#she's not intending anything she's just legitimately being lazy.

[rjalker]

Martha Wells with The Murderbot Diaries is just like she's taking things she knows are Scifi™ and sticking them in the story but she has no understanding of why those things are common in scifi and also has no desire to learn or I guess even understand why they were included in the first place, so instead she just presents them as fact that do not need to be questioned or even noticed.

A lot of science fiction asks the question, "How much technology can you add to your body before you stop being human?"

And Martha Wells was like "oh that sounds neat. Anyways disabled people aren't fully human anymore. This is just a fact. It's fine. No no one's going to question or deconstruct this. No I'm not making this statement to make a statement about the way disabled people are dehumanized. No I'm not even doing it to show that this is a dystopia. This is not a distopian fact. It's just a fact. It will never be explored or expanded upon. 99% of readers will not even notice it because of how little importance it has and the fact that I don't treat it as a big deal at all."

Like.

Lady.

This is not how this works.

And this whole problem definitely stems from her issue of not planning ahead. She originally intended The Murderbot Diaries to just be that first short story, and it was going to have a tragic ending. Then she decided to keep writing for it.

Some things work if it's just a single short story that's all you see of the world.

But that stops working once you decide that actually, you're going to expand it. Except you're gonna just keep refusing to expand upon this thing you created that you don't even see as a problem.

Consistently separating Real Humans from Disabled Humans is only a good writing choice if the whole fucking point of the separation is to criticize ableism and the dehumanization of disabled people.

Martha Wells isn't questioning anything. She's not deconstructiong anything. She just thought calling disabled people augmented humans and then making sure no one can forget that they're not Really Human Anymore was a cool scifi sounding idea, without realizing that you do in fact need to address this shit if you're going to include it in your worldbuilding.

This is just bad writing. And it very clearly stems from Martha Wells' inability to plan ahead. But this is her responsibility and yes, disabled people are going to continue to be upset by and offended by this stupid lazy decision she chose to make. She decided to make systemic ableism a set dressing for her story, without ever actually doing anything to question it or utilize it in any way.

That's just bad writing.

pro fucking tip: do not just pick out elements of dystopic settings to put into your story unless you're actually planning to use them. There's a fucking reason a lot of science fiction deals with dsiability and whether or not disbled people should be considered human or not. If you are unwilling or unable to fucking actually reckon with this question then don't fucking ask it. It's not just a quirky little decoration you can throw into your story for fun. That's not how this works.

[chaos0pikachu]

so I can't add anything to the sex worker discussion other than I agree with @lugarn b/c I am not a sex worker so like, not my forte~ here but I can say as someone who's engaged in a lot of media playboyy's depiction of sex workers certainly is refreshing considering most depictions are reductive and narrow in scope. They are majority sad, tragic martyrs/victims rather than legitimate characters, with inner lives, backstories who may (gasp!) even enjoy sex work.

To quote Audrey Moore, sex worker and writer in an article for Refinery29:

"A lack of realistic representation of our lives on telly only contributes to this dehumanising attitude, and pushes us further to the margins when it comes to the way society sees us. There are shows which claim to be accurate, narrative-driven dramas about sex work. US network Starz's recent offering The Girlfriend Experience claimed to be a realistic drama about a woman who escorts to fund a placement at a prestigious law firm. Predictably, the show focused instead on the supposed cost of living a double life, and the moral corruption that seems to befall all characters who make money from their sexuality. In her life as an escort, protagonist Christine is subject to a slew of high-stakes consequences – as if she must ultimately be punished for being such a (successful) slut." - source

I also liked this article from gal-dem, We Need to Rethink How Sex Workers Are Portrayed in Pop Culture:

"These words assert an idea that sex workers, in their own place of work, have little or no agency or control, that an external force was required to create this sense of spirit. “Matriarchal dominance”, as she calls it, ritual and rite are found in abundance in strip clubs, brothels and dungeons around the world – it just doesn’t look like what you might think it does." - source

There's a common historical trend - specifically talking about American media here - to portray sex workers are tragic figures, who are either saved or killed for their transgressions of being sex workers. There's no exploration on whether they enjoy any aspect of their job - it's inherently assumed they enjoy none of it - and/or that their lives are inherently riddled with strife, tragedy and difficulty. It reminds me of discussions where communities of color are defined by the tragedy of our lives the oppression, with no nuance, no joy, no complexity.

Which is why playboyy stands out to me, there is nuance and complexity. The chars say they enjoy sex work, or don't enjoy it and are only doing it out of job obligation. Even for the chars that do enjoy it, have boundaries on what they enjoy, or what type of work they want to freelance - or be a hired employee - in. It's presented as amoral; neither "good" nor "bad" just work. And that's fucking refreshing man lemme tell you lol

I also do find the show campy, and I'm curious what @waitmyturtles is comparing it too in terms of "camp" (like genuinely not sarcastically lol).

Since camp is a subjective concept and not a genre or sub-genre of film. You can't, after all as Susan Sontag who wrote Notes on Camp, said, purposely do camp - that's a b-movie, b-movies are purposely bad or high concept silly but they are not campy by definition.

I wrote about why I find playboyy campy (with sources from film critics and academics!) before but I'm gonna quote some bits b/c, well I'm fuckin lazy lol

From Notes on Camp, these specific points I feel are very inherent to playboyy storytelling and film making:

(source)

Playboyy visually has more in common with But I'm A Cheerleader and Showgirls visually and film making wise, than it does Lovely Writer or Only Friends (which are both, imo, filmed very flatly and straight forward both narratively and visually). It's not going for straight (no pun intended) romance in genre, and is more blending genres together.

One thing that I think may be universal about camp films, especially the most beloved ones - Showgirls, Mommie Dearest, Rocky Horror, Death Becomes Her, Jawbreakers, But I'm a Cheerleader - is they are all majority maligned critically and did poorly with audiences initially until reaching a camp cult status within the media landscape.

Which makes me wonder if playboyy won't also reach that status, given how thoroughly dismissed it's been since the first trailer released, but is - from my admittedly limited observations - gaining a passionate following who believe in the themes the show is pursuing. Which would crown it as true (queer) camp in my gay ass eyes.

I’m enjoying watching Playboyy a lot, but I think for different reasons than most. To me, this is plainly a show that’s not working, but it’s trying some things and it’s giving me a nice little intellectual puzzle in terms of pinpointing where the disconnects are.

The show clearly thinks it’s edgy and alternative and titillating and insightful but IMO it’s not really any of those things. It’s just kind of a mess of paper thin characterization, sex scenes that want to be shocking but are too sloppily executed to really land, and a plot that drops in and out at truly random intervals. There are real tensions between its desire to be both a loose sex anthology and a long form mystery, both a campy porn romp and a show that tries to do character work via sex scenes, both an exposé on sex work and kink and sexual freedom and a trite story where every sex worker falls in love with a client or colleague.

I’m not ragging on anyone enjoying the show, and I’m glad so many of y’all are having fun with it. But for me I’m here taking notes on the show’s ambitions, how the writing and performances are failing to support them, and what exactly it’s trying to say with some of its choices. I’m not entirely sure it knows.

[huihuiheart]

Kinktober D15: Yes Sir - Mafia! Changkyun

Pairing: Mafia Boss! Changkyun x f! Reader

The reader works for him, but not really in regards to heavy mafia business. She manages the bar part of his front and takes care of clients in the illegal card games in the back, that’s it.

Warnings: Mafia themes, thigh riding, dom + sub themes, sir kink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of gambling/poker games, praise kink, cursing, a little manhandling, dirty talk, implied sex.

Word Count: 1,804

Tag list: @hyunsungcore​ 

Most people would hate working for Changkyun, especially with the reputation he had. You, however, didn’t mind one bit. He barely had you doing anything illegal, and even what you did do was just getting his players drinks and such while they played. Changkyun mostly lets you handle the entirely legal aspects of his business, not wanting you at risk. He also trusted you, though, which is how you came to know about the business that he ran behind the scenes of the bar you kept functioning. You being one of the few girls he trusted to serve the games, the only one when it came to some more high profile individuals. Changkyun was more than fair to you, though. He paid you generously, giving you a business card for whatever the bar or games might need to be purchased to keep well maintained. He also ensured your protection, walking you to your car at the very least every evening, having given you a simple silver drop necklace with an emerald on it. He had told you to wear it everywhere as a sign that you are one of his so that no one would mess with you. It seemed to hold true too, the symbol must have mixed enough with your clueless aura towards mafia things to never have been bothered at all. 

What you didn’t realize is what his gift to you actually meant. Changkyun had an arrangement with a couple of other mafias that their family who wasn’t a part of the mafia would be left out of trouble and wars, offered protection by all of them. Changkyun’s marker for those people to him was an emerald. The only thing was, you were the only person Changkyun had given something to for protection. He had no family left, and anyone whom he was close to was in the mafia with him. A group that you were more than familiar with as well. The group regularly meets on Monday evenings when no one else would come to the card tables and discuss things both in life and in mafia happenings, a weekly meeting, and socializing all in one. This one of the times when Changkyun only trusted you in that separate room. 

“Good evening guys, I’ve got everyone’s usual.” You announce making your way around the table to hand out various drinks to each of their perspective recipients, ending as usual with Changkyun, ��You all know what to do if you need anything else, yes?”

You’re nearly satisfied with yourself at the cheer and glass raise you get from most of the men who are now invested once again in the cards being dealt for this round. Until Changkyun gently grabs your wrist and motions you to lean in for him to whisper. Changkyun didn’t often if ever have an issue with you, so this wasn’t something you were used to from him. That being said, you wanted to have both his approval and attention for more reasons than you’d openly admit.

“Y/N, I want you to bring me the paperwork for the bar for the past year, please. We’re discussing some things, and I want to ensure that we have everything correct. Can you do that for me, doll?” The way he purrs out the term doll while his hot breath ticks against your ear and neck nearly brings you to your knees, but you keep it together in front of all of them, giving a curt nod. 

“Yes, sir.” You simply say before scurrying towards the exit as quickly as possible without seeming suspicious, not having any clue that every time you called him sir, he had the same problem brewing inside him as you did when he calls you doll. Diligently you bring him the records he’d inquired about, not concerned in the least that he’d find fault in anything you’d done knowing you ran it without issue and always informed him of major things before just going ahead yourself. His legitimate business had profited a lot since you took over running it, if anything he just needed the details for comparison purposes, you were sure. Continuing to fulfill your duties of keeping the bar running and the men playing cards satisfied, you had no qualms at all. Until after the bar closed when you found Changkyun waiting in the back for you alone looking over the files, placing his drink down with a soft clank, as his eyes met yours when you entered the room.

He unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp button-down before leaning back in his seat and motioning you over while undoing a few of the buttons covering his chest, just enough to give a tease, “Come here doll. We need to talk.”

Your eyes widen, gulping a little at this darker side of Changkyun as your nerves tick up a few notches, making your way over, “Is something wrong, sir?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing you’ve done. Have a seat doll.” Changkyun taps his thigh as if inviting you to sit on his lap, causing your throat to try up as you blink at him.

“O-On your lap, sir?” Your question comes out shakier than you intended, and Changkyun chuckles at how flustered you are.

“Yes, on my lap. We’ll be looking at files together, so it’d be easier that way, don’t you think?” Changkyun’s lazy smirk is smug, but it has the fire you’ve been trying to quench all night flaring up hotter than before. Yet, you didn’t argue, not when you might not get another chance to feel his body pressed so closely against yours, even if you both were fully clothed. Changkyun’s arms slipping around your waist and pulling your back flush to his chest as he brings the files up to rest on your lap.

“The boys were more than impressed with your work doll, they praised it even. You see...we have a couple of legitimate businesses to hide what we do, but yours is the one that runs smoothly. Never gives us any trouble. In fact, you do so well that we actually legitimately profit, whereas the others try to suck us dry and skim money from us. Which is why I’ve decided to offer you something...well a couple of things.” Changkyun explains showing you the numbers that compare the bar you ran versus their other fronts.

“Let me guess...you want me to run the legitimate businesses for you too?” You predict already spotting numerous problems that would need fixing just based on the numbers alone.

Changkyun hums against your neck, breath brushing right against it as his thumbs start to rub circles into your hips where he’s gripping them, “ Exactly, we were thinking just giving you one at a time, and once you smooth that one out we’ll add another and so on. Though there is another thing.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you can’t think of what else there could be, “What is that exactly sir?”

“I want you to be my queen. I’ve thought so for a while but seeing just how hard you work only further proves to me that you’re who I want. I’ll keep you out of the mafia side of things of course, but I want to be able to treat you like you deserve....even if you don’t want to be that for me...at least let me reward you for being so good for me doll.” Changkyun’s words are slightly muffled against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck, hands slipping up to grip and roam your sides, showing exactly what he wanted.

“Reward me then sir, however, you’d like.” You sigh softly, already melting into his touch, only for him to toss the files aside and make you stand. Though you soon understand why as he makes quick work of your clothes, before moving you to straddle his thigh, facing him this time.

“Well, maybe I saw wrong, but I think you might just have a thing for my thighs with how often you stare, doll. So why don’t you do whatever you’ve imagined on them, hm?” The certain, cocky look on Changkyun’s face shows that he knows for a fact, he wasn’t wrong and that you did indeed love his thighs. 

“Yes, sir.” You purr seductively, licking your lips and slowly starting to rut against his clothed thigh, mewling whenever he’d flex it beneath you as your nimble fingers worked to undo the remaining buttons on his shirt and expose his chest to you. His hands roaming and groping at the skin as you start to work your hips faster, his hands gripping your ass and making you grind harder against his thigh, rubbing more and more delicious friction against your clit, and leaving more of your slick against his dark jeans with each drag of your hips. 

“F-Fuck look how out of breath you already are, doll. You look like the prettiest little thing getting off on my thigh like this, make it messy. I’ll reward you like this whenever you want, you just have to ask, doll.” Changkyun’s words have you mewling, back arching, and drawing his attention to your breasts, where he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, pulling back with it between his teeth and making you more desperate. Changkyun chuckles darkly, noticing how needy you’re getting, and bounces his thigh, groaning against your skin where he’s suckling on your breasts each time your thigh rubs up against his bulge. Your thighs tremble as your high approaches, letting Changkyun take control over your actions rutting against his thigh, only able to give in and moan for him.

“S-Sir I’m so close, I-I’m gonna cum. P-Please.” 

“Such a good girl, knowing to ask for permission first. Cum for me then doll. This is a reward, after all, cum all you want for me until my pants are ruined because of your mess.” Changkyun gives you all you need to hear to release a shrill cry and spill onto his thigh as your high pulses through your body. You pant softly, as you come down from your high, Changkyun peppering kisses over your shoulders and collarbones.

“You did so well for me, doll. Did amazing cumming all over my thigh like a good girl. Making it all sticky and wet with your juices.” Changkyun praises softly before pulling back and raising a brow at you in question, as you work on undoing his pants for him.

“I think it’s time for you to make me your queen now, Sir.” You give him the same smirk he’s been giving you all night as you give him a true answer to his earlier invitation as well as move to get what you both truly wanted.

“Fuck doll. I thought you’d never ask.”

[yellowocaballero]

ugh what you said about jon just helplessly missing deisha and despite being able to connect, still ultimately grieves alone forced me to think about this one book that said something like “grief is a room you enter alone” and I just ;_; something I love about your metas so much is that you rlly pick apart how it can be true that multiple things can be happening at once - he’s being understood, but he can’t be understood, he’s monstrous, but he’s human etc. basically I adore these essays and just reading how you build and present flaws in characters I think is genuinely making me a better writer

THANK YOU...I think we all grieve alone, just a little bit. With people, and maybe especially with more intangible things - when we move to another city or country, when we live alienated from our home cultures, when our bodies fail us, or when relationships fail. It’s inherently such a solitary thing.

And yeah, so often in life we’re feeling so many contradictory things!! Maybe even ALL THE TIME! I’ve loved and hated simultaneously, I’ve never wanted to see someone again and found myself constantly seeking out contact. You ever never want someone to text you, but you’re sad that they don’t text? I want to go back to my workplace but also I want to keep working from home forever. So it’s a real, legitimate feeling, I think.

But that’s also not why I write it that way. Stories inherently kind of have to work on both a literal and symbolic/metaphorical level. You said that you were interested in the writing bits, so I’ll get specific - I determine what happens in layers. Some things are the most essential aspects of the story, and everything else has to warp around that. Hope Etc is a very weird and bad example because a) I put no thought in this story and b) the nature of daemons is that they literalize the metaphorical. So basically every physical thing that Jon does is metaphorical for something. 

So what a story is ‘about’ is the most important thing, and this can change and shift throughout the story as you realize what keeps cropping up time again and again (which is kind of oxymoronic). I use monster vs human a lot for this specific fandom, because monsters can have whatever metaphorical significance you fucking want them to, but other stories such as hope vs desolation, optimism vs pessimism, wanting to die vs choosing to live, etc, work too. The second thing is tone - which determines the message of the story dramatically. What a story is ‘about’ can’t be pessimism when you have a light-hearted and comedic tone. Unless you’re getting REALLY creative. You can add a lot of additional themes to that, but a bunch of themes together make is what something is about. Also very important is that for me what something is ‘about’ includes genre. 

Then what’s kind of wrapped around that is the metaphor. Literal things happen, which have metaphorical meaning, which advance what a story is ‘about’. Not everything that happens is metaphorical - sometimes things have to happen to advance the plot - but things that happen need to advance something. Either plot, or a character arc, or they need to have metaphorical significance. In my opinion the most deft writing is when everything that happens has all three. 

I think over metaphor is character arc and character. When something happens in a story it has to advance the plot and advance the character’s arc. The character’s arc forms a trajectory that spells out the theme. A character arc for me frequently means the relationship between two characters, which often really really work to highlight theme. I think people push each other to change and grow a lot. If it’s a romantic relationship I push that ‘growth instigated by the other’ hard. Also, foils. I think the best romantic relationships are foils. I love foils. I always write foils. Just adore them, they’re so easy to write. Just make someone the opposite of someone else but give them the same theme. It’s great. This is also why I’m always saying that I don’t really sit down and ‘make characters’, characters just happen based on what needs to happen. I don’t decide anything about a character when I start out besides “haha exact opposite of canon character” or “haha amnesiac PI” or “haha roleswap”. And that’s coming from someone who rarely uses canon characterizations and who writes everybody as a thinly veiled OC...and maybe that’s why everybody kind of ends up a thinly veiled OC...

Over that is plot. Plot is what has to happen to make all of these other things happen. I can’t plot. I think I can’t plot because I’m too worried about these other things and I forget ‘oh yeah, Things Have To Happen’. Maybe there’s other people who plot first and then figure out these other things based on what happens in the plot? ....why...

So I kind of made that a gumball, layered thing, because that’s how I build the story. And I shouldn’t have, because these things all feed each other. What a story is ‘about’ is highly dictated by what you’ve decided the character arc to be - highly - and it creates a feedback loop as both of these things get changed and twisted and tangled during writing. A story never ends how I intended, because different things crop up. But there is a ‘priority list’ for me, and that’s kind of the layers - these characters have to act in X way because that’s one of the cornerstones I need to hit for the genre, so I have to have their character arcs match this. Characters can’t act in a certain way just because the plot makes them - granted, sometimes they do, but that means that you have to go back and tweak their character arc to match. You cannot have something metaphorically happen that goes completely against the theme, unless that has repercussions. Plot isn’t the story for me, the about is the story. None of this is hard and fast, and there is nothing that you can’t do, you just really have to view all of these things in a complex interplay that constantly affect each other.

I think of it like gears? They all work together and churn together to make the story work. But if you twist one gear, the others move too. You first imagine it this one way, but then you keep on tweaking and tweaking and tweaking, and then everything else has to change too, so then you’re like why did I even bother to outline, outlining is stupid, and also I have this funny joke so I have to go back and change everything, and...

Wow, maybe that’s why I’m so bad at planning shit..

My...goal? Is to make it so that Everything works on every level. You should be able to read a story completely literally and completely miss the metaphorical meaning and still vibe. But unfortunately the way it turns out for me sometimes is that the symbolism outweighs the literal. When I write absurdist/surrealist stuff it’s just me being lazy and not having to have things be literal, lol. What you get when something only works on a symbolic level and not on a literal level at all is Utena. And I’m writing trashy fanfic so I can’t do that. What normally happens in practice is that things happen literally for a bit, and then I’m like ‘oh I’m Sensing a Theme’ and then I start playing into the theme, and then things happen because it’s thematic. Plot is...plot should be more important to me...

And then of course there’s grounding all of this in human emotion and making sure there’s a climax (me, shaking hope etc: THERE’S NO FUCKING CLIMAX), and dealing with all of that stuff that makes it actually emotional and impactful instead of just abstract and dumb. 

I chose not to use examples for all of that because I wanted it to just be broad writing advice? I can kind of point out there examples of that line of thinking in my writing, and I probably can for Hope, Etc, but it would be a bad example - both because the NATURE of that story is that the literal is INHERENTLY a metaphor so you really cannot view anything in that story as literal, nothing in it is literal - also because I put no thought into it. 

Of course that’s not my process. That’s not my process at all. I don’t sit down and figure this shit out. I didn’t read any of that anywhere, it’s just me bullshitting, that entire thing was just me bullshitting relentlessly I am so fucking sorry. My process is that I joke about ideas with friends, I sit down at a computer and I kind of thump a keyboard for a few hours, I live my life and daydream stuff and kinda make little movies in my heads, I go home and slam the keyboard some more, halfway through I walk up to my beta and go “hey what’s the plot of this?” she helps me figure it out by giving me very bad ideas, I kind of slam my keyboard some more, and then it’s done. And then I kinda edit it a little maybe whatever and then I post it. 

There’s not a lot of thought involved. I really can’t stress enough how I don’t think about all of this when I write. I’m really brain empty. When I do these analyses what I’m doing is that I’m looking back over my story and then I’m like...Oh That’s What I Was Doing! Huh! Neat!

Haha that got long. I’m not a good writer. Thanks for the ask!

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 22

The rain continued on into the day, the slow, lazy sprinkle reflecting Mothwing’s mood as she returned to camp. Her entire body and spirit felt drained, and she curled up into her nest in the medicine cat’s den, somehow feeling too tired to sleep. Instead, she rested her head on her paws, hoping that would stop her head from spinning.

No cat had greeted her when she came into camp, hostile or otherwise, which meant Falcontail hadn’t revealed his “truth” yet. But he was somewhere in camp – Mothwing knew that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

What will I do? Mothwing wondered. Being a medicine cat was all she wanted, so why hadn’t StarClan been the ones to send Mudfur the sign? Didn’t they know just how much she loved tending her Clanmates hurts, learning all the ways to cure a cough or stop an infection? Couldn’t they see that? Why did it matter if she had been chosen or not, if even Mudfur said she was so good in her role?

Her stomach felt tied up in knots. Beyond all of this, Falcontail was her littermate – how could he justify doing something like this to her? Where had their kithood closeness gone? What had changed him? He was almost an entirely different cat now, and if he were so willing to ruin his own sister’s life… Perhaps he’s not a brother worth having.

The plainness of the thought shocked her. Mothwing realized that the only reason she had a hard time even considering losing Falcontail as her brother was because, well, he was her brother – but she knew deep down that his horrible attitude, his ambition creeping up like a shadow… those were things she didn’t want in her life anymore.

He clearly doesn’t think of me as his sister any longer, Mothwing reflected. No littermates should ever behave that way to one another. Something about that thought made the knot in her stomach unclench, just a little. So, if he thinks of me as nothing but a tool for his ambitions… then so be it – he is no longer my brother.

“What’s on your mind, now?” Mudfur’s thin voice brought Mothwing out of her thoughts. The old medicine cat was padding into the den, pausing to shake raindrops from his fur.

“Nothing,” Mothwing managed. There was no way she could tell Mudfur about Falcontail’s threat – as she looked at her mentor, she knew he believed so strongly in StarClan’s message that he might just denounce her on the spot. “I just wanted to get out of the rain. Do you need anything?”

Mudfur shook his head. “Leopardstar had to speak with me – she’s calling a meeting,” he reported.

Already? Mothwing got to her paws, hoping that her mounting anxiety was hidden beneath her fur. Outside, in the rain-wet clearing, she could see Leopardstar making her way to the Clan Root. The surface was slick but she hadn’t a problem climbing it. Her summons rang out, even in the medicine cat’s den:

“Let all cats old enough to swim gather here, beneath the Clan Root, for a Clan meeting!”

Mothwing swallowed. Mudfur didn’t seem aware of his apprentice’s worries, only groaning about having to go back out into the rain. Mothwing followed him, her pawsteps slow. Every warrior and apprentice not assigned to a patrol was emerging from their dens, tails low and ears damp. Even RiverClan cats disliked being wetter than they intended to be.

Mothwing spotted Falcontail amidst the crowd of warriors, and she averted her eyes from him. She didn’t want to see the smugness in his gaze, or the way he lifted his chin like he’d won a great victory. Instead, she focused on placing her paws just so, and sitting beneath the Clan Root beside Mudfur as the last of RiverClan reluctantly trickled out into the clearing, their eyes flashing with curiosity.

Leopardstar’s gaze was sharp as she surveyed her Clan. Finally, her voice rang out through the sprinkle of raindrops: “There has been a sign from StarClan.”

Mothwing’s heart tightened and she refused her instinct to look at Falcontail. He wasted no time delivering his ‘sign’… But was she to be banished?

The rest of the Clan seemed eager to hear, eyes glistening with hope. “Is it about Tawnypelt?” Goldenpaw asked, leaning forward. He and his littermates, Rosepaw and Reedpaw, were clustered together in a huddle of grief over their mother’s disappearance.

Leopardstar’s eyes shone with sympathy. “Not quite,” she answered. Lifting her chin higher, she went on, “Tawnypelt’s disappearance is a blow to our Clan, that I will not deny – nor will I believe that she is truly lost to us; but StarClan have given us hope in the meantime.”

She bent down, and from beneath the shelter of her belly she produced a falcon’s feather. Mothwing blinked up at her mother and, while the rest of the Clan whispered and murmured in shock and awe, she felt bile roiling in her belly.

“A feather!” gawped Blackclaw. “What does it mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what does it mean?’” chided Leafwhisker. The tabby warrior nudged Falcontail, who sat beside them. “It must mean you!”

Falcontail tipped his head, feigning humility. “We don’t know that…”

Mothwing knew she should be angry, but she just felt tired, like every drop of rain that landed on her pelt was sapping her strength.

Leopardstar pinned the feather to the Clan Root with her paw. “StarClan left this by my nest as I slept,” she announced. “And when I woke, I summoned Mudfur to me. We had a long discussion about what it might mean…”

Just get on with it, Mothwing found herself thinking. Just name him deputy.

“Tawnypelt is gone, for now. I will hold on to hope that she might return,” Leopardstar meowed on. “But in the meantime, RiverClan cannot go without a deputy – especially not in such strange times as these. StarClan showed me who that cat must be.”

Every cat held their breath. Mothwing swallowed around a lump in her throat.

“Falcontail is to be deputy of RiverClan,” Leoaprdstar announced, “until Tawnypelt is returned to us, or confirmed dead.”

“Falcontail! Falcontail!” Mothwing was surprised at how few cats cheered – Blackclaw and Leafwhisker were the loudest voices, but most cats looked uncertain, and Tawnypelt’s kits hung their heads in silence altogether. Some tiny spark of hope burned in her – maybe Falcontail wouldn’t come by the position as easily as he hoped.

Falcontail stepped forward, his head lowered humbly. “I will do my best,” he promised, “to fill her pawsteps, and keep RiverClan safe. No matter what.”

Mothwing felt sick. He clearly didn’t think Tawnypelt would come back, and he certainly didn’t think much of her as deputy. What would he do when Tawnypelt returned? Fake another sign so that he could stay deputy? And what will he do when deputy isn’t enough for him?

The thought chilled her, and she looked up to her mother. Being deputy only granted so much power – if Falcontail had his sights aimed higher, Leopardstar was all that remained in his way. The lump in Mothwing’s throat seemed to turn into a prickly burr. Would he… she looked over at Falcontail, whose head was raised proudly. Would he kill Mother?

As Mothwing grappled with the thought, she was dimly aware of the meeting breaking up. Cats were rushing back to their dens to get out of the rain, and Falcontail was following Leopardstar back to her den, probably to talk about Clan procedures. Mothwing gathered herself, getting to her paws and following Mudfur across the clearing and into the medicine cat’s den.

Mudfur immediately busied himself with checking the willow log for any leaks, and Mothwing shook herself dry, her paws tingling with uncertainty. Falcontail had gotten what he wanted without revealing that Mothwing wasn’t a legitimate medicine cat – so when would he tell the Clan?

He means to hold it over my head, Mothwing thought grimly. She looked over at Mudfur. When he’s gone, I’ll be the voice of StarClan in RiverClan. And if Tawnypelt doesn’t come back, and something happens to Leopardstar…

She could see very clearly the vision Falcontail had for RiverClan – him at the head, using Mothwing under threat of banishment or death to parrot all his ‘signs’ to get what he wanted, and RiverClan, believing wholly in StarClan, would be none the wiser. Mothwing’s claws dug into the soft earth of the den. I have to stop him, somehow!

Her stomach churned. If only Feathertail and Stormfur were here… Stormfur would have been the obvious choice for deputy right now, not Falcontail. Leopardstar wouldn’t have hesitated to appoint him. StarClan would definitely have given her a sign about him… and Feathertail…

Feathertail would have just been nice to have around right now. Mothwing’s heart ached as she realized that she couldn’t even confide in Mudfur about her problems; but Feathertail would have understood, and Feathertail would have fought for her. Feathertail would have known just what to say to keep her spirits up – she always did.

It took Mothwing too long to realize that Mudfur was staring at her. She snapped to attention, trying to shake away her niggling thoughts.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the old medicine cat asked, tilting his head.

“I’m fine,” Mothwing insisted.

Mudfur gave her a skeptical look, but began pawing out some herbs from the store. Traveling herbs, Mothwing realized. She had all but forgotten that tonight was the half-moon meeting, and Mudfur was too weak to make the journey without aid.

Still, it gave her some hope – she would be meeting with StarClan tonight! She might not have received any signs, but StarClan wouldn’t be able to ignore Mothwing at the Moonstone. She could ask them what to do about Falcontail and her situation, and they would know the answer… they had to!

Mudfur coughed, and Mothwing frowned. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she wondered. “I can go alone…”

“No, no,” Mudfur rasped. “I’ll be fine. With what’s going on right now, all medicine cats need to be able to hear StarClan’s words.”

Mothwing nodded in agreement. StarClan had to have something to say, with WindClan in such turmoil and ThunderClan driven from their camp. As Mudfur lapped up his herbs, another question pressed her mind, and she asked, “Is it common for StarClan to send signs to Clan leaders and not us?”

Mudfur looked up, licking his jaws of the bitter juices. Even he, in all his experience as a medicine cat, winced at the bitter flavors. “We medicine cats might have the strongest connection to them, but it’s not up to us to determine who StarClan speaks to,” he answered simply. “They do as they will.”

Mothwing frowned. She didn’t like that answer; something about it burned deep down. But for Mudfur, she nodded in acceptance.  

“Let’s go,” Mudfur decided, “before this rain locks my joints for good.”

———————————————————-

The journey to the Moonstone seemed to take forever – Mothwing and Mudfur had to circumnavigate almost all of WindClan’s territory to avoid the monsters and Twolegs. To Mothwing, the extra time had been worth it - the dirt churned up by the monster’s giant paws had turned to sucking muck, and Mothwing knew that Mudfur would never have made it out if he’d gotten stuck.  

The rain, at least, had stopped as they climbed their way slowly up Highstones to Mothermouth, where the other medicine cats were waiting. All of them looked worn and thinner than before, with Barkface and Ryewhisper being nothing but pelts on branches to Mothwing’s eyes – they looked even worse since she’d seen them last. Her heart ached with sorrow for them all.

“I’m sorry for our lateness,” Mudfur breathed, flopping down on his haunches to rest.

Brackenfur, ThunderClan’s medicine cat, shook his head. “Don’t fret,” he sighed, his amber eyes sympathetic. “We’re all late.”

Littlecloud shifted, and Mothwing noted just how muddy the small tabby’s paws were. “The Twolegs have torn up most of our usual paths,” he remarked. “I had to find a new way to make it here tonight.”

“Our only saving grace is that the Thunderpath isn’t so busy right now,” Brackenfur agreed. His injured leg twitched oddly. “Otherwise, I might not have been able to make it here from Sunningrocks.”

So, we’re the only Clan that hasn’t seen a Twoleg yet, Mothwing thought, distressed. She glanced back down Highstones, over to the moorland. With how quickly the Twolegs were tearing apart the forest and highlands… it wouldn’t be long.

“You’ve moved?” Ryewhisper’s eyes went wide.

Brackenfur nodded. “We had to,” he breathed. “The Twolegs have taken over all of Tallpines and Snakerocks, and were advancing on our camp.”

Littlecloud frowned. “They’re getting closer to us, too,” he admitted. “The Black Fens are all but consumed, and we’ve even seen them coming in from near the Carrionplace. I don’t know where we’ll move to…”

Mothwing glanced at Mudfur, whose eyes were burning with concern. Her own heart felt heavier than ever – these cats were her friends, and they were suffering so much…

“Did Bristlepaw make it?” Mothwing asked, looking to Barkface and hoping for some good news.

Unfortunately, Barkface shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “He walks with StarClan now – but we were grateful for your aid, Mothwing.”

Brackenfur turned to her and nodded. “Without your help, more cats might have died from eating rabbits – we were too late for Dappletail, but no one else is ill, and Tinystar has ordered no more rabbits on the fresh-kill pile.”

“Oh no, not Dappletail!” moaned Littlecloud. “She was always so sweet…”

Mothwing barely felt the praise. Every Clan must have lost cats to the rabbits, long before she’d helped Barkface figure it out. Hopefully no one else will die…

“We’re wasting moonlight,” Mudfur interjected. Mothwing looked up and saw that the half-moon was flitting between wisps of clouds. “StarClan must tell us what to do.”

The other medicine cats nodded in agreement, and Littlecloud led the way down into Mothermouth. Mothwing followed, her paws feeling so heavy, and her heart so full of sorrow. The twisting, winding path down to the Moonstone was cold and quiet, with only the sound of the other cats’ paws and breathing to be heard, and soon enough Littlecloud’s shape was lit with moonlight, and they were before the Moonstone.

Mothwing’s heart pounded now, just like it did every other time. The Moonstone was already glowing with light, a glittering crystal that refracted dancing stars all over the cave. Mothwing looked up into the hole in the ceiling above and saw Silverpelt there, and she hoped in her heart that her ancestors would give her the answers she and the others sought.

There was no time for formality – each medicine cat spread out around the Moonstone and lay down. Mothwing settled herself between Ryewhisper and Mudfur. She hesitated, waiting for all the other medicine cats to touch their noses to the stone before she did so herself.

Please… help us, she begged, closing her eyes. Please help me.

There was nothing but darkness for a while – Mothwing worried that she hadn’t dreamed herself into StarClan at all. Had they rejected her? With how evasive they’d been to her, she almost wouldn’t be surprised. Eventually she dared to open her eyes, and with relief she found herself not in the Moonstone cavern, but beside the river, on a warm, clear day. No loud Twoleg monsters, either nothing but the gentle rattle of the reeds and the sound of cicadas in her ears.

She breathed a sigh of relief – so StarClan would still see her, even if she had been appointed falsely. Mothwing craned her neck over the reeds. Who would she see, though?

It wasn’t long until she found her answer. The reeds twitched and trembled, and out stepped a white she-cat, her pelt splotched irregularly with black. Mothwing’s whiskers twitched at her familiar, fishy smell – this was Brambleberry, Mudfur’s old mentor. They had met before, only on Mothwing’s previous trips to the Moonstone.

Brambleberry delicately padded up to Mothwing, dipping her head. “Welcome, Mothwing,” she meowed. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Mothwing breathed. “With all that’s happening, we all feared we might not reach you…”

Brambleberry’s eyes darkened. “We know… and I am so sorry, Mothwing. For all that has befallen you.”

Mothwing stiffened. She hadn’t expected Brambleberry to cut to the heart of the matter so quickly. “Is it true?”

Brambleberry nodded.

Mothwing trembled. “Then why…” she paused, trying to collect her words. “Why did you say nothing?”

“You were so happy to be a medicine cat.” Brambleberry’s eyes shone with warmth and affection. “There was no reason you needed to know, not when you were serving RiverClan so well.”

Mothwing bristled, and unbidden she screeched, “I lost Feathertail because of that sign, and now Falcontail has gone and faked another! He’s deputy now! Aren’t you at all concerned? Can’t you stop him?”

“StarClan cannot control the actions of those we watch over,” Brambleberry soothed, her tone patient.

That didn’t help. “Then what’s the point of all your power, then?” Mothwing demanded, claws sheathing and unsheathing. “If you can’t stop cats like Falcontail, or the Twolegs, then why have all this power at all?”

Brambleberry looked hurt. Mothwing would’ve felt bad, if she weren’t so hurt herself. “We cannot change hearts that are determined to make evil choices,” Brambleberry reasoned. “We do not have all the power you think we do! Why would we seek to change the wills of our descendants to suit our own needs?”

“That’s an excuse,” Mothwing growled. It was all welling up now, bursting forth like water through rocks. “You might not be able to stop the Twolegs, but Falcontail? We spend all our lives following your signs, treating your words as if they are our salvation, and you cannot say nor do anything to warn us about cats like him? I don’t understand! Don’t you owe us that aid in situations like this?”

“We cannot control you,” Brambleberry repeated patiently. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

“So, it’s fair to let those cats run free?” Mothwing snapped. “Free to fake signs, free to manipulate others’ faith in StarClan to their own ends?”

“Mothwing…” Brambleberry’s eyes were alight with worry. She reached out a paw, as if to soothe Mothwing. “Please, listen-”

Mothwing’s limbs were shaking as she pulled away from Brambleberry. “You… you’re no better or worse than us,” she meowed, the realization dawning on her. “You’re just cats… cats that are just as powerless as we are.”

Her heart was beating in her ears, but she felt so calm. “… And just because you can see the future sometimes doesn’t mean you always know the best way to deal with it.”

Brambleberry was beginning to fade – it all was. The land around Mothwing was melting away into white, and Mothwing didn’t care.

“I don’t need you to be a medicine cat,” she meowed, staring right into Brambleberry’s eyes. “I don’t think I ever will, or that I ever did.”

Brambleberry’s voice was barely audible as the dream faded into whiteness: “I’m so sorry, Mothwing…”

Mothwing woke up.

She didn’t feel angry, strangely enough. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, as the other medicine cats woke around her, Mothwing felt… fine.

I don’t need StarClan, she thought, resolute, not if they’re no more powerful than I am. Anyone can place a feather or a leaf a certain way and see what they want in it. You don’t have to be dead to do that… And Mudfur didn’t need StarClan to tell him that Mothwing’s instincts as a medicine cat were good enough – they had to be, and they would be.

“… I’m not sure,” Ryewhisper was murmuring. “What I saw… did you all see it too?”

Brackenfur’s eyes flashed in the darkness. “I saw lands unfamiliar to me… but that was it.”

“I saw walls of stone, taller than anything I’ve ever seen,” Barkface admitted. “But I don’t understand…”

Mothwing shifted uncomfortably. Despite her dream, she hadn’t seen anything like that… and she supposed she never would again.

“StarClan did not speak to any of us, then?” Mudfur surmised.

“Not me,” Littlecloud meowed – others agreed. Mothwing nodded, too.

“Then they must think this is something we can understand on our own,” Brackenfur decided. Mothwing heard him shuffle to his paws, his weight mismatched on the cool stone floor. “We must reflect, and hope the answer comes to us soon.”

The others agreed. Mothwing frowned. Were they really so willing to wait for others to find the answers for them? These cats were the best and brightest of their Clans, surely they had to be able to think for themselves!

“Come,” Mudfur meowed. His voice was nearer to the entrance. “StarClan will guide us, but there is nothing more to see here.”

Mothwing got to her paws, and glanced back at the Moonstone. Without its glow, it was just a rock. There was nothing dazzling or mystifying about it at all and there was something comforting about that, about knowing what was really behind the mystery.

There is nothing more to see here.

[akitokihojo]

Delicate - Chapter 6

Lol, I forgot it was Friday and almost didn't post this. Whoops.

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It was like Kagome had completely lost the ability to read Inuyasha - if that was something she was ever able to claim at all. She’d noticed a difference in him over the weeks. He seemed a little more calm, a little more forthcoming, a little more receptive, a little more welcoming. She’d seen his smile so many times before, but there was something about the looks he’d give her on occasions few and far between, only in passing, robbing her heart of a beat as he bequeathed this warm and tender grin. What did it mean? 

Initially, she’d thought the effort he was putting forth was to overcompensate for the argument they’d gotten into, but as time kept ticking, the facade didn’t appear to be so much of a facade anymore. She could see herself getting used to his new demeanor around her. It wasn’t a change that was so substantial that she felt something was wrong. She actually felt like Inuyasha was just more comfortable. With her, in particular. Everything else seemed almost normal.

Maybe she was looking too far into it; seeing things that weren’t actually there. Maybe she’d inadvertently received an extra dash of hope one day and clung to it like static on clothing. She’d tried shaking it off, rationalizing, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Suddenly, she desperately wanted her plaguing thoughts to be true. She wanted him to like her.

It couldn’t be possible, though. Could it? No. Yes? Maybe? It wasn’t healthy to go back and forth with herself so often, wondering how another person felt. But, she couldn’t help it. He’d come over to study, and when he was trying to explain something to her in more depth, he’d scoot closer. Not like before. He wouldn’t just lean in a little. Inuyasha would move his entire body toward her. She’d physically feel his body heat, smell his intoxicating and subtle scent, and god, was it difficult to focus through that. So, therein of itself, it had to all just be her imagination at play. If their knees grazed, he’d usually move away. If he got a little too close by accident, he’d scoot himself back an inch or two. Then, there were times where it seemed he wanted to touch her but wouldn’t; another scenario she could blame on her overactive imagination. Inuyasha was just being nice, and her stupid emotions were clearly getting the better of her. 

Truth be told, she was impeccably embarrassed for having her feelings exposed to him. She felt even more vulnerable than before. They hadn’t been acknowledged since or formally rejected, so her admittance did nothing more than hang in the air between them. The lack thereof was as much a rejection as anything, though, and she told herself that. It didn’t matter that they texted more often, it didn’t matter that he looked at her a little lighter, it didn’t matter that she, herself, felt considerably more drawn to him. None of it meant a thing. Did it?

What was the worse option here? To hope or to not get her hopes up? 

Unfortunately, as easy as it was to try and logically think things through in her alone time, when she was around him that was all shot to hell. For some reason, he seemed even more attractive lately than ever. She liked the way his brows relaxed when he looked at her - consciously or subconsciously, she couldn’t tell. When he had his nose in his own homework, Kagome couldn’t help but stare. Just a little. He had a wonderfully calm expression to him when he wrote out answers on the sheet, his long hair swooping over his shoulder from the tie at the crown of his head. Not a single part of his features crinkled when he concentrated, unlike hers. The sound of his voice was soothing. When he spoke, the pace of her heart would increase for a few seconds, and then slow to a peaceful rhythm. She liked that. She enjoyed the way he made her feel just by being near.

At the same time, she couldn’t even tell if she was miserable or not. It was so difficult to love someone while trying to convince yourself it would never happen. Love. Was she even old enough to experience that emotion? Did it have an age cap? Was it an eighteen-or-older sort of thing, or was it legitimate at whatever stage you were in life? It had to be legitimate; there was no other excuse for the throbbing intensity that overwhelmed her chest, or the loneliness she felt whenever he left her side.

She was scared. Scared she was right and he didn’t feel the same, scared he’d ghost her again no matter the reassurance he’d given, scared she’d be this hopeless forever. Sometimes, Kagome felt life would be a bit more manageable if Inuyasha would just be straightforward and turn her down already. Then she’d at least have a direct answer to go off of. Then she could move on.

“Kagome?” Her mom’s voice was soft as she approached her bedroom, poking her head through the cracked door that creaked as the angle widened. Kagome had responded with an audible yeah, but she’d tossed herself facedown on her mattress the moment she got home from school and had been laying that way ever since, so the word came out muffled and groan-like. “Well, you look like you’re hanging in there.” She remarked, the playful hint of sarcasm ringing through.

This time, Kagome intended for the broken groan she’d replied with, dragging it out as she felt the vibration of her voice on her pillow.

“I totally understand. I feel the same way.” Her mom giggled.

She shot up to sit on her knees, twisting around to face her mother leaning against the doorframe. “I hate feelings!”

“Oh?”

“Who needs them, anyway!? Are they gonna get me into college!? Get me a good job!? Nope! I shouldn’t even be focusing on them! I’m seventeen, I’m too young for this! Right?”

“I met your dad at fifteen.” She smiled warmly. Just like that, Kagome huffed out some of her frustration, furrowing her brows as her lips sealed. “I knew I loved him from the start. He was a little older, a little rough around the edges, and it took him forever to outright tell me he loved me.”

“But, you knew.” Kagome drawled. She’d heard the story before, multiple times. It just hit different now that there were similarities to what she was currently going through.

“It’s all about taking the hints. People have different love languages. Learning their fluency is difficult but rewarding.”

“What if there’s a misunderstanding or miscommunication, though?” She asked, a little on the gentler side. “What if you misinterpret what they’re trying to tell you, entirely?”

Her mom gave a one-sided shrug, the smile never leaving her face. “Then you ask for clarification.” She noticed the uncertainty on her daughter’s face, the way her big, brown eyes seemed wary as they flickered away. “And, you keep the negative thoughts at bay until then. No use jumping to conclusions, good or bad.”

Kagome, defeated as she was, thanked her mom with a lazy smile. “You going into work?”

“Yup. Nightshift again. Sota’s at Shippo’s, would you mind getting him around eight-thirty?”

“Sure.” Kagome agreed, looking at the clock to see how much time she had. Two hours. She crawled off her mattress, heading to her dresser to get out different clothes to wear.

“Oh and,” She waited for her daughter to turn her way, making sure she had her attention as she gripped the door to close on her way out. “Love may not get you anywhere, but it can get you through everything. You’ll come to appreciate it. Believe me.”

“Yeah, well it sucks so far.” Kagome chuckled.

“I’ll bring home ice cream.” She droned, shutting the door as she left.

Kagome shoved her hands in her hoodie pockets, tucking herself inward as she approached the train station. Of course her brother, no longer in a cast and crutches but still hobbling around on a weak ankle, would want to hang out with the friend that lives furthest. Their mom pitied him since he’d been cooped up day and night ever since he’d gotten hurt, so she allowed him to get out now that the cast was finally off, but could he have gone to see someone down the street? Nope. Of course, not.

She pulled a hand free, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans to pull out her station pass to enter through the gate. The seasons were changing, the nights growing colder to really communicate the shift, making her wish she’d thought of bringing her muffler out of the entry closet ahead of time to freshen up. For now, it wasn’t too bad. The air was just a little nippy, but as she made her way further into the station to wait for her train, she adjusted to the comfortable temperature inside.

A rail line pulled up to empty, the car doors opening as several people filed out and Kagome moved out of their way. According to the schedule, hers should be there in the next ten minutes. From the side, silver caught her eye, bringing her attention to immediately shoot toward it. That’s how it’d been lately. Anything, anything at all, that could potentially remind her of Inuyasha was impossible to ignore, a shutter of excitement ricocheting along her ribcage. Whenever it turned out to be nothing, she felt disappointed and embarrassed, and ultimately glad no one had a pathway to read her mind and see the pathetic basket case she’d become. Not even Sango knew the degree of her state, and if Kagome had her way, it’d stay like that. More often than not, all she wanted to do was crawl under a rock and wait everything out until her feelings subsided and she could coexist with Inuyasha like a normal person with rational thinking abilities. But, as her brown eyes flashed over and she actually spotted the half demon trudging through the small crowd, an inexplicable mixture of happiness and trepidation crawled over her skin. His head was slightly hung while he dabbed the back of the sleeve of his pullover sweater to his mouth, pulling it away to look at it, then dabbing it again. Her mouth had opened, her breath hitching as she almost called his name, but he’d already looked up, golden eyes landing on her instantly.

Inuyasha didn’t seem all that happy. In fact, it looked as if he’d ducked his head an inch or two, keeping the back of his fist raised to his mouth. He’d stopped walking, the station emptying and leaving the two of them alone where they stood. Without thought, Kagome walked over, noticing the way he notched his face away when she approached. It didn’t take a genius to know something was wrong. Disconcertment began to bubble in her abdomen, and she briefly wondered why he wouldn’t look at her or greet her with the smile she’d grown accustomed to.

“Hey,” She spoke softly. The side of his lips that she could see were curved in a frown, one that pinched together in unsettlement while she waited for any sort of response from him. She could hear the clenched breath in his throat as he sighed out heatedly, practically feeling his frustration and discomfiture. It wasn’t difficult to understand now why he was hiding his face. In fact, his adamant reluctance to show her was all she needed in order to know. “What happened?” Kagome’s voice echoed her concern.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Inuyasha brusquely replied, resisting the temptation to meet her gaze. He didn’t expect to feel so ashamed just by seeing her at the worst possible moment, but the murky sensation swam through each vein in his body, one at a time. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head. He hadn’t tried to step around her at all, but she moved closer anyway, cocking her head in an attempt to get him to look at her. “Don’t shut me out. You don’t have to, you know this.”

She was comforting him, yet his shame increased, making him want to duck his face further. It was two against one, and they’d gotten him good this time around. The last thing he wanted was for her to see the evidence of the incident. He didn’t want anything to mar her picture of him. 

Her hands reached up, and his abdominals tensed rigidly, but not a single bone in his body pulled away from her touch, gentle, cold hands wrapping around his wrist to pull it away from his mouth. There was little hesitance from him. It wasn’t entirely passive, though. Inuyasha still needed to assure himself that she, Kagome, wasn’t the enemy. She’d never be his enemy. She wouldn’t hurt him. He trusted her, and with firm reminders, he was progressively believing that she was a safe zone.

Kagome observed the way his lids closed as she guided his hand away from his mouth, his head turning to her so that she could see. There was a fierce cut on his bottom lip, the area angry, red, with a hint of purple developing over the soft flesh. Crimson was smeared along his chin, cleaned with his sleeve but the tinted smudge still remained. His cheek was bruised and scraped, the dark hues already settling in. Inuyasha opened his eyes, leveling with her own, his tongue slowly licking away fresh blood that seeped from his mouth.

“One of the bastards was wearing a ring.” He huskily mentioned.

She couldn’t withhold the exasperated grunt she’d released at his state, gripping his wrist a little tighter as she about-faced and led him to a nearby bench. Pulling him in front of her, she pushed down on his wrist to gesture for him to sit, releasing him as he followed suit with zero argument. His gaze sat along the far wall away from her as she gently held his jaw, looking him over to see the damage.

“Are you okay?” Kagome was heavily distraught, her fingers barely skimming the soft skin as she worried more of aggravating bruises that may not have developed yet. When she saw no markings beneath her fingertips, she’d set them down, running over the line of his jaw before reaching for each hand, one at a time, looking over his knuckles to see if harm had been done to his fists. He took his right hand back just as she ran her icy thumb over his scabbing middle knuckle, using the back of his sleeve to dab at his lip before setting his arm back in his lap.

“Fine.”

“There was more than one guy?”

“Two.” Inuyasha plainly stated.

“And, they just - they just attacked you?”

“No. Not quite.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated? I don’t understand.”

“No, Kagome, don’t start. I don’t want you getting involved.” The hanyou stood, and Kagome instinctively gave him space as he stepped around her, heading to the vending machine.

“I’d hardly consider it getting involved if all you’re doing is explaining the situation.”

He slipped a dollar in, hitting the first cold drink in the machine and watching it clank to the bottom before reaching in for it, immediately pressing the beverage to his offended, bottom lip. He glanced back over, noting the concern in her eyes and the way her mouth pouted with the pressing emotion. Wow. How unpredictable that he’d grow so remarkably weak in the wake of her regard. “I told you, I used to associate with a shit crowd.”

“Yeah. Used to. Why are they still coming after you?”

“They didn’t think it was very respectful of me to just up and disappear on them when I wanted out. Then, I told them all to fuck off, which is always received well.” He sarcastically chuckled, sauntering back her way. “Their little leader, Bankotsu, wants to have a word with me, which typically means he wants to beat me senseless, but it’s more fun avoiding that and pissing him off than anything. Whenever I’ve bumped into any of his lackeys since then, they tell me to come with them and I always say if they can manage to kick my ass, I’ll go.”

“So, you challenge them.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. I’m not just gonna roll over.”

“But, why’d you get involved with them in the first place?” Her brow furrowed, dismay etched imperfectly in the way the skin between bunched.

The hanyou sighed, his chest deflating entirely, lowering the drink from his lip and letting it hang in his hand. “I was always angry, I was lashing out, so I went and got myself inducted into this team of misfit toys that I thought were relatable. It was fucking stupid, I know, and they treated me like trash from the get-go. I realized half demons always got the short end of the stick, but damn, even the lowlives of the alley made me feel like I didn’t belong anywhere.”

Kagome could hear the lick of resentment in his tone. Truthfully, she felt resentment for him.

“They actually had me wishing for a way to become a full demon for a while. Can you imagine how much easier my life would have been if I was a full fucking demon?” His aggravation was expanding, boiling in his gut, hot and bitter and vicious as the hard feelings of everything had never completely been dealt with. “I still think things would be better if I could just change. One or the other. Demon or human. No in between so there’s no bullshit to deal with.”

“Don’t you think that’s bullshit in itself?” Kagome boldly asked. “What good would that do? You’d only end up miserable.”

He’d reacted habitually, his defense shooting up as his scowl formed. “Oh, because I’m so much better off as it is? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She froze for a second, unsuspecting of his tone. Sheepishly, she ducked her head, swallowing and taking a small step back. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. Maybe it wasn’t her place. Maybe it didn’t matter what she thought, and her opinion was only received as an insult. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want her getting involved; because she always gave her two cents, like he’d said before. “Right. You’re right. That came out wrong. I’d only meant that you shouldn’t have to change who you are to be happy.”

Fuck. His temper was going to be his downfall. He could feel her guard going up, figuring he’d made her feel shut down. It was obvious she meant well, so why the fuck would he react like that? “Kagome -“

“No, you’re right. I don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know what you’ve been through. I just - I can’t imagine you as anything but a half demon.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” Inuyasha breathed.

“You didn’t. I get it; where you’re coming from, that is.” She assured, shaking her head. He didn’t firmly believe her. Her eye contact wasn’t holding. Inuyasha stepped inward to close the minute gap she’d created with the insecurity that had risen, appearing as invested in what she had to say as possible. He honestly wanted to know where she was going with her statement, his wary tendencies shadowing his surprise that she’d even have a rebuttal to his diffidence.

He wanted more from her, she could tell. He hadn’t meant to react so rashly, she could understand that, too. It took a moment to regain her bearings, her fingers balling in her sweater pockets, letting her confidence and comfort build while pushing the negative thoughts away as she leaned her head back to look up at him.

“Everyone who thinks little of you is shit.” Inuyasha watched her lips as she spoke, the words acting as fingers that steadily held onto his heart. There was no grip yet, but he was positive one would develop. It would wring him dry. It would bring him to his knees, he just fucking knew it. One statement. One statement in and he was already terrified of the beautiful damage she was about to inflict on him. Terrified and, oddly enough, thrilled. “I don’t care how many people that turns out to be, they’re all shit. This is you, and you are not bad or worthless or unnatural or whatever else they may have told you. If you could see you the way I do maybe you’d understand what I’m getting at, but I don’t think there’s any possible way you could be you in a different form. And,”

Kagome paused, her nerves clenching her stomach.

Inuyasha was breaking as everything he’d ever needed to hear was so easily spread out between them.

“I’d be -“

His eyes stared at her with astonishment, glowing through the shadow of his brow. She wanted to touch him, wanted to help him feel the adoration behind her sentiment, but she trembled so badly that she worried he’d confuse that with literally anything other than what she wanted to convey. The rest of her sentence was knotted in her throat, she almost had to coax it free. Her face grew hot, and she swore he’d inched down her way.

“I’d be devastated if a part of you were permanently thrown away. I like you the way you are.” She’d whispered.

Inuyasha felt himself moving without his command, drawn to her like she was the missing piece of a puzzle he’d been working on for so long now. He was slow in his action, achingly so, but he never once tried to regain control. Nor, did Kagome pull away. She was allowing his hands to cradle her jaw, to bring the two of them closer to one another, to breathe her in one inch at a time. He loved her. Fate was finally kind to him. He was intentionally tender, the tips of their noses grazing incredibly softly, her inhale short and broken and hitching in her chest, their lips just barely brushing together when the train’s horn alerted them as it came into the station.

Inuyasha tensed, pulling back and releasing her. Any conviction inside of him dwindled away with the startle, his nervousness intensifying to take hold of what was.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted, eyes bouncing back and forth from the stopping train to the blushing girl before him.

“It’s okay.” Kagome quickly assured.

“H-heat of the moment.” The excuse left his mouth before he had the chance to stop it. His mind was always looking for a scapegoat, for a way out of any situation, willing to toss out anything, and no matter how innocent this may have seemed in the split second it had flashed through his mind, it was also the most insensitive thing he could have said. He looked at her, his lungs no longer cooperating as they clasped his breath hostage, taking in the series of expressions that formed on her face. Mild shock, brown eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Then her lips sealed and she gazed away, her cheeks still as red as before but her disappointment was so vivid. Then, when she smiled, as if she was trying to hide what he’d already witnessed, her eyes blinked quickly and he caught the faint scent of tears. He could have kicked himself. “Fuck, no, Kagome I -“

“That’s my train.” She mentioned, pointing, regarding him slightly, then walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?” Inuyasha followed, panic striking him. Hardly anyone had left the train, the cars mostly empty to begin with.

“I have to get my brother.” Kagome didn’t know which emotion predominated the other; humiliation or dejection. Her heart had dropped when he leaned in to kiss her, warmth flooding over her so wonderfully, only to have it all plummet to the floor when he’d said he hadn’t meant to. How much more vulnerable could she get without the promise of someone catching her as she fell? At this rate, she was bound to hit the ground. Hard. She was ready to cry, her chest was tight, and the absolute last thing she wanted was for Inuyasha to see her that way. She took deep breaths, as deep as her lungs would permit, gathering herself hastily.

The half demon lunged forward, snagging her arm and stopping her before she stepped through the open door of the train, her attention reactively flying right back to him. “I’m sorry, I said the wrong thing. I didn’t mean that.”

The warning announcement went off for all passengers to be on the train. Kagome looked back at the open car, stepping in, Inuyasha’s hand gliding from her upper arm, down to her elbow, her forearm, her wrist, and then her hand, gripping her there. His palm was hot and large around hers, and she couldn’t help but hold his hand in return, adding to the weight on her shoulders. She gave him a smile, trying to relax the distress on his brow. It didn’t work.

“It’s okay, it was an accident. You don’t have to worry about it.” She politely dismissed. He gripped her hand a little tighter, his jaw clenching. “It would have probably hurt your lip, anyway.”

“No, shit, I don’t care about that!” Another warning chime interrupting, rushing him. He wanted to tell her that if he had the guts, he would have never pulled away or moved so slowly that he’d lost his chance to begin with. He wanted to tell her that if he could, he would kiss her over and over and over and over, whenever he got the chance. It’s just not easy for him. None of this is easy for him. If he could communicate that with words, he would have, but they failed him just like so many times before. And, he wished the way he held her hand was enough, but it wasn’t. Who would understand what he was trying to say through the simplest of gestures, right? “It - it wasn’t - it wasn’t an accident. Believe me.”

Whatever was left of Kagome’s smile had faded.

Oh. Oh.

He’d wanted to kiss her?

Is that what he was telling her, that he’d wanted to kiss her? Because, it sure felt like it, and the intensity of his stare pierced her in such a different way than ever before. Kagome inadvertently clutched his hand tightly, topping the fervor of his hold. How did he feel right now, in this moment? It wasn’t right to guess. Assuming would only make matters worse for her at this point.

“Let me know when you get home safe, okay?”

She nodded, her fingers finally sliding out of his palm. As the door closed, Kagome ducked her head, fighting the thickness of her confliction.

—

“Woah, woah, wooooooah! Back up!” Sango sat on the edge of her bed as Kagome paced the floor of her bedroom, her friend unable to stop her finger-fidgeting in her current state. She’d come over to talk as the evening was setting in on their Saturday, claiming to need a distraction, and no wonder. The girl was loaded with clashing thoughts. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird the past couple of days?”

“Yes.” Kagome replied unthinkingly, worrying her lip as she finally stopped in front of Sango.

“Not gonna lie, this was definitely a twist I wasn’t expecting. He kissed you?” She leaned forward in her spot, her fingers gripping the very edge of her mattress to hold steady.

“No. Almost.” Kagome corrected.

“But he leaned in?”

“Yes.”

“And then said it was a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“And then said that was a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Okay. That’s not confusing at all. Repeat the rest of what you said, I got stuck on that part.”

“I don’t know what to think, Sango.” Kagome stated powerfully, the frown on her lips deepening. “Does he like me? Does he not like me? Did he really want to kiss me? Does it mean anything? Oh, what if he didn’t mean to almost kiss me but also didn’t mean to say what he said, so all he was trying to do was retract that? He wanted me to text him when I got home; isn’t that something someone only says when they really care about you? Am I reading too much into everything, or -“ She trailed off in a loud groan, flailing her hands out at her sides, resuming her pacing briefly and then abruptly stopping in front of Sango once more.

“First of all, breathe.” Sango said cautiously, watching her best friend with wide eyes. Never, in all the years they’d known each other, had she ever seen Kagome like this. It was worrisome. Kagome didn’t do as instructed, instead huffing to express a little more of her vexation. “Second, I don’t get it. I knew something was up with you, but this was far from what I imagined. You guys have been talking in school, standing all close to each other, texting… you seemed totally fine around him.”

“Yeah, because he can’t know what’s going through my head!”

“Shouldn’t he?” Sango almost flinched at the incredulous stare Kagome shot her way. “Look, I’ve told you a million times that I think he likes you, but it’s not good enough - which I totally get. The best thing is to hear it from Inuyasha, and the only way to get that right now is to ask him, yourself. Tell him that you’re losing your freaking mind playing this guessing game, and he needs to give you a straight yes or no.”

Kagome’s face fell, dark brown eyes falling to the floor. For the first time that night, she seemed a little more stable, maybe taking in Sango’s advice. Sauntering over, she sat next to Sango on the bed, her raven hair gliding over her shoulders as she sagged forward slightly.

“What if he says no?”

“Hey,” Sango cooed, twisting to face Kagome’s riddled form. She dragged the hair away from hiding Kagome’s face, pushing it behind her ear before rubbing her hand up and down her back as soothingly as possible. “I really don’t think he’ll say no. To me, all the signs are there. Maybe feelings just kind of freak him out and that leads him to literally say all the wrong things. All the time. He’s not Captain Charisma, babe. I mean, I could give you my theories all night long, from most likely to least likely, and in alphabetical order, but you and I both know it won’t be nearly as comforting as hearing it from the source. You just have to ask.”

“How do you ask someone how they feel about you? I’d be putting him on the spot.”

“Yeah, and in my unpopular opinion, that’s exactly what he needs!”

“He’d freeze and say something stupid. I know him.”

“Mm.” Sango hummed, pursing her lips. “You got me there. But, he’d only say something stupid if there’s something to hide.”

“You think?” Kagome inquired, her pout deeming innocence.

“Yeah.” She giggled. “That’s usually how it goes. You said it yourself, Inuyasha isn’t this big mystery. He’s expressive. You’re in your own head. What’s really got you so wrapped up here? You’re not usually like this.”

Kagome gave a small shrug, shying her eyes away before she could muster up an answer. “I think I might be falling in love with him.” She admitted, her voice small and timid, sinking to lay her head in Sango’s lap. “It’s very stressful.”

Sango laughed, stroking the black hair out of Kagome’s face to comfort her. “And not knowing how he feels is scary, right?”

Kagome nodded.

“Would it make you feel any better if I told you he has feelings for you, again?”

Kagome shook her head, her chin giving a little quiver.

“Oh no. Kay, it’s gonna be fine. Okay, here, stay the night and we’ll watch movies, and my dad got that jumbo bag of pizza rolls so we can go to town with those. I have The Wedding Singer, and Adam Sandler literally sings a song about how much love stings, yeah yeah?”

Kagome feigned a smile, sitting up and shaking her head. “I can’t tonight. Gotta get Sota.” She was lying. She really was her own worst enemy right now, but she couldn’t get her mind to calm down. It would be too difficult to enjoy the time with her best friend with how distracted she was. As much as she’d already sat alone in her bedroom and tried to sort out her thoughts,  maybe now she’d stand a better chance since she’d vented and gotten her main frustrations out in the open.

“Rain check?” Sango asked, cocking her head to the side sympathetically.

“Yeah. Thanks. I should get going.”

The night air was brisk, the skin of her arms covered in goosebumps, and she cursed herself for not bringing a sweater to Sango’s in the first place. Kagome didn’t want to go home, though. She felt so restless, so ridiculous, so antsy and weighted with how she was too nervous to convince herself Inuyasha had feelings for her, because the letdown of potential rejection was too harsh. If she was wrong, it would hurt so much worse if she’d allowed herself to believe otherwise without his affirmation. Just thinking of it was mortifying. 

Sango was right, this was unlike her. Sure, she was human, and sometimes she got as insecure as anyone else, but she never usually stayed down due to the density of her constant, nagging second-guessing. Even if she wasn’t sure about something, Kagome was the kind of person that gave it time for the air to clear so that she could see the situation a little better. Or, just took it all head-on. So, what was going on with her now? 

Everyone was right, if she was this riddled, she needed to just get it over with and ask, but she was so timorous about the ordeal. If she were on the other end of this, it would be incredibly awkward to answer. No matter the outcome, it would be uncomfortable. If it were a yes, you’re put in a position where you have to confirm before you’re ready to do so on your own. If it were a no, you’re put in a position where you have to turn someone down and then your friendship is on the line. 

And then your friendship is on the line.

No. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to lose him.

Above all else, she just couldn’t bring herself to be selfish enough to ask for an answer. She could handle this on her own. She’d get over it. It didn’t matter that she was feeling down right now, because one of these days she was going to wake up and feel a percentage of the pressure had lifted from her chest. 

Was the pressure even normal? Was anything that she was feeling normal?

Kagome pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, dropping her butt onto a nearby bench as she let out a deep, guttural sigh. She’d texted her mom a little while ago saying she was staying a little later at Sango’s than anticipated so she wouldn’t worry, and she’d been wandering about ever since. Some fresh air was supposed to do her good. 

Truthfully, the one thing she wanted, the one thing she truly felt would actually do her any good, was to talk to Inuyasha. Not to bring up her feelings, or his, or the now-infamous almost kiss, or anything pertaining to them at all. She just wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice. To listen to that low rumble as he spoke. It was always so comforting to her, now more so than ever. She wanted him to say her name in his calm tone, hell even his grumpy one would help her feel stable right about now. Anything. Anything from him, she would happily accept.

It was kind of late; almost nine. Would he lecture her for calling at this hour? Would he ignore her altogether? Either way, she’d take the risk. This was the least she could do for herself. She clicked on his text from a few hours ago, hitting his picture-less icon, then the phone call button that appeared beneath.

Inuyasha laid on his bed, flipping through the channels on the tv in his room, donned in his joggers and nothing else. His ear flicked as his phone gave a long vibrate on the surface of his nightstand. He was half-tempted to ignore the damn thing, figuring it was Miroku trying to coerce him out of the house to hang out, and he was too damn comfortable to even entertain the idea. Just to be sure, he reached over, tilting the device his way to see who was calling.

A grin grew on his face when he noticed her name was the one illuminating his screen. She’d never called before. Whatever her reason, he didn’t care. Inuyasha immediately swiped to answer, putting her on speaker as he muted the television.

“Hey.” He spoke, his voice on the lazy side.

“Hi.” Kagome said weakly, unable to swallow the sadness that had balled in her throat. She hoped it wasn’t evident. “Were you asleep?”

“It’s nine, of course I wasn’t.” He replied. He couldn’t tell if this was just how she sounded over the phone, or if something was wrong, but he was leaning more towards the latter. Her voice sounded off, small, and it immediately piqued his concern. “Are you okay?”

She went to say she was fine, but her stomach was sinking and it was almost like she couldn’t think straight. She went to say it again, but instead she inhaled shakily to gain her bearings.

“Kagome?”

“I’m okay.” She finally said.

“What’s wrong?” Inuyasha sat up. He didn’t believe her. Of course, he didn’t believe her. That was the worst lie she’d ever said if she’d spoken one. Something was up.

“Nothing. I just - I, um -“

“Did something happen?” The half demon asked, his tone approaching more on the severe side. Kagome wasn’t replying, but he could hear her slow and trembling breathing, a sniffle breaking through, and he even heard her whispered curse toward herself. It was away from the speaker, but he’d caught it all the same. “Kagome…”

“I’m fine.” She said with a little more conviction. “I’m sorry, I -“

“Where are you?”

“What?”

“Are you at home?” Kagome could hear it. She could hear his worry. It was in the direct way he spoke, the tone that demanded an answer without so much as raising his voice. 

“No.” She responded just as meekly as her hello. 

“Where are you?” There it was again. Stronger. There was a bit of rustling, too, like he was moving around. “Kagome, where are you?”

“You know the park with that statue of the famous archer?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m there. I don’t know the nearest street name.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m coming. Where in the park are you?” Inuyasha set the phone back on his nightstand, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor to change into them, his jaw clenching as his gut wrung with a budding panic.

“No, you don’t - that’s not why I called. It’s okay! I’m fine! Really!” She tried to reassure him, her heart giving an uneven thud behind her ribcage. 

“No, you’re not! Don’t lie to me! I’m coming, so I can either track your scent or you can make the process faster by telling me where you are!”

Kagome swallowed thickly, her chest heavy as she breathed. “I’m on a bench along the walking path.” She looked around for a notable landmark to guide him. “I think I’m in the thicker tree area.”

“I’ll find you.” He promised, slipping a tee shirt over his head. “Don’t move.”

“Inuyasha…”

“I don’t want to hear it. Don’t move, Kagome. I’ll be right there.” The line ended, beeping three times to signify he’d hung up.

She felt defeated and slightly embarrassed by the whole thing. She couldn’t even pull herself together to talk to him for five minutes like she’d wanted. The effects of his voice were, ironically, too soothing. Where she’d expected the gruff reverberation would calm her mind enough to stabilize, it in fact calmed her so much she almost crumbled instantaneously. It was like she suddenly felt safe enough to fall before him and know he’d help with whatever, and that wasn’t what she was aiming for.

Kagome waited as instructed, setting her phone in her lap so she could hug her exposed arms to her chest to defend against the bite of the air. The night was still, quiet, cars driving in the far distance where the hum of the wheels on pavement barely met her ears. Shoes clapping against the cement path grew closer and closer at a quick pace, bringing her attention to the side as she noticed Inuyasha curve the bend. Even as she stood, catching her phone before it slipped off her leg and to the floor, stepping into plain view, he didn’t stop.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he was within reach did he abruptly slow, grabbing onto her arms, his momentum still forceful enough to have them stumble back a few steps, but his strength enough to compensate and not allow her to trip.

Inuyasha had been worried fucking sick, his mind running wild with each passing moment he hadn’t gotten to her. Something happened but he didn’t know what, which meant anything could have happened to her, and he wasn’t okay with a single thought that crossed his mind to serve as the purpose of her distress. His first instinct was to look her over, his hands traveling to her forearms to bring them before him so he could check her flesh for markings of an assault.

“What happened, are you hurt!?”

“No.” Kagome answered promptly, wide-eyed, surprised by the way his hot hands moved over her. He took her jaw in his hold next, his fingers threading through her messy hair as he stepped in and analyzed her face.

“You sure?”

He was so gentle, his thumbs caressing her cheek, amber eyes radiating such consternation as he stared into her own.

Oh.

She’d been so blind. So foolish. Right then and there, with his current silence and his tender care, with the way he’d dropped whatever he was doing at the sound of her discernible sadness, ran straight to her, his chest now heaving up and down as his lungs demanded air but his question demanded an answer that he clearly needed to hear exponentially more than his body needed oxygen - that was his love language. He was saying so much more, and truth be told, probably had been for the entire time she’d been doubting it all. She shadowed herself, more capable of believing what her fear told her instead of him.

With her stomach still in knots and shambles, she laughed, more of disbelief than anything, as her eyes prickled and her body grew hot. She was so stupid. Tucking her head, Kagome pulled herself into his chest, his hands curving from where they’d sat at her jaw to the nape of her neck. They were light on her, no real firmness to them anymore, but she didn’t care. When they finally settled on her, bringing her against him securely, she felt herself falter, her emotions winning over as tears spilled out.

Carefully, Inuyasha smoothed his hands over Kagome’s soft waves, every barrier of his virtually nonexistent when it came to her now. It was hardly evident, but he could still feel her unsteadiness in the way she leaned her weight against him, ripping his soul apart, breaking his heart with the little quakes of her inhales. His grip around her tightened, and he curled his back to really support her, his cheek propped against the top of her head, pillowing into her thick hair.

“What happened?” He whispered. She gave a small chuckle through her crying, the noise wet but still pleasant. Against the center of his chest, she shook her head, her fingers clutching onto the back of his sweater a little stronger. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Kagome backed away, hiding her face as she wiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands, sniffling but regaining composure without having to hide anything anymore. She was smiling, little giggles slipping out, humiliated but the unhappiness fading away. “I’ve just been having a rough night. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you like this. That wasn’t why I called.”

“I’m glad you called.” Inuyasha immediately stated. She looked up at him, dazed, her cheeks red from her consistent wiping and the blood pooling beneath her skin, evident under the lamppost they stood beneath. “If something’s wrong, I want you to be able to turn to me. Unapologetically. What’s going on?”

He pulled off his sweater, twirling it over her shoulders and holding it steady so she could slip her arms through. His body heat was still soaked into the cloth, warming her arms, smelling so much like him the trembling in her muscles almost instantly stopped from the way it quelled her nerves. If she had just been paying attention all along, if she had just taken a step out of her confined box, she could have probably avoided all of this. Inuyasha had been trying to be more open toward her. For her. Now, here he was, unabashedly tending to her in the midsts of her breakdown because she’d gotten so deep into her own head that she just couldn’t handle it anymore. She was the cause of her own misery while Inuyasha had been right there all along. How stupid. Again, she laughed at herself. All she had to do was listen, and she would have understood the way he communicated. Just like her mom said.

“It was just one of those nights.” Kagome said, not wanting him to know the true reason behind it all. It was unnecessary at this point. She wanted to let it go. She wanted to let everything go and just feel the way she wanted without holding herself back anymore. “Everything was going wrong, but it was my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I was thinking so negatively and I just couldn’t stop. I felt really insecure, so I went for a walk but it wasn’t helping. And, that’s why I called you. I wanted to hear your voice so I could calm down.”

There was a hitch in his chest. Was it his heart or his lungs? His face grew hot, and mild embarrassment washed over him faster than he could process the words she’d spoken. She likes his voice. It’s soothing to her. A part of him wanted to retreat behind a cool demeanor and brush off what she’d said, but a larger, more dominating part of him refused to. What she said held meaning. Meaning he understood loud and clear. This was what he’d wanted from the moment he’d realized he’d fallen for her. This right here, being in her comfort zone, being the one who runs to her just to make sure she’s okay, responsible for holding her when she wasn’t, and adhering to her smile. The dull ache in his torso when she spoke in such a low voice was significant, and if she was going to so honestly rock his core with a single statement of her vulnerability, he wasn’t about to turn away from it.

“I was gonna come up with some stupid homework question to get you talking,” Kagome continued. “But, I blanked. I’m so sorry.”

Inuyasha reached over, gently petting her hair, flowing along her black waves to lay his hand on her shoulder. “What can I do for you right now? How can I help?”

“You already have.” She smiled. 

His fingers curved around the back of her neck, pulling her back into his body to tuck her safely into his arms. She relaxed against him, hugging his waist, and god dammit, he shouldn’t have been so happy just by the way her chest gave a minor hitch to adjust and follow his own breathing. In a moment of boldness, he rested his mouth against the top of her head, muffling the small kiss he gave.

“Thank you.” Kagome shyly said as they just about reached the front of her house. Inuyasha had been adamant on walking her home. He didn’t even have to argue with her on how she was stupid for saying he didn’t need to; all he did was give her a stern stare that effectively shut her mouth and shut her up. The entire walk home, he kept close, their arms occasionally brushing. A few times, if their paces ever accidentally differed, he’d pinch the baggy sleeves of the sweater he’d lent her, pulling her back to his side. 

That was never there before. She could only be grateful for the new development.

“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay now?” Inuyasha asked, giving a small cock of his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hey, look at me. Are you okay now?” He repeated, wanting to see it in her eyes when she spoke.

She smiled, nodding. “I’m really okay. Embarrassed, but okay. I promise.”

“You’ll let me know if you need me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You promise that, too?”

She let that one sink in for a moment, taking in the sweetness of his gaze. He wasn’t joking, or teasing her. He wanted assurance that she’d trust him. “I promise.”

“Good. Get inside.” He said. Kagome wiggled her shoulders to remove his sweater, but he swiftly stopped her by reaching behind and pulling the hood over her head. “Keep it. It looks good on you.”

“Won’t you get cold?” She blushed, pushing the hood back and biting her lip.

He gifted her a crooked grin, taking a few steps backwards. “Half demon, remember?”

“Right. Impervious to the elements.”

“Warmer blood, dummy.” He chuckled. “Go.”

“Will you, um, will you text me when you get home?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

Kagome bundled herself further into his sweater, enjoying the way his scent still engulfed her. “Good night.” She smiled, heading inside.

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[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

I think a lot of people, especially newer, more casual and non-comic book fans of super heroes (and especially media outlets reporting on them how clearly don’t know or give a shit about them beyond the movies being popular) underestimate the importance comic book fans place upon seniority and proven longevity.

What I mean is, the majority of comic book fans I’ve encountered, and I’m talking about people who love the comics and have been reading them for a long time, more often than not hold a certain amount of respect towards older stories and older characters that have been around awhile.

It’s not universal. You’ll be hard pressed to find much love or respect for O’Neil’s Wonder Woman, Daredevil or Spider-Man runs. 

But in general, comic book fans who don’t like or care about Wonder Woman for example still have a certain amount of respect for her because she was created, and has lasted, since 1941. 

This is why newer characters I think struggle because they’ve not ‘paid their dues’ yet, they’ve not proven themselves in the eyes of the fandom so unless they are offering something very novel they don’t make the cut.

Nova for instance wasn’t exactly a hit when he debuted in the 1970s, but he found popularity in the 2000s. I think an important part of that wasn’t just that the stories were great but that that pre-2000s history was there to build off of and in a sense legitimize him in the eyes of readers who’d been around awhile but not interested in him.

In turn this is partially why the majority of replacement hero characters struggle.

They are not only new unproven characters who’ve not yet paid their dues, but they have come onto the scene by supplanting  other characters who absolutely had.

This wasn’t so bad for most of the early examples of these characters. Jean Paul Valley and the assorted Supermen of the 1990s were designed to showcase how the replacements are in fact inferior and ultimately build up the original guys. In a sense to prove that there is a stronger substance to the old timers who’ve gone the distance rather than the new hotnesses. 

However most of the replacement heroes who don’t do this in contrast receive a poorer reception from the fandom precisely because they are promoted as the new hotness. 

They exist at the expense of the older, proven, senior characters AND they want you to believe that they’ve basically shown up already on their level, if not better than them. Or at least that assertion is placed upon them in-story ridiculously early. 

When Jean Paul Valley was acknowledged as worthy of being Batman the whole point was that it was a bait and switch. His defeat of Bane only seemed  like he was worthy, but in reality everyone saying that was horribly mistaken, he absolutely wasn’t worthy. On the flipside, 3/4 people who replaced Superman claimed to be him when they too weren’t worthy. The Cyborg was a genocidal villain who was deliberately trying to wreck Superman’s reputation, the Last Son of Krypton was an emotion challenged machine that never understood what Superman meant and Superboy’s claims were born from youthful arrogance that he later took back in favour of admitting Kal El was the REAL Superman.

But when (comic book, not movie) Miles Morales is intended as the permanent replacement for Spider-Man and talked up as being totally worthy of that mantle less than 2 years into his existence (and even has the 616 Spidey be the guy legitimizing him) it’s absolutely cheap and unearned. The character didn’t do anything to earn that, the writer just either believes it himself or they really want you to believe it.

It’s cheap and lazy anyway, but to your average comic book fan it’s going to seriously rub them the wrong way because who the fuck is this guy who showed up 5 minutes ago and dares to live up to the mantle of a character 50 years older than him?*

This sort of mentality applies to many other 2010s legacy characters and is exacerbated by shill sites like CBR or more mainstream news outlets who clearly don’t know or care about the characters singing the praises of the new hotness characters and/or denigrating the older characters too.

In contrast consider that Batman beyond, a character who is also a permanent intended legacy to Bruce Wayne, earned his worthiness throughout an entire show wherein the original Batman mentored him along the way. His confirmation as worthy wasn’t even delivered upon in the show, it was delivered upon in the movie that ended the show! And at no point during the show’s run did the stories nor anyone talking about it in articles or the like claim Terry was AS good, let alone BETTER, than Bruce. Hell Terry’s final appearance set years after the show’s status quo straight up asserted that he was great, but Bruce was still much smarter than him. 

Because the writers understood how cheap it’d be to assert their much younger character over one who’s existed for far longer and how fans value seniority!

*Let alone created by the most famous comic book writer of all time!

[beca-mitchell]

Can you give us another sneak peek of the mafia!au 🥺

here’s 3k words of it 

i’m too lazy to upload to AO3 because it’s still incomplete but i might later. I’m sorry that it’s really bad and incomplete. I’ve just been too tired to really look at this AU for now.

for context: beca is the daughter of a crime lord and chloe is a university student. they meet by chance on a night out and fall in love.

Warning for smut.

* * * * *

You’re the fear, I don’t careCause I’ve never been so highFollow me through the darkLet me take you past the satellitesYou can see the world you brought to life

* * * * *

Oddly, the fear that rushes through Beca as she faces the plain wooden door is not because of the lingering adrenaline from just under an hour ago, facing down the barrel of a gun, but rather, what she knows lies behind the door. 

Who she knows is behind the door.

She raises her hand to knock, wincing when her sore shoulder makes itself ever known once more. It is a reminder of being pinned against the floor wherein she had seen a brief segment of her life flash before her eyes. It isn’t necessarily a new occurrence, but these days—

Beca inhales deeply, steadying herself.

These days, Beca feels like there is so much more at stake.

(And, the pressing matter of Chloe not even fully knowing her entire history—all the reasons why Beca hates herself; why Beca hates that this is even her life at all—still lingers over Beca like an impenetrable cloud.)

She knocks, finally and keeps her eyes trained straight ahead, knowing that the wrath she’ll face from Chloe is likely going to be the most frightening thing she experiences tonight, but she kind of hopes it’s quick because all she wants is a warm shower and Chloe’s arms around her.

Chloe pulls open the door after a few moments—moments that stretch like eons for Beca—and it takes a few moments while Chloe rubs the sleep out of one of her eyes before peering at Beca in confusion.

“Beca?” she questions, voice rattling with tiredness. Beca realizes with a pang that she likely woke Chloe up unnecessarily. The reminder that the apartment complex’s hallway remains eerily empty and quiet is also an indicator that it is a lot later than Beca had expected.

“I—” Beca swallows when she feels the strangest tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispers instead, forgetting what she had even intended to say. Likely something stupidly suave and not-at-all appropriate for the gravity of the situation at hand. She realizes how much she wants to step into Chloe’s arms, but something holds her back, like she recognizes that she is exceptionally tainted and unclean. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, but she just needs Chloe to—she needs Chloe to—

“C’mere,” Chloe rasps, pulling her securely into her arms when she takes in Beca’s rattled state. She pulls a little harder than Beca would like, but Beca reminds herself that Chloe doesn’t know of the aches and bruises littering her body. She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine, she reminds herself. 

She’s alive and she came back to Chloe just like she promised. 

Chloe’s heart pounds as she holds Beca, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Beca had mentioned that she needed to do some business-related things and that vague descriptor had been enough for Chloe despite all the questions she wanted to ask. The fear and curiosity still war with each other constantly in Chloe’s heart ever since learning of what Beca really did for a living. 

All the demons in her closet. 

All the horrors in her sleep.

Chloe wonders if she can pull some of that pain from Beca. If she can seep some of it away, somehow. She squeezes Beca a little tighter, sighing into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck as she does so. It is then that Beca stiffens and her back tenses uncomfortably, but she relaxes quickly enough. Chloe catches it however and pulls back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“What was that about?” she asks, pulling Beca further into her apartment. She debates whether to draw Beca towards the bathroom or towards her bedroom. Before she can really decide, Chloe notices the way Beca’s hand comes up to her shoulder almost unconsciously as her eyes lift up to Chloe’s in a guilty manner. Chloe’s small apartment seems even smaller as Beca looks up at her with nervous, anxious eyes. Incredibly even then, the bedroom, where she so desperately wants to cuddle with Beca now more than ever, feels too far away. “Are you hurt?” Chloe asks, reaching forward to cup Beca’s cheeks as gently as she can. “Did you hurt yourself? Did somebody—” the thought rattles her “—did somebody hurt you?” 

Beca attempts a smile, but it’s weak. “I didn’t hurt myself…” she trails off, pretty much confirming every last one of Chloe’s fears. 

(Since Beca’s big “reveal” just under two weeks ago, Chloe had spent many sleepless nights staring at her ceiling while she remained tortured by her own imagination.

It was difficult reconciling the fact that the woman she had come to develop very real feelings for in such a short period of time was also susceptible to the very awful reality of her own line of “work”—a life that she had been forced into more than a life that she had chosen.

It was heartbreaking more than it was terrifying, but the fear played a factor regardless.)

Chloe desperately wants to roll her eyes, but she refuses to take her eyes off Beca’s face. “Beca, you promised,” she whispers, her heart clenching with renewed pain and fear. “Is it bad?” She reaches up to run her fingers through Beca’s hair. She smiles, ever so slightly, at the very subtle way Beca leans into her touch. “Show me,” she urges. “I can help.” 

“I don’t…are you sure?” Beca asks, looking like she’s afraid of something. Probably Chloe running away. “I don’t want you to be like…grossed out.” 

Chloe would laugh at Beca’s ever-present hard-headedness if she weren’t concerned at the possibility of Beca legitimately needing some kind of urgent care.

“I’m not going anywhere…no matter how reckless you are,” Chloe declares. She draws back, placing her hands on her hips and stares hard at Beca, eyes searching across Beca’s face. Her stance doesn’t last long and Chloe deflates. “You promised, Bec. You weren’t going to do…that.”

“It…it got out of control,” Beca admits, thinking about the flash of fury that had slid across her father’s business contact’s face before her back had thudded hard against the ground. “But it’s not bad, I promise,” she assures quickly when Chloe’s eyes flash with emotion once more. A mix of anger and concern. “I just…hurt my shoulder and back really badly. And,” she continues, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket, showing Chloe her bruised wrist. “Just this.” 

“I’m so mad at you,” Chloe whispers. She too is cognizant of how late it is—how thin the apartment walls are. Not for the first time, she wishes that she lived in a more upscale place—somewhere to call her own. Still, her actions contradict her words as she lifts Beca’s hand gently to press a kiss against her palm. “If you can promise not to injure yourself anymore, we can go take a shower.” 

Beca’s heartbeat speeds up as she tries not to think immediately of what she so desperately wants to do with Chloe in the shower, still something they haven’t done together, but she’s still kind of unsure if she’s on the hook still or if she’s allowed to think about having sex with her girlfriend. Whether Chloe sees anything particularly telling in her eyes she does not make it known and instead dips her head to capture Beca’s lips in a soft kiss.

Beca pushes into Chloe immediately, responding in kind. She trembles at how tender Chloe’s lips are—how gentle Chloe is in the way her hand grips her waist, holding her firmly and securely against her body. Beca sighs, tilting her head to properly capture Chloe’s lower lip between her own and stepping further into Chloe’s space. 

“I would love that, Chlo.” 

* * * * *

“Don’t be scared,” Beca urges, tracing Chloe’s cheek with her nose. She parts her lips, dipping her head to kiss along Chloe’s jaw and neck. 

Chloe shudders. “I am,” Chloe murmurs, grasping Beca’s jaw gently before tilting her head up for another kiss. “Only of losing you, though.”

Beca’s entire body warms—even more than it had been from standing under the warm shower spray. The heat is a result of the passion and desperation in Chloe’s voice. Beca has never been wanted quite so earnestly and honestly like this. She had never dared to dream of it either, especially 

“Please,” Beca pleads. All she wants is to feel close to her girlfriend right now. “Can we…I just need to feel you, Chlo…” She wants nothing more than to be reduced to just feeling Chloe’s body against her—she wants to feel nothing except the sensation of Chloe breaking her and tasting her. She wants to forget in a way that only Chloe knows how.

Chloe muffles the almost desperate whimper that escapes Beca’s mouth by covering her lips with her own. The previous tenderness, while still present, is no longer at the forefront of Chloe’s kiss. Instead, Beca feels, with a surge of arousal, the insistent probing of Chloe’s tongue into her mouth and the warmth of Chloe’s wet body against her own. They’re entirely wasting water at this point, but it’s late and Beca intends on making full use of her private bathroom. 

Chloe tears her mouth away eventually, breathing heavily against Beca’s mouth and chin as she gazes at Beca from beneath long eyelashes, water dripping off their ends. Beca trembles at the sight of Chloe’s excessively blue eyes, more gorgeous than ever. With her eyes still trained on Beca, Chloe begins to descend, lips trailing a blazing path down Beca’s neck, her collarbone, between her breasts—Beca whines unexpectedly when Chloe teasingly skips her aching nipples—then down the plane of her stomach before slowly parting Beca’s legs.

“Can you…” Chloe trails two fingers up the inside of Beca’s thigh. “Up?” she asks, breath hot and heavy against Beca’s skin. Beca nods, lifting her leg up over Chloe’s shoulder while she reaches down to sweep Chloe’s messy, wet hair away from her face. “So good,” Chloe murmurs, kissing the soft skin of Beca’s inner thigh closest to her. Her lips trail closer to Beca’s center, where she can see Beca throbs and wants for Chloe the most. The visual of Beca’s wanting, open center—all for Chloe—sends the headiest rush of arousal through Chloe, a visceral want that she attempts to alleviate by pressing her own thighs together. Pushing forward, she leans in for a soft, intimate kiss to Beca’s wet folds, committed to her show of affection and care for the woman pinned to the wall.l 

Beca tilts her head back against the panes of the individual shower stall, groaning quietly when Chloe’s tongue flicks sharply against her clit. The aches in her shoulder and all along her back are all but forgotten as Chloe begins to thoroughly slice her tongue in and around her cunt, slowly building Beca further up from where she was before.

Chloe fucks her with a moderate amount of determination and excessive amount of precision. The firm grip she has on Beca’s thigh and the way her forearm is pressed across her lower abdomen as she tilts her head every which way to continue her ministrations between Beca’s leg—all of it feels especially excessive tonight as Beca rests against the wall, at Chloe’s mercy. 

She slackens her grip in Chloe’s hair, groaning when Chloe begins to suck gently on her clit. The gentle pressure and warmth of Chloe’s lips and tongue and her mouth only make her clit throb more with the extra attention on it. She wants to feel all of Chloe, however—wants Chloe to possess her and make her forget.

She wants nothing but Chloe all around her and in her, filling her up literally and figuratively until her emotions well up and spill over, like all the desire, love, and affection she has for the woman down on her knees in front of her. Opening her eyes hazily, she tilts her head back down with a heaving gasp and a quick flex of her fingers in Chloe’s hair to get her attention. Chloe slows her kisses and pulls back, face glistening with water.

“Are you okay?” Chloe rasps thickly. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” Beca murmurs quickly. “No, not at all. I just—” her breath catches in her chest as Chloe’s fingers trail a quick, succinct path between her legs where her fingers gently begin pushing through Beca’s folds. “Yes,” she moans out, unable to keep her leg up on Chloe’s shoulder any longer. Chloe adapts quickly and stands with shocking swiftness so that she is holding Beca’s body up against the wall with her own. With her free hand, she hikes Beca’s leg up around her hip, eyes trained intently on Beca’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“But you’d tell me if I hurt you, right?” Chloe asks quickly, puffing out quick breaths against Beca’s neck as she begins a slow, steady rhythm with her fingers. Beca’s eyes nearly cross as she nods weakly. Forgetting about the pain in her shoulder, she lifts both arms to wrap around the back of Chloe’s neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

The only way you could hurt me is by leaving.

The reality of Chloe one day leaving—by choice or otherwise—makes Beca’s eyes fly open. Her breathing stutters and she gasps along with Chloe’s thrusts. She grips tighter, nails scrabbling against the skin on Chloe’s back as she tries to prolong her impending orgasm. Chloe’s breathing is laboured against her ear and Beca’s sensitive hearing picks up the minuscule whines that Chloe emits every now and then, audible even over the sound of rushing water. She closes her eyes, reaching for whatever bit of skin she finds available, and finally sinks her teeth gently against Chloe’s shoulder to muffle the sharp cry that she knows will escape as she comes hard around Chloe’s fingers. She clenches tight, like her body is already desperate to keep Chloe inside her and pressed against her. She aches terribly, in both a pleasurable and painful way, but all of it is so, so worth it.

Chloe is pressing slow kisses against the side of her head and along her shoulder as she comes down slowly from her high. As Chloe moves to pull her fingers out, Beca shakes her head once before lifting her gaze to Chloe’s. “Stay,” she implores. “Just a bit longer.”

Chloe’s brow furrows before her expression softens and she leans in to nuzzle her nose against Beca’s before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Please don’t leave me, Beca thinks, but she does not say it aloud. She trembles at the weight on her shoulders, nestling closer to the one person who could very much break her altogether in a million different ways.

* * * * *

Back in Chloe’s room, Chloe closes the door, eyes trained intently on Beca’s movements as she settles back in Chloe’s bed comfortably. Chloe’s bed is significantly smaller than Beca’s bed at her father’s house—perhaps it might even be considered tiny—but Beca isn’t complaining as she settles under Chloe’s heavy comfortable and watches Chloe tidy up. She winces when Chloe gingerly picks up the small pistol that Beca had laid on top of her jacket and moves it carefully into her drawer for safekeeping. She hangs Beca’s jacket up in her closet among her own clothes. The simple act warms Beca’s heart long enough that she momentarily forgets about the worries clogging her mind. They return in full force however when Chloe’s gaze returns to her.

“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?” Chloe asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

Beca tries to smirk. “After what we just did in the shower?”

Chloe frowns further. “Beca…I don’t…even know what happened to you, still.” She slowly climbs into bed next to Beca, cuddling in close. Beca can tell Chloe is still concerned with how carefully her hand comes up to rest on her chest. “Was…was what we did okay?” 

Beca winds her arm gingerly around Chloe’s head, reaching up to tangle in Chloe’s damp curls. “It was,” she promises. “I needed to feel you, Chlo. You make it all…go away.” 

Chloe worries her lower lip between her teeth. “I do?” 

“More than you know. I’ve told you this,” Beca reminds her gently. 

“Tell me what happened to you,” Chloe requests softly.

Beca swallows, flashes of pain and hurt returning to her with full force. The weight of Chloe’s head settles on her uninjured shoulder. She knows she ought to get it checked out as soon as possible, but she feels warm and safe in Chloe’s bed; in Chloe’s arms.

“I’m scared,” Beca admits finally after a few moments of playing with Chloe’s hair. 

Chloe lifts her head slightly, propping her chin up. “Of what?”

“Losing you.”

It isn’t the first time that Beca has admitted it aloud—the first time, tears in both their eyes, still echoes in her head like a permanent reminder of the burden she has to carry with her forever. This is, however, a moment that Beca feels like it is more and more a reality.

“You won’t,” Chloe promises, as steady as ever. “Bec, I keep telling you—”

“I know,” Beca says hastily. “I just…this is my life,” she admits forlornly. “This is my life and how I have to live…and I don’t want you to get hurt, above all.”

Chloe leans up to kiss her, surprising her with how soft and passionate the kiss is. Beca cups the back of Chloe’s head tenderly, eager to let the conversation fade away and continue this if anything, but Chloe pulls back too quickly for Beca’s liking. She whines in protest, but quietens at Chloe’s expression.

“I’m an adult, Beca,” Chloe mumbles. She reaches up to trace Beca’s lips with her index finger. “I know how to handle myself.”

Beca closes her eyes. It’s what every person in her position would dream of hearing if this were some kind of romantic movie where danger was rather limited, but she knows that no matter how many assertions Chloe makes, Chloe has absolutely no idea what the reality is. Or how bad it is.

“I could have died tonight,” Beca admits. Chloe’s hand slows before it drops away. “I could have died because I was stupid and I wasn’t thinking…and that means something. But…” she inhales deeply at the frozen expression on Chloe’s face. “But all I could think of was you. And how I couldn’t bear to lose you. Or what it would be like to never see your face again.”

fin for now.

[minaminokyoko]

Peace Talks Reactions

Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag. 

Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.

·         So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.

·��        I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.

·         Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger.  It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.

·         In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.

·         And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.

·         With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

·         The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.

·         Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*

·         Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.

·         LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.

·         Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.

·         I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.

·         Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.

·         I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.

·         This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.

·         Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!

·         Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.

·         Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.

·         Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.

·         Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.

·         And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.

·         Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.

·         Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.

·         Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.

·         So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.

·         Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.

·         I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.

·         It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.

·         PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.

·         “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.

·         For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.

·         Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.

·         And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

·         “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.

·         I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.

·         Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.

·         Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.

·         Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*

·         I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.

·         Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.

·         Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.

·         Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!

·         Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.

·         Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.

·         “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.

·         I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.

·         Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.

·         I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own. 

As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel. 

This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.

I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.

Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars

[moviewarfare]

A Review of Master Z: Ip Man Legacy (2018)

On my Ip Man rewatching spree, I now stumble on the first spinoff the franchise starring rival/antagonist "Cheung Tin Chi" from Ip Man 3. It is not directed by Wilson Yip who did Ip man 1-4 but rather directed by Yuen Woo-ping who was the action director for Ip Man 3 and 4. He was also an action director for big American movies like Kill Bill and Matrix. I really liked Cheung Tin Chi (Max Zhang) from Ip Man 3 and felt there was a lot of depth to his character so I was thrilled he was getting his own movie. Furthermore, there were some big names in this movie with Michelle Yeon who is a big Chinese Actress and Dave Bautista from Marvel and WWE fame. I was very hyped for this movie. The question was if this movie lived up to the Ip Man legacy?

Let's talk about the action scenes, firstly it is a drastic departure from the Ip Man movies. In Ip Man 2 there was a fair amount of wirework which took away from the grounded, realistic style of the first movie but here there is LOADS of wirework. I didn't hate it in Ip Man 2 but felt like it wasn't as great as the first one but here it is kind of crazy and over the top to the point I found it ridiculously entertaining. A lot of the fight scenes have the actors do a lot of floating and gravity-defying moves with one memorable acrobatic fight scene on neon signs way above ground that was very thrilling to watch. Nearly every fight in this movie is cartooney and unrealistic but it is so entertaining with superb choreography. There are a lot of characters thrown through tables or windows and a lot of slow-mo and close up shots that embody the cliche of the 90s and it goes all the way with it. However, it just works really well and is oddly satisfying.

I loved Max Zhang as Cheung in Ip Man 3 and here still delivers a great performance. His character Cheung has a very interesting arc in this movie where he is struggling with his desire to live a simple life while coping with his loss to Ip Man and his reputation as a martial artist. Throughout the movie, he refuses to use Wing Chun and instead uses a more brutal style of fighting which makes the fights grittier and less elegant than the main series. He then gets wrapped up in some mafia staff which causes him to come into meetings with many different characters but the closest being Julia (Liu Yan) and Fu (Xing Yu) who become friends. Cheung is different from Ip Man in that he feels flawed and having room to grow whereas Ip Man feels near perfect and invincible. Cheung takes a fair amount of damage and hits while also making a fair amount of mistakes which makes him a lot more relatable. He does come out by the end of the movie learning valuable lessons with it even amplifying Ip Man's word of wisdom to him in the 3rd movie and of course, ends up using Wing Chun again.

Most of the supporting cast do a great job as well. Michelle Yeon as "Tso Ngan Kwan" gives a very convincing performance as the leader of an organised crime gang. Her character is also interesting in that she is menacing against those who oppose her but kind in that she wants to turn the crime gang into a legitimate business. Kevin Cheng as "Tso Sai Kit" gives a great performance in being a completely hateable character who wants to be a drug dealer while usurping his sister Ngan Kwan. Dave Bautista as "Owen Davidson" is great as well in that he gives a lovable and charismatic performance in certain scenes while in others a terrifying, hulking menace. He is way better than Mike Tyson was in Ip Man 3 and feels more like an actual antagonist.

Unfortunately, Dave Bautista is very under-utilised with him barely having any dialogue, he isn't the main villain either with Tso Sai Kit being the main villain while Owen Davidson is more of a final boss. Which is a shame as one of my complaints of Frank (Mike Tyson) in Ip Man 3 was that we don't really get any backstory or motive of his character and this is also the case with Owen sadly. Likewise, Tony Jaa of "Ong Bak" fame is in this movie as an assassin with an obsession with black clothing and a top hat. He is a glorified cameo with no dialogue whatsoever and just appears to have a random fight with the main character and then vanishing for most of the movie until the end. It is very jarring as the fight appears out of nowhere and doesn't have any real significance to the story in any way. That is such a downer as Tony Jaa is amazing and they didn't utilise him properly. Additionally, his character just doesn't fit in the Ip Man universe and just feels extremely out of place.

The plot is also a complete mess with it attempting to cram in way too many things into the plot. The story tries to be a redemption story for Cheung, a sibling rivalry story between Ngan and Tso, a gang story, a drug addiction story, British colonialism, racism and corruption. It's very convoluted and a fair amount of these stories aren't even good. It also retreads a lot of Ip Man's 2 and 3 stories with the corruption and racism which is just lazy and disappointing.  

It's extremely corny at times as well and that is fine if it was done well but it isn't in this case. There are a lot of moments that feel like they are trying to be a comedy or funny but it doesn't land and I didn't feel like laughing at all. The movie also attempts some melodramatic moments but again it never really lands and didn't make me feel anything. The movie has a lot of moments that are not intended to be stupid but made me end up thinking it was stupid. However, some moments are not meant to be funny but I kind of thought was funny like a man's arm getting cut off with no blood was just hilariously bad. His arm just gets cut like a plastic toy. Some of the line delivery is also quite bad at times. The child actors are very bad and some of the supporting characters feel one-note and lacking in any range of personality.

I also have some gripes with the editing and set design in this movie. The editing is so weirdly bad in which it would transition to the next scene while abruptly ending the music score before it even ended properly. They also do a lot of fades out which is usually done when ending the movie or to signify the conclusion to an act but it is done a couple of times in this movie where I felt it was odd to do so. Also, the set design feels really empty or too open. It makes the city feel lifeless. This could be due to a lack of extras as there weren't many people roaming around until the final act of the movie where they all come out of nowhere.

Overall, it is a ludicrous movie but there is a charm in that. Spinoffs are a good way of doing something different while embodying the spirit of the main series and Master Z does kind of do that. The movie was aiming to deliver on epic action set pieces and it does so successfully. They are exciting, electrifying and extremely well-choreographed but just don't expect much from its story.

[ablogcalledrevenge]

I’m so intrigued as to why you hated Peter Rabbit so much omg. Please tell!!

I’m putting this under a read more because it got really long and complicated. Sorry, but I have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this and Peter Rabbit is the vessel.

That being said, if you like the movie, that’s okay! You’re allowed to like it and you shouldn’t let me make you feel bad. I love tons of bad movies! Spice World always makes me smile!

Also I want to say that I am not blaming or mad at the actors, crew, the CGI people. Like they did the best with what they had and I don’t fault them. I mostly blame the writers, director, and producers. Especially the producers.

BUT we can’t forget that, at the end of the day, this movie was a cashgrab, merchandise factory of a movie. This is, as my old roommate coined, a parking ticket movie. Basically the only reason half of the people worked on this movie was because they got a bad parking ticket and needed some quick cash. I do not believe for a second that Margot Robbie or Domhnall Gleeson looked at this script and went “yes, this seems like exactly the kind of children’s movie I’ve always dreamed of doing.” Everyone involved with this film did it for the money or because they were contractually obligated. And honestly, that’s okay. I could live with that. These are their jobs and they’re allowed to make money. But when you do a project because you’re forced to, or for the payout, it shows in the work. We can tell when your heart’s not in it. But the movie had bigger issues than the motivations behind it.

1. The movie didn’t have a good villain. Perhaps this is because I’m older and have more sympathy but Thomas McGregor is a very ineffectual villain. We start the movie, meeting him, as if he were the main character! We see that he’s a bit of a control freak and that he can be a little rude to people and then we see him lose his job and have a mental breakdown. He gets this house in the country and all he wants to do is sell it and move on. The rabbits are actively (and against their own desires, but we’ll get into that later) working against him to make selling the house harder. This guy’s supposed to be the villain? This guy who basically lost everything in his life and just wants to go home and spends half the movie getting electrocuted because he doesn’t want animals in the house when he’s trying to sell it? Maybe it’s because Domhnall can make anyone charming, or maybe it’s poor writing, but I watched the movie asking why I was supposed to hate McGregor. He hadn’t done anything wrong! To be honest, as you go through the movie it seems like the rabbits are the antagonists! If the movie was hoping to make him a Cruella DeVil figure, they failed. Thomas is a sad, broken man and I just felt bad for him. Also I don’t enjoy seeing my husband getting beat up by CGI rabbits, it’s embarrassing, but that’s beside the point.

2. The romance between Bea and Thomas is forced, unnecessary, and unlikely to last. Considering they’re supposed to get married and have a baby in the sequel, I think it’s even more ridiculous. The third movie will have them getting a much needed divorce. Like this is a kid’s movie, I don’t know why it needed a romance?? But basically Bea and Thomas have absolutely nothing in common. This isn’t a cute ‘opposites attract’ thing, this is that their values and morals and desires don’t match up at all. They’re completely different people! The fact that Thomas spends the whole movie basically lying to get Bea to like him should be proof enough that whoever wrote the characters never intended them to be a legitimate couple. They’re pushed together because, idk it’s a movie and we have to have a happy ending which means a wedding because apparently we’re in Shakespeare’s time?? People are allowed to be friends and they work better as friends! Also do you think Bea knows anything about shibari? That’s what Thomas needs and you expect this little granola painter to be able to tie him up and rough him around? Oh please.

3. The movie is just bad. The humor and plot are very weak and the characters are mostly one dimensional. I think I laughed once during the entire time I watched it. I must admit, in an effort for transparency, that I didn’t finish the movie. I had to stop watching after 45 minutes because I couldn’t take anymore. What does it say about your movie that 45 minutes in and the plot hadn’t really even started yet? It was ALL exposition and that’s bad! This is a kid’s movie, the action needs to start sooner! The humor was oddly topical and unoriginal; the whole movie was. It was clear this was a rip off of Home Alone, Alvin and the Chipmunks, 101 Dalmatians, The Minions. If not through plot than through style. Playing a Top 40 song during an opening scene doesn’t make your movie better, it just makes it lazy. It’s clear you didn’t pick “Feel it Still” by Portugal the Man because it added something to Peter’s character. You added it because people know the song and it will make them sing along and smile. The plot is weak too, it doesn’t make sense. The whole point is that the rabbits want McGregor to leave... he does too! They actively sabotage themselves by pulling all these stunts on him. If they had just left him alone for 2 weeks, he could’ve sold the house and left. He probably would’ve sold it to some rich family that wouldn’t care about a garden full of animals! But instead they realize Thomas doesn’t like them and decide to electrocute him and humiliate him because he doesn’t want them in his garden for a specific amount of time that has an end date. Until the rabbits bothered him, Thomas didn’t care about them! If they had left him alone, he wouldn’t have ‘fallen in love’ with Bea and their other problems wouldn’t have happened too! They caused their own misery! What is this plot?! 

4. Bea is just an idiot and I can’t stand her. No shade to Rose Byrne because she is literally so pretty but the character is very dumb and annoying. She’s supposed to be Beatrix Potter which is also a very strange inclusion considering Beatrix was a real person and had her own life, just saying. But anyway, we can see early on in the film that Bea can communicate with the rabbits. They respect her and listen to her. So why does she let them, and at times, instigate them towards McGregor’s garden! She knows how dangerous it is and that Peter’s dad died there. They literally have the whole forest and her property and they can’t stay out of a 10 square foot garden? If she cares about those rabbits so much why doesn’t she grow some vegetables? Why doesn’t she stop them from bothering the guy who clearly wants nothing to do with them? She’s so caught up in ‘respecting nature’ and ‘being an artist’ that she’s so oblivious to everything else in her life and completely useless in every other way. Thomas deserves a better partner and Beatrix Potter deserved a better interpretation.

5. The characters are mean. Peter Rabbit is supposed to be a bit of a rascal and a scamp. He’s a troublemaker compared to his goody-two shoes siblings. We know this, it’s in the books. But everyone in this movie, especially Peter, is just so mean! Every other comment he makes is something disparaging against Benjamin or one of the other animals. He spends the whole movie being rude and dismissive and cocky. We’re supposed to root for this character? At times, considering his dialogue, Peter seems like more of an antagonist than Thomas. At least Thomas is nice to Bea, at least Thomas, in the beginning, only tries to keep the rabbits out and not hurt them. Peter’s a jerk and I don’t like his character. I don’t like any of the animal characters, they’re all so sarcastic and unsympathetic. So much of the ‘humor’ comes from one of the characters making fun of another and the jokes fall flat because of it. Beatrix Potter’s characters have such a softness to them, they invoke warm and cozy feelings. This movie was such an insult to her work.

Right before Peter Rabbit came out, I saw the Mr. Rogers documentary. Seeing him be so passionate about children’s media really made me think about the stories we give our kids. They deserve better than this recycled garbage! They deserve better characters and better stories. They deserve to be treated like human beings with brains and feelings and talents, instead of just mindless meat bags we plop in front of a screen to keep them out of our hair. I’m not saying that we can’t have entertainment that’s silly or stupid but when every kid’s movie is exactly the same, I start to feel bad. Children deserve quality! 

So here’s my pitch for a Peter Rabbit movie: Up until Thomas goes to drop the rabbits in the river, everything is the same. I would make Peter and his siblings nicer and more inclined to work together as a team but otherwise everything is the same. Then, right before Thomas drops the bag, he stops. What is he doing? What has his life become? He’s about to kill innocent animals because he lost his job? He sinks down on the bridge and starts to cry. He starts telling the rabbits, because he has no one else, how terrible he feels. His job was the most important thing to him. He has no friends, no hobbies, no direction. He doesn’t know what to do with his life now. Maybe Peter pokes his head out and snuggles up to Thomas, showing empathy. Thomas goes on to say that while he enjoyed his job, he realizes now that he wasn’t truly happy and that getting revenge won’t make him happy. He looks down and sees the binoculars, the first gift he’s gotten in years. He looks and sees the rabbits curling up against him and he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to sell the house. Maybe he doesn’t have to go back to his life. So, with the help of his friend Bea and the rabbits, Thomas learns how to calm down and enjoy life. He learns to appreciate the small things and respect the beauty of nature. Maybe there’s a funny montage of Thomas trying to mow the lawn or garden. Maybe he makes everyone dinner with his vegetables and it’s really bad and everyone makes a funny face. It ends (a little like the original ending) with Thomas realizing that he may have lost his successful glamorous job in the city, but now he has friends. Now he has people who care about him and good food on his table. So the movie ends on a toy shop. Thomas is showing a little boy how to fly a remote control plane. Benjamin and Cottontail are in the middle of a tea party with a little girl. Bea is wrapping a gift for customer and Flopsy gets her paw stuck in the bow. Everything seems perfect and wonderful when we hear a huge crash offscreen. PETER! End Credits

[growingpaynes-art]

Far From Home Initial Review: What I Liked and What I Didn’t (Spoilers)

I saw Far From Home yesterday and jotted down some of my immediate responses, and then took some time to think on those points. I do intend to see the film again in the next few days and I may be adding to or amending this list.

Major spoilers below.

(CW: sexual harassment, victim blaming)

What I Liked:

That scene in the jet where Happy stitches Peter up was A+. Not just regarding the expert acting, but how the filmmakers decided to handle the scene. Peter’s fear, stress, and self doubt briefly shifts to anger, and he snaps at Happy for telling him to “relax.” He immediately apologizes, saying “i’m sorry, I shouldn't shout.” Happy in return responds by choosing his words more carefully. Happy then gives him a gentle and encouraging pep talk in which he recognizes Peter’s emotions, encourages him, and explains that he doesn’t need to live up to the legacy of Iron Man and that he only needs to do his best. He remains on task and pragmatic, but never rushes Peter or forces him to do anything he’s not comfortable doing, offering support all the while. 

Peter is allowed to cry at several points throughout the film in front of other male characters, including Nick Fury and Happy. He is never judged for this and he is never made to feel like his emotions are unreasonable or invalid. Continuing this from the previous films even as Peter gets older and takes on more responsibilities further normalizes male emotion in action films. 

Peter consistently voices his concerns and asks for help instead of overwhelming himself and internalizing.

Peter was noticeably shorter than MJ in most of their scenes together, including where they kiss or hold hands. Peter’s height is never made into the butt of a joke, which I had feared might happen. No one even mentions it. Marvel did have Tom wear shoes that made him a little taller than he actually is, but I do appreciate that they didn’t drastically increase his height like they always did to RDJ. 

JK Simmons returning as J Jonah Jameson was a great surprise, and it gives me hope that we may yet see Peter as a photographer

Peter walking out from behind that car carrying a sign and a light as a reference to Steve wielding the shield and mjolnir.

Peter calling his dick his “webshooter”

MJ stepping in and providing some real help several times throughout the movie 

The movies on the flight to Venice “Heart of Iron: The Tony Stark Story,” “Chasing Hydra” etc

The terribly edited movie maker tribute set to “I Will Always Love You” with “in memoriam” in comic sans was the funniest possible way to open the film

Bucky being included in the Thank You Avengers collage in the Midtown Tech news video

Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell were definitely dating and i’m here for it. 

Seeing Peter fight without a suit was cool. I’ve always thought there was a kind of disconnect when characters like spiderman or black panther fight with their masks on, like they feel separate from the actors. But seeing Peter fight in his civilian clothing made it feel more real to me that this kid really has these powers and can do all these amazing flips and feats of strength. It also let us see more of his creativity and quick thinking.

I’m impressed that they were able to make Mysterio’s mo-cap suit look cool instead of completely ridiculous like they do in real life.

Peter closing his eyes and fighting the drones with his spidey-sense to avoid the illusions was so badass. 

The violence felt real. Every time Peter got hit, the audience felt it. Several times he was unable to stand up, he limped and winced and cried. It felt like the consequences of such heavy action were realistically considered when Peter couldn’t just pop back up and shake it off. 

"If you were better, maybe Tony would still be alive” “You’re just a scared little kid in a sweatsuit” 

“You got me?” “I got you.”

“lets get a drink” “i’m- i’m not 21.”

Peter going to a parent figure wearing an oversized shirt and crying while confessing his self-doubts was an oddly specific parallel that i didn’t expect to get again but i’m certainly not complaining

What I Didn’t:

The “rest stop hookup” scene was deeply inappropriate. Peter, a child, is commanded to undress in front of an adult female agent. He initially resists but is intimidated into compliance when she repeats the order. One of Peter’s classmates, Brad, walks into the room and Peter is literally caught with his pants around his ankles with an adult stranger. Brad makes the assumption that Peter is hooking up with her, and takes a photo for evidence with the intention of showing it to MJ in order to ruin Peter’s “chance” with her. Peter is blamed for a situation in which he is the victim, and the audience is meant to find this entire scene funny. Instead of what could have been a really cool scene in which this agent presents the new suit she’s made for Peter, we are given this very uncomfortable scene of sexual harassment played for laughs.

Peter and Brad competing for MJ’s affection and actively sabotaging each other is unnecessary. 

The use of old footage from previous films was lazy, especially when Marvel could have easily recreated those scenes from the perspectives of the new antagonists. I’ve always found this distracting, especially when the quality noticeably drops between two clips, though this is more of a personal peeve than anything I see as a legitimate problem.

The list of characters who become villains because they feel personally or indirectly slighted by Tony and Howard is getting too big. Honestly I think it’s lazy to keep using that as backstory/motivation for new villains after over 10 years, especially now that Tony isn’t even alive.

The multiverse being made up by Beck was disappointing.

The monsters being the Elementals instead of Sandman or Hydroman was also disappointing.

I wish that the spidey-sense was represented by some creative audio or visual cue, like the goosebumps in iw or the ringing noise in spiderverse

There were several lgbt characters/actors on the class trip but they weren’t very visible. You really don’t notice them at all unless you were aware of who was cast beforehand and were watching closely for them. I’m not asking for Peter to swing through new york with a rainbow flag screaming “trans rights” but I would have liked to have seen a queer couple holding hands or a student with a trans patch on their backpack or something. I had been hoping for Peter to actually interact with one of them, to refer to them by name. Obviously having such a diverse cast with queer characters being played by actual queer actors is a huge step up from Joe Russo’s “grieving man” but like that shouldn’t be where the bar is at this point. 

Tbh the headstone and zombie iron man were cliche, and i think it would have been much more impactful if Mysterio had made an allusion of Tony himself instead.

Why would Dr Strange not be available to fight massive elemental monsters from another dimension bent on consuming the earth like dude make yourself available??

I wish the new suit included Karen so that we could see how she and Peter’s interactions have changed now that he is expertly familiar with the functions of the suits. Additionally, the spider-drone would have been cool to see again.

The illusion to Uncle Ben with the “BFP” initials on Peter’s suitcase was great but I do wish we could get some actual information about him. We don’t need to see his death or the “with great power comes great responsibility” speech- we’ve already seen that enough times- but a little clarification on what officially happened to him in the mcu would be interesting. 

Honestly I thought it was too convenient that May, Happy, and all of Peter’s closest friends also dusted. I had wanted to see how interactions between Peter and May or friends such as Ned would be tested emotionally due to the five-year gap.

The BARF tech being invented by Beck and stolen by Tony detracts from it being used in Civil War to establish Tony’s feelings about Howard and Maria’s murders. If it isn’t Tony’s invention, that takes the heart out of it. 

I had really hoped that the glasses were going to end up revealing Tony as an AI, or at least some kind of message from him, and i thought was weird that Tony would give Peter access to a system that allows him to order drone strikes on his classmates.

Also...  so the drone strike on peter’s bus was faked by Mysterio’s team because they needed to get the EDITH glasses from Peter? Because the EDITH glasses give them access to the satellite that deploys the drones? But they already have the same drones? and use one them to fake the bus attack? so why do they need EDITH? Maybe i missed something but that makes no sense to me. 

[duchessofostergotlands]

Hi Jess! I'd just like to apologize in advance if I might rant, I have a cold, a big essay I'm getting nowhere and other things that are stressing me out and might affect my patience at the moment. And I should probably ad that I'm not British and don't really have any interest in the brf, though it's hard to avoid them as a low key royalwatcher (a bit of escapeism from time to time). Nor do I really follow or have any opinion on H&M, nothing personal I just don't feel like I want to deal with(1

all the drama. But I am getting a bit fed up with all this mostly US celebrities defending H&M. I’m sure the British tabloids, and all tabloids tbh, are awful and unfair in their reporting. But having rich and privileged people telling me I should support some other rich and privileged people doesn’t really do it for me. Like today I saw a this polo player at Ellen where they told everyone how good people they are and how we should all support them in the good work they do for all of us, or (2 something like that. Like no, dude! That’s not how a monarchy works. I the rf of my country started working for all the worlds population rather than representing our country as they are paid to do, then I wouldn’t necessarily see any point in having them. One could argue the point of them all together, but that’s a different story. But as I mentioned I’m not British and don’t have any real legitimate ground to get frustrated, the celebrity endorsements. Some of them I’m sure are well intended(3 but do sometimes come across as tone deaf to me. But Jess in addition to being British you are also the most fair and levelheaded royalwatcher I’ve ever come across, how do you feel and think? And does it help with the British public? As I said I’m not in the best of physical and emotional state right now, so I might be a bit over sensitive at the moment. Take care, my dear! And sorry for the rant, plz feel free to ignore! :) (4/4

Hello :) Sorry it took me so long to get to this one. It’s harder for me to answer multi part messages because I have to be on a laptop and also I’m lazy haha. I understand the urge to want to protect your friend and I think when they have in the past called out racism then it has been justified. I also think some of their celebrity friends handle it pretty well. Like Serena is always quite discreet and she seems to try and redirect conversations about them or not give out really personal details which I appreciate. What I don’t like is when the celebrities roll out the argument “they’re just a couple who are trying to do good.” That’s not true. They are public servants, they are members of the royal family. They have considerable social and political power that they haven’t heard and which we fund. That doesn’t give people the right to say whatever they want or expect them to show everything about their private lives. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I think it undermines your argument when you don’t understand what a royal family actually is. They like to play up the family angle themselves in their PR. I think it’s because if people just see them as the nation’s family then they aren’t viewed with as much scrutiny. They can play up the fluffy angle. When in reality they can get a meeting with any Head of State in the world with one phone call, talk privately with them for an unspecified amount of time, and not reveal a single thing they discussed. All while being unelected. And when you realise that you realise how scary it is! So I don’t like when celebrities downplay the role of the monarchy. That’s my issue with it, more than anything else 

[dumdeeedum]

A More Expansive Review of “The Magicians” 4.13 and the Situation Surrounding the Episode’s Events.

So I read both the interview with “The Magicians” show-runners Sera Gamble and John McNamara and the interview with Jason Ralph trying to make sense of what happened here outside of the actual story in the show which I think we can all agree at this point was total hack nonsense but I’ll dive into that further into this post. 

It really sounds like Sera Gamble and John McNamara were trying to be edgy or who knows what the fuck with the story and decided to kill Quentin off. I originally thought it was Jason Ralph’s idea, not even sure where I got that from because none of it has been made clear so obviously I’m still not sure which it was. But the interviews make it sound like this was a narrative decision and not Jason Ralph simply wanting to move on. And if that was the case then that only makes this worse because that means that they weren’t even trying to write around a man who wanted out of a contract they were explicitly trying to write him out. So why do any of this? It only makes this entire question mark of a situation all the more confusing and fucked up!

And based on what I heard, again, I can’t find anything to definitively corroborate this so please feel free to correct me if you have evidence for this or to the contrary but Sera Gamble’s done this before when she was the show-runner on “Supernatural” and apparently fired Misha Collins who is fan favorite and either had to hire him back when she realized she fucked up or someone went over her head and hired him back. But this whole Quentin thing coupled with this information about “Supernatural” (and mind you, I stopped watching that show a reeeeally long time ago so I can’t speak to how it did pre-and-post Misha Collins) really makes me concerned about why these networks would continue to invest in her when she opts to make or go with really dumb business decisions.

I also want to say, to be fair, that I don’t have any experience with John McNamara’s work outside of maybe “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman” that I’m old enough to have watched when it was originally airing but not old enough to actually remember. Shaddap. So maybe someone can shed some light on him as a show-runner in his own right because I simply don’t have that information and I don’t want to blame one half of this creative team fully for the fuckups of the pair. Though White women and White men have a bad track record when they get together, but I digress.

I simply don’t understand it if this was a creative decision they made, I really don’t. I also want to be careful to make it clear that this is speculation based on the information I have and it isn’t intended to make anyone feel like there’s any hope that they’ll hire Jason back or anything, because I really don’t think they will if the did fire him at all.

Something else the interview with Sera Gamble and John McNamara made very clear to me is that these are a couple of very prideful people who have already made up their minds that they know better and they’re edgy as fuck and won’t back down from their shitty creative decisions. And I think that’s really what I wanted to go into here. I’m all about seek to understand before seeking to be understood and I can’t make sense of this as a good decision at all, it seems completely self-defeating, especially when they had more story to draw from if they were stuck.

But again, I could be wrong, and maybe Jason Ralph dipped and they had to mitigate that and just did incredibly poorly at it. They don’t get to dodge responsibility for that, I’m just trying to wrap my head around it because the alternative is that these are incredibly insensitive, egotistical people and that’s an ugly thing to come away believing about people but there’s no excuse for what they did one way or the other so what is one meant to believe?

And what’s even more confusing about all of this is how everyone else’s characters were handled considering they’re meant to carry the show forward. They seemed to really try to branch out and give everyone time this season but with varying degrees of minuscule success. At the end of season 4 we come away with female characters who have had major character regressions even from what we’d previously experienced of them.

Julia is once again at the mercy of men and her entire ability to use magic ends up dependent on men, all of this even though she was a fucking God at one point, Kady literally uttered that dumbass shit about only wanting to be a man’s girlfriend as though she has nothing more to offer in the world despite how capable we know her to be, Fen is still off being half a child because we still don’t have much development for her at all other than she’s childish and coerced gay man Eliot into sex a couple of times, Marina just disappeared, coincidentally once she reveals that she has a same-sex lover, Margo is off fucking the comic relief and sure, she finally got to have her moments with Eliot but even during the episode she had the unmitigated gall to get angry at Penny when she thought he hadn’t saved Eliot while she was busy smiling and kissing up on her mediocre, some dude’s self-insert fantasy boyfriend, and Alice’s entire story was always dependent on Quentin’s because they never took the time to develop her as her own person even though they really should have because she’s presumably going to have to be her own person starting season 5 unless they find another dick for her to hop on and give her character development to some other dude.

The men fared little better. I can see they’re really trying to push this Josh shit on people and I’m glad I won’t be around for it, and Penny’s always had his share of development and hopefully for his sake they expand on that? Though, really, let the man find another show to be on, he’s too good for this.

Quentin and Alice as a couple was obviously rushed even though they had plenty of time to go another way and develop a trusting friendship or develop the romance in a more realistic way. An option could have been, y’know, not wasting time making people believe Eliot and Quentin had a shot at being a thing for the sake of their absurd “misdirection.” The way they’d been as a couple before paired with how they were rushed through in the last 3 episodes left no emotional impact for me at all when it came to them. 

And lastly, everything to do with Eliot and Quentin was completely erased but for Eliot throwing peaches in the fire at the end... OK, I guess? They don’t see each other at all before one of them is dead at the end which Sera Gamble and John McNamara try to play off as “realistic” in all of their predictable arrogance. I mean, talk your fucking oxymoron, ey? A show about magic has to have a “realistic” look at death where sometimes people just don’t see each other before they die. Get these two dummies the fuck out of here with that shit.

But if I’m being very honest the entire latter part of season 4 and especially episodes 11-13 felt very odd to me. It felt rushed and forced and none of the emotion they were trying to convey really seemed to land and perhaps that’s down to the actors not knowing they were filming something with this level of finality but it just didn’t hit the mark at all for me. I was confused and bored the majority of the episode because it didn’t feel like it realized it was the last of the season. The big bads of the season ended up taking nothing to kill, which is really a problem this show has always had. Eliot coming back after being gone the entire season was treated as a throwaway scene with Margo overacting considering she couldn’t be bothered to show up before, while Quentin didn’t react at all, super weird. Then we get another awkward as fuck singing scene that didn’t suit the situation at all and just turned what should have been an emotional send off into something silly, especially when we can hear that they finally got half this fucking cast people to sing for them. Just very odd decisions all around that left very little emotional impact for me because most of the time I sincerely believe the writers of this show sit around trying to mimic scenes from other shows or movies that had an impact within the context of those stories but don’t work here. We didn’t need a pensive, sad sendoff to have a fucking musical number! You aren’t Paul Thomas Anderson and this isn’t “Magnolia”!

And at the end, their suicidally depressed, mentally ill character whom they had just kind of revealed to be bisexual had... committed suicide and not only was the takeaway meant to be that this was good for him because he might have helped his friends but even the actor and the show-runners are treating this like some sort of triumph in mental health representation. I’m legitimately scared at what the aftermath of this could be because this could very well push people past the point of just suicide ideation and into believing they’ll have some heroic death if they kill themselves. But in real life people who commit suicide don’t get to come back “It’s a Wonderful Life”- style and see the impact that their suicide or “sacrifice” has on the people in their lives as this show depicted. Why was none of this considered when this show was marketed to people who experience these things? It’s incredibly irresponsible! A fucking suicide prevention banner at the end of the episode doesn’t change that!

There’s just so much more and worse happening here than poor lgbtqa representation. I’m very glad people are seeing that because this show doesn’t deserve another season, not the way they handled this one, at all. This season felt so lazy and so emotionally manipulative to marginalized communities that it really feels like these two asshole show-runners thought they’d skate using the audiences they manipulated into giving a shit about this show. But I really hope this is a lesson to them and to all show-runners and creators that this shit won’t fly anymore. It simply can’t fly anymore, it’s actively harmful and people like this can’t continue to be rewarded for bad behavior that damages marginalized communities! I hope people see that and respond accordingly, I can’t stress this enough! The actors are still young and they have opportunities, let them go!

I also can’t stress enough that they not only did wrong by their entire audience but by their queer actor! It’s unbelievable that they did this to him to the point where I make it a point to not give a fuck or seek out anything to do with actors on twitter or any other social media because I really just don’t give a shit like that but I had to go and let him know he didn’t deserve this just in case he didn’t see this for what it was. I don’t know if he’ll see it, and the end of the day I guess it doesn’t really matter since I don’t know the dude, but wow, did they fuck him over.

There’s nothing more to say, I’ll continue reblogging other people’s thoughts on this and respond because I enjoy having these discussions with people but barring anything I might have forgotten to mention or if I think of something else, which isn’t likely, I’m done with these long diatribes about this show’s failings. I might write something up later reiterating again the importance of media literacy and critically analyzing media from an interdisciplinary, socioeconomic lens but that won’t be for a minute.

Again, I’m so sorry to everyone this show misrepresented, I can’t stress enough how manipulated you were and how wrong this was. But it’s 2019 so let’s take some of the responsibility for the media that gets elevated and do better moving forward for all of our sakes. We all deserve good representation and perhaps it’s time for people like this to stop being allowed platforms. Networks don’t have incentive to give different types of people and stories a chance while people like Sera Gamble and John McNamara are allowed to continue doing what they do with impunity. Period.

[chippedteakettle]

GOT rant

I think the most wildly frustrating thing about this ENTIRE game of thrones debacle is that I can’t even remember the last time I felt this thoroughly invalidated about the way I feel.

I am a writer and I love stories, but most of all I love CHARACTERS. I have a passion for editing stories and smoothing things out to make character arcs feel believable and like the dialogue and choices ring true and feel as natural them as possible. And as such, I feel like I have a good eye and solid intuition about when things feel a bit off the rails, but every single time I have spoken up about the dissonance within season 8, I have been hushed.

I have been told that I can’t say the show is making incorrect or “wrong” choices because it’s not my creation- that I therefore am being unreasonable in my own right if I critique the writing or say it seems lazy or poorly fleshed out or straight up bizarre. That I am a hater for using my ability to employ critical thinking.I have been tossed the age old insult that I am both too invested and also somehow clearly missing things. I have been told that others are “even more on dany’s side than me” or that they “love her just as much as me, but this was the only obvious outcome and it’s clear through the entire series.” Wanting something that simply made sense means I am being an ignorant thrones fan who just wants a “happy ending.” “BS. If everyone including dany dies in the end for a justifiable, believable reason and its how the entire show ends, I wouldn’t enjoy it but I could understand it and that’s truly all I’m asking for. I am so sick of being shushed and silenced....

And it’s ALL by my peers who are MALE fans of the show. Every woman I know who loves this franchise LOVES the dimension of dany and feels robbed. But every man I’ve spoken to personally in my small corner of the world is perfectly content with the crazy ex girlfriend logic being implemented in this show and I find it both invalidating and absolutely bonkers. To have my sound logic rebutted with flat, non dimensional absolutes that dany is just an angry emotional woman who’s lost everything and this was unavoidable because of her Targaryen blood is absolutely staggering. I have never been so heartbroken- not only for her, but for myself and the women I love that this is readily acceptable. Like what the actual heck?

And I am sick and tired of being told over and over and over again that this seasons ONLY issue was being rushed. I am completely over some of the smartest people I know repeating the rationale they were spoonfed by D&D as if they are valid factors behind the character’s choices and motivations. I am BEYOND baffled by the amount of smart, intellectual men that I have seen who fully accept this atrocity of a season at face value and BELIEVE that every choice Danaerys made in the last two episodes was fully validated, justified and foreshadowed and made apparent in a clear, obvious way throughout the entire series. That is garbage.

What was FORESHADOWED was the battle against the dead. What was FORESHADOWED was the power of the three eyed raven. What was FORESHADOWED was the prince who was promised and the intervention of the lord of light. What was FORESHADOWED was Jon’s Targaryen lineage and ultimate legitimacy and how it would eventually affect him.

And all of these legitimately foreshadowed things were all chucked out with the rubbish to pick up these random threads that they tried to weave into something that ultimately fell apart.... now I will concede that Dany was made increasingly cold and absolute in both her decision making and emotions approaching season 8. Dany is depicted as ruthless when exacting justice with the potential to go too far. That is very valid. There are hints of her potentially going too far and it having dire ramifications and potentially little remorse. I did not like this choice but it IS plausible. But what she does to Kings landing and the scale in which she does it has nothing to do with vengeance , retribution or justice- It’s just illogical. And that’s why it doesn’t fit....

a monarch who intends to protect the downtrodden suddenly becoming an intentional blind mass murderer of innocents who have already surrendered to her because her council betrays her and she decides to rule a dead city by fear MAKES NO SENSE! call it foreshadowing all you want but it’s an inconsistent plot point within a well established character.

A character having the potential for a poor decision based on their flaws is NOT the same thing as telling us it was the unavoidable conclusion to her tale. You cannot make a human character without giving them flaws. The existence of those flaws is not proof that the flaws will inevitably undo them. It only shows that there is a chance for something to happens.... not a direct indicator. The characters code of ethics, core beliefs, and level of self awareness still dictate how much power their shortcomings will have over them and how much they will indulge in their weakness. And with danaerys, despite her temper and despite her “divine right of kings” mentality that the iron throne should belong to a a Targaryen, there is SO MUCH MORE EVIDENCE to the validity of her good nature overruling her darker inclinations. At this point, she has been failed by her advisors, but she still wishes to make Westeros a better safer place, take back her birthright, avenge her fallen children and friends and be a better Targaryen than those before her. So it makes no sense for her to hurt civilians....Because Danaerys above all, wants to be a good ruler. She wants to be ruler who inspires love and deserves it. This is clear when she told Jon point blank in season 7 that she hopes she deserves the gift of both his faith in her and the faith of the north backing her. She makes this incredibly genuine confession even in the wake of handling the heart crushing loss of her first dragon and child. This is something that would typically consume her with grief, but she is instead concerned with the world at large and hoping she is worthy of the trust bestowed upon her.

This is not the sentiment of a cruel unreasonable tyrant. It is the true heart of Danaerys Targaryen. It is an indicator of humility, objectivity and positive potential. It is an indicator of the fact that she DOES deserve love and loyalty. That caring about whether or not she deserves the sacrifices others make for her will drive her to make wise, good choices that benefit those who support her and ultimately benefit the world at large because she considers the ramifications of her actions and how they affect the people while none of the other rulers of Westeros have.

The complete abandonment of her prior sense of justice and self awareness in her dialogue in the throne room in episode 6 is inconsistent with a ruler who never wanted to be her father. Her logic is tyrannical then and *out of character*- then she dips back into being madly in love with Jon : not because she is crazy but because this monologue is incohesive and needs revision!

As a woman who has been sweet and soft her entire life, I am so done with being trampled on by boys and their incoherent rhetoric. I was abused my entire life and sexually taken advantage of by a man I called my husband at the time. I am not as sweet and delicate as I used to be prior to that. I’ve had seasons where I lost absolutely everything and it devastated me. And at my core I am the same girl, but I have more grit now. I stand up for myself and I have more strength to assert myself and stand up for those around me. Not because of my abuse (Sansa), but in spite of it. I get walked over less and am honest and driven while still being idealistic...But none of that makes me ”MAD”. Those are not symptoms of insanity or depravity. Nor are they evidence that should I systematically lose everything all over again that I would commit mass murder. No, Madness is not what danaerys suffers from. Danaerys suffered from being written in a short sighted, poorly plotted way that was inconsistent with her heart and narrative.

Danaerys was being tipped in a direction that certainly contained much more chilling absoluteness, but that DOES NOT justify ANYTHING. If that is the rationale alone, then Sansa is the same character! Other characters, including female characters in this show, have done heinous things but there is NO other character who was labeled as entirely beyond salvation after a *single* choice. And that is another nail in the coffin of this backwards logic!!

Tyrion betrayed her and undermined and redirected her so many times but still lived to tell jon to kill her BECAUSE SHE WAS LOYAL ENOUGH TO HIM TO LET HIM LIVE EVEN AFTER TELLING HIM HIS NEXT BETRAYAL WOULD BE HIS LAST! if dany is truly “mad,” then there should be nothing at all holding her back from slaughtering him where he stands on the stone steps of kings landing when he insults and disrespects her in front of her entire army-but she doesn’t! She civiliy has him removed and chained and allows him visitors!!!! Yeah, what a completely irrational despot.

And even if she DID kill him, it would be because it was EARNED! He committed treason more than once and prioritized her enemies over her despite being HER hand. This was the FIRST Thing she does that is out of whack and they suddenly think she’s going to murder Jon snow because of a fear of his legitimacy? She’s never so much as raised her voice at him! So why in God’s name would she kills him?

She’s begged him, she’s shown him her desperation and vulnerability and fear and desire to connect with him, and shown him in every way she can that SHE is still on HIS side but after a single (albeit brutal) action, she is only bad and purely unsalvagable? What? Even Theon Greyjoy got a better redemption arc than that and he literally burned two little boys to death!

Can we also address the fact that Dany knew of John’s bloodline for nearly the ENTIRE season and does not breathe a word of it to anyone, even when her back is against the wall at dragonstone and everyone she trusts has failed her. It has not even occurred to her to betray him because regardless of what anyone else may say or think, danaerys is LOYAL, almost to a fault. She never treats John any differently outside of being shocked the moment it’s revealed and still continues to love and seek him out, desiring closeness with him as he pushes her out, because she still wishes to be with him regardless. Because she is not petty or terrified that he will steal people’s love from her. Even if she realizes she is out of place in the north, it never occurs to her to betray his confidence.

While goddang Sansa can’t even keep her petty sharp tongued mouth shut for a whole thirty minutes before she rats out his secret for her own short sighted benefit because she’s what?jealous of danaerys and thinks she’s smarter than John?

But sansa is openly praised in the aftermath of this series as our queen in the north !? For what? For being a snake? For ruining John’s life and getting the brother she wished to hold close exiled beyond the wall and suddenly being unable to form a single word to defend him in that council when she knows good and well that she started this and it’s her fault but she’s articulate enough not one breath later to ask for the north’s independence???? For seceding from Westeros when her own brother is king just so the whole world knows for sure just how racist and xenophobic the north is- not by tradition but by choice? For being an unoriginal, unclever mean girl who hates danaerys because she’s different and is jealous that she’s a queen and then Sansa gets her way and ruins her in the least strategic, most sloppy, pettiness fueled way ever? But Sansa is considered a beloved character by most men in the end while Dany is fed to the absolute wolves???? What?!

Danaerys has never lied or betrayed her word. She has always had a reason for every action she did. And in the world of game of thrones, she is not surrounded by innocent lambs. Tyrion is a murderer who’s gone free more than once. Jon broke his vows to the nights watch. Varys has hatched more murderous plots than can be counted- including plots aimed at Dany’s own life. Sansa was stone faced as she watched Ramsay die just as dany was at the death of Viserys. Arya has murders countless people- even to the depravity of feeding someone their own children in a pie. Tywin Lannister was calculating, cruel, vicious and treacherous and was a part of countless battles, rebellions and murders- including the red wedding. JAMIE LANNISTER PUSHED A SMALL CHILD OUT A GODDANG WINDOW AND CRIPPLED HIM FOR LIFE just so he could go back to rutting into his own sister in peace. Excuse me? what?? But none of these characters were killed after their FIRST offense. None of them had their internal motivations chocked up to a lazy shoulder shrug of “eh, grief, man. Never know what a woman will do. B*tches be crazy man. Guess I should’ve seen it coming. Signs were probably there all along-she did kill all those evil men tho.” Nor were ANY- not a single one of them- labeled “mad.”

“Mad” is someone like Craster who was beyond all morality and consistently showed a horrific lack of care for human life. “Mad” is someone like Ramsay Bolton who caused dismemberment, torture and rape for FUN. Danaerys Targaryen is not even close to being in this eschalon for a single choice. “Madness” in this particular universe is based on a series of repetitive, consistent patterns that continually choose the inhumane option because of no justifiable reason other than “because they want to”, and that’s just not what we’re working with here.

Dany has a temper. Dany can threaten fire and blood all she wants, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t blindly swing her axe. She is strategic and intentional. And above all else, she does not want to be queen of the ashes- she does not wish to be the next Targaryen to perpetuate crimes of cruelty. She’s already lived with an abusive brother and been haunted by the stories of her seemingly unhinged, possibly schizophrenic father. She shapes each choice she makes to help her become a ruler who only encites fear in the heart of those who wish to do evil, not in the common man. She wishes to liberate and free those who have been oppressed like her- like she is still being crushed, misused and mistreated by the people around her in season 8, episode 5.

So for her to suddenly snap and just take the choice of life away from thousands of innocent people and children in an instant to prove that what- she can if she wants to? MAKES NO SENSE. She wouldn’t harm innocents ESPECIALLY WHEN IT IS AVOIDABLE AND SERVES NO PURPOSE!!! how does she risk everything she’s worked for to save all of humanity only to decimate the entire city she wishes to rule from in the span of 2 episodes??? Because what? she’s pouty that John won’t kiss her back? THAT IS NONSENSE. And it doesn’t even touch on the fact that CERSEI IS STILL IN THE CASTLE ! So if rage and grief are the “motivators” then why in the heck would she burn down the civilians of the city she wishes to rule and the leave the red keep virtually untouched while woman responsible for murdering missandei is still inside if vengeance is her game at this point? TELL ME HOW THAT MAKES SENSE. Oh you can’t? You know why? Because it doesn’t!

Either you make her full tilt crazy or let her be Dany, but don’t you dare mix the two and tell me it made a lick of sense. Or tell me that I’m being unreasonable just because I’m a girl who related to dany’s original arc. That’s nonsense. If this is a case of hereditary mental instability then where the heck are the signs?? Because even her fathers descent into madness was GRADUAL. He didn’t just wake up one day and light half the city on fire because he felt consumed by a certain mood- even psychotic breaks don’t work that way. If we’re looking at facts like they keep asking me to, targaryen madness was a long, grueling, arduous descent into chaos that broke Jamie Lannisters heart to watch.

So don’t you dare turn around and suddenly make Tyrion instigate her death just so you can a shitty parallel of both Targaryen monarchs being taken out by Lannisters they trusted or try to tell me that Dany being stabbed in a way she wasn’t suspecting by someone she loved is some kind of Targaryen poetic justice allusion to her father being run through the back when his chaos had reached its apex. Don’t you dare make me look her in the eye while her loving gaze collapses into confusion, hurt and disbelief as John plunges that stupid dishonorable knife in her. That was wrong. Just plain wrong. And none of us should have had to see it.

The “turn” of danaerys Targaryen was unfounded, unwarranted and sloppily executed, and I am tired of being spoken down to like I’m a dumb little girl for believing in this character and despising where they took her and how she got there.

Mic drop

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

*chucks this to the starving lions* Can I get, uhhh… you interested in some dabihawks intimacy over burns? (2k+ words) ( AO3 )

Hawks lacks his trademark energy. His movements, be them his quirky little leg bounce or a mundane lift of a hand, have become sluggish- that is, if he even bothers moving. Everything about him screams exhaustion, even after almost two weeks of being off duty. Forcing himself to get outside makes Dabi think the hero crazy for two entirely new reasons.

First, he’s everything but suited to walk the streets like this, with restricted mobility that’s just begging for some nosy assholes to tail him. Especially nowadays. He also could have become easy prey to petty villains in the first shady alley, as there’s no way in hell that he can use his left wing for anything but sending out some warped or puny feathers. Considering the cotton pads lining his neck and that his upper body is still covered in bandages under the tee, two sizes too big, this is also not subject to change for a while. There’s one additional pad on his left cheek, likely hiding the spot of a particularly nasty blister. And this mess here had the nerve to ask for a meetup and sneak out to this infection-ridden hole, but let's not even go there.

No, there's a bigger issue. The other reason Hawks is a madman… the thing that ties an unswallowable knot in Dabi’s stomach, and makes him reconsider coming for the umpteenth time, and legitimately uncomfortable… is that the gauze on the other's body is hiding second, if not third degree burns that he himself had inflicted, under circumstances he’d rather not even think of.

Once it becomes obvious that he won't be the one to initiate, Hawks’ familiar voice rings with forced bravado. “What’s with the long face? You look even deader than usual,” he chides the villain. It almost sounds like there wasn't a rotting elephant carcass in the room. Almost.

There's no answer he can muster. He’s just staring vacantly at the left side of the other’s face. A silent thought notes how the hero's hair grows about as fast as his feathers do after being shaved. Or burned. He made all those passive-aggressive jokes in the beginning, about what high quality kindling Hawks would make if set ablaze. And he really does burn so fast… so easily.

He should have ignored the message altogether.

Hawks sighs; his scowl softens and the tired smile disappears without a trace. No point in waltzing around the metaphorical bush, is there. “See… this is why I wanted to come. Because I figured your punk ass would wax emo over it. She's safe and sound, isn't she? And I'll just have to deal with it. It’s for doing the same damn heroic thing you keep chewing me out on, after all. Can’t help not make dumb decisions? Then let them bite you in the ass! So it did, you were right! Congrats. Not that it’s a big deal, though. This shit’s always been part of my job description.”

He cannot find it in himself to give an edge to the words, or get any snarkier with Dabi right now. The incident had some really bad timing. Things… had already been changing between them, for better or worse. Dabi’s painfully aware of this, too. As for Hawks…

It's hard to forget what it looks like. The way a man's blind rage and murderous intent change to the frantic panic and horror of a child at the drop of a hat… What seeing it feels like, as your left side is set on fire in real time, feeling a thousand-degree hand print itself into your flesh in slow motion, before it’s yanked away as if it had been charred by something burning even hotter inside you. What Dabi’s voice sounds like when in distress, calling out for someone he cared for, thinking he hurt them. Then the change to a faint moment of immense relief in those haunting eyes as your body goes into shock, before giving way to some kind of indescribable emotion that’s the bastard child of those preceding it, and more.

Dabi blinks, eyes still fixated over the rose-laced, ghastly pale patchwork on Hawks’ tan skin. That's a job description he wouldn't have to worry about if he had been given a choice, the idiot. First, he was mad at him that he would intervene. But… if Hawks hadn’t been there, and jumped in between a few minutes later, he---

“It's weird and creepy to have you staring at me like this, you know? The world didn't quite end, but aren't there some news which you should be raving about…? There's chaos and distrust all over the place, people are suspicious of everything labelled hero… they even got rid of that flaming pile of garbage to save some face, didn't they? I'm having it nice with the second guesses around my alignment and inactivity, to be honest… Slipping from the top ten while also being hospitalized makes you have time for yourself! Who would have thought?” It won’t stay like this. No, no… his name is just clean enough from every available angle that both the populace and the Commission trust him and in his return. Latter will want to get him battle ready as soon as possible, right after screaming their heads off at him. He’ll get a message next week, tops. He’s almost happy to oblige, though…

“I’ve been wanting some me time for a while now, but, how should I put it... now that I got my wish… I feel like shit, and can’t do shit that I’d like to do. Karma, bitch- I’m sitting in my room all day, with no idea how to pass time, haha!” No learning to play the guitar, gardening, or how to bake brownies. He can't even take a proper shower with all the bandages and his left shoulder being as stiff as a board. There's only his body, pulsating with slowly rising, light fever, and the numb existence after taking one of those potent painkillers before the aching starts all over again. He usually cannot even remember what happens in the series he ends up watching. It’s frustrating as all hell, and killing his ADHD-plagued ass whenever he has the energy to do something. He would have gone crazy if even his right hand had been off-limits.

If not for Hawks, he would have...

The blonde’s eyes flicker to his aching side as his fake smile returns, and he lifts a hand over the bandages covering his neck. The fingers look mangled under thick layers of shedding, dead skin; the rest, still hidden from view. “The model gig is off the table, too, I guess. They are planning to patch my face up once my wings and joints are salvaged, from what I could gather. Not that it’s a priority, though.” There’s a pause. “I also caught up with my feed, and some ‘fans’ just up and left after getting a little sunburn, too… like, seriously!? That’s just mean,” he moans with thinly veiled disappointment. He exhales with closed eyes and the barely-smile, fingers lingering at the edges of the exposed burns. The expression sticks for a moment.

He would have… burned his mother.

Dabi steps closer, reaching up to Hawks’ face, then barely touches his wounded cheek. This prompts the other to open his eyes again, with light surprise, confusion, and perhaps wariness reflecting in them. “It’s high time those little snots reevaluated their tastes,” Dabi speaks up at last, brushing the back of his fingers over the sensitive skin. He never gave a flying fuck about pretty faces, but… “You never looked better.”

To anybody else, this would sound like a dig… which, it kind of is. But Hawks can read and hear the subtext, which is to say, mild disdain and genuine gratitude. It’s… something else, though. Basically being told that he’s the most beautiful he’s ever been. It’s doing funny things to him inside- it’s beyond great to feel something after the days spent as a walking vegetable. Those fingers are, ironically, also nice and cool against his aching skin, but all of this is getting a little too much to handle at once.

Intended or not, it worms an involuntary (and rather painful), real smile out of Hawks. “Wow… gross.”

He’d be amused at the answer already, but the smile is what gives Dabi whiplash, cracking the uneasiness boulder the size of a truck sitting on his chest and sending him straight to cloud nine. Which is not something that he wants right now, goddammit.

And he would backpedal on the spot, because this backfired really bad, but Hawks has already placed his marred hand over his, and is reaching up with his other one, too. The relatively undamaged right is placed over his bare arm and traces over the scarred-up skin.

“… Does it still hurt a lot?” Hawks asks then, examining the burns meticulously; the texture sends a small chill down his spine, forcing all remaining hair on his body to stand.

He lost sleep over thinking about this. It’s a little embarrassing… thinking about whether Dabi’s wounds hurt as much as his do, all of the time. Or how he took the news. Last thing he kind of remembers before waking up to numb aches is getting an ice layer cast over him by the youngest Todoroki, and all he knew after finally catching up on the news was that the villain managed to escape and was MIA. Honestly… he had just been worried and thinking about Dabi a lot.

… Okay, it’s very embarrassing. And alarming.

“Can’t feel much where it's like that,” he admits. Where gentle fingers run over dead skin, there's a ghost of a presence that the surviving nerves deep below give notice of. A hint of warmth, maybe. Nothing more. “Not now, nor when the stuff cracks and bleeds. What will hurt… are these spots,” he guides the man’s hand up to the staples over his wrist, then takes the same hand and rubs lazy circles over a healed-up spot. “Dead and live skin don’t get along well. They get pulled apart easily, especially if you are still growing… and shit swells and tears when you are not careful. But you’ve already seen that happen to me.” Having finished the vaguely educational monologue, he looks Hawks in the eyes. “It’s also bold of you to waltz into a cesspool like this one. The plague eats roast meat for breakfast, and I hear chicken’s his favourite.”

The last line revives the smile before it could fade, and he looks back at Dabi, too. “Aww, worried~?”

“Nah,” the villain replies with the corners of his mouth also creeping upwards. Hawks’ dulled senses don’t even register that he’s already in his face until it’s too late; “The plague is me.”

The kiss is tender, and lasts only a second or two; before the hero knows it, it’s already over. He blinks first, trying to decide whether he just hallucinated this under the influence of drugs, or it was a real-ass thing that just happened… then hides his mouth behind his free hand with a blushing face.

“… that was totally uncalled for,” he mumbles, trying not to sound whiny, while also trying his best to look as angry as possible. It’s entirely futile as he can’t get rid of the fully grown, shit eating grin, though. “I’m still running a fever, you know. This is not helping.”

Burning face and heart aside, a part of him feels bad about this. Even if nobody asked Dabi to do this. It’s as if he was using the situation for selfish gains.

“In that case, get your sorry ass back to the hospital or whatever, little phoenix,” Dabi purrs, giving another kiss on his temples once Hawks manages to look at him again. The villain lets go of the hand at last, but stays close, staring into the other’s eyes for a moment.

There it is again. That ‘more’ he saw in them back then. It’s stupid, yes… but Hawks would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy basking in the glint that’s so foreign to those eyes.

He doesn’t get much time to enjoy himself, as Dabi’s lips are already curling into an impish smile; “Then, once you resurrect from those ashes… maybe we could run a fever together, hmm?”

Hawks spends the next minutes cursing softly from behind both hands as his ears start burning up, too... and Dabi just laughs, not caring for the blood leaking from his face.

***

*old HDD processing noises* not that I’m particularly happy with it, but yeah, I think this is the first kiss I’ve ever written. hell, those may be even the first vaguely suggestive lines that are meant to be taken seriously that I’ve ever written. Hide yo wives, and hide yo husbands, this is the beginning, I’m going hog wild y’all

ps admit it… the half-assed summary had your expectations fooled