abuse, and how there is no winning in that sort of relationship has been very fun for me.

I also enjoyed Koschei outright lying about the Yelenas and Vasalisas— and then later about the location of his death. I think that’s a character type you usually expect to deceive via omission but, no, he just outright lies a lot.

Another example is that Widow Likho’s book makes it clear that humans best enter into Buyan when ill, and meanwhile everything Koschei does is of course explicitly a repetition of previous stories. So it’s practically confirmed that he had taken every Yelena etc on that same long trip and made them ill on purpose. Even though in the moment he claims to be surprised by it, and spontaneous in caring for her through her illness.

Or the suggestion that he found a reason to put all the other girls in the stable when they got to Buyan as punishment for disobeying him. That the point is the punishment and breaking of the will rather than there being any sort of standard the bride could realistically meet where he would be happy with her and welcome her to her new home without that initial humiliation and fear.

It’s also incredibly funny and refreshing that this book buys into Koschei’s nonsense way less than any of its subsequent imitators. (The Grisha trilogy included!) I enjoyed Baba Yaga being like “Why is everything black, stop being dramatic 🙄”

He’s barely present in the book at all. His page count is truly negligible! And it’s great!

Like I mention earlier, that was actually something I was annoyed by on my first read, the relationship just seemed fairly thin, even though the snapshots of it that we get are fascinating. But after being inundated with so many books worshipping the ground love interests like him stand on, I love how much he doesn’t fucking matter and how little page time he has. How that itself allows Marya’s emotions and conflicted feelings to remain central. The narrative doesn’t care about him, it’s only what impact he has on her that’s relevant.

Anyway somewhat superficial but I really enjoy the goth love interest being the Tsar of Life, because authors typically go a more obvious and melodramatic route. Despite all of the goth mystique, him not being associated with death, darkness, night, etc was refreshing. But also I do generally just find the concept of life being equated with the lurid and demanding, the parasitical, something that is always in a personal sense at war with death— aka the mention of him always looking sickly or feeling skeletal initially when he kisses Marya— a compelling one. It’s death and the maiden wrapped up in a single person essentially.

Anyway I also appreciated the parallel of the Yelenas being trapped in eternity weaving soldiers while Marya’s first thought upon seeing Koschei is that if she had knitted herself a perfect lover he would look like that. There is the constant underpinning of Marya being wholly separate from them, the question of whether she is greater or more horrible than them, but at the heart of it she’s really not. She’s just another victim in a long string of them.

[megaphonegirlk]

Laugh While You Can

The woman known as Shih-na, the right hand of Agent Lang, had laughed when she was taken into custody. She’d laughed like a madwoman as tears ran down her face and her smile split into something horrifying even to herself.

The perfect spy undone by a fatal flaw. She could take any name, wear any disguise and forge any document to become anyone in the world. A renowned defense attorney, an Interpol operative’s second in command, a lover, a mother, the yatagarasu’s traitorous third leg…and nobody was any the wiser.

With an order from fair Cohdopia , she danced upon the strings she’d woven between the unsuspecting targets and fashioned them into nooses she’d render untraceable before the authorities even thought to investigate…and what little they found would be diverted by her own hand onto a convenient target.

She’d have been perfect if it wasn’t for the way she’d broken when she’d had to kill Byrne Faraday. She’d always had a tactic…a skill passed down from her handlers in the shattered Mediterranean nation she called home…to push away unwanted feelings and allow yourself to complete the mission.

Laugh. Force away the pain with a laugh. Laugh at the foolish and the haughty, at the little things in life, or at the dark humor of your grim duty. Take nothing seriously, because everything outside the mission was just a game.

Falling in love was just a game. Getting attached was just a game. Having a daughter was just a game. When the order came down from on high, she pulled the metaphorical trigger on those her cover story called friends as the latest move in the great game. It was that or her name struck out in red Babahlese ink, and the hounds of fair Cohdopia on her heels until they ripped the life from her and left her just another corpse in her bloody history.

But as she plunged the knife into his chest, the game shuddered to a stop in time with his heart. Part of her bled out on the courtroom floor alongside him, maybe the only part of her that was ever worthwhile.

So she laughed. Laughed at the silly young prosecutor and his imperious little sister. She laughed at Detective Badd’s desperation and loss. She laughed at the impotent law, and its pomp and circumstance.

When she became Shih-na, agent of Interpol out of the poverty stricken Zheng Fa, she laughed with her presumptive master…her pack leader…over the absurdity around them. But she restrained herself, as a good agent should.

But when she finally found herself cornered, that foolish prosecutor’s arguments laying the truth bare, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Laughter rang through the embassy, echoing through its halls as it cracked and distorted along with her. A manic cackle for a shattering pawn on the great game board rang out as her throat burned with the sound.

Like a serpent , she struck the moment opportunity knocked, stifling Kay’s shout of terror and anger turned towards her as she held the pistol to her young throat…her eyes, her face was too similar to his, carrying none of her mother with her in features or gift.

She was aware of Tyrell’s hand grabbing his gun…of the promise that the final leg of the great Yatagarasu would finally tear her from it’s body…as the shot rang out, some instinct she didn’t understand caused her to shove Kay to the side and away from its path. The crossbow bolts within her hair clattered to the ground alongside her as ‘Shih-na’ prepared to return fire.

Lang cried out in pain, and she felt his warm arms embraced around her as he shadowed her, blood pooling under one shaking leg as he wrestled her into a firm hold.

He’d protected her, shielded her from the inevitable consequence ‘because she’s still his subordinate’.

It was over. Her cover was blown, and those who thought they could trust her now understood just what sort of person she was.

She didn’t interfere when they cuffed her…she didn’t resist as Lang and her former comrades led her towards the door to meet her fate with the last laugh.

If she was to burn, she’d ensure the Ambassador burned down with it by the very hands of Byrne’s daughter.

At the very hands of her daughter.

Kay approached, the bolts in her hand.

“…Wait! Ye… I mean, Ms. Shih-na.”

“Yes?”

“When I fell to the floor earlier, these fell at my feet. “ despite the gun to her throat…despite the fact that she’d killed her father…the anger in her stare had evaporated into something too gentle for her to take now that she was without the barrier of ‘the game’ to protect the battered and terrified Cohdopian girl underneath.

She forced herself to chuckle as she shrugged. “What about them…?”

Kay Faraday’s smile was an innocence she’d never known, her warmth towards a monster who’d ruined her life almost painful to take as she raised the crossbow bolts up towards her.

“They're such pretty hair sticks that I thought… well, that I should return them to you.”

The laughter died on her lips, and she felt the strange stirring of that same feeling that’d driven her to push Kay away from Badd’s bullet.

“Ha ha… You can have them. They're of no use to me anymore. If you don't want them, you can always just throw them away.”

“No…I want to keep them.” Kay seemed to accept whatever it was she saw behind her eyes. Her fingers clasped around the crossbow bolts, and she quietly drifted back to stand by Edgeworth with the very evidence that would tear this sordid little mystery apart under her master’s feet.

Lang and his pack led her away, one last clue to her handler’s undoing falling from her grinning lips on the way out the door.

The Embassy doors slammed behind her with a heavy finality, and she turned her eyes to the smoke-clouded sky as they shoved her along.

She couldn’t find it in her to laugh anymore. She felt Lang place his hand against her back, lingering just a moment too long and too tenderly.

All she could do was cry, smiling like one of his wolves at the shining moon above. AO3 Link

[tobiasdrake]

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, Episode 16

Final episode. It's now or never, Yuki. If you don't pull that trigger this time then you'll never have another--

Well, actually, I think I heard the manga goes farther than the anime does? So. Maybe not. But I want my catharsis after all the time and feels I've invested in her emotional journey!

My dude, it is 2015. You need to sit down with Itsuki for a coffee and ask him about climate change.

Oh this ship is fucked. I don't know how you come back from jerking your hand away from her touch like she's infected with plague.

Pretty sure you're at "Fake my death and move to the next town over" territory at this point.

Like. I get where he's coming from. Factory Settings confessed her love to him and then immediately dropped dead. Anyone would be freaked out over that.

I'm just saying, poor Yuki. She does not know the context of this moment. Minus that, I would be super offended.

Look at her trying not to cry while she apologizes for holding hands with the boy she likes, like it was a grievous personal transgression. The boy who, I should note, grabbed her hand in the first place rather than the other way around.

Yuki. Sweetheart. I'm so sorry this is your life right now.

I can't even be like, "Tell him, Yuki," because boy is grieving so that would not help. Things just suck for everyone in this moment.

Oh my god.

We are actually doing a ninth episode of Eternal Eight.

I mean. In a sense, we've been doing a ninth episode of Eternal Eight since the previous episode. Still.

The audacity. I'm not even mad. I've been complaining about recycling material for the last two episodes but part of me admires the brazenness in going full stop, "Fuck all-a y'all, IT'S ETERNAL EIGHT AGAIN ASSHOLES." XD

Like. There is a logic to ending the series by revisiting the arc that caused Yuki to malfunction and eat Haruhi in the first place. I just. the context of it being this arc specifically.

They had seven years to make new Haruhi material. Seven years to think about the reception to the existing material, and make decisions for what they'd want to do in the new spinoff show. And somebody actually had the nerve to go, "You know what the fans really want? More Eternal Eight."

That is such a Fuck You move that I'm kinda here for it.

Mikuru and Tsuruya aren't here because the timey-wimey shenanigans put Ryoko here instead. That means we're probably not going goldfish scooping.

I do believe I said earlier that I hope everyone died in any cycle where we deprived Mikuru of the one thing she wanted. Sorry, gang, but you're all going under the nearest bus.

Look on the bright side. It might bring Factory Settings back.

Took you 594 years to figure your shit out last time. Try and break your record, Kyon!

Itsuki's branching out into subtle metaphor. Kyon never retains anything Itsuki tells him directly so maybe giving him a puzzle to solve will make him internalize the knowledge better.

Or it will fly over his head. One of the two.

Will Yuki remember to buy a mask? And will they go goldfish scooping so they don't all have to die in a wildfire moments after the credits roll? These are the important questions of Festival Trip 9.

OH MY HARUHI she got distracted by a live performance of Will It Blend. FELT THOUGH. Holy shit, I miss those shameless commercials barely masquerading as an entertainment web show.

You know what? I can accept this. As long as she's having the time of her life, I can forgive a lack of goldfish scooping.

Get fucked, Tsuruya. It is Blender Time.

This is officially one of the best scenes in the franchise. Up there with the time she punched Kyon in the face. Mikuru is getting to enjoy life with no strings attached and got to violently assault one of her abusers. Just like punching Kyon, I could watch her backhand Tsuruya on loop for hours.

Now we just need a scene of her pushing Haruhi in front of a bus and she'll have a hat trick of retaliations.

Also, I still demand they animate the scene of her hurling Kyon down a flight of stairs. I need it.

Okay so we're still going goldfish scooping, we're just doing it without Mikuru.

Not sure if that makes me vindictive again or not. Because on the one hand, this was Mikuru's activity. We were only doing it because she wanted it.

But she's having a really good time watching Will It Blend. If anyone went over to fetch her for scooping, they'd go in the blender.

Dooooo ittttttttttt

And also buy her a mask while you're at it. Failing to acquire a mask for Yuki may or may not also be a death-by-wildfire offense.

Legit thought she was going to be like, "If Yuki and Kyon are officially a thing now then that means you're up for grabs, right? 'Cause I call dibs."

But no. She is going to sort out her feelings with physical violence against inanimate objects.

This is way more believable than her OOC talk with Kyon earlier.

Also, by helping Ryoko sort her feelings with physical violence, Haruhi is nonetheless kinda calling dibs.

(In seriousness, I stand by what I said before regarding how, it may not seem like it, but the fracturing of their emotional codependency doesn't have to mean the end of Ryoko's relationship with Yuki. In time, it may even be stronger than ever for it.

Haruhi's definitely fucked, though. But. Y'know. Fuck her. She is my character and I say this with love but... get fucked, Haruhi. She will be better off in the long run for having learned to process disappointment, as opposed to the spoiled and entitled goddess who drugged Mikuru. This is the kind of thing she desperately needs in the original series.)

Now, all Kyon has to do is be open and honest with his feelings. Specifically, the feelings that I have decided on his behalf that he has, because he's never actually expressed romantic interest towards this version of Yuki but I NEED HIM TO IF THE SHIP IS GOING TO BE FULFILLED.

Which is how Melancholy handles him too. So it's fair.

Aww, Factory Settings came back for this. ^_^ Squee!

So. Confusing. For Escapist Yuki who's passively receiving a love confession meant for a different version of her, though. I feel like she just became a replacement goldfish for herself. So many complicated feelings about this.

Oh. Never mind. I guess Yuki lost the Yuki -> Kyon -> Factory Settings love triangle. Sorry, gurl. But at least you still have Spacetime.

Just. Not right now because you will go in that blender.

(Also Ryoko!)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He is flirting with you.

In seriousness, it makes sense that they don't clinch the romance here. Like I said earlier, Kyon is grieving. This episode is his opportunity to finally sort out his feelings towards Factory Settings, which he needs to do before he'll be emotionally available for anyone.

This is about Kyon getting closure. I'm sure there's probably much more manga to come before Yuki finally gets what she wants, if she ever does - I keep thinking back to the way her wishes are never, "I want to be with Kyon" but rather "I want to stay friends with everyone."

Still. I want nice things for her, dammit!

Being adopted as Haruhi's mom is agony. Ryoko will be thrilled to know she remains employed at the Nagato residence.

She got something better than a goldfish this time around. She is armed and dangerous. Nobody will ever mess with Mikuru again.

She'll blend your phone. Your personal belongings. The clothes off your back. You. She is a deadly blending warrior now and don't you forget it.

Look at Tsuruya's face. Feel how the power dynamic has shifted.

I'm mad that we end on status quo.

But also happy for Yuki because she got what she wished for all the same.

Complicated feelings.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Post-credits joke is top fucking tier HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This makes no sense but it doesn't have to because this is the end of the road for the show, so it's not going to be followed up on. It's just. An amazing punchline to cap off the revisit of Eternal Eight.