#skipping them was such an unserious choice

[dearabsolutelynoone]

𝓐𝓷 𝓞𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓷

𝓑𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓬𝓽 + 𝓢𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓮

[suashii]

kuroo + making dinner ﾉ a late night snack wif him in a college au ? i hope ur week treats u well bbie <3

such a cute suggestion — thank u for sending it! hopefully u enjoy :3

you’re usually better about not leaving a mess by the door when you return to your apartment, but tonight is different. you can’t help but messily kick off your shoes and shed your book bag in the growing pile at the entrance. after a long, draining study session, you can’t be bothered to keep a clean house at the moment. anyway, once you catch sight of your carelessness in the morning, you’re sure you’ll be rushing to pick things up.

“hmm,” you hum, stretching your arms above your head. the action feels good after being stuck in a chair for the past few hours and it seems like now that you’re home, just within reach of your bed, the exhaustion is finally catching up to you. “to eat or to sleep…” you ponder over your choices.

“i vote for the former.” kuroo chimes in from behind you. he replicates your movements, dropping his bag and stretching a bit before he turns and makes his way to the kitchen. “food is fuel, you know,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“yeah, well, so is sleep. and that sounds like it’ll take a lot less energy than eating.”

he snorts at your reasoning as he surveys the contents of the refrigerator. it’s more bare than he remembers it being—the two of you are past due for a trip to the grocery store. still, he doesn’t let that stop him from trying to convince you to stay up just a little longer for a meal. “fair, but we skipped dinner. you should try to stomach something small at the very least.”

your bed is calling your name, you can hear its tempting whispers from down the hall, but you sigh and nod, joining kuroo in the kitchen to find a replacement for the dinner you missed in favor of reviewing powerpoints. the task seems like a tall one when you get a look in the fridge.

“what do you suggest?” you ask from beside him, “loose lunch meat doesn’t sound too bad.”

he laughs and pinches your arm at your unserious approach, which earns him a pinch back for ever daring to pinch you. 

“what about ramen?” kuroo proposes, lifting an arm to open the cabinet that holds your shared supply of noodles. unsurprisingly, there’s quite a selection of instant ramen at your disposal. “we’re never short on that.”

you take a few seconds to consider it before agreeing—something quick and warm should be satisfying enough.

“take your pick.” kuroo gestures to the multiple differing packages and you point at one—your favorite brand—for him to pull down. he grabs that and one for himself, closing that cabinet and opening the one that houses your pots. the kitchenware clangs loudly as they knock against each other but kuroo doesn’t seem to mind as he juggles the two, carrying them to the sink to fill them with water.

you busy yourself with opening the colorful packages and fishing out the seasoning packs while kuroo brings the pots of water to a boil. other than the gas from the stove and the occasional rustling  of  plastic, a still quiet falls over the kitchen. it’s far from tense or awkward and there’s a beauty that comes with it—being able to enjoy the company of someone without having to share words. and it isn’t lost on you how kuroo tries to take on the bulk of the work, emptying flavor packs and stirring the contents before you get the chance to grab the chopsticks.

he even pours the noodles into your preferred bowl and takes it over to your tiny dining table for you.

“i would have eaten this straight from the pot, you know,” you tell him, sliding into the chair and picking up your utensils to dig in. 

he’s known you long enough to be able to read between the lines of your speech—what you really mean to say is that he made extra dishes that you have no intention of washing. it makes him smile on the other side of the table. “i can handle the dishes.”

“don’t worry, i’ll help you,” you say in between bites. you hold his gaze, blowing on the noodles hanging from your chopsticks. “as long as we do it in the morning.”

he swallows a bite of his own. “deal.”

[hitlikehammers]

almost out of time

rating: t ♥️ cw: boys being very unserious ♥️ tags: established relationship, featuring the party as supporting cast, also featuring shootouts! (with the most negligible stakes), post S4, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day twenty: Love is saying "I love you" even when you're scared (@quinns-shadowy-arts)

early 90s rockstar husbands, baby ♥️ this is apparently what happens when you say 'oh I'll skip day 20 because I have no ideas' and then ideas come for you because you were arrogant ♥️

“Stevie,” Eddie’s breathless, and he is, in fairness, often breathless around that name but this…

Not like this.

“Shh,” Steve bites out, hisses low through clenched teeth as he presses Eddie into the wall a little harder, chest heaving against Eddie’s; “quiet.”

“Steve,” Eddie pants, looking over his shoulder in the dim, there’s fog too, from where Eddie has no fucking clue but it cuts his line of sight to only just beyond Steve’s reach; he’s no use, and he tries to listen for the approach, for footsteps, but his heartbeat’s too loud; “Steve, we’re—"

A finger presses hard, jams his lips up against his teeth as Steve glares out the corner of his eye.

“They’ll fucking hear us,” he leans so close Eddie can feel the dampness of his words when he speaks, then the full drag of his lips; feels the instruction more than hears:

“Stay quiet.”

And Eddie’s trying, he really is, but they’re…this is fucking hopeless, isn’t it? They’re outnumbered, they’ve been running for fuck knows how long. Everyone else is already gone, it’s just them, and they…they can wait it out as long as they want and Eddie would take forever with Steve, he would, but not like this, and fuck, fuck—what good is it, what’s the point when it’ll change nothing—

“But Steve,” Eddie whispers, but his breath catches it and threatens to whine through his words; he nearly chokes trying to rein it back but Steve’s got his whole hand against his mouth, now: not hard, but present. Like a bolster. It feels protective. It feels safe where there’s no safety left.

The red flashes in the dim and fuck; fuck

“Stay down, and don’t fucking talk, okay?” Steve breathes harsh right against Eddie’s ear, and Eddie’s shoved up against him so close, so close that his warmth is Eddie’s warmth in the chill, so close he can feel Steve’s pulse inside his own; they’re, it’s—

They’re almost out of time.

“St—"

And then Steve’s lips are on his, insistent, demanding, claiming, keeping, his tongue in Eddie’s mouth and sure, it’s a very effective, tried and true way to shut Eddie up, but this: this feels like so much more; it’s all passion and feeling, adrenaline and that tip-of-a-knife feeling, that plunge-before-the-plunge and Eddie’s heart feels bold for it, and he sucks at Steve’s lip and kisses once with force of his own before he breaks off and cups Steve’s cheek, reaches to cradle his face full-on and steals one last kiss before looking him square in the eye, decision made, though—

There wasn’t really a decision to it; there’s no choice to be had when it’s him, or Steve.

“I love you, baby,” Eddie tells him fierce, with all the feeling in him; “so fucking much,” which is always true, not just here at the end. He hopes Steve knows that.

“Eddie, what the hell—"

And Eddie’s scrambling up, creeping out from their hiding place and toward the shuffling approach incoming.

“What are you doing?” Steve rasps, lunging to grab at Eddie’s ankle but Eddie’s determined, he’s got momentum, he’s already up and clearing the corner and—

“For love!” he cries out as he leaps into the open, arms wide and asking for the hit—

And it comes, it fucking comes almost immediately.

Eddie drops to the ground, gasping.

And then they’re on top of him.

“Fucking drama queen,” Dustin, Dustin of all of them has the goddamn audacity to say to him as he walks over his prone frame and takes aim at Steve who, in fairness, does take out Mike before Dustin takes three pulls to hit him and win the game to screeching digital fanfare through the speakers.

“You could have just stayed down, man,” Steve huffs with a roll of his eyes as he stands up and unbuckles his vest.

“We were almost out of time!” Eddie gapes a little, sitting up and pointing forcefully toward the big red numbers counting down how many seconds they had left in the arena. Less than three minutes.

“We could have made it, these shitheads still don’t have any aim,” Steve purses his lips with so much of that…that glorious bitchy judgement Eddie loves most to lick off of him, he wonders where he can drag him to—

The flickering of colors next to him catches his attention and: oh. Right. They dragged the kids here. It’s fucking sweltering, they’re all back from school, and the options were swimming or something air-conditioned. And the new releases at the movie theater were all kinda shitty.

And Eddie cannot risk getting them thrown out of here for public indecency at the minimum: the laser tag’s connected to the best fucking arcade in town.

And frankly, yeah: it’s been years in the plural now since they shut the Upside Down…y’know, down, but he’s kinda proud of the guys, extra proud of his Stevie, and actually, yeah, kinda proud of himself, that what with the dark, and the lights, and red and the guns: they were fine. They were safe.

It was fun. It was just a game.

“I mean,” Eddie picks back up his defense, gesturing at the at the kids with their little chest plates all blinking a celebratory red-blue-white-blue-red that feels either very patriotic or very law-enforcement-themed while his and Steve’s remain dark; “they were on their way to our location, one of us had to draw their attention,” and it was going to be Eddie because…

Because: for love.

“We weren’t gonna look there,” Lucas deadpans as Mike snickers and high-fives Dustin a little…a little too triumphantly and okay, fine, he thinks he’s starting to get why Steve had been taking this so seriously: to keep the shitheads from this kind of ego-inflating victory; “we were headed the other way.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to turn to feel the weight of Steve's stare, the vindication and self-congratulation in it's just…tangible in the air.

“Oh,” Eddie bites his lip, tries to think of an angle; “umm,” he twirls his hair and then Steve’s at his side, bumping his shoulder and he can’t really hide, or delay any further—and it’s Steve, next to him, so: he doesn’t exactly want to that bad, anyway, so he turns and gives the softest, widest-eyed look he can muster:

“Good intentions?” he sells it for as much as he can gather up, and Steve?

Steve just snorts, and bumps his shoulder, pretty fucking hard.

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve chuckles a little, shakes his head but doesn’t rush to follow the boys to the armory; he glances that way, but turns back quick, and then he’s grabbing the back of Eddie’s neck and: oh.

Yeah, this was more what Eddie’d been going for with the farewell-forever-my-most-beloved kiss he left Steve with before his grand-though-arguably-unnecessary sacrifice.

“And you’re buying lunch,” Steve breaks off with a nip to his lower lip before shoving his target-vest at Eddie’s chest and making for the door.

And Eddie’s a little breathless again, as he whines Steve’s name—so fucking often, just, breathless around that name—before he struggles a little to unhook his own vest because he’s actually hungry, now that Steve’s landed him with the bill for lunch, but really: it’s a fucking empty threat, either way.

Like: they share a fucking bank account.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[andreafmn]

well hello there!! i read 'In the heat of the moment' AND IT WAS INCREDIBLE. I LOVED IT 😭😭

i came here to make a request, but if you feel uncomfortable doing it you can just skip it !!! 🧸

ok picture this. neteyam and lo'ak had been pining after you for a while, competing between them to see who is the best 'suitor' for you. but both of them are such skxawngs and cowards so they always leave you alone and needy. so, tired of his sons being fools, jake decides to take the matter into his own hands and teaches them how to fuck u 😵‍💫🤌🏻

ok I'm out of my mind here, i hope you would consider to write thiss. you're incredible!! thanks for u writing 😋 (btw sorry for my broken english, it's not my first lenguaje)

Word Count: 5.2K

Story Description: (Y/N)'s heart is being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, having Neteyam as her mate seems like an obvious and practical decision. But on the other, choosing Lo'ak guarantees a life of exhilarating adventure. Still, the only thing they have in common is how they leave her high and dry on multiple occasions. Until Jake Sully becomes tired of his sons' behaviors and gives (Y/N) what she wants.

A/N: If you didn't know, now you know. I take forever to write because life and the brain get in the way. But I still try my hardest to release them as fast as I can.😅 though I hope you enjoy and that I did your request honor, anon. It was very fun to write. My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Warnings: SMUT(+18, minors DNI), p in v sex, public sex (voyeur), semi-public sex, fingering, not mentioned cheating

All characters are of age/over 18

TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST

If you’d like to be tagged in any story or make a request: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

For the Rest of Time

If there was anything that (Y/N) had an excess of, it was attention. No matter where she was, eyes followed her. Whether it was older clan members hoping she’d be the mate of one of their children, other girls envious of her natural allure, or boys who wanted merely a second of her time. 

The Sully boys were not immune to this. 

Since they were children, Neteyam and Lo’ak Sully had grown attached to the girl. Wherever she was, the duo was surely close behind. Always promising one day one of them would be her mate.

Though she always brushed them off, as she grew older the proposals became more serious. No longer were they kids pretending to play house, they had to think about their future and the future of the tribe. Their decisions were not a game anymore. Especially when it came to matters of the heart… and the body. 

It was true that the Na’vi mate for life. Their mind, body, and soul are intertwined with one person in this life and the beyond. One person for eternity. This meant that in the fight between Lo’ak and Neteyam Sully, only one could prevail. And it did not help that (Y/N) could not decide which. 

There was Lo’ak. The boyish and reckless younger brother that took life a little too unseriously. He was the easy choice. The younger Sully didn’t have the fate of the clan riding on his shoulders and it allowed him to be carefree. Which meant that she could lead an easier life with him. Little to no expectations but a whole lot of adventure and fun. 

With him, she would be allowed to make mistakes and walk down a path without expectators. (Y/N) wouldn’t have the pressure of being the next tsahik, of being perfect. 

Then there was Neteyam. The perfect soldier, the confident leader, the future Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan was everything she wanted and more. He was the prudent choice. Being with him would give her standing and respect merely by being next to him. He was gracious and responsible, caring and respectful. Neteyam was everything any parent would have wanted for their child. 

He had been her first kiss too. Being younger and inexperienced, they didn’t understand much of the stirrings that were waking inside them. But they did know that the fluttering in their hearts meant something, that it meant they felt something for each other. 

Neteyam had taken the lead, cupping her face gingerly and placing his lips softly on hers. It had been short and sweet but everything she had imagined. Their excited tails tangled together and their hearts raced. At that moment, she had been sure that Neteyam would be it for her. 

But, as they grew, and she started spending more time with Lo’ak when Neteyam was busy with his training, the same stirrings started to form with him. He knew how to make her feel light, to enjoy every moment as it happened with no regard for the future. 

The first time they kissed, they had burst out in a chain of laughter as they bumped noses, then teeth, and after when (Y/N) accidentally split his lip with her canine. It had been just as sloppy and carefree as they were when together. 

Both boys stood at opposite ends of the spectrum and it had her reeling. If she made the wrong decision, her life could turn out completely different. 

The brothers knew of the other’s intentions with (Y/N) though. It wasn’t hard to tell. The way they both gravitated toward her, fighting each other to spend the most time with her. 

Still, one thing they shared was how much of an unknowing tease they each were to her. In more ways than one. The brothers were each, in their own way, leading the girl on. On too many occasions, they started something they never knew how to finish. 

“Neteyam!” (Y/N) exclaimed as the older Sully wrapped his arms tightly around her waist from behind. “You can’t do that.”

“You know you always have to be aware of your surroundings, ma (Y/N),” he chuckled close to her ears. “Although, with me around, you never have to worry about anything or anyone getting close enough to you.” 

The sound of his voice reverberated through her body, sending sparks coursing through her veins. She could feel his muscles clench against her back, his arms — strong and defined — protectively tight against her. His warm breath grazed her skin, his mouth only centimeters away from her flickering ears. His tail wrapped around her legs, providing no escape from his embrace. 

Yet, what had her panting and warming the pit of her stomach was what she could feel pressed against her backside. 

Through the fabric of their loincloths, (Y/N) feel the hardness of his length pushing against her. Her breath hitched in her throat as she noticed just how warm his skin felt against hers. It seeped through her skin, making her ache almost unbearably. 

“You know that, right, syulang?” Neteyam whispered against her ears, his lips ghosting over the skin. “I would never let anyone hurt you.” 

“Am I under threat at the moment?” 

Her hands skimmed the length of his arms, her fingers tracing every inch of blue skin. She learned every line, every white spot, every vein on it. It was the most intricate work of art she had laid her eyes on. 

“No,” he chuckled softly. “Because I am here.”

“My hero,” she smiled. She leaned into his touch, wondering just how far they could push each other. Neteyam groaned against her ear, closing his eyes as her hips pressed onto his erection. (Y/N) could only smile at his reaction. “I know I will always be safe with you.” 

They stood pressed against each for a moment, testing just who would break first. Their arms laced together, their skin kissing, their hearts racing. Maybe that was the night they would give in to each other, maybe that was the night their bodies for their wishes. 

“Neteyam!” Eyapaxi, one of his friends, called. They jumped away from each other like their skin had turned to fire. “Yo, Neteyam! Your dad is looking for you!”

“I’ve got to go,” he turned to her, disappointment furrowing his brow. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly. “Go. Your dad’s waiting.” 

He kissed her lips quickly and disappeared in a jog into the foliage. And she was left, with wetness pooling between her legs and a hunger building inside her. 

It wasn’t the first nor the last time Neteyam had left her with wanton need. He would touch her, kiss her, hold her, tease her… but never more. And she wanted more. 

His brother followed suit in leaving her high and dry. Because if Neteyam did something, it was highly probable that Lo’ak was close behind. 

He pecked her face teasingly, his hands gripping the sides of her face gingerly and his own face adorned with a goofy smile. They shared laughter as Lo’ak used his lips to map her face — forehead then cheeks, eyes then nose, the corners of her mouth then her chin. 

“Lo’ak,” she chuckled. “Don’t slobber my face.” 

“I’m not,” he laughed in response. “Just showing you what I can do with my lips.”

“Oh, is that all they can do?” 

The boy only grinned in response. His kisses grew deeper, harsher against her skin. He traveled down her face, attaching his lips to her neck. Searching. 

But it didn’t take long for him to find the treasure he was looking for. He knew her as well as his brother did. He knew just where that spot on her neck was that would make her say,

“Lo’ak,” she gasped. Her head fell to the side, allowing him better access to the skin of her neck. “What’re you doing? Anyone could see us.” 

“Are you really worried that anyone could see us?” Lo’ak whispered against her ear. “Or are you worried Neteyam will?” 

“You should be the one worried about that,” she purred in response. “If Nete catches you with your hands on me I’m sure he’ll more than likely fight you.” 

“Let him try,” he mumbled against her ear. “He can’t touch me as long as I’m with you. Has to prove just how perfect of a guy he is.” 

“So honorable of you,” (Y/N) chuckled. But it was quickly drowned by a moan that escaped her lips. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Lo’ak. Please.” 

“I know I can finish it,” he growled. His lips continued their attack on her neck, sucking and nipping at her blue skin as his hands raised to explore her breasts under her necklace. “Do you think you could handle it, though?” 

“Oh, I know I could.” 

She turned suddenly, crashing her lips onto his, savoring the taste of his mouth. Their hands gripped at each other's bodies, exploring the expanse of their skins. Maybe that would be the night they could take that next step. Just maybe it would be Lo’ak that would one day claim her as his mate. 

“LO’AK!” Neytiri’s voice rang out through the trees. “LO’AK, COME HOME THIS INSTANT!” 

“What did you do?” (Y/N) gritted her teeth, sucking in a breath. 

“May have ridden my ikran past a place I shouldn’t have,” he confessed. “I guess I should go then.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

“Next time,” he said before kissing her cheek and disappearing toward his angry mother’s voice. 

“Skxawng,” she muttered under her breath with a chuckle. Because a laugh was all she could muster as she was left with a wetness between her legs and a tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to burst. 

More moments like these followed as neither brother ever had the courage to go any further. With every excuse possible, whether intentional or not, she was always left in a state of arousal with nothing but herself to take care of. It wasn’t what her body yearned for, but it was what she had at the moment. 

She couldn’t blame just the brothers. It was on her as well that her heart couldn’t make up its mind about who she wanted. Her body yearned and ached for them both, her heart pattered at the same beat for them as well. It was complicated and confusing, but they didn’t make it any easier. 

With their constant promises and unfulfilled wishes, it was hard for her to go on. Everything they did, everything they said, only aided in jumbling her thoughts and her feelings. She needed easier. She wanted Eywa to reveal to her what the right decision would be. To reveal which was the path her future had been carved for. 

Maybe it was delusion. Or maybe it was faith. But (Y/N) desperately needed someone else to decide what her fate should be. Because she had no idea what the correct answer was. She loved Neteyam and she loved Lo’ak, each in their own way, but just as strong. 

And so did they. 

As much as the brothers wanted their situation to magically resolve itself, it wasn’t going to. Their competitiveness would never allow either of them to concede. If there was anything both of the boys had in common, it was their stubbornness. They were hard-headed and always had an undeniable need to best the other. Neteyam couldn’t let his little brother have (Y/N)and vice versa. 

Yet, the one that seemed to be caught in the sibling crossfire was (Y/N). Often, she was left hot and bothered after an encounter with either of the boys. Even when it was the three of them, they seemed more interested in proving to each other which of them was the perfect suitor for her rather than proving it to her. 

Much like that night. 

The three of them had settled at a clearing they frequented. It was an area not many knew of and it gave them plenty of privacy to discuss their futures out loud. Or much rather, allowed Neteyam and Lo’ak to engage in an avid discussion regarding who would become (Y/N)’s mate in the near future. 

As she sat on a nearby rock, the brothers engaged in a hearty discussion about the same topic they loved to fight about the most. (Y/N). It had started amicably. A couple of jokes and painless jabs at each other, but had quickly turned into a kind of heated conversation. 

“Come on, little bro. You know you could never be man enough for (Y/N),” Neteyam quipped at his brother. “You don’t have the right package to satisfy her.” 

“And you do? Riding around on a Pa’li all day cannot be good for your… nether regions. Wouldn’t surprise me if you couldn’t even get it up.” 

“Oh, it works just fine. Doesn’t it, (Y/N)?” The question was directed to her, but it wasn’t for her. It was a way to show Lo’ak just how far he’d gotten with her. And though he wanted for his little brother to be the only one affected, it sent a wave of warmth to her core. The memory alone of the many times she had been witness of just how well it did work, flooded her. “And I know it would leave her perfectly content. Can’t say the same for you though. Might just be a little in more than your age, bro.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Neteyam. Ain’t that right, (Y/N)?” Once more, a question that only worked to keep the warmth between her legs growing wetter. As moments flashed before her eyes, her body reacted. “She knows just how well I know her and her body, and what I can do with mine. And, unlike you, I have enough time to spare for her.” 

“You really think time here is an issue? Though, I guess if you only last a couple of minutes, anyone has enough time.” 

“A couple of minutes are better than a few seconds. And something tells me that’s all you can last. What with all the energy you waste during the day.” 

As the brothers kept bickering with each other, reminding the other just how close they had gotten to (Y/N) both physically and emotionally, they were only growing the girl’s arousal. Each moment they inconspicuously brought up trying to tear the other down worked only to build the already intense fire that had been born in the pit of her stomach. 

Once that match had been struck, it was near impossible to smother that flame. Her breathing had become ragged as warmth grew inside her body, her skin growing dark as blood rushed through her veins. She knew it wasn’t the time nor the place – not when the three of them were there – but she couldn’t help the flooding between her legs as desire overtook her. Sure, she had a conflicted heart, but her body was anything but. 

In the midst of the discussion, none of the people present noted the figure that lingered in the shadows. But soon enough, they would all have a night they would never forget. 

***

Jake Sully had been in search of his sons for the better part of the afternoon. The moment for Neteyam to choose his mate was approaching and it was time for him to make up his mind. Jake and Neytiri could only provide him with what options were most suitable for him, but ultimately they wanted him to choose someone he loved. 

It had not gone unnoticed his affinity for (Y/N). The way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about her, the way he’d become elated whenever she was around regardless of his mood, the way he looked at her. He’d seen that stare before. A longing gaze that was laced with need. 

But he knew of Lo’ak’s infatuation for the girl as well. Everyone knew how the Sully brothers both longed for (Y/N). How, when they had all come of age, they’d been fighting and bickering about who would end up with her. How they were both chasing her but neither had made the first step. 

At least no first step to claiming her. The older Sully knew of every other action they had done – nothing was truly secret in the village. He knew of every moment they had winded her up and left her high and dry. He knew what they whispered in the dark about her, what they imagined they could do to the girl. Yet, it seemed they were more engrossed in bickering with each other than actually taking her. 

He knew just how frustrated she was. Every time she’d leave one of his sons, he could smell it on her. Her scent danced its way into his nostrils, igniting something in him that hadn’t been set alight in more than a decade. It was an animalistic instinct that filled his entire being. 

Much like that night, he knew that if he couldn’t find his sons, they were more than likely with (Y/N). He’d asked around the village for anyone that had a clue as to where the boys could be. He visited every area they frequented. He even checked where the ikrans rested, but both Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s were there. Every search came up futile. 

There was only one spot he had yet to verify. The clearing none of them thought Jake knew existed. But after one too many times of his kids and (Y/N) disappearing, Jake had followed them once and encountered the area. 

He made his way down the secluded path. The light from his steps disappeared as he walked further into the forest. He was careful with his walk, not wanting to alert them of his presence too quickly. 

As he got closer, Jake could faintly hear the sound of his sons’ voices bickering about their favorite topic. It made the man chuckle slightly, knowing the conversation would ultimately end the same way it did. Unless he did something about it. 

Jake lingered back once he reached the clearing, taking in the situation he was presented with. 

His sons were recalling certain moments, implying just how far they had gotten physically with (Y/N). Between kisses and touches, they boasted about how intimate they each had been with her. They were focused on making each other feel small and had completely ignored the third person present. 

(Y/N) was breathing heavily. Her hands roamed her neck in an attempt to cool herself down. She clenched her thighs and bit her bottom lip, her tail swishing in a frenzy. 

Even from that far away, he could smell her. He could tell she was needy. Her scent was evident in that. Still, his sons were too focused on fighting each other that they could not see what they were doing to the girl. They didn’t know what she needed. 

At that moment, something took over him. Call it lust, call it a trigger, call it his animal instinct. But he slyly moved closer to (Y/N), making sure his presence would be a surprise until the last second. 

Before she could understand what was happening, Jake pressed himself against her and snaked his arms around her body. One of his hands landed on her throat, whilst the other slithered past her loincloth. 

Between her legs, he found precisely what he had imagined. She was warm and wet, needing any type of touch. Her breath hitched in her throat as soon as his hand made contact with the bundle of nerves that lived at the top of her folds. 

He could tell she was nervous, not knowing who it was behind her, but she melted into the touch she so 

needed. 

“Shhh,” he cooed into her ear. “Just enjoy yourself, baby girl.” 

She recognized the voice instantly. It was hard not to. She’d heard that voice every day of her life, she knew just who it belonged to. 

(Y/N) should have jumped away at the first moment. She should have put some distance between her and Jake and alerted the brothers to their father’s presence and actions. 

Instead, she lost herself in the way his fingers circled her clit. He rolled the bud between his digits, using her own wetness to glide over her. She swallowed the sound that wanted to stream out, not wanting Neteyam or Lo’ak to look over at her. 

As their voices drowned out in her head as it grew hazy, she believed she would be able to have what she had been yearning for without anyone noticing. 

But as Jake kept stimulating her and building her arousal, she knew it would become harder and harder to hold back. She dug her nails into the arm that held her still by her neck, her mouth falling open as she let out deep breaths. 

There was a tightening in the pit of her stomach that was growing, clawing its way around her body. It took over her lungs, it took over her vocal cords, it took over her warmth, and it took over her arousal. 

“Are you that desperate, baby girl?” Jake chuckled against her ear. “You’re close. I can tell, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. Let them know.” 

(Y/N) panted, feeling the pressure growing inside her. She wanted to keep quiet. She wanted to leave the situation satisfied and unscathed. But it was impossible. Once her climax burst, a loud moan escaped her throat. 

Lo’ak and Neteyam’s heads snapped to the sound, unsure why (Y/N) had let out such a sound. 

“What the FUCK?!” Lo’ak screamed. 

“What are you doing, dad?” Neteyam added. “(Y/N), you okay?” 

The girl couldn’t answer. Jake hadn’t stopped his movement as she came down from her orgasm. Her eyes were tightly shut, her chest rising and falling at the quickness of her breath. 

“I’m doing what you boys have not been able to do,” Jake grinned. “Haven’t you noticed just how needy you always leave our sweet (Y/N)?” 

“But, dad…”

“Tell me, Neteyam, do you know what’s the most important area to pay attention to on a woman’s body?” The boy kept quiet. “Lo’ak, do you know what you have to do to make her cum?” Another silent response. “Do either of you know what it takes to give her earth-shattering pleasure?” 

“No,” the boys softly muttered. 

“Then you’re gonna sit there and keep quiet,” Jake commanded. “Tonight you’ll learn just what you have to do. Maybe then you’ll be able to decide who the better mate for (Y/N) is. Because it, unfortunately, can’t be me.” 

He turned her head, easily maneuvering her body, taking her lips in his. In the suddenness, (Y/N) let out a gasp that pushed her mouth open. Jake used that surprise to slip his tongue in. He held the lead in the kiss, her inexperience evident at that moment. 

She let out soft whines. The roughness of the kiss took her aback, but she couldn’t help the way her body was feeling. There was a thrilling excitement to having her first time with the Jake Sully. Her Olo’eyktan, Toruk Makto, the father of the men she loved. It was nothing as she had imagined, but it was exhilarating nonetheless. 

“Tell me what you want, baby girl,” he murmured against her lips. “Do you want this quickly, or the slow and lengthy way?” 

“Quickly,” she pleaded. “I need to feel you now.” 

A deep laugh left Jake’s throat, making his chest rumble. He attached his lips to (Y/N)’s neck at the same time her slipped two digits into her entrance. The hasty invasion of his fingers made the girl gasp a breath mixed with pain and pleasure. 

He was slow at first, letting her body adjust to the stretch. “I know it hurts, baby girl,” he told her. “But you wanted quick and I need to at least spread you enough.” 

She couldn’t talk, too enthralled in the feeling of having something inside her. So, she simply nodded. She let out a whimper every time he thrust his fingers into her, but they slowly transformed into moans as her body grew used to the way the digits spread her open. (Y/N)’s arm flew back, finding the hair on Jake’s nape, using it as leverage to push him deeper into her skin. Much like his sons, he had found that spot that made her want to scream out. The same sons they had completely forgotten about. 

As his speed grew and he pistoned deeper into her, he curled the ends of his fingers to stimulate that spongy area that held the most amount of nerve endings. It drew more and more sounds from her throat, a melody that encouraged Jake to keep going. 

She could feel herself growing close already, knowing what was coming. But she had not anticipated for the man to add his thumb into the mix, rolling her swollen clit with the digit. It had her coming undone in his arms one more time, his name falling from her lips. 

“You did so good, baby girl,” Jake boasted. “Are you ready for your reward?” After she softly nodded, he continued. “Turn to face me, then. Straddle my lap.” 

(Y/N) did as told as she turned her body. A shade of purple flooded her face as she stared into Jake’s eyes for the first time that night. He smiled kindly at her as he brushed stay hairs from her face. Under the light of the bioluminescent flora of Pandora, she looked entrancing, an esoteric vision in his eyes. 

His lips met hers once more, this one softer but just as filled with passion. The hand that had been on her throat now cradled her cheek, his thumb caressing the skin of her cheekbone. It was a comforting and caring touch that appeased them both. 

With his free hand, he guided her body where he wanted her. She placed a leg on either side of him, her knees pillowed by the plush moss on the rock. Jake sat comfortably under her, pushing his loincloth aside and revealing his length. 

The girl couldn’t help the gasp that left her mouth as she gawked at his member. It was bigger than she could have ever imagined, even in girth. A surprising sight, just like everything had been at that point. 

“Don’t worry, baby girl. It’ll fit,” he grinned. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. “I trust you.” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their chests pressed together as she stabilized herself with his body. She spent every second staring into Jake’s yellow eyes, finding the way the light danced in the amber of his pupils a far more interesting sight than anything else around. 

He reached under her, grasping his cock with his hand, lining himself up with her entrance. He guided her down, slowly until he was sheathed completely inside her. Her warmth and tightness enveloped him, embracing all that he was. She let out a loud mewl, laced with hurt and delight as he felt him impale her. 

It took her a second for her body to start moving. The stretch was almost unbearable and incomparable to the spread his fingers gave her. Still, as uncomfortable as she might have felt in the beginning, she couldn’t help the rush of pleasure that overtook her once her insides got used to the feeling of him. 

With the aid of his hands, (Y/N) started to bounce on Jake’s lap. With her arms still firmly grasped around his neck, she allowed her hips to move instinctively. She gyrated them and sank on him as she started the chase of her release – of his release. Even if she had no idea what she was doing, she knew it felt good. 

And she could tell it felt good for Jake as well. As his throat expelled guttural moans, his own hips raised to meet hers. The sound of skin slapping onto skin echoed through the clearing, reaching the twitching ears of Neteyam and Lo’ak – the forgotten boys. 

Still sitting in the spots they had been from the beginning, the Sully boys’ eyes were trained on the scene unfolding in front of them. As much as they wanted to turn their heads and pretend it wasn’t happening, they couldn’t stop the way their bodies reacted. Each of them fought against their urges as best as they could, but it was too much. Before they knew it, they were palming themselves through their loincloths, the pressure that was building threatening to burst. 

Each of the boys let their imaginations run wild, dreaming it was them under (Y/N). In their heads, it was their hands roaming her body. It was their lengths buried deep inside her, feeling her wetness and her warmth. It was their noses breathing in her scent. It was their tails wrapped around the other’s bodies. 

But it was Jake the one that was enjoying (Y/N)’s body, taking her first time from anyone else. He was the one that was kissing her lips now, kissing her jaw and her neck. He was the one that could feel her tightening around him, he was the one who’d be able to claim the first release of seed inside her. The only claim he’d ever have over her. 

“I’m close, baby girl,” he grumbled against her ears. “I can tell you are as well.” 

She nodded promptly, taking her bottom lip between her canines as she felt the tight coil in her stomach for a third time. (Y/N) couldn’t last much longer, her body sensitive from the past two climaxes. A couple of calculated thrusts and she was letting out a yell of ecstasy as she released against his length.

Jake kept pistoning into her as she rode out her end, chasing his own. But as she clenched once more around him, he felt himself burst inside her, his seed mixing with her own release. 

(Y/N) slumped against him as exhaustion overtook her. A mix of overwhelming pleasure and tiredness rushed through her body. As Jake exited her, she felt a harrowing emptiness, and the fatigue was magnified. 

He cradled her body closer, brushing her hair out of her face and allowing her body to rest. He smiled down at her resting face, admiring how her eyes fluttered closed. He was satisfied and so was she. That’s all he could’ve asked for. 

“Now, boys,” Jake grinned. “Instead of fighting each other about who would be the better mate for (Y/N), I think it’s time you showed her. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, sir,” they choked out as they tried to conceal their own releases with their hands. 

“I know it will be hard to ever best what I’ve done,” he chuckled. “But it’s about time your actions started matching your words. At the end of the day, only one of you will have her for the rest of time. Me, I had her tonight.”

Taglist: @uwunuggetchan @ellabellabus07 @sweetllamaparadise @crazy4books1 @jake-sullys-whore @saltedcoffeescotch Thought y'all might enjoy this 😉

[lurkingshan]

✨2023: A Summary✨

Post your most popular and/or favourite edit/gifset/analysis for each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

Tagged by @dribs-and-drabbles, thanks dribs! It's kind of fun to go back and see what I was on about at various points this year.

January

This blog was a mere bebe this time last year and I hadn't started posting anything substantial yet, so nothing of note here.

February

most popular — Making fun of Hira in Utsukushii Kare 2 (affectionately)

favorite — Praising Moonlight Chicken's character writing

March

most popular — The Glory does revenge right

favorite — Whining about people using the friends to lovers label wrong

April

most popular — Celebrating Queen Ae Ri from The Eighth Sense

favourite(s) — Making sure people understand Ji Hyun is a drama dork, helping to kick off the most batshit week of discourse in T8S fandom, and of course the first (of many) appreciation posts for Porsche's sweater

May

most popular — On Step By Step removing a scene critiquing BGP because of fan outcry

favorite(s) — 10 Things I Love About WDYEY and 10 Things I Love About Khun Chai (please watch them if you haven't yet people!)

June

most popular — Having a ball with King the Land

favorite(s) — Breaking down Pat's effect on Phupha in Our Skyy 2, the complexity of family trauma in Our Dining Table, and Jeng's reaction to his failed confession in Step by Step (ugh remember when this show was good). And of course this was the month that the La Plue meta round up was born.

July

most popular — Bitching about romance discourse (it was about King the Land at the time but it's quite widely applicable lol)

favourite(s) — Hysterical praise for La Pluie's conflict writing, kudos for Be My Favorite's character work for Kawi, breaking down where Step By Step went wrong

August

most popular — Ah the good times when we were still so amped about Only Friends

favorite(s) — Every moment of the My Ride rewatch, great moments in subtitlery from Laws of Attraction, and praise for Sing My Crush

September

most popular — That one time I actually liked a Mew thing in Only Friends

favorite(s) — Trying to get y'all to watch Love in Translation, comparing Someday or One Day and A Time Called You, clarifying the differences between Boston and Brian Kinney

October

most popular — Boston and Nick my beloveds (it would be shocking if they didn't make this list they are responsible for many of my most popular posts)

favorite(s) — A couple I Feel You Linger in the Air breakdowns: why the romance works despite being underwritten, and Fong Kaew's excellent character arc

November

most popular — Goofing on the unseriousness of Kiseki: Dear to Me

favorite(s) — Breaking down how the writing choices in Only Friends sent toxic messages and final thoughts on the IFYL finale

December

most popular — Japanese BL starter pack

favorite(s) — Simping over Mohk simping over Day in Last Twilight, yelling about Cherry Magic Thailand, kicking off bl superlatives 2023

--

In addition to all the people dribs tagged that I am double tagging because I want to see your answers (@wen-kexing-apologist @grapejuicegay @btwinlines @twig-tea @rocketturtle4 @waitmyturtles @telomeke and @respectthepetty) I am adding some other folks I know wrote/created a lot this year because I'm curious what stuck with you most: @bengiyo, @ranchthoughts, @jemmo, @chickenstrangers, @chicademartinica, @slayerkitty, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, @colourme-feral, @blmpff, @liyazaki, @wanderlust-in-my-soul, @troubled-mind, @benkaaoi.

[kaliido-s]

Forgive me if this is inflammatory or something, but a criticism that I have of the WoF books (arc 3 onward but the latter half of arc 2 showed the beginnings of it as well) is that it really feels like tui’s writing and prose has… downgraded? I’m not sure if it’s just me, but it was absolutely glaring in the WoF guidebook. Having adult/elderly characters and even ones in government roles speak in a manner indistinguishable from the toddlers written alongside them is. a choice, i think. It feels like she’s leaning too heavily on the humor of “serious thing to unsERIOUS THING THAT DESTROYS THE MOOD OF THE CURRENT SCENE” if that makes sense? Which is a shame; I really feel like her writing peaked at Darkstalker, which I feel had an even mix of that brand of humor, other expressions of it, and scenes and dialogue that can be fully taken seriously. The first arc and first half of arc 2 also shared that balance. Arc 3 was where it became obvious. I have other issues with arc 3, but I feel like the change in writing style is the most distracting, to me- It was grating enough that I couldn’t get through the third arc. I don’t care for any of its writing choices but I could have at least read it if the style hadn’t changed in that way.

Sorry that this has kind of become a ramble. I’m a weirdo who actively enjoys discussions that amount to “this thing i like kind of sucks <3” but I agree that a lot of people with a similar attitude about it should focus a bit more on what’s drawn and kept them with this series.

I hope you’re having a great day!

As a fan of the MonsterVerse Godzilla movies, I am very familiar with “this thing I like kind of sucks ❤️” discussions.

Anyway, I agree with this a lot. I enjoyed the Guidebook, but the writing shift was more glaring than it had been before for me, even though it had also really bothered me with books 14 and 15.

The section with Queen Coral really got on my nerves honestly. I don’t think she was ever this absurdly over-the-top in The Lost Heir? She feels indistinguishable from Kinkajou or Cricket going on long nerdy rambles. Like girl, you are 65, please stop overexerting yourself before you get a heart attack. There are similar moments in Book 14 and 15, either with characters like Snowfall that never stop screaming in all caps, or with the prose itself having very juvenile wording. I agree with you that arcs 1 and 2 had a better balance with this, I’m never annoyed when I read them like I am with the later half of arc 3. It makes me wonder if I might just skip out entirely on arc 4 since it’s likely the whole thing will be written this way. I understand if it’s Tui’s attempt to gear the series more towards it’s target audience, but when characters screaming nonsense in all caps is contrasted with oppression and psychological horror, I’m really not into it. I feel like your ask put it best, I really don’t have that much to add lol.

[pigglepiephi]

In the end The Rebound was an uneven yet at times entertaining series.

Personally I really enjoyed Q’s unrequited love arc - mentioned here and here - though once the street basketball element got wrapped up the pivot was wild. The whiplash in tone from the dark to the laughably unserious was an experience…

This last episode was a hot mess though!

There’s a lot that could be called out but in particular, Zen not telling Ryu he was leaving and instead just announcing it to everyone 🤦‍♀️ and Zen and Ryu having a big emotional goodbye but just 6 minutes* later Zen reappearing with no explanation after a time skip to cover it 🤷‍♀️ were both really strange choices. Them getting nasty under the covers I found super cringe too 😬

Anyway, there were some good bits in there but for me Golf has got form now for not really being able wrap up their series coherently.

*I counted and it was 6 mins 12 seconds from the end of the scene Zen left with Atom, to his voice being heard initially off screen when he returned to the basketball club… and all we saw in between those scenes was an epilogue of what happened to Q. So what was the point of Zen leaving if he was just going to reappear immediately?! Anyway it was all a bit clunky!

[cinnaminsvga]

tbf i think the grandma shit started because of my own fault. i think I felt so old compared to everyone that I said i feel like a grandma or something, or even told them to call me grandma in a "just call me grandma" kinda way and it stuck with a few of them haha

you know what, im kind of the opposite, I feel like my writing now is of a worse quality than back then. i think I got too used to writing just for myself so I got lazy and impatient and skipped over adding details and more descriptions and such But for you, I think it would be a good way to see how much you've improved in your personal opinion! Though like I get churro chumps specifically was crack so maybe use something you took more seriously when writing for comparative purposes haha

omg that's me with soonyoung, he's my actual bias even if seungcheol is constantly tackling me and shaking his ass in my face to remind me how much he owns my ass, but anyway, yeah soonyoung is my precious babie. i just want to love and protect him, he's just a poor innocent little soul

also, sorry if these asks are annoying, I never know when to shut up or how to real social cues so feel free to stop responding at any point. i am very aware that I ramble and it's a lot at times

(double also i know this response may seem fast, I just happened to see that you had responded when I came online lol. triple also(I need more vocab) no idea why im still remaining anon when you can probably easily guess my user at this point but im pretending there is a valid reason for clicking anon)

that's interesting to hear you think your writing got worse! well, i can sort of understand that... for me, when i take a break from writing, sometimes it can feel a little difficult to get back into the groove of things... but i get what you mean a little about "writing for yourself." when you have no intention of sharing your work, sometimes specific details aren't necessary when your target audience is, well, yourself.

as for rereading my old stuff... i do actually reread a lot of my stuff, just not the ones from when i was like 16 LOL it's not because i don't wanting to read my "unserious" stories, it's more because i hate cringing at my old stylistic choices. i like to think ive gotten better at adopting writing styles that i think can make my stories flow smoother. but as a teen, i had trouble structuring my stories because i relied heavily on dialogue to move them. which... isn't a very sustainable approach LMAO but yeah churro chumps is still a story i will always cherish, because even after all this time... i do love me some sillay yoongay fanfics :3

i like soonyoung too :D he was my bias prior to seungcheol... it started with jihoon, then soonyoung, then cheol... leading me to accept my fate as a leader line fan lol but tbh ive gotten really into seokmin lately... something about silly guys is getting to me...

and never apologize for rambling :D i ramble a lot too!! im president of yap city, as they say... i was always the kid who got moved around the classroom bc i would NOT shut up, no matter who i got paired up with... oh woe is the mouth that yaps... anyway thanks for sending these in!! its nice to talking to ya anytime!!

[maritessa]

I tried the A3! Ship chart except my brain is always on overdrive so I don't know what's going on. Everything here is under aspec lens so nothing is romantic unless stated otherwise.

Detailed explanation under the cut.

This basically means that they have a label on their relationship but they're alterous. I think BanTsumu are boyfriends and possibly married in the future. To be honest, I don't really care what their labels is but I think they're the type to put a name on their relationship.

Established:

BanTsumu is my ultimate OTP, I just like the peaceful vibes they give. Tsumugi becomes a lot more playful when he's around Banri and Banri is uncharacteristically always tied around Tsumu's little finger. They're polar opposites but they find comfort in each other like how Banri helped calm Tsumugi down with a cup of coffee when he was nervous and how Tsumugi makes Banri feel safe enough to release his worries. As an aspec mf their dynamic feeds my soul!

Romantic:

1. SakyoIzu: they're not really my top choice but if I'm gonna ship them, I think they would be romantic.

2. TaiYuki: Taichi definitely has the fattest crush on Yuki and I think once he realizes it, he's gonna want something more out of it.

3. TsumuHaru: Tsumugi and Haruto just scratch an itch in my head😔 I think they're the type of couple who tease each other endlessly, act like they're done with each other's antics, and they constantly bicker but at the end of the day, they understand each other most.

OTP:

1. ChikaIzu: MY ALTEROUS BELLS 🫶 RING SO HARD FOR THESE TWO. They are family and they would do anything for each other. They're not shy to reach out when the other needs help, they make promises with each other, they have a playful dynamic, they bond with each other even in the most mundane settings... MY BRAIN JUST HURTS WHEN I THINK OF THEM because I want what they have!!!

2. AzuTasu: Tasuku is just so down bad for Azuma, man. LIKE WHAT EVEN IS THE ENTIRETY OF NOCTURNALITY? Not only that, Tasuku is DENSE but for some reason, he's always one step ahead of comforting Azuma. Also, why does he call everyone by their last name EXCEPT AZUMA 😭 LIKE WHAT THE HELL? Don't even get me started with Azuma's semi playful flirting and Tasuku just responds in the most sincere way THEN AZU GETS ALL FLUSTERED? Whenever these two interact, I just want someone to punch me.

3. HisoIta: I saw this ship one day, thought about it for 10 minutes, and hopped in the ship. I love the idea of spoiler x spoiled. Itaru is SO good at spoiling people and Hisoka is like a cat that needs to be spoiled rotten. Hisoka is also the type of person who will let you do your thing but he'll try to help you in his own terms when he feels like you need help. I like that cause I think Itaru likes his own space and pace so Hisoka is perfect for that!!

4. ME AND KASUMI : look, I know her wife died and I'm sorry but like... If the triplets need a stepmom just hook me up.

Like:

1. JuTen: I just love the mutual respect they have for each other 🛐

2. HisoSaku: TWO ANGELS TOGETHER IS NEVER THE WRONG MOVE!!! Hisoka has this vibe that he's always carrying something heavy and I think whenever he's around Sakuya, he relaxes and he likes watching over how pure Sakuya is about everything. I think if Sakuya asks Hisoka for a favor, he would skip his sleep just to fulfill it.

3. BanSaku: THESE TWO JUST.... *SQUISH* I have no words except AHHHHHHH KEEP LOOKING OUT FOR EACH OTHER!!!

4. TenSaku: Tenma's crush on Sakuya in Act 1 never died on me. Sakuya's acting was acknowledged to not be the best at that time but he just saw how pure and passionate Sakuya is for acting so he felt inspired. HE TALKED TO HIM TO RESPECTFULLY TOO LIKE 🙉🙉 Y'all make me crazy.

5. CitoTsuzu: Citron please keep looking after our playwright boy. He may complain all the time but he looks up to you so much and I know you adore him for all he is.

Poly:

1. Fuyupoly: Fuyu is so unserious 💀 I know they're supposed to be the mature group but I swear I was never fully sold on that idea. I think they'd all live together with their shenanigans until they die.

2. CitoIzuChika: This is kinda complicated but like Citron and Izumi are bros, super tight bros, they always go out together and hang out— everyone is convinced they are together. Chikage and Izumi are the same but their dynamic is more serious than the crackhead energy CitoIzu gives. At one point, they just started going on dates together and now they have this giant queerplatonic poly/polybromantic thing going on.

I do not know how my brain cooked this up so please don't ask.

BroTP:

1. MukuYuki: MY BABIES 🫶 I want them to be there for each other forever

2. KumoAzuShift: The Bois hanging out.

3. TaiAza: the bois hanging out 2. Azami better be Taichi's wingman for Yuki!

4. BanIta: I think this is very common but it's mostly because of their gaming ventures.

5. BanTen: Their interests line up really well and I just love watching them talk tbh

6. ChikaIta: Please roast each other even more 🤗 also, Chikage is Hisoka's brother but Hisoka is with Itaru. I like them getting along but also I like Chikage being like "what the fuck" everytime he sees a new side of Hisoka when he's with Itaru. Maybe we can have either side ranting to Chikage about their relationship problems and Chikage is like "just fucking talk to each other my god".

7. MasuSaku: THE OG LEADS

8. MasuTange: Tangerine is so cute and I love love love him with Masumi. Masumi is so >:( while Tangerine is a ball of sunshine!! I need more interactions with the two of these!! LIKE AT LEAST SHOW US THEM CALLING EACH OTHER 😭

9. CitoIzu: MY ULTIMATE BRO OF ALL BROTPs! 🛐 These two will probably do anything together and I mean anything. I'm convinced they'd get married while skydiving just to prove a point they're making. They are besties who enable each other's bad ideas 😍 and I love it. My favorite genre is dumbasses being dumbasses.

NOTP:

1. JuBan : I don't hate JuBan but I have bad experiences with JuBan fans that kinda ruined the ship for me :( I'm sorry it's not them, it's the fans that terrorize my BanTsumu posts in the past.

Parent:

1-4. Kumon and Muku w Guy and Tsumugi: I just want the winter adults to look after my chaotic chuunibyou son and his cute but equally chaotic cousin. Guy looking after anyone in general is adorable to be honest and I like Tsumugi's teacher side.

[thessaliah]

I knew U Olga would ruin the story since her ugly clown face appeared in Olympus.

Huge anti U Olga-rant below. 

I don't know what possessed Nasu to think U Olga was a good idea. It's just. Okay, I guess is the BB version of Olga. All CCC villains were kinda gag characters that were cringe as hell, in design and mannerisms (BB, the Egos, Kiara, Eliza), but like... the setting of CCC was more or less unserious from the beginning with the Student Council crap, the bb channels, etc. There were threats, but like the atmosphere of the writing was more outrageous than a mute tragedy. Cosmos in the Lostbelt was, meanwhile, a bittersweet story where Guda's and Mash's fighting for survival leads to horrible choices of erasing entire worlds and people which weighs into their consciousness. Even with some levity moments, there's a tragic hint all around which weighs them down. Suddenly Nasu dropped this clown upon us in what was supposed to be a tense moment and climax.

It's like he inserted BB into Heaven's Feel. I love BB, but I think if I read HF with BB, I would hate her guts because she'll be literally a bloody sore thumb that destroys the quiet tragedy setting with her nonsense. It's disruptive and not in a good way.

After how this character singlehandedly destroyed Fate/Grand Order part 2 main story for me, I have no face to think Nasu is a good writer. LB6 is a fluke at this point, and he was carried by other writers in part 2. Like the opposite of part 1. I have zero interest to see how things are solved now besides the Bluebook sorted-out plot. I'll skip the story after that's done not to inflict myself on bad writing and roll for Servants I like. It was barely tolerable to go through LB7.

It’s kind of insane how he had this gorgeous setting, a proper tragic character as Olga dying to be explored to bring forth actual complicated feelings from Mash and Guda from the idea she’s their enemy and what they can do about it (instead of turning them into her unambiguous brainless drones), and he phoned it in so badly. Like sweetie, Olga, I’m sorry. You’re safe in Sanda’s hands at least.

[river-from-alderaan]

The Rebellion makes no sense: a very unserious essay

Alright, the fight against the Empire goes on for years, which is not unusual for a civil war. But am I the only one who thinks that despite the individual arcs, it doesn't ever feel like the characters are doing anything other than... being at war??

I think what happens is I automatically compare the Empire times to the Clone Wars. Being that in addition to the PT we have CW as a show -a type of media where the story is much more stretched out- "the war" feels to me more like a general state rather than an event.

Additionally, both the prequels and the CW show take us to more places in comparison to the OT. Hell, the Jedi temple alone is huge and diverse. The Rebel bases feel incredibly small, so there's little to do apart from, Idk, tracing battle plans.

Talking Hoth specifically: the place looks intended strictly as a workspace, not a living space. Like, genuinely, it's tiny. It's a new base too, built little before ESB. This is not directly stated, but I feel if it was an old base that was either being reused or simply hosting more people now, they'd probably say it. The way the new location is introduced in the opening text makes me believe that's not the case.

What is directly told to us is that the Rebels are on the run. In between Yavin and Hoth, there's been either another base or a period where the Rebels had to just use their fleet. If the Hoth base was a last minute pull for the Alliance, then I'd assume then yes, it's probably small and not all that well equiped in comparison to Yavin or Dantooine.

So my guess is that the Rebels (uh, sorry, one question - how do they afford a living if they're constantly busy with their job of being a Rebel, which is very time consuming yet unpaid?) don't live there. But then how do they manage to be there? Hoth is implied to be a pretty isolated planet, hence why the choice to hide there. Does every single Rebel own a ship to travel from their own home planets every other day?? Do they sleep inside their fighters??

I'm not sure of what "being a Rebel" even entails. What type of job to they do when they're not actively in battle? Most importantly, why aren't there political stances ever mentioned, unlike in the prequels? Surely that means that they're a military organization only?

But then isn't that a disservice to what they're trying to accomplish? The Empire, while also quite unclear in wether it is a dictatorship or simply a corrupt ruling system, is esentially the government. Wouldn't it take more than a civil war to take something like that down? Like, social rioting or something? Dear Rebel leaders, Leia is literally a member of the Senate, aren't y'all using that for nothing?

Speaking of Leia, if not at the base, where do her and Luke live? You know, being that neither of them has families, homes or nearly any belongings at all??

They had a 3 year time skip already! They could've used that to come up with a random explanation without having to actually waste too much screentime - introducing a new status quo is much quicker than actually walking the audience through events. It could've been done in a single throwaway line. Sure it would've been kinda lazy, but it just seems like they completely forgot about it.

[nat20marketing]

Welcome to part two of this week’s Nat 20 Marketing!

In the last post, we covered what makes a BIG IDEA good. Part of a successful delivery comes from knowing the audience’s needs and where to find them. The other critical part is choosing the right tone and right message for it.

What are tones and why do they help in marketing?

To simply put, tones give messages an emotional touch and help the recipient picture the scenario better. A birthday party should be a happy occasion, so the invitation should sound joyous and exciting. A funeral is a serious and sad occasion, so it would be much better to sound sincere when asking people to visit the memorial service. If the tones are not used correctly, the message is going to sound jarring and possibly triggering. When people say “read the room”, it means using the right tone and saying the right things at the right time to match the emotions and energy of others.

I have seen promotional campaigns for charities and I have a rather personal gripe against the tones the organizations usually use to send their messages. Some organizations prefer showing the harsh reality of what is happening to those in need in addition to using severe and depressing tones. The use of people’s empathy is often highly effective in marketing. It helps raise awareness and catch people’s attention extremely quickly. Despite this, I find these advertisements to be rather guilt-tripping and manipulative. Whether this take on marketing for not-for-profit organizations is ethical or not is subjective, but as a consumer, I will be brutally honest here: I tend to skip these advertisements in a heartbeat and if I can, I will also send a report to whichever platform I am currently on that I am not interested in such promotions.

So how do we make tones obvious for text-based communication?

Over the pandemic, we have all gotten used to online chatrooms and forums to replace in-person conversations. As a moderator for a rather popular server on Discord, I have since recognized the importance of tone usage. Let’s use the example of “Guess what happened last night” here to demonstrate. Without the tone, you can’t really guess what possibly could have happened and what the appropriate response should be. Your friend could have broken up with their significant other (sad), or your friend received a thoughtful surprise gift from their loved one (happy). Neurodivergent people have already struggled to detect tones when they converse with others face-to-face for a long time. The lack of tone in text is worse for essentially everyone.

As an avid online chatter, I find the use of emojis and tone indicators to be quite useful in solving this problem. Emojis are little pictures that show emotions and reactions. We are starting to see more companies adopting emojis into their social media posts to generate excitement and become a closer part of the community they serve. However, it’s not always that marketers can use emojis in their messages. For B2B companies, it is almost impossible to do so since emojis are often perceived to be casual and unserious. It is extremely dependent on the brand image whether using emojis to emphasize tones is a feasible solution.

The next best option is the proper choice of words. Language is evolving all the time. Ten years ago, we wouldn’t be seeing phrases like “slay queen” and “poggers”. Now, the word “cook” doesn’t always mean “preparing food”. People have started to use it for “making things into reality”. I can even say what I’m doing right now is “cooking up a blog post”. I wouldn’t use the word “cook” this way if I am writing a professional email to my senior at work, but I would use it when I’m talking with my friends. Using the right tone and the right words for the right occasion is the key takeaway.

Perhaps a blog post by a video game company would use words that are more formal, but daily social media updates should sound far more casual and even humorous given the audience is often gamers and from both Millenials and Gen Z. We can take a look at Larian Studios’ posts and replies on X. The studio uses a good mix of images, gifs, emotes, and casual phrases to connect with its customers (i.e., the players) every day. When Larian Studios was celebrating its achievements after the Game Awards last year, the tones were more heartfelt and thankful for the community’s overwhelming love and support.

Okay, and what about the message content itself?

As mentioned in the previous blog, people’s attention span has declined significantly over the past two decades. Short videos that are no longer than a minute have become the most popular media for content creators to reach their audience. People multitask all the time. They can be working on a research report, watching a YouTube video, and replying to their friends on WhatsApp all at the same time. A short, catchy slogan or even a musical tune is probably one of the best tactics to have people remember the brand.

A few years ago, I watched an advertisement by PepsiCo called STACK YOUR SLEIGH. It was a very short video but it left an extremely memorable impression because of the song that was rewritten and sung in it. I still remember it to this day to use it as an example. The video was made for the holiday season, so the company chose an uplifting Christmas carol classic as the base. The advertisement was rather well-received judging from the positive comments on YouTube. Even without watching the video itself, the audience can already easily tell what occasion the commercial was targeting. On the contrary, if PepsiCo chose Silent Night as the base, it might not have worked as well due to the slow and peaceful tone. This directly links back to the key point of this blog post: CHOOSE THE RIGHT TONE FOR THE RIGHT MESSAGE.

This is it for this week’s Nat 20 Marketing. Stay tuned for next week’s post on Right Message, Right Time, Right Place!

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Five

a/n: i haven't been doing this on purpose, but i keep alternating, long chapter followed by short chapter. i think the longest is 6k words and this one is 2.5k-ish, my apologies for its shortness. but!! this one has everyone's favorite Rita Calhoun, jealousy, Serena Southerlyn's meddling tactics, middle school, and even graduate school. enjoy, and remember any feedback is appreciated more than you all could ever know.

Part Five

When Alex got home from work that evening, she finally had a moment to process that day’s moment on the courthouse steps. She texted Serena, trying to fit all the pieces together in her head.

Alex: What the hell?

Serena: ?

Alex: Serena!

Serena: Yes?

She gave up on coherent texting and decided to call her friend instead.

---

Casey was confusing herself again. Having second thoughts was not how she would put it. No, she was still sure of what she wanted (as sure as she was going to be, doing something very new and all), it was the methods that were bothering her. Namely, that she felt like she had none.

Alex had been difficult early on. The beginning was, in most respects, the most difficult time of their relationship. They had both been in rough patches, trying to be different people than they’d been before, and Casey thought, hoped, they’d both been successful. Alex had found a sense of balance and justice that guided her to powerful places. And Casey could look around her life and point lots of little things out: the tennis racquet beside her softball bat, their well-stocked kitchen, the literary journals lined up in a row on her bookshelf, little markers of stability and self-assuredness that reminded her how she’d changed and stayed the same over the years. She hadn’t felt this untethered since she kissed Alex for the first time.

“Casey, it’s called having a crush,” Rita said after she explained herself over a scotch.

---

“What’s going on, Alex?” Serena’s voice came over the speakerphone as Alex set it down on the countertop.

“Do you want to tell me why you asked my second chair out on the courthouse steps in the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday?”

Serena laughed at her. “I don’t think I did,” she said.

“Hey, Caroline,” Alex mocked Serena’s slightly husky voice, “Won’t you please reserve me a spot on your dance card this weekend?” She said as she popped the cork out of a bottle of wine with an angry pop as punctuation.

“I don’t talk like that,” Serena said. “And all I did was tell her I wanted to dance, I don’t think I asked her for anything, in fact.”

“I don’t remember it like that.”

“So it’s on your mind, huh.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god.” Alex thought of what to say as she sipped.

“I mean,” Serena filled the silence, “If you aren’t going to, I will, you know?”

“Serena!” Alex all but yelled into the phone.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, “that’s what I thought.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I wasn’t

asking her out, I was giving you a reason to go dancing with her again.

“I don’t follow.”

“Sure you don’t. Look, I’ll make a groupchat with you, Casey, me and Caroline, and make plans in there, thus implying that all of us are going. It’s simple.”

“What?” Alex asked, actually not following her friend at this point.

“Just let it happen, Lex. Where is Casey, anyway?”

Alex swirled her wine around. “Rita absconded with her after work today. She said it was something about a case.”

“I don’t think they’re opposing one another on anything right now,” Serena said.

“I’ve learned not to ask questions,” Alex said, referencing the schemes Rita and her wife liked to pull occasionally. Then, realizing what she might be implying, she said, “Remember Sophie’s birthday last year?” and was answered with Serena’s light laugh from the other end of the call.

---

Casey’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I guess so.” Rita was surprised that Casey didn’t fight her on it. She decided to push.

“So, when are you going to ask her out?” Casey looked at her.

“We haven’t like, set a date,” she said. “Do people usually set dates for that kind of thing?

“They usually have a plan of some kind, I think. I mean, I do.”

Rita’s phone buzzed three times, two texts and a photo from Pippa. She didn’t hide her nerves fast enough for Casey to miss it. She shot her friend a look over her glass, saying, “you have a plan, right?”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Stop deflecting.” This time it was Casey’s turn to get the notifications.

New Groupchat (4)

Serena: So, Saturday night, right? Where?

Caroline: Why don’t you meet me at my apartment? The place is kind of hard to find.

Serena: Works for me. Alex? Casey?

Casey had no idea what the texts were about, suspected Serena of some kind of scheme.

Casey: Sure? But what are we doing?

Serena: Dancing!

Caroline: Dancing. Ashley’s on the road so I needed another partner.

Alex: We’re going dancing on Saturday.

Casey looked up from her phone to find an expectant Rita looking at her. “Apparently, I’m going dancing on Saturday.

“With Caroline?”

“And Alex. And Serena.”

Rita smiled wryly. “Good luck.”

---

“Okay, okay, order, order,” you said quieting the room of middle schoolers at the end of practice. “Remember, I can’t be there with you this weekend at the competition, and I have to leave early tonight,” you said, to a chorus of sighs, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. But you’ll all do great, I know it. Listen to your teachers, stick to your plans, and do your best.” The adoring eyes of the team were all on you. “And, if you win, I’ll buy you pizza. Deal?”

Nothing motivates tweens like a pizza party, but you weren’t worried about their performance. If nothing else, you knew Ophélie was a zealous team captain, putting it delicately. She had learned to be persistent from you, which was great at a competition, more annoying when she had chores. You gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as you said goodbye to the team, despite her “no affection in public rule” (because the nature of the adolescent is to be embarrassed), and sent a text to Casey letting her know you’d be out soon.

When you saw her waiting for you outside the school building, your heart skipped a beat. It was that same feeling that you’d felt when Alex was in your apartment-- an intimacy that should’ve felt unusual, out of place, instead felt perfectly natural and comfortable. You hugged in greeting, grateful that you’d all decided that would be acceptable affection for colleagues.

“You know,” you said, “You really didn’t have to come meet me here.” Casey shrugged.

“I wanted to. Nice sweater,” she said, teasing you. It was one of those summer evenings where the sunset had brought a cool breeze with it, and you’d stolen one of Ophélie’s uniform cardigans. It was simple and navy blue, but the school logo embroidered on the breast gave it away. The two of you walked together towards the nearest subway station.

“Thanks,” you said, in an unserious tone. “Where’s Alex?”

“She’s already at the bar,” Casey replied, “I was told to retrieve you before the announcement.”

“It can’t be any big surprise,” you said, wondering. “She’s been agonizing over these applications forever.”

“She’s Gillian. She agonizes.” You looked up at the buildings, lights beginning to come on in the apartment buildings and off in the offices. Casey looked at your lifted head and the way it created a line, sloping and elegant, jawline to neck to collarbone. She pushed one palm with the opposite thumb and bit her lip, thinking about her conversation with Rita. She was right, they needed a plan, or one of these days she was going to kiss you without thinking.

Your voice snapped her out of it, but she didn’t hear what you said. “Casey?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were excited to come dancing again this weekend.” The two of you walked down the stairs to the subway station, you in front, looking over your shoulder as Casey answered you.

“Oh! Yes, I definitely am. I didn’t know that Serena could dance, Alex told me it was her idea.”

“Apparently she studied abroad. I’m glad she asked, though.” That gave the knot of jealousy in Casey’s stomach a tug. She had no right to be jealous, but she couldn’t help but feel it. Serena is beautiful, and single, she doesn’t work with them, she’s super smart and funny, and apparently she knows how to dance.

“I’m glad we’ll have enough people to switch up partners a couple times,” Casey said, assuaging the jealousy.

“That’s the best part,” you agreed.

---

You made it to the table just in time to hear the announcement.

The third announcement. It would appear that Rita had somehow gotten ahold on all of Gillian’s acceptance letters and was withholding them from the rest of the group (except, of course, for the honoree herself, who was happy to go along with the plan, not that she had much of a choice). Glasses were raised and congratulations expressed as Rita said, “the third acceptance is… Yale!”

Polite applause came around the table. Gillian smiled bashfully as everyone told her how proud they were. Of all of you, she was the only person smart enough (or crazy enough) to go back to school after navigating the complex legal world of New York City.

“Which ones did we miss?” Casey said as the two of you slid into the two open seats.

“She got into Columbia,” Serena said, “which means she could stay in Manhattan. A few glasses around the table were raised again, encouraging her to stay close.

“And Stanford,” Alex added. You shot Gillian an excited look, happy at the mention of your alma mater.

“How many more letters are there?” You asked. Rita checked the pile of envelopes in her hand.

“Two.”

As soon as Sophie noticed that neither you nor Casey yet had a drink, there were whiskeys in your hands. As soon as Serena remembered that you were returning from coaching a mock trial team, and remembering what she knew of Casey’s feelings about kids, she began to ask you questions. How was the team, what case are they presenting, do they love you, (truly who wouldn’t). She was almost tiring you out.

“Is she always this persistent?” you asked Alex, smiling at Serena as you did so. You had to know if your eyes were deceiving you, your wishful thinking getting the best of your powers of observation yesterday when you saw her jealous look.

You were correct.

Almost faster than could be perceived, Alex’s eyes narrowed, looking into Serena’s, not yours; as if to say what the hell are you doing. Raised shoulders, her fingers pressing slightly into the table, her tongue in the back of her throat: you’d seen enough jealous boyfriends (of women you were about to dance with, if you’re honest) in clubs to know what it looked like.

Well. That was going to be good information to have at your disposal. If nothing else, for

confirmation: that you weren’t crazy, that there was something there to notice, from both of them.

---

You would’ve considered your offer of your apartment more thoroughly had you initially understood that there would be four of you going out that Saturday night. You weren’t sure, at first, if Serena had been asking you out. Honestly, you would probably not turn her down if she did. It would certainly be a simpler path to take, and there was no denying that Serena was beautiful and smart. Of course, your affections were otherwise engaged.

But, since she had invited Casey and Alex along, you considered it more likely that she was “creating some amount of opportunity,” (a real thing you’d really heard her say once) than making a double date. It would make sense, you thought, if Alex had told her how she was feeling; and the more days that went by, the more little tender interactions, the more often you noticed her resting her eyes in your direction, the more confident you were that you weren’t making up the chemistry.

Casey was a little harder to read, but you had noticed she’d seemed slightly… preoccupied the last few times you’d been alone together. One thing you knew: their marriage was rock solid. Neither of them would do something without the others’ approval. You could only hope they had a plan. You didn’t-- unless trying to seem as desirable yet appropriate as possible could be considered a plan.

There were four people in your apartment. You couldn’t remember the last time you had people over to your place rather than Ashley and Ramin’s, so it felt especially cramped. You were each drinking a glass of wine (from Ramin’s fancy stash, you were not going to let them know just yet that the only wine you bought was two buck chuck), you and Serena were sitting on the barstools at your counter while Alex and Casey sat on the couch. You had your music collection on shuffle, which led to a few laughs at the funny combinations.

It was your turn to feel jealous, or maybe to yearn. You hoped that one of them would see the new collection of books sitting on your table: Marriage and Other Alternatives, More Than Two, and What Love Is (and what it could be). A quiet buzz of anticipation (or was it the wine?) pleasantly lodged itself in your mind as the four of you slung your bags over your shoulders and headed out for the night.

---

Pippa Cox touched her lipstick up in the mirror before returning to the table she was (finally) sharing with Rita Calhoun. For such a smart woman, Pippa had often thought, Rita was prone to running from her feelings. Having gotten her on this date was a feat indeed, even though she knew (the glances, the blushing, the way she would drift into her space, natural as anything) that they shared feelings. As Pippa sat down, Rita smiled.

Unfortunately, as Rita reached for her glass, her phone buzzed in her purse. She shrugged-- what was the point of texting when she was on a date? If it was a client, they would call her secretary who would call her. No need to fret.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” she said, reaching across the table to take Pippa’s hand in her own. She knew how difficult it had been for her to get back into dating, to trust anyone with her heart, which was part of why she had been so apprehensive to pursue her even though the attraction was there. She’d pinched herself when Pippa had been the one to ask, happy to be the pursued for once.

“Good,” Pippa said, “because I want you to myself tonight.” Rita nodded, bit her lip, and smiled. There was another buzz, then another, then another. Three in a row? The only people she knew who texted like that were Casey and Serena, both of whom had plans tonight.

Plans together, with Alex. Involving Caroline. She sighed, hoping that she wasn’t about to do something to hurt Pippa’s feelings. Pippa, to her credit, looked curiously at Rita’s bag as she opened it.

Notifications: 4 new messages.

Serena: This experience is simultaneously adorable and infuriating.

Serena sent a photo.

Serena sent a video.

Serena: I’m tempted to leave and let them figure it out.

Rita laughed to herself. The picture was a selfie of you four sitting at a booth, you and Alex on one side and Casey and Serena on the other. Serena had her head leaned on Casey’s shoulder, who looking across the table, while you were pressing a kiss to Alex’s cheek. Alex had a contented smile, and your table had evidence of more than a couple drinks for each of you. The video was one of you and Alex. You were holding one of her hands with the other wrapped around her waist. Alex looked terrified, poor thing, every body part was flying in the opposite direction. The sounds of Casey and Serena encouraging you both mixed with the horns and drums coming from the stage. Rita agreed with Serena, it was adorable and infuriating.

Rita: Well, that’s cute and maddening for sure.

Serena: I’ll send updates.

Rita: Tomorrow. Please don’t interrupt *my* date again, thank you.

Serena: OMG did she finally ask you out!?!??

Rita: TOMORROW.

Rita put her phone down, answering Pippa’s curious look with a wave of her hand. “Serena drama,” she said, and Pippa gave an understanding nod. “I made her promise to leave me alone for a while.” Pippa leant across the table and pecked Rita’s lips.

“Good.”

---

tags: @addictedtodinosaurs @nocreditinthestraightworld @cmmndrwidw @hi-i-1 @lesbianologist

[docholligay]

Home Base: Part 2 of 2

This is the second half of @keyofjetwolf‘s commission! She asked for Pharah and Tracer friendship, and I included being gay for London as a bonus. Second half is 3,600 words, first half is here. Thank you so much, I hope you like it! 

Yellowed, smelling, and small should have been a given for the new Overwatch headquarters, seeing as it had started in an old, run-down pub that Pharah would have described using the same three words.

Tracer had skipped off to the underground as soon as Pharah had offered her lunch, moving down the side street and onto the main with the simple ease of someone who had spent the bulk of her life riding up and down the line. Pharah had no thought to ask where they might end up. Tracer knew a number of corners and alleyways in the city, restaurants and shops tucked away from the rest of the world, with buttery, melting scones; hot, dripping kebab; and rich, thick steak pies.

Pharah would never tell Tracer directly, but she quite enjoyed when Tracer skipped them around town for a small meal.

On this day, however, they rode the train for a long while until Tracer rose to her feet and skipped off, half in her own mind, and only remembering after half a moment that Pharah was supposed to be there, turning behind to see that she had already followed. Tracer was a creature of a busy mind and a busier body, and Pharah had learned how to read her and keep up with her, its own sort of military code. They criss crossed to another train wordlessly, and Pharah looked around the station, working out the map in her mind.

They were in Tracer’s own neighborhood now (their neighborhood, she corrected herself. At least for the time being.) Tracer was off in her own world, staring into the dark of the tunnel, her feet having guided her to the stop out of habit more than any conscious effort on her part.

Pharah touched her gently on the shoulder,  and she snapped back to this reality. “Why are we going to the house?”

“We isn’t.” Tracer grinned. “Good as you know the line, though.”

Pharah had been living in London for a little over a month. It was difficult to explain how she felt about the place, both underwhelmed and excited, a city she had visited but never felt the pulse of, so grey and dark and different from the places she had lived. When the question of the new headquarters had come up, when they decided to leave Alberta for a more central location, Tracer had immediately had a laundry list of reasons to select London. A center of world culture and industry, ample airports and railways, fine universities for Mercy and WInston to make connections. The most compelling reason of all, of course, was Tracer’s own love for the city, the way it was a part of her and her home, and neither she nor Mercy could match that--they were two tumbleweeds of a kind who had gotten caught together against the fenceline of their twin fates.  

Only Dva had a claim of love to Seoul, and even then she was not terribly displeased at the idea that the Korean paparazzi had less ground forces in London.

And so London it had been, with all other possibilities falling like dominoes in the face of Tracer’s bright enthusiasm for a gloomy city, that nearly caused you to believe in everything it could be right along with her. Tracer was the idea of London, Pharah had thought more than once, the fable of indomitable spirit and astounding resilience made flesh in a tiny Cockney avatar.

She was busy thinking this, again, when Tracer swung out of the train and popped up the stairs, Pharah’s long stride alongside her. As much time as Pharah had spent on this particular patch of London, she could not begin to think of where they were going.

“I might could…” Tracer was quietly mumbling to herself, rubbing her hand through her hair as she stared thoughtfully into the stone of the buildings, never breaking stride, Pharah simply walking close behind her, assuming her internal GPS would lead them where she meant for them to be, when Tracer stopped dead in her tracks, Pharah nearly getting tangled up with her and spilling them both to the pavement. “Right? Right.”

She turned around quickly on the busy road and and clipped back down the street. Pharah waited a beat, and then trotted in quickly next to her.

“Where are we going? Do you know?” She looked skeptically at Tracer, whose freckled face lit up in a smile so wide her eyes nearly closed.

“Buying flowers!” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as if they had not been discussing lunch a mere thirty minutes earlier.

“What?” Pharah stood still for a moment as Tracer chirped over a flower shop display and plucked a single pink rose out of a well stocked bucket. “Tracer.”

“Trust me, love, its for me own good.” She giggled and turned to the grey haired shopkeeper, pulling a few coins out of her pocket.

“Don’t break too many ‘earts out there, Lena.” He gently chided her as he wrapped up the rose and returned it to her.

“Only ‘eart I ever break is me own, Alfie, and that’s the bloody truth.” She took a deep whiff of the rose as he playfully waved her away down the street.

“Explain to me what this has to do with lunch.” It was not said in an accusing way so much as a question with no mark, in the way Pharah did from time to time, her military years having somewhat chipped away at the finer graces of communication.

“Not ‘ungry,” she walked down the street, eyes sparkling and full of light, “I’ve an idea.”

Pharah could, and often did, accuse Tracer of many things. She was forgetful, she was impulsive, she was often unserious. But one thing she could never be accused of was being slow, and Pharah had often wondered and envied at how quickly her mind could whirl to an idea, to a choice, nothing like Pharah’s methodical and considered plotting.

Tracer led them to a small front on the main street, dark, old wood around dark, old windows, below a dark, old awning. The one bright spot in the whole front was the gilded letters spelling out the name of pub, even those flaking at the edges with little care paid to the need to repaint them, as if anyone who belonged here would already know that it was there.

Pharah stopped as she realized what it was.

“This is your bar.”

Tracer half-turned to look at her and nodded. “Me pub, right, yeah.”

Pharah had known Tracer for a number of years, had visited London with her more than once, and never had she taken Pharah, or, as far as she was aware, any of the Overwatch team, save Winston, to the bar she frequented. She had never so much as suggested it.  Pharah had never asked. It was Tracer’s space, a place where she was the local celebrity and hometown girl all in one, a nook where she had grown up, as had her family before, something inviolable and belonging to her alone.

Pharah had never expected to be asked to go there, and her heart pulled a little at the gesture.

But Tracer acted as if it where the most natural thing in the world, and so Pharah chastised herself for assigning anything to it, and followed her inside.

It was a threadbare place, the carpet pulling away from itself and exposing the yellowed underfloor. The stained glass sconces on the walls barely illuminated the place, delicately glowing onto the dark tables and pleasantly rounded pub chairs, a halo seeming to surround the pictures on the walls in their walnut frames, black and white moving to greyscale and then color, getting sharper and cleaner as the years came nearer, carbon dating in film. The bar itself did not seem to be built so much as it had grown out of the ground, dark and stalwart next to the bright blinking light of a betting machine.

But the attitude was convivial and warm, a few men playing billiards in the back, a woman wiping glasses behind the bar.

“Oi!” One of the men pointed his cue at Tracer. “Owe me three quid, you do.”

“Case of mistaken identity, love, ‘ard to remember as you swindle the lot of us, but it weren’t me, love.” But she grinned in her cheshire cat way, playing a game with people who’d known her the bulk of her life.

He snorted. “Only person I’d confuse with you is me thirteen year old cousin, and he don’t never lose darts to me.”

Tracer gave an appreciative laugh but waved him off, seemingly sure that there would always be an opportunity for him to collect, and slipped off her coat, careful of the rose she was holding.

“‘ow’s tricks, treacle?” Tracer bellied up to the bar and crossed her arms, leaning on her elbows as she smiled at the barmaid, no taller than Tracer herself and softly plump, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun.

“Lena Oxton.” She tossed her bar towel over her shoulder and turned her back to them both, already pulling a beer. “Didn’t I frow yew out of ‘ere the last time, right?”

Over the years, Pharah had come to understand Tracer perfectly well, and found herself shaking her head whenever someone expressed confusion over her colorful and rapidfire patter. That, of course, assumed that Tracer was in mixed company, which seemed to soften the hard edges of her dialect.

Entering the pub, Pharah realized they were no longer in mixed company, and the difficulty she had shown in switching her voice in Belgravia was only matched by the ease with which she slipped into the patois of the pub, faster and stronger and full of words that meant nothing like what Pharah knew.

And suddenly, Pharah was, as Tracer herself might say, at sea.

Tracer laughed. “Might ‘ave done, was completely scotch mist, might ‘ave been a bi’ of Barney round the end of the night, no reason to frow me out and leave me sat ‘ere all on me Jack Jones, innit?”

“Lucky you’re an Oxton.” She set the beer in front of Tracer and set her hand down on the worn bartop. “And as I ‘ear it, Jack’s the only girl wot ain’t never come to your door, she is.”

Tracer leaned in close to her and touched the rose against her cheek. “Give you a sov to tell me o’s rabbitting bout it. Sounds a right stunner, she does.” She grinned and gave a wink. “You ever fink of going west end, Isla? Brought this for yew, case of emergency”

Isla snatched the rose out of her hand, shook her head and stepped back toward the taps.. “Fink you’re so bloody funny, do you?”

“Well, ‘umor’s subjective, so.”

“Your old china want somefing?” She looked over at Pharah, who took a moment to register, as Tracer nudged her.

“That’d be you, love.’

“I will have whatever word means a light beer.”

Pharah looked around as she sat on the stool, studying the pictures more closely, the pub through the ages, different people smiling and laughing as they hoisted their beers. That must be the end of World War II. The Omnic crisis. There was a worn Overwatch poster, Tracer jumping across the front, snuggled against a corner. Pharah looked at all the photos and memorabilia, feeling as if she was reading an encyclopedia of this pub’s life. Her eyes fell upon a picture of several young children, a plump blonde girl pulling on the sweater of a small brunette who was climbing onto the bar, freckles exploding across her face, her eyes wide with excitement.

She looked the same, almost, although her hair was short now and her climb to the bar must be slightly less awkward, and even having seen Isla for a total of fifteen minutes she knew that it must be her tugging on the back of Tracer’s shirt. They must have known each other since they were children, living near the same places they grew up, with the same people, in their own little club in the middle of a sprawling city, tied into the very roads like an old cobblestone. Pharah couldn’t go anywhere in the neighborhood with Tracer, without someone calling “Lena!” across the street, or saying something about her family, or teasing her as they bagged up her usual order.

This was foreign to Pharah.

Mercy often talked about spending so much of her life wandering, with that sad smile on her face, the way she invited Pharah to talk about her own childhood. She rarely did. It was only in moments like this that she reflected on how much of her own childhood had been in flux. Her mother had refused to let her live with her father except in the summers, even when this meant that sometimes Pharah sat in a barrack, waiting for her to come back, or when it meant she was living with one aunt and then another, and then a friend Ana had served with, and then back in Ana’s austere apartment for the months Ana was home. Other members of Overwatch drifted in and out of her life as they moved on or died or no longer spoke to Ana. And, so the young  Fareeha Amari had become unsentimental,  well-studied, adaptable...and quite rootless.

“I think you still own that sweater.” She pointed to the photo and laughed, silence the only response.

Pharah looked to her side, but Tracer had slipped away in the brief seconds Pharah had been thinking, already at the other end of the bar talking to a grey-haired man in a snug green sweater who looked at her with a look of mock irritation and genuine affection. Her hands gestured wildly as she explained something to him, too far at the other end of the bar and too deep in her accent for Pharah to understand what she was talking about.

Pharah and Mercy were different, Pharah had often reflected, in that all Mercy had ever wanted was a place that could be her home, a consistent place that made her feel settled and warm when she entered it. It was simply that life had gotten in the way of the goal. But Pharah had been determined to carry on with her rolling sort of life, in the army and in Helix, unmoored and sailing freely, with little connection outside her comrades, all the better to be a ship of war, as an Amari was born to do.

Meeting Mercy had changed all that, and Pharah took it as a sign of her own failure to Mercy that she had never managed to give her that framed photo kind of life, the one she so obviously wanted. Alberta had been just as temporary as Cairo or Boston. And now London, just one more place these two dandelion seeds would try to sprout.

Tracer gave a percussive laugh across the pub,and one of the men playing billiards told her to keep it down, and she playfully barked back some insult and another laugh. She whirled quickly to the other side of the old man, egging him on for ideas.

Her mind turned from the faded photographs on the walls and Tracer’s popping voice to her own ideas of London, of the Overwatch headquarters, and how everything she had wanted to give to mercy, to herself, to her team, seemed to be fading away as surely as the bubbles on the top of her beer. It was silly and childish, in the way she could be sometimes, thinking that she could be the hero, and if she only applied her hard work and dedication, it would come together for her, the same as she had been made captain, the same as she had gotten her degree, the same as Pharah did everything.

She had worked so hard to have her headquarters in a major city, at a crossroads of the world, and it had meant nothing.

“Novver?” Isla looked at her with a touch of pity that did nothing to improve Pharah’s mood.

She hadn’t even realized she’d finished the beer in front of her.

“Nuff of all that,” Tracer skipped quickly around the corner of the bar, the man following behind her, and put her arm around Pharah, “Fareeha, I ‘ave solved it. Isla,” She gave a wink to the bar, “be doing this again fore too long, you ‘old on to the memories, now.”

While Pharah had been applying hard work and dedication, Tracer had brought out her own duel wield: Charm and connections.

They had put the money down that day.

It was not a fine place in a central district, as Pharah had desired. Hackney was off the beaten path, but it was cheap, and as Tracer helpfully pointed out, the office really only was about a ten minute walk from the subway. Five if you were Tracer in a fine mood.

Tracer was standing on top of her new desk, affixing a few model planes in a way Pharah felt quite certain would not have been approved of by the landlord but was not expressly forbidden by the terms of the lease, whistling merrily as she did so.

The desk was new only to Tracer herself, wood and thick and scuffed in places, one of the drawers needing the track to be reinstalled badly, but Tracer had liked it, and it had been cheap. The chair was some sort of green leather and had been delivered to the door by her uncle Mark, a few upholstery tacks missing from the edges, and cracked along the back, but something Tracer had always quite liked and was happy she’d been allowed to take. There was a box of pictures and mugs and toys slipped next to her desk, waiting for their turn to be recognized.

Pharah turned to her own desk, a sleek metal beige that had reminded her fondly of the desk she’d had in the Army, with its simple military canvas chair sitting behind it. She had a single picture of she and Mercy’s wedding day, standing under the chuppah and gazing lovingly at each other, in an angle at the corner of her desk, where she could look at it from time to time. It was simple, but it was hers, and it looked quite professional, she thought.

Tracer jumped down from the desk, prompting a yell from the chip shop below.

“Sorry!” Tracer yelled through the wood, but she looked at Pharah and giggled, her nose crinkling in delight.

Pharah looked over at her in playful annoyance. “Do not have us evicted from our new headquarters, please.”

New headquarters. As small and yellowed as it was, the words still felt powerful on her lips. Pharah had many commands over the years, of varying levels of distinction and control, but now it was so much more than that. It was the power and the responsibility of being the head of this new Overwatch, this new world, that she would make better and stronger. This small office, for whatever else it was, was where they would show their public face. Where they would allow light to shine on an operation that had too long lived in darkness.

Tracer pulled a photo from her box, large and matted in a fine wood frame. She beamed as she looked back to Pharah, grabbing the hammer off her desk and moving toward the far wall, empty and waiting.

“I dare to ask what that is.” Pharah eyed her suspiciously.

“It’s us!” Tracer flipped the picture around and showed it to her.

It was the seven of them, standing in front of the mansion door in Alberta, taken just before they’d left, crowded together on the front steps. Dva was smiling in the half way she did as Hana, the way that suggested she didn’t mean to smile but it had happened by accident. Tracer was sitting on Winston’s shoulder, a wide smile on her face, Winston’s hand resting on her legs as he shyly smiled toward the camera, holding himself smaller to better fit with the group. Jack and Ana stood at the edge of the group like two gossiping fishwives, not looking at the camera so much as the small group next to them. And Mercy. Mercy stood with her head at Pharah’s shoulder, in front of Winston, her arm around Pharah’s waist, seeming for all the world like a woman standing happily with her family, a patchwork of strange creatures who had all come together. Even Pharah herself looked pleased and relaxed.

“Thought it looked nice, ‘ad it framed.” Tracer nodded, with no need for confirmation.

The tap-tap-tap of Tracer driving the nail into the wall were like the heartbeats that had led her here, each moment popping into her mind, the places she had been, the things she had done, and the people she had met, and lost.

This neighborhood was hers now, and she would protect it, surely as she would protect the people in that photograph, her family and her team. Perhaps there was a way the wind of Pharah’s life could cease to blow. Perhaps there was light to be found in this cloudy and damp city.

Tracer stood back from the picture, hands on her hips. “Well, s’ere now.”

And perhaps there was a chance that the same soil that grew an English rose could bring a pair of dandelions into bloom.

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: We Watched Every New Show on Quibi. Here’s What to Watch—and What to Skip

Like it or not, Quibi is here. The new streaming platform, launching April 6, offers short-form content—”quick bites,” hence the portmanteau, that run 10 minutes or less. These shows are designed to be watched exclusively on your phone, whether you’re on the subway heading to work or sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s office—places, in other words, that most people won’t be able to go for some time yet in the era of social distancing. But despite the fact that very few people are, for the moment, on the go, Quibi has held fast to its planned debut, launching, by our count, 50 scripted series, documentaries, reality shows and news programs on April 6 with plans to roll out 175 shows over the course of the year.

Quibi is casting a wide net to court various types of viewers: there are soothing cooking shows designed for the boomer crowd, while celebrity-studded reality series aim to lure Gen Z off of TikTok. Television critics have been busy debating whether the Quibi model signals the end of quality television or the wave of the future. But it’s clear the platform is hoping sheer star power alone will entice some quarantined television lovers to download the app. Jennifer Lopez, Idris Elba, Lebron James, Chance the Rapper and Chrissy Teigen are among the celebrities set to star in Quibi content, and filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, Catherine Hardwicke, Paul Feig, and Guillermo del Toro have content on the upcoming slate.

The streaming service, which also features proprietary new technology that allows viewers to switch seamlessly from landscape to portrait viewing, will cost $4.99 per month with ads and $7.99 without ads, though a 90-day free trial is available if you sign up in April.

Quibi gave journalists a glimpse at some of their content launching on April 6. We watched everything available to screen in advance (in most cases, around three chapters; “Daily Essentials” like news shows were not available in advance as they will cover news as it breaks). If you’re thinking of subscribing, here’s what you should watch and what you should skip.

What to Watch

Gayme Show! (unscripted)

Gayme Show! has a deceptively simple premise: it’s a gay game show. That’s it! Hosted with with aplomb by comedians Matt Rogers and Dave Mizzoni, each episode features two straight contestants competing in gay-themed challenges in an effort to be crowned “Queen of the Straights.” The jokes are plentiful, and if you’re not well-versed in gay Twitter—references to Dua Lipa, Laura Dern’s salmon button-down from Jurassic Park and Cynthia Nixon’s wife whiz by—you might have to Google to catch up. But even if you don’t get every joke, it’s hard not to let out a guffaw watching contestants like Demi Adejuyigbe prance around the stage in a unitard during a game called “notice me father”—actually a bespectacled Rogers softly weeping. The conceit is goofy, silly and exactly what you want it to be—and that’s a great thing. —Kelly Conniff

Nightgowns (documentary)

Lately it seems like everyone who’s ever come within 10 feet of RuPaul’s stage is getting their own show, but don’t hold the deluge of drag content against Sasha Velour, a Drag Race winner who stands out even from that talented pack. While her gender-fluid performances can be transgressive, Velour, who takes a big-tent approach to drag, has a heart of gold. As she adapts her Brooklyn-born revue NightGowns for a bigger stage, this docuseries profiles the queen and an inclusive troupe that features performers with a wide range of identities and styles. Each episode of the show—the only Quibi title I screened that feels particularly suited to the medium—ends with a beautifully shot production number that does Velour proud. —Judy Berman

Prodigy (documentary)

You don’t have to be a sports fan to appreciate this docuseries, which covers a different young elite athlete in each episode. With artful cinematography and well-paced storytelling—especially compared to the frenetic quality of many of the platform’s other shows—Prodigy is less concerned with the specific athletic achievements of its subjects (no. 1 ranked high school basketball player in the U.S., five-time national junior boxing champion) and more focused on the sacrifice and singular dedication of these athletes’ family members. If you cried during that Procter & Gamble Olympics commercial thanking the moms who drove carpools and gave pep talks so that their children could get a shot at the podium, this one is probably for you. —Eliza Berman

Punk’d (unscripted)

This third revival of MTV’s prank show has been winningly updated for millennial and Gen Z sensibilities: it’s slightly more absurdist, slightly less cruel and involves way more animals. YouTuber Liza Koshy ruins a bat mitzvah; rapper Megan Thee Stallion gets attacked by a gorilla. Chance the Rapper—who in the wake of Netflix’s Rhythm & Flow, has rebranded his once-innocent persona to include a mean streak—brings a mischievous energy to hosting duties, and his laugh is infectious. —Andrew R. Chow

The Sauce (unscripted)

Dance—particularly street dance—doesn’t get enough mainstream respect. The Sauce has something to say about that. Each episode pits two dance groups against each other, judged by talented dance duo Ayo and Teo, with the lure of a $25,000 cash prize. The lack of polish is endearing, as is the raw skill on display; you’ll wish you could spend more time just watching these young athletes move their bodies in ways that have no respect for the laws of physics. Kudos to executive producer Usher and the hosts for making sure to explain regional dance styles, as it’s high time these art forms got their due. Constant camera cuts and stylized editing seem best suited for the TikTok generation, but it’s a joy to watch these dancers in motion in any format. —Raisa Bruner

Shape of Pasta (documentary)

Now this is my sort of short content. I’m a devoted Bon Appetit Test Kitchen subscriber, Alison Roman Instagram story watcher and Anthony Bourdain worshipper. So, yes, a show about a chef traveling across tiny towns in Italy to discover forgotten pasta shapes is my jam. I can’t get my head around the tone of this show—it’s extremely self-serious, so much so that it’s maybe supposed to be making fun of other food shows? Or perhaps it’s just one of them. No matter. The show has many nonnas teaching Felix Trattoria chef Even Funke how to make pasta in shapes you’ve never thought of but are centuries-old traditions in picturesque Italian towns. It’s delightful! —Eliana Dockterman

You Ain’t Got These (documentary)

Lena Waithe takes viewers on a thoughtful, well-researched and star-studded tour of the world of sneakers. As the show conveys, sneaker culture is about much more than style. “Your footwear is your ID now in the black community,” Carmelo Anthony tells her; Nas, Run DMC, Hasan Minhaj and a cultural historian reflect on the legacy of icons like Michael Jordan and the relationship between hip-hop and commerce. Questions about branding, exploitation and value are tackled head-on. For sneakerheads it might be mostly recap, but it’s still fun to hear Rev Run reminisce about securing his Adidas deal—and for everyone else, it works as a solid introduction to a foundational part of contemporary American culture. —Raisa Bruner

What to Try

Chrissy’s Court (unscripted)

In this ode to Judge Judy, Chrissy Teigen rules over petty cases brought by local randos. Each episode is extremely dependent on the personalities of the plaintiff and defendant. Most of the “contestants” are actively awkward (or actually mad, which is bizarre given the TV show’s unserious premise), and Chrissy and her mother Vilailuck Teigen (as bailiff) have to work double-time to counteract their discomfort. The humor often feels forced. Chrissy’s Instagram is more entertaining—at least there, she has total control over the cast of characters, namely her husband John Legend and their two kids, all of whom are way more natural in front of the camera. That said, if you like Teigen and are already churning through her Instagram stories every day, this is a fine way to get some more. —Eliana Dockterman

Fierce Queens (documentary)

Reese Witherspoon narrates mini wildlife documentaries made with BBC Studios Natural History Unit, each focused on the female members of a species. Some of the lines veer into cheesy girl-power territory: “Getting that belief in yourself and gaining confidence: that’s what growing up is all about. These big cats totally nailed it. Walk tall, fierce queens!” she sings out after a surface-level episode about adolescent cheetah sisters. But thanks to truly beautiful footage and surprising subject choices—unless you already know all about the life cycle of the ruthless, cannibalistic queen honeypot ant?—viewers who want a quick hit of nature and some new fun facts about animals will be satisfied. —Raisa Bruner

Flipped (scripted)

After one episode, this one looked like it would fall squarely in the “skip” bucket: two incredibly annoying self-anointed visionaries, a married theater director (Will Forte) and Home Depot-esque associate (Kaitlin Olson), are both deservedly fired from their jobs for asserting their own artistic purity over things like appropriate subject matter for tween thespians (in his case) and customer service (in hers). (Think the kind of kooky, self-serious characters you’d find in a Christopher Guest movie, minus the great ensemble to balance them out.) But a hastily paced sequence of events—they decide to try to be house flippers, buy a foreclosed-upon property and find stacks of cash in its walls, which turn out to belong to a drug cartel—leads to the introduction of Broad City‘s Arturo Castro as an organic-apple-eating overlord, which might just elevate this bonkers ordeal from grating to promising. —Eliza Berman

Gone Mental with Lior (unscripted)

The mentalist Lior Suchard lacks the theatricality or scale of other famous magicians like David Blaine or Criss Angel, making him perhaps the perfect match for a low-stakes platform like Quibi. It’s agreeable enough to watch him catch basketballs while blindfolded or exactly guess the number of coins in Ludacris’ hands, but his tricks won’t haunt your dreams, either. —Andrew R. Chow

I Promise (documentary)

By all accounts, LeBron James’ I Promise School in his hometown of Akron, Ohio, has been a resounding success: Its students, who were picked to attend after underachieving in the city’s public school system, are testing better and seem to be thriving in their new environment. This show, however, comes off as a surface-level feel-good advertisement for the school. —Andrew R. Chow

Run This City (documentary)

Jaseil Correia grew up with the dream of becoming the mayor of his hometown, Fall River, Mass.—a city of around 90,000 most famous as the home of Lizzie Borden. At the remarkably young age of 23, he achieved it. But what sounds at first like an uplifting story of millennial striving turns dissonant when Correia is indicted on fraud and extortion charges. It’s an intriguing story that could have made for a fascinating hourlong documentary. Unfortunately, the Quibi format requires director Brent Hodge (I Am Chris Farley) to chop the saga into equal-sized, eight-minute “bites” that drag in the middle before ramping up to exaggerated cliffhangers. The result is a micro-docuseries whose rhythm always feels a bit off. —Judy Berman

Singled Out (unscripted)

I like host Keke Palmer. I like Joel Kim Booster, who serves as the Jenny McCarthy to her Chris Hardwick. I like that all three episodes I watched had queer contestants but didn’t feel as though they were pandering to an LGBTQ audience. The best one featured a fully decked-out, super-charismatic drag queen looking for a man who could handle her at her most femme. But the best thing about the original MTV show was the unscripted banter, both between the hosts and among the competitors. And there just isn’t room for that in an already-rushed seven-minute show. —Judy Berman

Thanks A Million (unscripted)

There’s not much here that you can’t already get from watching YouTube clips of Ellen DeGeneres giving out life-sized checks on behalf of name-that-corporation, or soldiers coming home to reunite with their spouses/children/dogs. But if you’re going to subscribe anyway and want a cathartic cry in two-minutes flat, watching celebs like Jennifer Lopez, Kevin Hart and Nick Jonas give deserving people $100,000, then watching the recipient give half of it to another deserving person, and so on, should do the trick. If you think too hard about it, the magic starts to fade—how much of this will get eaten up in gift taxes, and how many phone calls is this person going to get asking for a loan after receiving such a large sum on, well, if not national TV, whatever Quibi is? Yet seeing an apparently kind, hard-working person get the chance to pay for infertility treatments, or a house, or more resources for their therapy dog program, is far from the worst way to spend six minutes. —Eliza Berman

What to Skip

&Music (documentary)

With its sweeping landscape shots, ambient background score and pseudo-philosophical ramblings, &Music seems to want to be the Chef’s Table for the random-dudes-connected-to-the-music-industry set. The show spends each episode with a behind-the-scenes collaborator of a star: there’s Ariana Grande’s choreographers and Martin Garrix’s light guy. But while there are one or two poignant and revealing moments, the show is mostly slick, overproduced and vacuous. There are plenty of music documentaries that are far more worth your time—and that you can watch on a big screen with proper speakers. —Andrew R. Chow

Dishmantled (unscripted)

Dishmantled is a cooking show, minus the main ingredients that make cooking shows so satisfying: interesting and empathetic contestants to root for and, much more fatal to the whole endeavor, the cooking itself. Hosted by Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt‘s Tituss Burgess, the show invites two blindfolded chefs into a small chamber where a mystery dish is blasted into their faces; they have to taste the exploded shrapnel, figure out what it might be, and make a dish replicating what they think they’ve eaten, to be judged on both taste and accuracy by celebrity judges like Dan Levy, Antoni Porowski and Jane Krakowski. But the quick format makes this far from a nutritious meal; viewers don’t have time to get to know or get invested in the contestants, and the cooking itself sails by without any attention to technique or ingredients. The most drama you’ll get here are lines like: “This all comes down to…is this a zoodle or is this a noodle?” —Eliza Berman

Memory Hole (unscripted)

Will Arnett makes fun of terrible pop culture moments from history that nobody remembers for a reason (like that time Alan Thicke appeared in a corny tribute at the opening of a Canadian superdome). It’s unclear who this show is for or why it exists. The references are so obscure that even people who lived through them will have forgotten and the quips feel like something you’d hear at a high school open mic. I spent the entire time watching this show thinking about another, much better show, BoJack Horseman. In that Netflix animated series, Arnett voiced a washed-up ’90s sitcom star struggling to stay relevant in Hollywood. Memory Hole feels like a project that an investor in Quibi would have blackmailed BoJack into doing after BoJack accidentally threw up on him during a bender at a wedding. —Eliana Dockterman

Most Dangerous Game (scripted)

This show is so obvious, it’s almost funny. These are the exact roles SNL would cast Liam Hemsworth and Christoph Waltz in for a skit—cancer-ridden former athlete with a pregnant wife and an evil billionaire who wants to pay said former athlete to be hunted by rich people. Since each episode is seven minutes, these are not character revelations that slowly come out over time. They are blatantly spoken by the actors to one another in every scene. Don’t come to Most Dangerous Game expecting The Game-esque twists or any subtle dialogue. What you expect is exactly what you will get. Unless you expect fun. You won’t get that. —Eliana Dockterman

Murder House Flip (unscripted)

Despite the name, there’s nothing original about Murder House Flip. The series is essentially two types of reality shows unceremoniously jammed together: one part home redesign show hosted by two perky designers with a surfeit of canned jokes; one part true crime docuseries filled with the requisite pan and scan over vintage photos and newspaper clippings. This uneasy juxtaposition results in awkward episodes that often feel like a Saturday Night Live parody, especially when one of the hosts brightly announces: “Our goal was to take this murder house and turn it into a happy home.” And a focus on the grisly nature of the crimes reflects the worst parts of a genre that too often obscures victims. Is there a world in which this show could have managed to strike the right tone? Possibly. But as it stands, Murder House Flip is too flip. —Kelly Conniff

Nikki Fre$h (unscripted)

“Wellness has a new voice. A black voice,” Nicole Richie’s rapper alter ego says in the first episode of Nikki Fre$h (and then immediately clarifies that she’s referring to herself). The resulting show is part poker-faced satire of the goop lifestyle and part honest assessment of organic produce and artisanal honey. Her attempts to draw attention to food waste and the plight of bees are well-intentioned, but cameos from the likes of Bill Nye can’t save the show from falling flat; Richie helped pioneer awkward reality TV on The Simple Life with Paris Hilton, but Nikki Fre$h lacks that show’s schadenfreude appeal. —Raisa Bruner

Skrrt with Offset (unscripted)

If you like looking at nice cars, you might get a kick out of Skrrt with Offset. Otherwise, there’s not much point. The show has a thin premise (the Migos rapper Offset does stuff with cars) and is executed with even less imagination. When his wife Cardi B shows up for an episode, overflowing with sass and charisma, you wonder why they didn’t just give the whole show to her. —Andrew R. Chow

Survive (scripted)

Before watching the first five episodes of this thriller about a disturbed young woman preparing to kill herself on the flight home from a mental institution, I might have said something like, “I’d watch Sophie Turner do anything.” Well, Turner is great in Survive—but neither her performance nor the impressive production values manage to redeem a story that, whether intentionally or not, revels in the bloody, nihilistic aesthetics of suicide. A twist (one that’s “spoiled” in the trailer) that has the plane crashing and Turner’s character teaming up with an obvious love interest (Corey Hawkins) to, yes, survive only heightens the absurdity and introduces plot holes. —Judy Berman

When the Streetlights Go On (scripted)

It’s the summer of 1995—a stiflingly hot one—when things start going wrong in sleepy Colfax, Ill. That fall, a beautiful high-school mean girl (Kristine Froseth) and the teacher she’s been sleeping with (Mark Duplass) get carjacked, forced to strip and gunned down by their masked assailant. The weirdo sister (Sophie Thatcher) she used to bully wanders around unmoored. A jock sometimes-boyfriend (Sam Strike) is brought in for questioning. Narrating this murder mystery is the student journalist (Chosen Jacobs) who found the bodies. Period signifiers like Nirvana and ck one abound. Every once in a while a show formed entirely out of genre tropes and nostalgia for the recent past is executed well enough to exceed the sum of its parts (see: the first season of Stranger Things). But after three trite, predictable episodes, I’m not holding out much hope for this one. —Judy Berman

Other Shows Headed to Quibi

The titles below are Quibi’s “daily essentials,” more information-oriented programming covering news, sports, weather and entertainment. Screeners were not provided in advance for these series:

Around the World by BBC News Weather Today by The Weather Channel Morning Report by NBC News Evening Report by NBC News Saturday Report by NBC News Sunday Report by NBC News The Replay by ESPN NewsDay by CTV NewsNight by CTV Sports AM by TSN Pulso News by Telemundo For the Cultura by Telemundo Close Up by E! News Fresh Daily by Rotten Tomatoes Speedrun by Polygon Pop5 by iHeartRadio No Filter by TMZ: AM No Filter by TMZ PM Last Night’s Late Night All The Feels by The Dodo The Daily Chill The Rachel Hollis Show Sexology by Shan Boodram The Nod with Brittany & Eric Trailers by Fandango

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste