#the furious five would be like 'dude its obvious you like her'

[crescentbea02]

Luthera: Come on, Tigress. Nobody actually believes that Po is in love with me.

Tigress, to the Furious Five: Raise your hand if you think that Po is helplessly in love with Blade.

*Everyone raises their hand*

Luthera: Po, put your hand down.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

‘always and forever, lara jean’: a bungled mess of my thoughts while watching the movie

Alright, cards on the table: I never finished reading the book. I got bored a couple of pages in, so I just read up the summary on Wikipedia and called it a day.

Not gonna lie, I expected better from the movies. I loved the first movie; it was cute, it was fun, it hit all the right places. The second movie was… eh. Jordan Fisher is cute, so that’s a plus.

And then we got the third movie; the final in the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy.

And it was somehow even worse.

Maybe I’m exaggerating. Despite its shortcomings in the plot and character development-related departments (the fact that Lara Jean wrote addresses for letters she never meant to send is something that will bother me on my deathbed), the movies have their merits. They’re cutesy and charming and enjoyable, overall; movie-LJ is sweet and unashamedly a girly-girl, which is a refreshing change from the #NotLikeOtherGirls, pick-me girls and bruh girls we had in loads of other YA movies growing up. Peter’s pretty cute, too; he’s not a possessive freak like so many other love interests (The Kissing Booth, After, Anna and the French Kiss), and his and Lara Jean’s dynamic is cute, too. Not to mention- we finally have an Asian lead whose Asian-ness isn’t the whole focus of the story!

Again, maybe I’m being extra with all this. The series is, at its core, solely for entertainment purposes. Not every piece of media has to have an underlying message and you shouldn’t need to read between every goddamn line to find something worthy of enjoying. They’re certainly helpful for whiling away a couple of hours; perfect for bingeing with a pint of ice cream in hand, and all of this is in good fun.

Also, it goes without saying, but: spoilers ahead.

The film beings with Lara Jean scribbling a postcard to Peter while she’s in Korea with her family. The inclusion of that little snapshot of Asian culture made me so happy- seriously, fuck everyone who says diversity in media doesn’t matter. I’m not even Korean, and I was overjoyed at seeing a couple of scenes just from the same continent I’m on. The K-pop music in the background was a fun touch, too (although all Korean music isn’t K-pop, but that’s a rant for another day).

(Also: Blackpink has so many more suitable songs than Pretty Savage that go with the theme of the movies. Kill This Love in the second movie while Lara Jean is getting ready to go to her boyfriend’s match is bad enough- they’re supposed to be in love in that scene, goddammit.)

One thing that bothered me throughout the movies is how obviously non-Korean Lara Jean and Margot look. It’s like whoever chose the cast went for any random Asian- Lana’s Vietnamese and Janel Parrish is half-Chinese, and it’s so obvious. You seriously couldn’t find two Korean-Americans who even vaguely resembled each other so they could pass for sisters? The actresses do a stunning job and I don’t want to shit on them, but I just wish they didn’t go with the ‘all Asians look the same, what’s the difference?’ mindset.

Also, a nitpicky thing I’ve noticed in movies with characters who read a lot: no one holds their books up while they’re reading. Your arms start to cramp, which is why you keep your book in your lap while you’re reading, or you rest on your belly and hold the book in front of you. My spine and shoulders didn’t suffer years of torture as a chronic reader for you to include characters who hold their books up while reading.

A major gripe I have with Always and Forever, Lara Jean is how the characters are almost jarringly out of character- not from the books, but from the two previous movies, too. Lara Jean didn’t have much of a character to begin with, so I can’t say much about her (she dissed Oasis at one point; it’s okay for me to be mean to her), but the rest of them are either caricatures of themselves or just totally different people.

Movie Peter >>> Book Peter. He’s almost too perfect (except for the fact that he unironically loves The Fast and the Furious, which… ew), almost too much of the ideal boyfriend. Not that my perpetually single arse would know. How do boyfriends even work? I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with one; how often should you feed it? Do you need to take it on walks?

(In the notes I’ve written towards the end of the film, I’ve complained about Peter being immature and making Lara Jean feel bad about following her dream to go to NYU. He confuses me.)

Not to mention how distractingly adorable Noah Centineo is from some angles and under certain lighting conditions (other times, he reminds me of the human version of Shrek and that bothered me). King of weird Tweets and Instagram captions though he may be, he’s got a really nice smile, and his gravelly voice is both parts sexy and disturbing.

But I digress.

I’ll never forgive the directors for what they did to Kitty and Chris- two of my favorite characters, from both the books and the movies. Kitty’s annoying to the point of being borderline unlikeable- gone is the occasionally snarky comic relief we all came to love; in her place is an annoying brat whose every line comes out forced. Also, making soap is fun; fuck you, Kitty.

Chris is essentially Dixie D’Amelio’s character from that TikToker Grey’s Anatomy ripoff; the main character in One Direction fanfiction from 2012 who doesn’t want to go to the concert but her best friend gets a ticket for her so she can’t bail but Harry Styles sees her in the crowd and falls in love at first sight and 50k of mutual pining and misunderstandings late, they get together. She’s cynical and snarky and hates capitalism and consumerism and prom (because of course she does), but secretly, she’s into it (because of course she is). My guess is that she’s there to appease all the arseholes (including myself) who accused the characters of being too one-dimensional, but it seems too out of place in a movie that doesn’t have much plot to begin with.

I really, really hate how Lucas was done dirty- throughout every single movie. Of course, it’s Lara Jean’s story so not every side character has to be fully fleshed out- but you’d think three. entire. movies. would be enough to give Lucas a bigger role than the GBF and the token black guy for the diversity brownie points. Every single time Lucas shows up, it’s to push Lara Jean and Peter’s story forward. I would’ve liked to see a romance for him pushed forward instead one for Chris- especially because he says, at one point in a previous movie, that it’s hard to find other gay boys, so it would’ve been sweet to see him find love- and Chris’s character arc could’ve been focused on reconciling with Genevieve. Instead, we see the OG Reggie from Riverdale be the one to show Chris the bright side of monogamy, and Lucas gets a date to prom as an afterthought (another darkskin black dude, so no one thinks the film is racist).

Genevieve’s character in this movie gives me whiplash. Look, I’m all for girls supporting girls- healthy female relationships are something way too many YA movies lack- but she goes from bitch queen extraordinaire to friendly the moment the next scene calls for it. Her character isn’t consistent. A redemption arc should be executed cleanly and believably; you can’t have a character be a total prick one moment and then suddenly be, “Hey, if you get into NYU, let me know,” the next.

And Genevieve’s still an arsehole to Chris; at one point, in NYC, while they’re at the NYU campus grounds (I knew that Lara Jean was going to go to NYU the moment she saw all the banners; I fucking called it), Genevieve tells Chris, “University is for people who actually have a future,” and I recoiled. I’m not the nicest of people and yet that was going too far. Chris doesn’t hesitate to shoot back a, “You peaked in high school,”, but still. Y i k e s. You can’t convince me someone’s turned over a new leaf when they say something like that.

Lara Jean’s dad (forgot his name; gonna call him Dr. Covey) is as unremarkable as ever, and his new wife (forgot her name, too… Trisha? Trina? Eh, something like that) is… unsettling. I mean, I get that they’re all loved up and twitterpatted, but there’s something about all the smiling they’ve got going on that chills me to the bone.

Also, Trisha/Trina kinda looks like TikTok’s ThatVeganTeacher and it bothers me.

Another huge problem with this movie even being made is that the series never had enough plot to continue onto a trilogy. Lara Jean’s letters are what the plots of the first and second movies revolve around; the third only mentions them in passing. The final love letter from Peter was a cute callback, but there’s a massive continuity issue with the first two movies and this last one- both character and plot-wise.

Maybe I’m not articulating this clearly enough, so I’ll use an example: take Harry Potter, for example. Harry’s main goal throughout the series is defeating Voldemort. And it takes all seven books for him to get there, to finally achieve this.

Lara Jean’s goal in the first movie changes midway; from keeping up the façade with Peter so she can avoid the crap with the rest of the letters getting out, to making her fake relationship real. It forms a bridge with the second movie; the letter that went out to John Ambrose, and her dithering between Peter and perfection (I’m not sorry). But what does the third movie have to do with any of this?

There were way too many music montages. You couldn’t go five minutes without a random pop song playing in the background, and it was annoying as hell. Don’t Look Back in Anger was w a s t e d on this stupid film. The artsy scenery shots were even worse- no, I don’t give a fuck about the New York skyline or a bird’s eye view of whatever vehicle Lara Jean is in. A few shots of Seoul would’ve sufficed; the rest was overkill. This movie is way too damn long already (almost 2 entire hours!!!); cut out a couple of those. No one cares.

I thought they’d pull the whole Aladdin trope with character-A-keeps-trying-to-tell-character-B-the-truth-about-a-lie-B-believes-in-about-A-but-B-keeps-interrupting, but Lara Jean (typing her name out is annoying, why couldn’t she have a single name, like both of her sisters?) comes clean earlier than I expected. Peter’s reaction about LJ not getting into Stanford is… uncharacteristically mature? No “Why did you lie to me?”, no accusations, not an ounce of betrayal. Which I did not expect from a guy who’s a little bitch for the greater part of book one (I really don’t like Book Peter, in case you couldn’t tell). I know fuck-all about book three’s Peter, so I can’t tell if he really did adopt this mature, well-adjusted persona, or the movie did it to make Peter seem like less of a dick (like they did it with the sextape-that-wasn’t-a-sextape in the first installment).

On a sidenote, how do these main characters in YA books get into really good colleges with zero to no visible effort? These arseholes fuck around for the entirety of the story and have way too much going on to actually do schoolwork, but they waltz into Ivy Leagues at the end. And apparently, I’m not the only one bothered by this.

There’s something to be said about how the movies don’t really sexualize minors (characters who are minors, to be fair. None of the MCs look anything like teenagers), though. It’s almost weird to see them not getting drunk and partying and having sex all the time. Maybe that’s why Lara Jean trying to get her hand on Peter’s dick felt so stilted and awkward (I cringed so hard when she kept trying to touch him and he kept pushing her hand away, holy shit).

And the kissing. It’s to be expected from a romance film, but there was so. Much. Kissing.

The amount of product placements (… actually, I could count only two: Apple and a pair of Beats headphones Lara Jean puts on at one point, but the movie shoved so many iPhones in my face that I’m obligated to exaggerate) would’ve made anti-capitalist Chris mad.

I’m guessing this all takes place in a parallel universe, sans the coronavirus. Still, being in quarantine this past year and being socially awkward for every other one, it was agonizing seeing everyone so close together in NYC. When Peter kissed the ball (lol) (I have the sense of humor of a straight boy in middle school, don’t judge me) when him and Lara Jean go bowling, I had a visceral reaction. And what are the odds of Peter meeting his estranged dad at the very same bowling alley?

Speaking of Peter’s daddy issues (I’ve written “Hardin but diluted” in my notes; I watched this movie at, like, 1 AM; I’m not entirely sure what was going through my head at that point)- I hated how they guilt-tripped Peter into giving his father another chance. In the wise words of Hannah Montana, everybody makes mistakes- but leaving your wife and two kids for another woman is pretty far from a little oopsie on Mr. Kavinsky’s part. I don’t blame Peter for hating him, and I’m not in a place to judge whether Mr. Kavinsky (does he get a first name?) should be forgiven or not, but I feel like they let him off too easy and made Peter seem like a misunderstood teenager with anger issues for not accepting Mr. Kavinsky’s (crappy) apology at once.

And it adds nothing to the story at all; Mr. Kavinsky peaces out after having one (01) coffee with his firstborn, and he’s never seen again. If you’re going to introduce a subplot, make it tie into the main storyline- the very least you could do is make it an important enough part of the story to have more than 10 minutes of the run time. It makes no sense as to why they’d bring up Peter’s dad in this last film, when he’s already gone through two perfectly fine. I guess it was a ‘tying everything up’ part… even though no one cared.

Lara Jean’s handwriting is surprisingly ugly for someone who’s written that many love letters. And her styling took a definite nosedive; her outfits in the first movie were so effing cute, but now they’re just… meh.

There are so many conversations and lines that the writers must’ve thought sounded good enough for someone to type out the quote in curly font and slap it on a screenshot from the movie to post on Instagram, but when it comes to the actual delivery, they just sounded… weird.

Peter says one time near the beginning of the film, “You know what I’m looking forward to the most in college? Never having to say goodnight,” because he expects him and Lara Jean to get into the same college.

But I guess the word they should’ve used was ‘good-bye’, because this just makes him sound stupid.

At one point, Lara Jean asks Kitty how much Kitty’s gonna miss her when she goes off to college, and Kitty says, “A four.” Later on, she confesses, “I’m gonna miss you a twelve, Lara Jean,” and all I could think was, “But we’re endgame, Archie!”

(In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t let people know I’ve watched Riverdale; it lessons my credibility.)

Still, there remains some good to be found: all the baked goods looked very delicious and made me crave chocolate chip cookies. Peter wearing the socks Lara Jean gifted him at the beginning of the movie was a cute gesture, and Lara Jean giving Peter her teal hatbox? The one she kept her love letters in? Was so? Cute? Help?

And hey, it’s a cliché that’s been done to death, but I’m always a sucker for that part in movies where the girl walks down the stairs in a pretty dress with her hand on the banister and the boy turns around and his mouth falls open and all he can say is, “Wow,”- and this film did not disappoint! Not to mention how cute both Lara Jean’s and Chris’s prom dresses were.

Dr. Covey and Trisha/Trina’s wedding was cute, too- I struggled to decide whether Kitty wearing a necklace that says ‘feminist’ and a tux is a bit too on-the-nose, but I’ve decided that it’s nothing to get my knickers all in a twist about (for clarification: it’s not the necklace or the crossdressing that made me debate this; I just wish they didn’t make a big deal out of it- I wish they didn’t have Kitty and Lara Jean get into an argument about her not wearing a dress, if that makes sense?).

And the final letter- the one from Peter to Lara Jean- I ate that shit up; it was so, so, so cute.

In conclusion (why is it so easy for me to crank out 3k about my thoughts on a Netflix movie and yet when it comes to English Lit. at school, I’d stare at a blank sheet of foolscap for ages?), did I enjoy the movie? Not really. There were parts of it that I liked, but it was overall too boring and I kept wishing I’d watched the new SKZ Code episode instead every few minutes.

But that doesn’t mean that it was bad. I kinda feel a little sad, actually, now that Lara Jean and Peter’s story has come to a close; To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the first movie, is one of my favorites, and bitch though I might about them, the kinda grew on me… like an innocent plant, at first, but then like a fungus. Not a parasitic fungus, just not mutualistic, either… kind of like a commensal.

Maybe I should stop with the biology similes.

[a-warm-whisper]

My mom still keeps going on. She is really off the deep end this time. She believes truly in a entirely made up relationship. None of it is real. God if she ever meets this dude, my mother might go to jail.

She keeps texting me but since she thinks he's reading our texts bc he works at the radio station (wtf) so all of her texts i have to decipher whether its for me or for this dude. Most of them are pretty obvious though. But im just like WTF MOM STOP. NONE OF THIS IS REAL. then she cries. And she tells me I don't understand and if I would JUST LISTEN to the radio and think about it, I would suddenly see things different. And im like I HAVE. HE HAS NO IDEA YOU EXIST. But, she doesn't believe me.

And ive tried every way possible to tell her that its not real. Its not true. Ive been gentle, I've been upset, I've been furious, I've been sad and cold, and I've talked her through every detail of how it isn't true, she is making up a fantasy. And it makes me sad to see her this way. She won't listen. Other people have tried talking to her too. My boyfriend has. His mom kinda tried. But she got nervous and I understand.

IM JUST LOST. every time we go to the park, bc she creepily knows he walks there.. shes like "is that HIM?!?!?!?!" and without even looking im like "no, its not" because it never is. She thought he was supposed to meet her at rural king because "he played the add four or five times on the radio today, thats a lot. He must know I go there so I'm going to meet him." WTF!!!! he never showed up btw. She claims its bc he was scared OR she didn't wait long enough for him to get there. Which makes me wonder how long she sat there.

And in a new development, she started talking to a couple people she hasn't talked to IN YEARS. AND I MEAN A DECADE. and yet here she is finding them and chatting TO PEOPLE SHE HATES BTW and just casually bringing up whether they know this man she's into. AND EVERYONE DOES ITS A SMALL TOWN AND HES THE RADIO MAN. but its weird.

And im terrified again that its going to get around town that my moms a big old crazy person who refuses to get help. And im left picking up the pieces for years and trying to gently put her back together. But she did it to herself!!! Thats the worst part. And she won't accept anyone's help. And she won't go see a doctor. She barely believes me half the time.

And she's so mean to me lately bc she's upset all the time bc of this guy who doesn't know she exists yet. But she keeps calling me lazy or careless or irresponsible. Then she'll lay into me in public about how stupid I am. And I just hate it. I hate it. I hate her. But....

[ipaintwithwords]

Christmas Short Story Exchange

Wolves Without Teeth

Fandoms: Life is Strange, Life is Strange 2 Characters: Sean Diaz, Lyla Park, Daniel Diaz, Chloe Price, David Madsen (mention), Brody Holloway (mention) Tags: Post-Redemption Ending, Post-Save Arcadia Bay Ending, light angst with happy ending, mentions of depression/antidepressants, reminiscing, ambiguous/open ending, POV heavy, pretty scenery and dogs and ghosts

And I run from wolves breathing heavily at my feet And I run from wolves tearing into me without teeth

♪♫♪♫♪♫

*

Millions of stars lit up the vast, deep indigo canvas of the night sky along the coast of Oregon. It was a quiet, peaceful night, the kind that was made for intimate strolls and heartwarming conversations and marveling at the beauty of the ocean, hand in hand, barefoot on the shore, accompanied by the light April breeze and the soft whispers of the waves. It was made for campfires and laughter, grilled fish and cold beer, and acoustic guitar covers of songs that people don’t listen to enough on Spotify, even though they really should - it was a night made for moments ephemeral and eternal at the same time, a series of overexposed polaroid images in the sand. 

However, for the young man driving under the endless rows of majestic pine trees, the night was but a spectacular backdrop for his hours spent on the road. Slightly more memorable than the day before, and infinitely longer than any other day of the past week he’s spent driving, one hand on the wheel, the other one either stroking the gentle crosswind with a cigarette between his fingers or buried in the thick, brown fur of the adolescent wolfdog snoozing on the passenger’s seat, curled up like a content, well-fed little roll with her favorite blanket between her front paws. 

That night, he was holding onto the wheel with both hands. Eyes fixated on the highway, his anxiety was skyrocketing in his chest, flooding the back of his mind with dark thoughts and his head with an unbearable migraine, building up slowly but steadily, creeping into his skull, even the empty - and otherwise numb - socket of his left eye. Not that he was a stranger to headaches, but unlike all his past encounters with nasty migraines, this time he had no idea what to blame: the cigarettes, the lack of sleep, all the synthetic food he shoved down his throat the past few days, his ridiculous deadline drawing near by the minute… Or perhaps the fact that for the first time in fifteen agonizingly long years, he was back on a road he never thought will see again. 

The only difference was that this time, he was on his own. There was no comforting presence beside him, no hula dancer figurine on top of the dashboard, no excited chatter coming from a kid high on adrenaline on the backseat. It was just him and the shores of Oregon, his sad music and his snoring dog (who wasn’t exactly the chatty kind, which, honestly speaking, never truly bothered him; he adopted her for the very same reason) and this stubborn, intrusive, demanding migraine that seemed to have made a cozy little home for itself in his forehead like it was meant to live out the rest of its life under his skin. And somehow, it managed to grow even stronger when out of the blue, the music was interrupted by the steady, low buzzing of his phone.

All of a sudden, violent waves of frustration crashed down over him as he took a quick glance at the device’s screen. Tightening his grip on the wheel until his nails started digging irritated crescents into the faux leather, he grit his teeth while staring at his phone, its buzzing resonating in his temples as if someone was trying to drill into his brain. The buzzing lasted for a solid two minutes before the screen would finally turn dark again and the pulsating sensation in his temples quieted down a little - only giving him a few moments of calm and quiet, though, as his phone started ringing again the moment he was about to sigh in relief.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”, he grunted loudly in anger, waking the peacefully sleeping wolfdog pup with either his hoarse voice or the annoyed dash of his hand as he reached out for his phone to pick up the incoming call and be over with it as fast as possible. He knew exactly what’s coming for him, and he was in the mood for anything but fighting with his best friend on the phone right now. 

“What the fuck, man?!”, hissed a young woman on the other end of the call with a furious whisper-shout, as soon as he pushed the green button. “Are you being serious with me right now? Where the fuck are you, Sean?”, she hissed, and Sean heard a door slamming shut behind her, most likely the backyard door, to be precise, as she stormed out of the kitchen for a smoke.

“You knew I’ll be busy this weekend”, much to his surprise, he magically managed to keep his voice calm and his words collected when he answered after a few moments of hesitation. “I DMed you and I also texted the group chat yest-”

“Yeah, and I thought you’re just trying to back out of going to Walmart with us!”, his feeble attempt of coming up with explanations was met with an angry snap from the young woman. “And I actually can’t believe that we’re having this conversation? Like I can’t comprehend the fact that for whatever fucked up reason, you are actually ditching your own brother’s birthday weekend”, she scoffed, lighting up a cigarette with two impatient click-clacks of a cheap 7-Eleven lighter. 

“I have a deadline, Lyla, and it seems like you’re the only person who can’t accept that”, answered Sean with a deep, resigned sigh, only trying to resist the sudden urge of smoking for a brief second before he rolled down the window and reached for his cigarette case. “I talked to Daniel about it, alright? He was the first person I called”, he murmured under his nose, shoving a crooked cigarette between his lips. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand why you guys insisted on throwing this huge ass party for him for an entire weekend... Y’all know he prefers his PS4 and pizza over twenty of us being all over him for three days, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was me who’s about to ruin his birthday! Fuck, man, thanks, now I can see that it was me all along”, Lyla let out a burst of dry laughter, more threatening than the sharpest blades in the world. “You are unbelievable, Sean.”

“I’m doing everyone a favor by skipping, y’know”, said Sean, sticking his hand out the window, unleashing the tiny smoke-dragons of his cigarette into the night. “‘Cause let’s be real, we both know that it’s me who’d ruin his birthday” he added with a shrug, making Lyla snort in disbelief.

“I can’t think of a single reason why his favorite person in the world would do that, so please enlighten me with your wisdom, Sean-Wise”, suddenly, her tone softened, bringing a massive lump to Sean’s throat. 

“The last thing he needs right now is his useless, depressed brother”, he answered quietly, unable to resist the suffocating grip of anxiety on his neck. “And thankfully, he understands that his useless, depressed brother needs to submit an unreasonable amount of work ‘til next Wednesday, so… Yeah. We’re both doing each other a favor, to be honest.”

“Sean, I… Useless? Why would y- What do you even… Hollup for a sec” sighed Lyla, slightly frustrated, as a small voice suddenly called for her. “Yes, baby, what’s up?”, she said, words and smile warmer than the morning sun, and Sean couldn’t help but smile too when he heard her switch to Korean the next moment, most likely reaching for her daughter Hannah, and gently pushing a strand of dark, silky hair behind her ear like she always did. 

“Sorry for that, Miss Thing is getting cranky because she only ate five times today”, Lyla returned to the call after a good minute, and Sean could clearly see her roll her eyes as the door shut close behind Hannah. “So where were we…”

“You were about to give me a Ted Talk on self-love because I called myself useless”, said Sean with a faint smile, before carefully flicking the cigarette butt out the window. Lyla didn’t answer immediately, at least not with words - her silence, on the other hand, was heavy with worry, a calm before the storm Sean knew too well. After all, thirty-three years of friendship teaches a thing or two about another person, especially a friendship like theirs was. 

“You know, I had a feeling this is gonna happen”, when Lyla finally broke the silence, she couldn’t conceal the sad, resigned bitterness in her voice. “At least tell me where you are, man…”

“I’m in Oregon… Driving along the coast, actually”, Sean answered, giving his dog an affectionate scratch behind the ear, and making her turn her all-knowing, golden eyes from the night view on him. “Don’t worry, I’m not alone. Chestnut’s here too.”

“Dude, she didn’t even bark when she heard my voice”, said Lyla, with a very obvious and even more dramatic pout on her face. “But wait, what the fuck are you doing there? In Oregon?”, she asked, and this time, it was her confused frown that Sean could see crystal clear as if Lyla was sitting right next to her. 

For a brief moment, he truly wished she was.

“I’m chasing ghosts”, when he spoke eventually, it felt as if there was someone else talking with his mouth, unseen powers forcing the air out of his lungs and his tongue and teeth to form the words that echoed for a seemingly endless moment in the car and inside Sean’s head. 

And before he could even blink, the echo sunk even deeper, into the darkest pits of his scarred, hurt, lonely soul, as he found himself staring at the unmistakable silhouette of Arcadia Bay in the distance after a slight turn in the road.

*

He spent the night at Otter Point, in his car, right next to the very same visitors plaque he broke down at, for the first time since fleeing Seattle on that nightmarish afternoon all those years ago, to a man he just met - a man who changed everything, although fifteen years later, Sean wasn’t sure anymore that it was for the better. He wasn’t sure whether he’d still be alive at all if it wasn’t for Brody and his golden heart that night, but he was certain of one thing: that compared to all the horrible things that happened to him, to them, death would’ve been but a merciful release.

Death didn’t come for them, however, at least not in its form that’s known to most people. Instead of taking them, it decided to befriend the Wolf Brothers and tag along on their journey, from the suburbs of Seattle to the iron gates of the Mexican border - and after that, the lifeless, ashen grey walls of a suffocatingly small prison cell in Washington. It was there that night too, in Sean’s car, a worn, cherry-red station wagon just like Brody’s, and inside his head, too, buried deep under the quiet, unsteady chaos of his thoughts. It was in every breath he took, every pill he swallowed, every minute he spent awake wondering what is he even doing, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make it go away, that could make death change it’s stubborn mind and to leave Sean Diaz alone, because, throughout the years, it simply grew too fond of him.

And with time, Sean just… Accepted it. He accepted being handpicked by death itself and stopped fighting it because no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, to get rid of it, to pretend that everything was fine, nothing helped; nothing but the acceptance and the handfuls of numbing bitterness he consumed at least two yellow tubes of each month for the past, God knows how many years. Of course, things could’ve been a lot worse, and Sean was fully aware of that - he knew that he was extremely privileged for being able to settle back into society relatively easily after being released from his sentence of nearly two decades spent in one of the country’s biggest federal prisons. 

Frankly speaking, it wasn’t about settling back into society as much as it was about doing something he secretly always dreamed of, even before the story of the Wolf Brothers began on that chilly Friday afternoon, in a completely ordinary, perfectly average October of a past, long-lost life. In fact, if someone told sixteen-year-old Sean that everything that’s about to happen to him will eventually lead to a new life in which he is a comic book artist who gets paid for drawing the weird shit in his head, sixteen-year-old Sean would’ve probably laughed until his stomach hurt and happy tears started rolling down his cheek.

And yet, there he was that morning, on top of a hill above the Oregon coast, moderately enjoying his cheap instant coffee in the back of his station wagon (and after a glance at his peaky-faced reflection in the mirror, extremely judging his lack of self-discipline regarding taking care of his beard) while waiting for his tablet to charge fully so he can proceed with the next strips for the fifth chapter of The Adventures of the Pack. Chestnut was running around in excited circles, chasing grasshoppers and butterflies and occasionally, her tail, not particularly minding either her owner or the breathtaking view of the coast, and along with it, the quiet town of Arcadia Bay. 

At first, he didn’t even think of making a stop at a seemingly insignificant place like Otter Point on his not-so-spontaneous journey - for some much-needed inspiration or for bittersweet reminiscence, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore -, but while going through dozens of maps and routes and painful memories on a sleepless night before his trip, he stumbled upon a picture Daniel sent him for one of his birthdays spent in prison. A picture from Away, to be precise, of a cozy little bonfire and four people with marshmallow sticks in their hands and tipsy smiles on their faces - a picture that kept him up awake for the whole night, with tears stuck halfway in his throat, desperately trying to fight their way through the walls Sean has built around himself. And the moment he saw David in the picture, he decided that after all the phone calls and visits and almost fatherly check-ins from the man throughout the past fifteen years, the least he can do is stopping in David’s hometown for a quick page or two on his way down South. 

“Man, it must be tough being you”, Sean chuckled as he put his empty mug on the small writing desk in the corner of his on-the-go bedroom, looking at Chestnut playing in the dry dirt alongside the road with a wide, amused smile on his face. “Careful, though… I’d rather not break my neck trying to rescue you if you fall down” he added, climbing out of the back of his car with nimble reflexes, the sudden movement answered with excited bark coming from the wolfdog pup. 

“Would you look at that”, said Sean with an impressed little snort, walking up to the fence and bending over to rest his arms on it, eyes roaming the endless, unbelievably blue ocean and the gentle waves washing up against the pale sands of Arcadia Bay’s shores. “Can’t decide if it’s beautiful or the most boring shit I’ve ever seen, to be honest… What d’ya think, huh?”, he raised his eyebrows, peeking down at Chestnut yelping next to him, and giving her a loving scratch behind the ears. “Come, check this out”, he beckoned to the visitors plaque next to them with his chin, patting Chestnut’s side gently as he stepped up to the laminated board, full of colorful images of the local wildlife and the town’s various attractions. 

“Yeah? That’s where you wanna go?”, he laughed, as Chestnut suddenly stood up on her rear legs, front paws propped against the plaque, curious golden eyes fixated on the picture of Arcadia Bay’s imposing lighthouse. “Y’know what, why the fuck not, we got all the time in the world… At least ‘til next Wednesday'' Sean sighed, looking up from the slightly faded photograph to the actual lighthouse in the distance, peeking out from countless majestic pine trees, its bright, white light rotating with a slow and steady speed on the opposite end of the bay on top of a cliff.

There was something strange, something unsettling about the tall, robust tower that Sean couldn’t exactly put his finger on. He found himself staring at the lighthouse as if it held all the secrets, all the answers to all the questions he’s been searching for all his life - he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t even catch his breath for what felt like an eternity, even though it was but a mere moment. As if something was calling him, an invisible, eerie force locking his eyes on the lighthouse, Sean just stood there petrified, and if it wasn’t for Chestnut and her eager little woof startling him back to reality, he probably would’ve stayed there like that until sunset.

“Yeah, why the fuck not”, he murmured under his nose, shaking his head like he just woke from a weird dream as he turned away from Arcadia Bay and walked up to his car, trying to ignore the uncanny tingling in the back of his head - and the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a pair of all-seeing, otherworldly eyes.

*

It took surprisingly long to get to the other side of the bay from Otter Point. By the time Sean reached the lighthouse, the sun was high in the spotless blue sky, radiating its warm light so dazzlingly he had to shield his eyes with his hand as he exited the car. He parked the station wagon in a small clearing surrounded by fragrant, sky-high pine trees, at the bottom of a meandrous set of wooden stairs half-eaten by the soil, and began his short hike up to the lighthouse with Chestnut trotting by his side. The forest around them was peaceful and bustling with cheerful and welcoming Spring life; they saw busy bees and chirping birds and dancing butterflies everywhere as they made their way uphill, following the glimmering sunspots on the ground.

“Alright, same rules apply, okay? No running along the edge, it’s rocky down there”, said Sean when they reached the top of the stairs, grabbing Chestnut’s collar the very last minute before the pup could just storm off to explore the uncharted territory. “Stay… Staaay…”, he raised his eyebrows as the pup looked up at him with giant eyes full of excited sparkles, wagging her tail like the clearing in front of her was the last one on Earth to roam.  “Good girl. Run along now, but carefully, please”, he said after a moment or two, as he let go of Chestnut, watching her dart off as a fired arrow with a proud, fatherly smile on his face before following the pup to the clearing.

The lighthouse stood tall on the edge of the cliff, watching over Arcadia Bay like a robust, all-seeing guardian. Seeing the tower up close, Sean felt the same magnetic energy that practically hypnotized him from all the way across the bay, only this time, he felt it ten folds stronger, as he stood there and stared at the lighthouse, tilting his head back as much as he could to take in the breathtaking sight in all its mesmerizing entirety. It felt like he arrived in another dimension where time didn’t work as it did on his own; as if a heavy, velvety curtain fell on the world, closing around the cliff and creating an odd, languid void where the pace of time just wasn’t the same. It was quiet, yes, peaceful, even, but at the same time, the air was strangely disturbed, unsettling and mysterious - and eerily inviting.

After what felt like half a lifetime of staring at the lighthouse, Sean noticed a worn bench on the edge of the cliff. He watched Chestnut sweep across the clearing, very much occupied with chasing something that looked like an azure-blue butterfly at first glance, before walking up to the bench and sitting down on it, turning his gaze towards the magnificent view of the bay below him as he reached for his cigarette case in his pocket. With the first puff of bitter smoke, he closed his eyes, and for a while, he just listened to the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the cliff and the squawking of a few stray seagulls circling around the lantern room, before bringing himself to unzip his backpack and pull out his tablet and sketchbook from the messy depths of it.

He only hesitated for a brief moment before he put the tablet back in his bag, and along with it, his deadlines and professional responsibilities, settling with his trusted sketchbook instead. He preferred drawing on actual paper with an actual pen anyway, and he felt like procrastinating a little before letting his work swallow him in one bite. Flipping through dozens of pages of unfinished drawings until he finally reached a blank page, Sean started sketching Arcadia Bay with strainless ease, his eye constantly moving back and forth between the sketchbook and the view until the chaos of thin, black lines started to come together and he didn’t have to look anymore.

And this is when the time truly stopped around him, as it always did when Sean took the pen. It was just him and his vision of the world under the sun, and of course, Chestnut running around the clearing, her lanky, brown form always somewhere in the corner of his eye. 

“You’re really pressed about this butterfly, aren’t you”, he chuckled as Chestnut ran across his feet relentlessly, making Sean look up from the content little wolf he’s been sketching for a while without even realizing that he started adding it to the drawing. He didn’t even notice anymore, since this was the case with many, if not most of his drawings - as if he was physically incapable of finishing a drawing without wolves in it, or for that matter, drawing for someone who wasn’t his brother. 

“I mean, it’s a pretty fucking stunning butterfly if you ask me”, answered a mischievous voice beside him, completely out of the blue, startling Sean so unexpectedly that he almost fell off the bench.

“De puta madr-!!”, he exclaimed in fright as he turned his head, and the next moment, he found himself staring at a young, slim girl, leaning against the crooked fence on the edge of the cliff. “I mean, ugh  Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t see you there” he added quickly, clearing his throat as he looked the girl up and down, wondering how long has it been since she got there - and most importantly, how in the world didn’t he notice her when she arrived. 

“It’s kinda rare that anyone does, to be honest” shrugged the girl, stepping away from the fence, piercing blue eyes shifting from Sean’s colorless face to the sketchbook in his lap. She was tall and slender, wearing ripped jeans with a leather jacket and a black beanie, electric blue hair framing her narrow, elfish face. She looked like she was in her late teens, early twenties, maybe, and even though Sean was certain he’s never seen her before, somehow it felt like he’s known the girl for his entire life. “What are you drawing? Can I see?”

“Sure, take a look” he said, scooting over a little so the girl could sit next to her. “It’s a… I don’t even know what, that started off as a landscape sketch” he explained, scratching the inner corner of his empty eye socket and suddenly wishing he put on his eyepatch before coming up to the lighthouse. The girl, however, was way too invested in his sketchbook to even notice that there was something unusual about his appearance, and even if she did, she didn’t seem to be taken aback by it - or at least she didn’t feel the urge to stare, unlike most people Sean has met throughout his life.

“This is really cool, dude” the girl said after a while, looking up at him with a wide, impressed grin before turning her gaze back to Sean’s drawing. “Are you like, an artist or something?”

“Artist is an overstatement but yeah, I draw comics for a living” Sean answered, reaching out for Chestnut when he noticed the pup is running towards him. “This one isn’t for work though. It’s a… Gift. For my brother”, he added, his smile suddenly fading with the words, and not returning even when Chestnut wriggled her way in between his legs and placed her head in his lap, staring up at him with giant puppy eyes. 

“Something gives me the impression that he’s the small one”, the girl chuckled, pointing at the younger wolf on Sean’s drawing, chasing a butterfly on the edge of the cliffside looking over Arcadia Bay, next to his bigger, scruffier, one-eyed brother, relaxing under a pine tree.

“I have no idea what makes you say that” said Sean with a faint smile on his face, gently fondling Chestnut’s head in his lap. “The older I get, the more it feels like it’s the other way around, to be honest”, he sighed quietly, feeling his entire chest harden all of a sudden as he took a glance at his sketchbook between the long nails of the strange girl next to her.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the girl bluntly the next moment, carefully closing Sean’s sketchbook and putting it between them on the bench. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in Arcadia Bay before, and that’s pretty shocking considering that we’re talking about a town of 200 people where nothing ever happens…”

“Yeah, I’m just traveling. Thought I’d drive through town and check out the view from here” Sean answered, and as he pulled out another cigarette from his pocket, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden sparks of longing in the girl’s eyes. “You want one?”

“Not gonna lie, I could kill for a smoke… But no thanks. I… Can’t”, the girl gulped, watching with eager eyes as Sean reluctantly put the cigarette in his mouth. “Oh, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind. The smell’s gonna do the trick” she said, exhaling the smoke of the first huff with a strange, almost euphoric smile as Sean lit his cigarette at last.

“Oh man… You got some superior shit right there” she said, her smile slowly growing into a content, wide grin. “But anyway… As much as Arcadia Bay is the most boring shithole in the whole wide world, I hope your trip was worth it in the end.”

“Sounds like you lived here for a while, huh?”, Sean asked, eyebrows raised, to which the girl let out a sarcastic snort. “Oof. That bad?”

“There are no words to describe just how bad, my dude” the girl answered, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around her long legs pulled up to her chest. “I’ve been stuck here my whole fucking life. Wanted to leave since I was fourteen” she continued, the playful cheer suddenly leaving her voice and leaving behind gloomy shadows on her face. “Should’ve gotten the fuck outta here the first chance I got”, she said sourly, planting her chin between her knees and staring blankly in the distance, to a faraway place Sean couldn’t follow her to - and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

“So why didn’t you?”, Sean blurted out before thinking twice, but before he could even think of a way to apologize for possibly having crossed a line, the girl laughed out loud and dry.

“Have a wild guess, dude. ‘Cause of love, of course”, she snorted again, only this time, sarcasm was replaced with something much darker in her tone. “I was just waiting for the right time y’know. Back then, I had no idea that no such thing exists. Not for anything, not for anyone. There is just you and time, and time is nothing but a massive fucking trap, waiting for you to get stuck in it” she said, eyes darker than the coldest nights of winter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to explode like that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for anything”, Sean shook his head, placing his burnt-out cigarette butt under the bench next to the previous one. “I’m just not sure I get what you mean.”

“No worries, I wouldn’t expect you to get it anyway” the girl shrugged, and the next moment, she turned her gaze to Sean, all-seeing blue eyes staring right into his soul. “You know, people hardly ever come to the lighthouse anymore, except when they should be somewhere else. And even if they come, they barely notice me. It’s nice that you did. And that you listened, too. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be now, but I’m glad you’re here” she smiled, patting Sean’s hand with a surprisingly cold palm briefly, retreating almost immediately as he shuddered next to her.

“Yeah, I’m glad I took a little detour too” he smiled back at the girl before his glance wandered off to his sketchbook lying between them on the bench. “But I think I should get going now. I’d love to stay and chat, but… I’m ridiculously late already”, he added, a concerned frown taking over the upper half of his face, and a bewildered grin the lower, as somehow, at that moment, he realized there’s a chance that perhaps he has given into the nonsense of his own depression slightly more than he should have in the first place. 

“Yeah, you probably are”, said the girl with a playful wink, standing up from the bench and stretching her long arms above her head. “Man, what a spectacular fucking afternoon. I mean, look at the Sun. Such a radiant bitch boss, for real”, she declared lovingly, making Sean laugh out loud for the first time in the past few days, or even weeks, maybe.

“Need a lift?”, Sean asked the girl as they turned their backs on the lighthouse, and started walking towards the staircase leading to the small clearing at the bottom of the cliff. 

“Nah, thanks, but I’m not done here yet”, the girl said, shoving both her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans. “Got some wandering to do, y’know… Contemplating the beauty of Spring and all” she looked at him with a somewhat shy smile, and Sean decided not to risk crossing any more lines with any more questions. 

“I guess this is where we part ways then” he nodded his head when they reached his station wagon, waiting patiently next to the tourist map of the cliff. “Enjoy contemplating the beauty of Spring, I guess?”, he smiled at the girl, opening the door of the passenger’s seat for Chestnut.

“Yeah, thanks, man. You take care too, okay?” answered the girl, and the next moment, before Sean could say anything, her eyes suddenly widened. “And don’t forget to sketch up a cool portrait of me or something if you got the time, will you?”

“Stop reading my mind, a’ight?” Sean laughed, waving at the girl before sitting in his car, a sudden burst of energy washing over him as the door closed behind him. The urge to drive as fast as he just can was stronger than he’s ever felt it before, but somehow, he managed to control it, closing his eyes and leaning back on his seat for a long, silent moment before reaching for his phone. Swiping away dozens of notifications, he then opened his contacts and pressed call on the first name on top of the list - the only number he’s ever called, really. 

The ringing stopped right after he pressed his phone between his ear and shoulder, and turned the car key under the steering wheel. 

“Hey enano. I’m on my way.”

*

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Hey! Thank you for reading! ❤

This short story is my contribution to a Christmas Short Story Exchange we did with my best friends. (It is also my first ever fanfiction in English!) I was writing for one of my best friends who got me into Life is Strange years ago, so when we pulled each other’s names and I found out I’m writing for her, I immediately knew that I’ll work with the Diaz brothers and Chloe. 

2020 Christmas Short Story Exchange Word count: 5353 | Written December 22nd-27th. I’m on AO3 now! Head over for more fanfictions. ❤

[lawlerek]

Not good enough

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Ex!Reader, Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter

Word count: 8.4k

Summary: You were Steve's girlfriend for two years, but now he left you for Sharon. You found comfort in his best friend, Sam Wilson.

Warnings: angst. Steve is kind of a jerk, but it’s not his fault. xD

A/N: Gif’s not mine.

Ok, I just don’t like Sharon. Very much. And I’m still furious about Endgame ending, so in this AU it’ll never happend.

Also, it’s pretty late and I haven’t check this out yet. Sorry.

I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as me. ♥

An annoying bell sounded from the front door just as Sam was in the shower and the water drowned out everything. Fortunately for him and his neighbors, the visitor knew exactly where Wilson held the spare key, so intruder picked it up and opened the door. Steve Rogers didn’t care if his presence would please Sam. He was just so exhausted by this moment.

Honestly, Steve was fed up with everything. He almost wished he had been extracted from the ice. If he was still asleep, life would be simpler. In fact, his life was easier in the forties when he was still a skinny and weak guy from Brooklyn. At that time, no girl even wanted to look at him. The equation was simple: no girls = no problems in a love life.

Steve walked through the living room to the small kitchen, went to the fridge and pulled out two chilled beers, even though he knew that no amount of alcohol would help him. This was another huge minus of his situation — unconditional sobriety, anytime and anywhere.

The sound of the murmuring water broke off the moment Steve fell down on the couch with a groan. Then Steve heard the shower door sliding open, the rustling of clothes, the quiet humming of his best friend. After another five minutes Sam left the bathroom. Steve imagined all his actions — in sweatpants and a towel on his shoulder Sam was heading for his bedroom, but he noticed the light in the living room, so he stopped. Probably his shoulders tensed in anticipation. The man's heart instantly beat faster when he realized that a burglar was inside his house.

Steve preferred to suppress all violence in the bud.

"It's just me!” He called and took a sip of beer.

Sensible senses made Steve easily hear Sam breathe a sigh of relief. The soldier moved briskly toward the living room. He also wanted to throw some sarcastic remark, but at the sight of his friend, all words died in his mouth. Wilson cleared his throat and, with much less confidence, and with greater caution (as if approaching a wild dog) walked to the chair and sat on it. When he noticed the second bottle of beer on the table, he immediately reached for it and opened it without even bothering to look for the opener.

"So... did you do it?” He asked uncertainly. Steve nodded slowly, his empty eyes locked on the TV wall. "And how did she react?”

This time it was Steve who sighed so miserably that Sam felt sorry for him.

"At the beginning it was good... I guess. I think so?” Steve said quietly. "I don’t know. She was silent. I had no idea what to say and she just looked at me. ” Rogers paused as if to gather his thoughts together. He frowned thoughtfully. "Then she asked if I was joking and I almost answered her that yes. I almost begged to be forgiven!”

Sam settled himself more comfortably in the chair. He sensed that he would not go to sleep as early as he intended, but he didn’t blame his friend for it. He knew that this whole situation was hard for Steve. In the end, Rogers never really had a girlfriend, he never had to break up with anyone in his life. He had no idea that remorse was an indispensable part of saying goodbye, even if he was not guilty of anything. Well, maybe not quite.

"She wanted to cry," Steve continued. "I saw the tears in her eyes. But she refrained. I told her that it was not her fault. That it's all me…”

Sam moaned, despite the fact that he wanted to remain silence. Rogers looked surprised at his friend and blinked a few times with a big question mark on his face. Sam felt sorry for Steve even more. And a little bit angry.

"Dude, you never say such things. Now she definitly must be thinking that it was her fault!” Steve grimaced slightly and Sam felt remorse. He didn’t intend to be so dry in relation to a friend. "Sorry. You told her why you're breaking up with her?

Steve was even more confused, while Sam groaned louder.

"You didn’t tell her about Sharon? Are you kidding me?”

"I wanted to," Steve said defensively. "But I didn’t know how. [Y/N] was so broken... I didn’t want to kick her when she’s down.”

Sam didn’t know who to rage more. Steve, who screwed up everything in its entirety or you for not asking anything?

At Steve, he finally decided. It was not your fault. In fact, in all this situation you were the biggest victim.

You worked for Tony Stark and earlier for SHIELD under the command of Nick Fury. From the beginning you were in close cooperation with Captain America and his team, even though your participation in the missions was limited to office work and improvement of the equipment used by the team. You were beautiful and extremely clever and your technical skills made even Stark impressed. Your only guilt was that you fancied Captain America and agreed to go out with him for coffee.

Sam didn’t want to remind his friend, but he told him that everything would end badly. Of course, he was more concerned with affairs between employees. Wilson didn't think another woman could wrap Steve around her little finger, so he decided to leave [Y/N] after more than two years of relationship and your plans for the future.

Equally, Sam didn’t want to remind him that you will learn about Steve's new partner sooner than later, which is totally a kicking a lying one (after all, Steve complained to his friend many times that you were jealous every time when Sharon appeared in sight, what you didn’t know yet, but you had a real reason to feel insecure) and it would probably bounce back on Sam and his relationship with you.

And you two had meeting next week.

"Well," Sam began after a long silence. "I hope [Y/N] will not break down completely after discovering the truth.”

Steve put his beer on the table and hid his face in his hands, as if he could hide from the whole world in this way. The men were silent for a moment and the only audible sound was Sam's swallow of beer. At last Rogers spoke, but his voice was muffled.

"She deserves someone better than me.”

Sam didn’t say anything about it. In part because he just didn’t know what he could say in such a situation.

It was hard to tell if you were broken with the news, which with the speed of light spread through the Avengers Tower. Even if Sam knew that Steve wanted to be a little decent and to hide his fresh relationship with Sharon, one person in the headquarters who saw them together was enough. One person who heard one sentence too much and rumors began to spread faster than a forest fire.

It's the damned Captain America, Sam thought with anger, staring at your hands. Everyone wants to know everything about his private life.

The only thing Sam knew for sure was that you were brave as hell. It is true that it was obvious at first glance that you didn’t sleep well. Your face was pale and drawn and under the reddened eyes he could see purple bruises. You lost something of your vigor, all your movements were automatic and slow. You also got more clumsy and distracted, but he couldn’t denny your self-confidence. You've been walking all day through the corridors of the Avengers' headquarters with your head tucked up and your breast thrust forward and you didn’t hide like Sam expected you to do.

Your meeting was more than awkward. At least when it came to Sam. You tried to keep the face of a professional you were and you never even mentioned Stevie or Sharon. You explained Sam modifications to Sam and showed all improvements you made.

"You should test it," you said, putting a heavy pack of equipment on the metal table. "As soon as possible," you added, staring at Sam.

He was torn. He liked you and he got used to your relaxed side. To your laughter and the loose anecdotes you told him every time Wilson walked in your lab. Ever since you started dating Steve and becoming friends with him, Sam never left your lab earlier than after two hours and at least one cub of coffee. This time, however, Sam's visit lasted about ten minutes. You began to talk as soon as he crossed the threshold of the studio and never let him gave a word, even though he wanted to ask how you are doing.

Maybe that's better, Sam thought. In the end, you were evidently upset about Steve's behavior.

Scowled Sam picked up his equipment, signed the statement you gave him under his nose and headed for the exit. The man stopped just at the door and, ignoring the fact that it automatically opened, turned to say goodbye to you. He was surprised to find out that you were staring blankly at his back and your lips were trembling as if you were holding back to speak. But you didn’t have to say anything. Sam knew exactly what you meant and immediately got you through.

"He didn’t cheat on you or anything like that.” Wilson hated himself for how weak his voice sounded. "Everything just...” he broke off abruptly, not knowing what to say next. That everything all happened this way? That love doesn’t choose? It was a regrettable excuse. "It's really not your fault," he added and your eyes glazed. He wanted to throw himself under the train, stab himself or let himself be launched into space. Maybe then he would stop the folly that only hurt you more. "When you want to talk or just go outpop out for a drink, let me know. You look like you need it.”

And he left.

Although Sam really meant you to call him if necessary, he was extremely surprised when on saturday, about three weeks after your conversation, at nine in the evening his phone flashed and your face appeared on the screen. He thanked God or the gods (he couldn’t be sure of anything in this world anymore) that he was alone at home because he wouldn’t know how to react in the company of Steve.

He answered, feeling unpleasant sucking in his stomach. He was afraid that such a late conversation didn’t bring good news.

"[Y/N]?”

There was silence on the other side, which disturbed Sam.

"[Y/N], please speak. For God's sake," he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'm sorry," you said in a weak voice. Sam relaxed, because he knew you had cried recently. "You're probably busy and I'm just bothering you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's nothing important, so...”

"You’re not bothering me," said Wilson, smiling slightly under his breath. "I'm glad you're calling," he added, even though he didn’t quite know why. He guess just to make you feel a little bit better.

You fell silent again, but this time Sam heard a dull clatter in the background. As if you were impatiently slapping your fingers on the back of the phone.

"What's up?” Man said mildly, switching off the television. He sat up more comfortably and put his legs on the table. He felt it would take a long time.

"I'm really sorry," you repeated mumbling. "I just don’t have anyone to talk to. Honestly, I shouldn’t call you either. God, I am such a burden to everyone! But lately I really cannot focus, because I still only see him with..." you broke off and Sam imagined that you were wrinkling your forehead.

Words left his lips faster than he could think about them:

"I'll be at your place in half an hour.”

As he promised, he was knocking on the door of your apartment half an hour later. Although Sam visited this place hundreds of times, this time every cell of his body and every brick house, shouted to him that everything is different. Not as it should be. Initially, Wilson couldn’t tell what the difference was. He simply climbed the stairs (the elevator, as usual, didn’t work), the bag with the logo of the 24-hour shop rustled in his hand and the bottles were buzzing inside. Your favorite wine and beer for him. And something stronger for both of you, just in case.

Standing in front of the door of your apartment, Sam wondered if it wasn’t strange that he knows what wine you like the most, but he reminded that it was normal when he sometimes accompanied Steve during shopping. Rogers very carefully selected all the products he bought for you, so it was obvious that all the details were stuck in his head. However, it illuminated him only when the wooden door opened and your silhouette appeared.

Sam never visited you without Steve. Never. Of course, it happened a lot of Times that he go to the apartment alone, but Steve was already waiting inside. And now you and Wilson were supposed to be alone in your home for the very first time.

Understanding fell on him and made for a great remorse that almost cut him off his feet. He immediately wondered if he was in any case putting his friendship with Steve to the test? Is he about to break some unwritten rule of buddies’ codex with comforting his friend’s ex? Even if the alleged friend behaved like a jerk?

Remember: tell Captain everything before he finds out.

You blinked in surprise. Sam thought that perhaps you didn’t take his words of immediate arrival to heart.

"Oh, Sam," you said in a broken voice. A man with heartache noticed the wet marks on your cheeks, the existence of which you probably didn’t quite realize.

"Sam Wilson's alcohol service comes to the rescue of a beautiful lady," the soldier replied in a false, cheerful tone, lifting the bag. "Can I come in?”

But you stared at Sam as if he was some kind of puzzle until your eyes lit up a little, the corners of your lips gently lifted. After a while you snorted a healthy laugh, from which you cried again. You didn’t really know if it was your mood's fault or the fact that Sam came to save you in his pajama pants. The man stood in the stairwell under your door in a thick sweatshirt, adidas and woolen gray checkered trousers.

Sam followed your gaze and realized too late of his fashion mistake (which explained the amused gazes of passers-by and shop assistants), but he thought that if his tomfoolery although slightly improved your mood, there is nothing to complain about. Unfortunately, remorse has only increased. In the end, what kind of guy is acting as stupid as he is?

Idiot, fool. You shouldn’t be here at all.

Rubbing your eyes with a fragment of a large T-shirt, you moved away from the door, letting the man come inside. In a separate passage of the room that served as the hallway, Sam took off his shoes and then followed you into the kitchen. Or rather to the kitchenette to the left of the front door. He put a plastic bag on the countertop and unpacked alcohol. He looked around the apartment while you were pulling out the glasses.

When it comes to furniture or the layout of the rooms, nothing has changed since Sam's last visit. Your flat consisted of one large room with separate zones: kitchen, dining and living room. Directly from the kitchen, there was a glazed door to the smallest balcony in the world. However, in the wall to the right of the entrance door, there were another two pairs of doors. One led to a small bathroom and the other to the bedroom.

Usually you were a very neat and orderly person, but Sam wasn’t surprised seeing this mess you made with pillows and blankets. An open album of your and Steve's pictures lay on the glass coffee table.

Sam looked away, pretended he didn’t notice.

"You didn’t have to come,” you finally said. Your cheeks were pink, lips bent and you avoided your friend's eyes. You took bottle of wine in your hands, as if you didn’t know what to do with it. "You probably think I'm pathetic, but you're too kind or you just feel sorry for myself to tell me to fuck of. Forgive me.”

"Stop this bullshit," Sam interrupted. He took wine and uncorked it yourself, seeing that your sluggishness. He poured alcohol into your glass. "You’re not pathetic and I know that you have to get used to this sudden change. I came because I wanted to. I will not leave a friend in need.”

You shuddered as if someone had hit you. Your cheeks became even more red.

"Well," you mumbled, taking the glass in your hand. You shyly raised your head and looked at Sams. "I'm very thankful. Really. You have no idea how much.”

Wilson nodded. He plugged the bottle back, then took out beer and put the rest of the alcohol in the fridge. He went around the table and sat on one of the three bar stools, so he was in front of you. Man opened the can and there was a small hiss of gas leaking.

"What happened, [Y/N]? At work you looked as if you were slowly going through it,” Sam added. He was uncertain whether he should say the last sentence, but the expression on your face didn’t change, which he took as a good sign.

For a long moment you remained silent, once slowly sipping wine, then again tapping your fingers against the glass with your eyes fixed on the balcony door. In the end, however, you sighed, stepped back a few steps and sat on the kitchen counter with unforced grace.

"Listening to rumors is one thing and seeing it with your own eyes…” You finally said, avoiding man's gaze. He could see perfectly well that you were trying to stay calm and not to burst into tears again. He appreciated it. "Just... It seemed so unreal, you know? I was thinking that Steve isn’t like that. That he would leave me for another woman. I thought people gossip because they have some sick satisfaction from this situation,” you began blinking quickly, trying to chase away the tears. You lifted a glass to your lips and drank its contents. You leaned your head against the wall and looked straight at Sam. You seemed to be smaller than usual. More helpless and lost. You looked miserable, man noticed, feeling shame for himself.

However, he admitted to you in the depths of his soul. He also personally believed that his friend would never be capable of such an act. He disappointed both of you.

"And yet I met him today,” you continued. "In the corridor. He flirted with her like it was nothing. He laughed. He touched her arm. He didn’t care that others could see. He behaved exactly like when he was with me. It hurts. The fact that I meant so little to him. Not much enough that he didn’t even bother to tell me about this bitch by himself,” you hissed in a poisonous tone. Wilson couldn’t get over the speed with which your mood changed.

There was heavy silence in the room. Sam raged at himself and that he couldn’t choose a side. That he put himself in a desperate situation when you cried to him, but at the same time loyalty to a friend wouldn’t let him say a single bad word about him. That is why he was silent, drinking only beer. When he finished the first can, he immediately got up, went to the fridge and pulled out another one. All this mess was over his nerves.

"I felt humiliated,” you added after some time. "Becouse he replaced me so quickly. ‘Couse she took my place. Of all the women in the world, it must have been her! After all...” Your voice broke down. "After all, she’s better than me. Prettier. Smarter. More resourceful. She has an amazing job. People respect her. She’s strong. And, of course, her name is Carter,” you said and Sam remembered your jealousy about everything that had anything to do with Steve's first love. Reasonable, it meant. Even if Steve didn’t always want to admit it. But even Wilson had to agree that Captain's attachment to Peggy, almost an obsession with her and her family's life, including Sharon's might have disturbed everyone.

Unfortunately, Sharon was not a saint either. He liked her for a while when he met her, but there was always something about her that made him feel uncomfortable. She treated Steve like a reward that she just deserves. Sharon was nice to you, but at first glance Sam could see that she does not treat you as a threat, but rather like a simple obstacle that can be easily avoided. As you can see, she did it.

"Sharon isn’t better than you," Sam said irritably. He came to you and grabbed you by your shoulders. He wanted to shake you, slap you, do anything it was necessary for you to see for yourself. For you to see how amazing you were. That Sharon couldn’t match you, not the other way. "She can easily manipulate people. She manipulated Steve. Do you think I'm not mad at how he acted? You said that he would never do it in a normal way! But what can we do about it? We should just let him burn by himself. Then he will realize what treasure he voluntarily released from his hands.”

"What if not?” You asked in a trembling voice in which were hidden huge layers of pain and longing.

"It will be a sign that you deserve someone better.”

You opened your eyes wide, staring at Sam. Thanks to the fact that you were sitting on the counter, so your eyes were on more or less one level and it made everything easier.

The silence was prolonged and you were still staring at each other. Wilson felt the tension that formed between the two of you, but he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t look away. He just stood there and watched you hypnotized. He saw your worried face and evidence of lack of sleep.

"It's funny that it’s you who understand me. Or say that. After all, you're the closest person to him," you whispered. Your warm breath with a hint of alcohol touched man's face. "Nobody wants to talk to me about it. Nobody believes me. They say it's all my fault. >Steve Rogers?,< they say. >This Captain America? It’s impossible. You had to encourage him somehow. You must have been not good enough for him.<” Finally you couldn’t stand it. Tears of helplessness and sadness rolled down your cheeks, but Sam tried to rub his thumbs with it. You began to cry loudly and your body shudders. Wilson couldn’t tell how long he stood like that, embracing you and trying to provide you with emotional support. In the end, however, you calmed down a bit and began to continue in a broken voice, additionally muffled by thick material of his sweatshirt, in which you pressed your face. "My friends told me that. Damn it! My mother told me that! She raged at me because she lost such a wonderful potential son-in-law. >It is your fault! What did you do to him? How did you manage to scare him away? How badly did you treat him if he had to seek for comfort in another’s the arms?<”  You were sobbing again. Sam could feel your fists on his back, desperately clenching on his sweatshirt. You clung to it as if it were your last resort. "So finally I thought… I thought that since everyone is repeating this around, it's probably the truth. Isn’t it?”

Sam was shocked. He knew that the environment always put pressure on you. The whole society required a lot from the girl of the Golden Boy of America. First and foremost — they had to know that you were worth him, however horrible it would sound. In the end, more than one evening Sam listened to Steve's complaints about the media, which gave no peace to any of you. Meeting Steve was like arranging a world-class celebrity – Americans were expecting someone as great as Steve himself. And as they didn’t know you, they considered you as ballast. They didn’t know how wonderful you were and that Steve is the one who should deserve you.

Wilson supported you both because he loved you two. He saw how you look at each other, he knew that you were happy together, even despite the pressure of the media. After all, society finally calmed down. And now? Even if the public knew the whole truth, no one would believe it.

Because real Steve would never act like a jerk.

And since Captain America would never hurt his girlfriend (almost a fiancée!), It means that she did something wrong, right?

Only now it all came to Sam. How lonely you must have felt with the whole company against you. How helpless and hopeless you felt when even your own family tells you that you’re not good enough.

Man in one second felt so angry that he wanted to destroy something. Someone, something. And the best option was his own best friend. No. It would also be unfair. Sam wanted to get rid of Sharon. In the end, she messed up everything. At first by pretending to be a sweet nurse living next door to Steve in Washington. Then, unscrupulous, setting Steve against you and wrapping him around her finger.

Sam stroked you gently on your back and put his head on top of yours. At that moment he wanted to be your shield. He wanted to hide you somewhere where you wouldn’t suffer. Somewhere, where you'll find happiness again.

"This is not true," he said haughtily. "And don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. You’re the most wonderful person I've ever met. So don’t you dare tell yourself that it’s different," he repeated.

[bleepblopbloop56]

The Murder in the Dressing Room

Chapter 4: Puzzle Peices

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, ao3

Warnings; blood, death, language, bit of crying, nothing too bad yet

As ALWAYS with this fic the wonderdul lovley beautiful person @pathos-logical did all the editing and 90% of the work. Go love her

((HI I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY SO ITS ONE DAY LATE AND IM S O R R Y ))

One more thing before we get started, butnif yall ever wanna come into my askbox and just yell at me about this im so fuckin down for that! Or DM me and yell? Oh it gives me life.

((Reblogs with comments are very very VERY appreciated by the way))

-----

Officers swarmed the apartment just as they had swarmed the theater only days before. Roman was now being shoved into the spotlight by the press, and worse, being deemed suspect number one by every detective on the case. Well… almost every detective. 

"Victim showed obvious signs of a struggle," Remy started, and Logan thought back to the bruise on Roman's stomach, the one his fingertips had grazed over not long ago. He should say something. He didn't. "'Valuable' belongings, if you could call them that, are all in place, and his wallet still has cash, plus one expired credit card. It doesn't look like a robbery," Remy drawled on, circling the body like he belonged with the vultures lining up outside. "And based on… this-" he leaned down and lifted the mask off Remus, exposing his features- "it looks like you were right about our murderer." 

Not only was Remus's corpse adorned with a gold theater mask like the one that Thomas had been left with, it seemed a Joker-esque frown had been carved into Remus' mouth

"It doesn't make sense. I mean, an upper class actor from the nice part of town, and an unemployed man from the bad… What's the relation?" Logan voiced his thoughts, trying to push down the sick feeling that arose upon seeing a photo of Remus and Roman as children covered in the splattered blood. 

"Logan, you know the the relation…" Remus said quietly, eyes softening even as his voice hardened. "You really think it's a random coincidence that Roman moved to town and then both of his roommates were found dead by Roman?” His tone was harsh, but Logan could hear the underlying message. You’re not stupid, Logan, don't do this. Logan shook his head and stepped out into the hallway.

"Roman was with me all night," he admitted. "He has an alibi."

"Unless he fucking killed this guy and then went out and got you tipsy," Remy argued, but his eyes looked more pleading than accusatory. Logan's stomach twisted, and it took effort not to visibly wince. 

"You didn't see him when he found Remus," Logan said flatly. He had heard the scream all the way from the car. When he ran in, Roman had backed himself into a wall, screaming and crying harder than Logan had ever seen anyone cry. Breathing exercises could only go so far when you were five feet away from a dead body…

Logan had been forced to cover Roman's eyes and drag him out of the place to get him to calm down, and even then he'd shaken like a leaf until the ambulance showed up and he'd been treated for shock. 

"Logan I think you're too close to the case." Remy gently placed a hand on Logan's shoulder, but Logan jerked it away.

"How do you know Roman is a suspect and not a victim?" he snapped. "What evidence do you have that says he murdered these people? People he loved and was close to? Why would he wear Remus' clothing because it was too emotionally taxing to move his clothes out of Thomas' house? Why would he leave the bodies and evidence out lying around instead of disposing of them? This is a direct attack towards him, not by him, Remy." Logan was distantly aware his ranting was earning him more than a few confused stares by some of the other officers, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Someone is out there killing people, and you're accusing an innocent victim based on one piece of evidence." Logan walked out of the building, leaving Remy alone at the scene before he could point out that that one piece was all they had.

_____

"Alright, first of all!" Remy slammed open the door of Logan's office, where Logan had been poring over case files for the past hour. "You don't just do that, okay? You don't just fuckin leave a scene like that and make me hitch a fuckin UBER back, okay? Do you know how sketchy that sounded?" Remy slammed his coffee down and threw off his satchel. "Hey bitch, come pick me up at this crime scene swarming with investigators, sorry my partner dumped my ass and took the car!" He demonstrated talking to the driver over his phone before dropping his hands and staring at Logan with his patented "are you fucking kidding me" face. 

"I apologize, Remington," Logan said tiredly. He set down his pen to give the appearance of giving Remy his full attention, but his mind was a hundred miles away.

"Don't fucking 'Remington' me!" was what Logan got for his efforts. He might have been Logan's inferior, but he sure as hell didn't act like it. "Listen, I get it. You're in love with your ex, who could be a murderer for all we know, and you're super pissed at me for telling you you're being unprofessional for the first time in your life. But that doesn't excuse any of this shit, alright?" Dropping all pretense, Logan dropped his head onto the desk, ready for Remy to shut the fuck up and get out of his office. 

"People. Are. Fucking. Dying. Logan," he growled, voice getting louder with each word. "So how bout you get off your ass and get your shit together!"

There was a beat of silence.

"Okay that's it, I'm done, end of rant." Remy dropped into the chair, going from furious to calm so suddenly it felt like he'd flipped a switch 

"Are you finished?" Logan deadpanned, rubbing his temple. Remy sucked on his straw, nodding silently and kicking his legs up in Logan's desk. Logan took a deep breath, straightening up and picking up his pen again.  "Good. Now can we get to work?" 

______

When Logan picked up Patton from daycare, it took everything in his power not to start sobbing. His baby was here, safe in his arms and alive. His profession wasn't one that exactly supported having kids, and it definitely wasn't one that made it easy to drop off his kid to a stranger and say "here, watch this while I'm gone."

Patton, for his part, didn't notice anything was wrong at first and just enjoyed the extra snuggle time with his dad. Instead of laying Patton down in the baby bed like he usually did for nap time at home, Logan had set him down in his own bed next to him, just wanting to hold Patton as close as possible. 

"Dada?" Patton didn't know many words, but he knew that one well, and it was Logan's favorite. Despite everything, he smiled on reflex, but his expression turned to one of alarm when Patton's bottom lip started to quiver. Patton pressed his little hands into Logan's cheeks, and with a start, Logan realized he'd been crying.

"No- I'm alright, Patton, Dada's alright, please don't cry," he shushed. He sat up slightly and bouncing Patton on his lap in an attempt to calm him down. When Patton's face began to screw up, he said again, slightly more desperately, "Shhh, look, Dada's fine-" But Patton wasn't stupid. He began to wail loudly, upset not only that he missing nap time but that his dad was crying. 

"Is everything okay in here?" Virgil asked, poking his head into the bedroom at the commotion. He was met with the sight of a bawling Patton and a completely overwhelmed Logan looking like he was heading the same way. Virgil wasted no time in walking in and taking Patton from Logan.

"You need a break, man," Virgil said over the crying. His eyes lit up as he was struck by an idea. "Hey, why don't you call your brother? Patton loves that doctor dude."

Logan shoved his head in his hands, trying to keep his breathing even. For a second he wanted to insist he was fine, he could handle this- but then he flinched when Patton's cries got even louder, and he could only sigh and nod. 

Doctor Emile Picani had always loved children. He’d always wanted kids of his own, but the one man he loved more than anything had passed away right after their second anniversary. Emile still wore his ring. So when his phone rang and he was met with his brother practically begging him to take Patton for a few days, he was more than happy to oblige. He was at the house the very next day to take Patton away for him.

"Thank you so much for doing this," Logan sighed, handing over the baby to Emile. Patton bounced and smiled at him, happily wrapping his arms around him the best he could. The night before, Logan had sat down Patton and explained he'd be going to have a playdate with Uncle Emile for a few days. He wasn't entirely certain Patton had understood any of it, but he looked happy enough in his uncle's arms.

Logan gave Patton a small kiss on the forehead before Emile left, straightening out his bright yellow sunflower dress in Emile's hands. (Patton had picked it out himself in the store, and who was Logan to say no to him?)

"Bye bye!" Patton waved enthusiastically, smiling at Logan as he got strapped into his carseat. 

"I love you, Patton," he smiled back, trying to pull up genuine cheer for him. He knew that sending Patton away for a day or two would be good for Logan, would let him grieve and mourn in private, but god was it hard sending his baby away. 

Virgil was waiting for him when he dragged himself away from the car and back into the apartment. 

"How ya holdin' up?" he asked gently, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Logan collapsed forward into his shoulder, despite the considerable height difference. It was sloppy and unprofessional, but it was also long overdue.

"Hey, hey, hey- dude, it's okay," Virgil tried, running a hand through Logan's hair. Logan's glasses were stabbing at Virgil's shoulder through his pajama shirt, and Logan had to be uncomfortable too. But Virgil wasn't going to mention that now. He just stayed standing as his friend heaved and sobbed, clutching at his shirt and desperately looking for comfort.

It was in moments like these that Virgil remembered Logan really was still just a kid. He might be a detective and act all mature and have a kid, but he was still just twenty-seven. He didn't really have his life together yet- because who the hell did in their twenties? And he had just lost his best friend, and now was the first time he'd let himself honestly cry. 

"Logan, it's okay," Virgil tried again when Logan's sobs had quieted to sniffles. But he only got a soft "Is it?" in return. 

----

The murder in the dressing room taglist:

@cataclysm-al @theteenagetrickster @intrurality-fusion @katie-the-noble-fangirl @whizzie72 @grayson-22 @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @winterwonderland7669 @missieluvsmurder @sign-from-god-complex @dragonindigo245 @angryfanboyscreaming @ninja-wizard101 @sombraookami @crystalistrappedintheinternet @imtooaromanticforthis @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @dragon-hair @satanblessi @spookilyfingergunsoutofexistence @skruffy901 @selectivereality @nonbeenary-enbee @imbasicallyshakespear @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @incoherentfangirl @oofmood

[theskyexists]

she-ra 4

the reason i stopped watching she-ra is the same reason i stopped watching the dragon prince.

the narrative doesn’t take the situation seriously. instead of leaning into the anguish of war and violence (atla, teen titans) - they make light of it. EVEN when the characters’ guardians are KILLED!!

when Angella died and they spent 2 seconds on Glimmer’s grief at the end of season 3 i was like......actually fuck this. HOW can i take any of these stakes seriously when they insist on brushing them off???

anyway just had to complain about that - especially because the start of the first ep of 4 is them joking AGAIN about something as grim as Glimmer now carrying all the responsibilities of her mother - who may i remind you IS DEAD

but catradora became canon apparently so now i have to struggle through

her aunt, her mother’s sister, is fuckin, joking about cakes, her friends are laughing at the joke. COME ON! how goddamn unrealistic and insensitive. EVEN if they wanna make a point of it - it’s silly! because the narrative PARTICIPATES in making light of the situation. if it was just the characters it would be less jarring

‘we’ll make sure this day is perfect’  WHAT? how could it EVER BE IF HER MOTHER IS FUCKING DEAD????????? AND THAT”S THE ONLY REASON SHE’S QUEEN????? ‘must be hard’ YEAH IT’S HARD - IN FACT IMPOSSIBLE. instead of pretending to be happy maybe you can show some genuine sensitivity. these people are so crazily emotionally underdeveloped my god. what age are they supposed to be? 16? 17? The problem that She-ra has (just like the dragon prince) is that there are no relevant adults. Oh sure there’s a Queen, and some Soldiers, and a Sorceress. But there isn’t a single relevant competent adult around who is concerned with running a bureaucracy or the emotional stability of children

I do like how Catra has overcome her fear of Hordak. but i think i remember being fuckin furious at her for almost destroying the whole world and hurting Scorpia and betraying Entrapta just to spite Adora. vaguely.

the rebellions problem is that they’re all extremely stupid himbos. like literally, in the whole story, only catra and shadowweaver have any smarts, while glimmer gains the ability to think during full moons on wednesdays. meanwhile everybodys is a slave to their emotions - which destroys any brain cells that shadowweaver or catra (or angella or anyone) might have managed. they could literally have killed hordak the entire time but just let him order them around because they’re so hot for acknowledgement

I’m glad Glimmer reflects my frustrations now hahahahaah

‘everyone is already acting like she doesn’t matter’  - yeah dudes, you fucking insensitive bastards

‘im supposed to take care of you glimmer’ - but unfortunately i have the emotional intelligence of a crab! FUCK!

this is another thing about this show that makes me groan. sappy quick resolutions of emotional turmoil through re-affirming the fuckin power of friendship in the first episode of the season.

also couldn’t Adora have done this she-ra stuff from the very beginning

that was badass.....miss glimmer’s other hair though. ok the emotions at that hologram and statue though...

the coolest part of she-ra for me is finding out more how the ancient systems all fit into Etheria and the She-Ras and Hordak Prime etc.

THIS IS A GOOD SPEECH. love this badass.

love Hordak getting put in his place. Love Catra realising she has power - love Hordak reaping what he sows. its unfortunate that she’s a shitty brat who JUST can’t get over her inferiority complex

if i could endlessly teleport i would do what glimmer does

also, glimmer was willing to fuckin murder catra before and she DEFINITELY will be now lol. love that for her.

why did they only introduce adora learning to transform her sword NOW ahahaha, theyve had SO MANY SCENES in which she doesnt have it and then suddenly does - and then its gone again

scorpia is the funniest and most likeable person in the whole show

they really suddenly can’t take five people on with she ra and fuckin huntara on their side??

i remember that little sadistic righteous twist in my stomach when Adora finally was like: FUCK!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! Catra!!!!!!! and the stupid idiot got it

FINALLY A GLANCE AT THE PEOPLE OF ETHERIA AGAIN! i love the party sequences in this!!! the people of etheria are so beautiful! nobody ever comments on the main characters all looking plain human in contrast....

‘and i fell for it!’  yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA

so first they quietly take out the guards....and then literally break open the door hahaahahahahaaha

‘we forgot the bots regenerate’ - yeah cos you DUMB AS BRICKS ADORA

i just dont understand why they insist on making the main characters so DUMB ahahahahaah

Adora and Catra are great at hitting where it hurts. the difference between them is that Catra KNOWS that she’s hurting Adora - she does it deliberately.

wow that could be some pretty angsty stuff constantly leaving her to struggle on the floor while painfully electrocuted. Catra has also moved to kill Adora straight up so many times. im sure she really wants to (but it would destroy her later). But now, Adora swept something at Catra that might have actually killed her. I get Catra though, I would’t want to get beaten by some blonde, blue-eyed, glowing golden kid who always gets to win and do better. this is truly the first time Adora has moved to kill Catra......

does flatterina not have parents who’d be like: uhhhhh maybe leave the soldiering for a couple more years?

catra truly burning all her bridges. hahaha. it’s so satisfying to see her use her anger and power to truly destroy herself - because of guilt!

no other villagers were like - HMMMMMMM this random new kid is here? weird..... i didnt see that coming either.

Adora doesn’t think about what Catra might have even been doing there - cos she’s DUMB AS BRICKS

the interesting thing about this show is that they’re setting up a dichotomy. they’re treating war like a high-stakes game because they have the good side adhere to an aesthetic of ....magic. they will not make the two sides equivalent in any way - which makes questions of morality moot. the show is purely an emotional drama. the horde is an army of brainwashed kids in an industrial wasteland - they fight with tech and guns. but the good guys cannot fight with an army or tech, they fight with cleverness and magic. they’re called the ‘rebellion’ - they HAVE to be underdogs because they have to follow the script of good - even though what’s really going on is war, not a rebellion. That’s why they have a single strike team that do ‘missions’. They are presented as FUNDAMENTALLY different - on the level of identity which they cannot change lest they destroy themselves - and in that way the good guys can never become the bad guys. it is ALMOST meta. think they’re gonna do something with that at one point. i hope

also Netossa has such a super cool design.

‘everyone knows you’re needed in bright moon’ - uh. really? i dont know. some random person i’ve never seen before demands you go to meetings. so? is that important? why?

spinerella can literally FLY???????? why has she been in the background this whole time??? hahahaha military inefficiency.

there was an explosion that ripped trees apart - but bo’s alive!! honesty why didn’t they try explosive suicide bots before. they’re very lucky he was still alive to heal

‘could they be tracking she-ra?’ WHAT? isn’t the obvious suggestion - A SPY???? they just assume that the general is right hahahahaa.

i love how double trouble is so meta.

actually, why wasn’t glimmer trained as a sorcerer anyway?

glimmer is upset about her growing magic plants but not her having magic ingredients

why do they present good strategic thinking (for once) as evil influence from shadowweaver

what a fuckin badass. honestly - glad that this show finally utilised glimmer’s extremely op powers like they should be. honestly, she’s much more powerful than She-Ra.

that bit with spinerella was so contrived jfc.

‘by using me as a decoy’ adora says, pissed off. uhhhh YOU went off on your own to get smushed by fuckin bots adora. Glimmer didn’t do that to you. she just used your stupidity.

glimmer really left catra to die. hahahahaa

i like adora best when she’s on her own and being a dork

they definitely managed to foreshadow that Light Hope was evil but im glad they picked up the thread now

am i seeing this wrong or did scorpia have two mums??? but also. where the fuck are they

lolololololol because everybodys dumb as bricks and emotionally volatile they’re incredibly easy to manipulate

‘i cant risk hitting flatterina’ pffft - ALL YOUR ARROWS ARE NON-LETHAL BO. ugh i cant deal with these contrived stakes

I LOVE THIS BADASS EFFICIENT HARDCORE GLIMMER

they’re really gonna spin it like this is a bad development? fuck off. finally some grit.

‘you took things way too far’ - but she got results! dumb as bricks adora

(this may seem harsh but adora is DUMB shes so fucking DUMB!!!! and she has many good qualities (such as an almost innate sense of morality) but goddamn. i guess its good to sometimes have a show about all around dumb characters. i mean, it’s not unrealistic per se, it’s just.....weird.)

the interesting thing about these characters is that you can SEE every single one of them struggling with cognitive dissonance. thats the big story of this show. they see the world a certain way - and then when something challenges that, they fight to the death to destroy or deny or ignore that new information - to everybody’s detriment. and they can’t back down because every step they’ve taken - would turn to sins they can’t live with. it’s interesting and its also a kind of conflict that‘s frustrating if not resolved at SOME point. thats why i love this season for its characters going off the rails. adora aiming to kill catra, catra destroying her last relationships, glimmer growing more and more militant.

they’re all acting like teens - that  is - highly volatile - unable to keep from provoking others or be provoked - but they ARE teens.

‘catra doesn’t care. she’ll hurt people to get her way (implied: EVEN people on her side)’ - we must remember that Scorpia was entirely fine with KILLING the trio (it was Catra that wasn’t at the time).

‘you’re a bad friend’ OH OUCH. Catra - who’s always been treated as a whipping girl by those in power - does the same to those she is in power over. But on some level she doesn’t WANT to be that. she’s just always always been rejected and take advantage of and lashed out at and abandoned by the people she considered important (shadowweaver ---- doing the same to catra that was done to her is so goddamn....it’s the story of this show. the simplicity and banality of damaging and hurting others and that carrying over to harm even more people - is the story of this show and it’s immeasurably frustrating and REALISTIC)

she still flinches at Hordak’s lashing out. but she imprints on him the exact lesson she’s trying to school herself in. If you don’t need anybody - you don’t want anyone - if nobody matters but the mission and winning - then you can’t be hurt. she wants to prove her worth - but she doesn’t realise that inherently means that she’s putting somebody in power over her - again and again and again.

mermista coming  in clutch with the braincells: there’s a spy! I love how this is played as completely implausible and just Mermista nonsense (who i love learning about) - while it’s so obviously true/

i actually love Adora when she’s being serious and heroic, or a huge dork. and she has the wit to RECOGNISE good ideas. but i just don’t understand why Adora is being big b about being used as a distraction. like....why?

i love that the underside of Mermista’s sneaker has a figure. but why the fuck is a common soldier with them (flatterina) and do they really think they can interrogate the whole castle filled with some shitty guards and...what - the guerilla troops they sometimes employ? where do they even live? ah in a tent city. ok

why is the GENERAL in front line combat WITHOUT SOLDIERS???? oh wait. glimmer did that too when she was general. lolololol

i understand why Adora doesn’t trust Shadowweaver and doesn’t want her around most of all - and Glimmer getting buddy buddy with her is hurtful. but...it’s not helpful to needle glimmer about it. but dismissing the guards around shadowweaver however? stupid of Glimmer. unnecessary. ‘what has she done but help us?’ - uhhhh she kidnapped you, corrupted your powers, almost wiped Adora’s mind. I wish Adora had summed up those things instead of leaving them implied.

so perfuma and mermista come across inconsistencies in the stories - but then. forget about it? i just...... UGGHGHGHGHGHGHGH. people really aren’t this dumb are they? they’re just NOT.

‘no more secrets and doing things without us’ - that was a good speech. but like, glimmer is right - she’s surrounded by INCOMPETENT IDIOTS lolololol. but good leadership is corralling idiots, Glimmer. not going off on your own. but she’s already planted the bait about the dining room.

‘we were the only ones who knew about the plan to take back dril’ ---- THEN WHY DID YOU INTERROGATE OTHER PEOPLE AHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHA

‘stop questioning my choices, stop whining about being a decoy’ YEAH FUCKIN HELL ADORA STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING SHIT. IS THIS REALLY ‘TAKING CARE OF GLIMMER’????

‘all you do is question my authority, it’s exhausting.’ yeah god...it really is. adora needs to fucking BACK! OFF! but im loving these fights because it brings out the grievances. Adora is right to be worried about Glimmer no longer including her in her decisions. and she makes a good point that that’s bad. She makes a good point that Shadowweaver cannot be trusted. And Glimmer makes zero good points - except that it’s been hard for her and has garnered 0.1% understanding from the people around her. Oh they were working together. BUT those were definitely real grievances.

GLIMMER CAN ALREADY DO A CONTAINMENT SPELL LIKE THAT??? godDAMN. castapella completely flunked her responsibilities to Glimmer but shadowweaver did NOT.

hmmm so Solinius was....destroyed. but like, did the people die? like....the people? that’s the important bit isn’t it? i mean, they were under the sea right?

i suppose the problem i also have is that this show will NOT hurry up. normally i love filler stuff but ...the characters are too.....cheery. too flat. their quirks are fun and funny until they’re literally character flaws.

are the horde just literally attacking civilians? jezus. the war crimes. how did shadowweaver ever expect to trick Adora when she was released into the field?

‘you can’t just keep going off on your own!’ - SHE LITERALLY SAVED THE WHOLE FUCKING TOWN. SHE’S THE QUEEN! EVERYBODY SHOULD LISTEN TO HER! lolololol

the problem with Adora’s points is that everything about their dynamics are always so nebulous. why cant glimmer keep showing up to help out? WHY??? she’s the most capable fucking soldier in the field! she’s supposed to have full fucking authority! like, Adora isn’t in the right here. the problem is that her needling is only a symptom of her worries - which is that Glimmer doesn’t trust her any more. but the needling does NOTHING but make her seem like an idiot

i do love this trope reversal here - Seahawk deliberately damselling them to let the princesses save the boys? pffft

love catra getting the consequences for her actions regarding Scorpia. You can’t keep lashing out at people and expect them to stay my dear cat.....

oooohhh Glimmer.... you’re treading close to very hurtful territory. Blaming Adora for the Rebellion failing? for things she couldn’t do anything about? stupid.

really?? you’re really gonna fucking fight-resolution BLOCK ME? are you FUCKING kidding me? edging me for the whole GODDAMN SEASON??? and finally Adora cries at Glimmer going over the line????  fuckin I HATE the narrative decisions in this stupid show I FUCKING HATE THEM FUCK THESE WRITERS GOD FUKCING DAMMIT!!! this has been the whole GODDAMN SHOW!!!!!! ARGHGHGHGHGHGH

i’ve been waiting for a fucking resolution for Adora and Catra the whole! goddamn! SHOW! NOTHING! else matters! you do the exact same for glimmer and adora and now you let it fester again??? because of some no-stakes BULLSHIT? just give me the fucking godddamn PAYOFF for watching these kids be IDIOTS.

this fight on the boat is COOL and really wonderfully animated

really? Glimmer’s response to Adora being hurt and not wanting to be TOUCHED is to be angry herself? what a fucking IDIOT. god i can’t stand this. I CAN’T STAND IT

is this how people act? do they never take a moment to breathe and think and reflect and realise their priorities and take a step back and fucking apologise?

jezus FUCKING! CHRIST!

‘no matter what glimmer thinks of me’ oh that HURTED. oh damn. that’s so relatable. it’s a way to run, it’s a way to internalise the hurt and then prove the things that hurt wrong. the one that hurt you

I know Bo is supposed to be the emotionally intelligent one but he’s also too soft. He should go up to his friends individually and ask them the sharp questions. not - ‘communicate more positively’.

I just like Adora so much better when she’s alone. Her friendships’ positive moments are always so sappy or so....like over-exaggerated, the negative moments always so fucking annoying. Alone, Adora is generally driven, tragic, and cool. the problem is perhaps that i don’t care for the constant fucking drama

god i LOVE Mara so much - she’s so beautiful. and i LOVE learning more about the Old Ones. So they were trying to study Ehteria’s magic.... but then Bright Moon and the princesses were already here. The Magic-Like systems of the Old Ones are pure tech.

wow! even Mara’s transformation is way cooler.

so why was the first one’s tech (she ra) responsive to the magic? why does Raz know about She-Ra? when she ra is first ones tech????

WAIT ONE SECOND. She-Ra is ‘magic’ ??? it’s the SWORD that’s the first one’s tech! She-Ra is Etheria’s magic ! but how if the First Ones chose Mara. Did they steal She-Ra from Etheria?

so what im getting is that. the Old Ones colonised Etheria. Etheria has magic, and when Mara was chosen they made that girl an elite soldier - giving her a first one’s tech sword so she could ‘control’ Etheria’s magic. Then Mara was told to study the magic of Etheria - the ship implying that she’d not been on the planet before. then they created a Heart of Etheria project - which will probably turn the magic into a weapon. this was going to be used against Hordak Prime, im sure. I mean, Mara saved Etheria, but she did doom the rest of the universe to...extinction.... like, judging from Hordak’s strategy, Hordak Prime just literally exterminates planets and repopulates them with his clones....

But why would the planet choose a girl from amongst the colonisers - twice?

OOOHHH that anguished scream. i love anguished screams

why dont they put fucking safety belts in these ships. it’s not like the ship didn’t survive. only Mara got splatted (i guess)

also i love Mara. but damn Adora just got some more shit on her plate. why the fuck was she pushed through a portal again? for a She-Ra chain reaction?

I love madame Raz.

So they didn’t explicitly use it against Hordak Prime. and it wouldn’t have destroyed Etheria back then but it will now...

guh this showmakes it so hard to enjoy catra’s pain.

well they did finally have a good talk about it. I have to say, Glimmer is making good strategic sense - it’s just that this show only rewards harebrained schemes

Catra having a crazy panic attack cos she can’t find Scorpia and she’s completely lost and she knows its her fault. kinda love that for her. my heart

my dear Glimmer, theres a difference between absence of trust and absence of agreement.

they’re bringing king micah back just when angella is dead? oh fuckin lol

the horde....exiled micah? they exiled Micah instead of killing him???

why do they ALWAYS interrupt important conversations? i hate that shit. it’s cheap. it’s unsatisfying.

now THIS is what im here for - that unstoppable WILL!! john gonzalez is right - we watch stories for characters overcomign obstacles. writing, is creating the obstacle course. .....what does that say about me and my life....hmmm.

‘light hope told me everything i need to know’ - uhhh no she didn’t. she didn’t tell you how to harness the energy at all. ugh

how the fuck did double trouble escape. seems to me that they didn’t actually. they were let go....

it’s always so stupid when people try to tell other people: oh no you’ve got no plan - this is too risky! when that’s NEVER a problem

Glimmer is going to activate the weapon just in time for Hordak Prime to use it. And naturally she misses the return of her dad. fuck this

they’re gonna have Hordak and Catra fight? hmm

Double Trouble is right - this IS good for her - and it IS Catra - except for Shadowweaver’s case - she was an abusive bitch

I love Scorpia’s new cool fight music and also glowy eyes

is glimmer going to throw herself into lava??

the unfortunate thing is that Hordak Prime is right on the doorstep and he took over the whole universe or whatever. so they could probably have used that weapon. i mean the Old Ones must have seen something coming. there must be a reason they’re all GONE maybe????

why did Adora assume that all those stars would be destroyed?

THE ANIMATION ON THAT FINAL STUFF WAS INCREDIBLE AND EPIC

how the fukc are they going to beat Horde Prime lolololol.

i guess Glimmer really shouldn’t have done that. but at least she was in time to bond with Catra.

[thewritewolf]

Nino’s Quest Chapter 7: Audience With the King

The party finally meets up with the King and they receive their next quest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.  My ko-fi.

Direct Message From Alya

Alya: babe. Have you noticed anything… ...weird? With the babies

Nino: Our babies? Yeah M’s back to her usual with my bro And adrien is a blushy mess around her Crazy

Alya: Is this progress? It feels like a side step Or taking a step forward… ...and tripping on their face.

Nino: Well, if they could get comfortable around each other before…

Alya: Babe its WAY worse now than what it was before Now NEITHER of them are talking to each other God they’re frustrating

Nino: Did it have something to do with that last akuma? You said you saw them heading toward it before things got crazy

Alya: Maybe? BUT OMG THAT BATTLE

Nino: ??? What happened??

Alya: After they beat the akuma They got the hell away from each other Super pale No fist bump I posted pics on the ldb

Nino: Lemme check Wait Are they blushing?

Alya: gr8 Now i’m even more confused

Nino: lmao Your fleet of ships! It is sinking, babe

Alya: Don’t even JOKE about that! Ladynoir WILL set sail Marinette WILL get her hamsters with Adrien

Nino: lol Just teasin Let em figure stuff out on their own They’ll get there

Alya: I hope youre right…

Nino: Trust me, babe. I AM a master of romance

Alya: Yeah? Where’d you get those credentials, huh?

Nino: I got you, didn’t I?

Alya: … Smooth, cappy Very smooth

-------

Lord DM: Alright, my dudes, we have agreed that there WILL be dnd this weekend. The question is now… ...where the heck is it going to be.

Adrien Regreste: Definitely not at my place They are barely letting me out No way are they going to let me have friends over [crying cat face]

Alya’ll Beware: yeah and its not going to be any better at my place Esp with Nora back in town

Lord DM: What bout u, M?

Marinoodles: There is a big order at the bakery They don’t need my help BUT They DO need the extra space My place is out

Lord DM: Well dang Looks like i’ll have to bring out the big guns You guys can come over to my place

Adrien Regreste: [shocked emoji] I never thought I’d see the day…

Alya’ll Beware: lol, chill sunshine. Stay focused on the dnd

Lord DM: No no Let him bask Few mortals get this honor

Alya’ll Beware: [eye roll emoji]

-------------

Saturday arrived at long last, and Nino took stock of his preparations for the day. His little bro out with their parents. A stack of chip bags and pop and all the things that would make Adrien’s nutritionist twitch. Bean bag chairs for him and all his friends. Ambiance from tabletop audio. Everything had to be right - they were meeting with the Good King Haman, after all. It was one of the climaxes of the campaign.

Which was why he was worried when everyone finally got there.

Adrien had picked up everyone, of course, which might explain why he and Marinette were already a blushing mess. Nino glanced to Alya for clues, but all she had for him was a frown and a shrug.

The two of them sat opposite each other, with Alya opposite Nino. There was a pregnant silence where usually they would have their pre-session chat.

Nino considered himself a pretty empathetic kinda guy. It wasn’t that hard for him to get a feel for the room, or put himself in other people’s shoes. But even for him, his two friends were a stone wall. The only thing he could say for sure is that they weren’t angry with each other. Maybe just… scared. Which was weird, but hey - Dungeons and Dragons hadn’t let him down yet. Maybe it could help them now.

With that in mind, Nino started the session. “After spending the morning making yourselves look like you totally belong at court - with different amounts of success - you make your way to the royal castle. Looks like someone’s looking out for you, since the usually long line to see the king is super short today.”

“Finally, some kind of break,” Alya grumbled. “After bandits and assassins, at least we don’t have to wait in line.”

“After an hour, you finally find yourselves face to face with the King himself. While it is clear that he is no longer the adventuring knight of his youth, he’s still got the broad shoulders and strong arms of a fighter. His jeweled, golden crown rests easily atop his head. He watches you intently as you approach, a well groomed eyebrow raised as he takes in your martial appearance.”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, we’re in armor and stuff?”

“Well,” Marinette responded, “we are adventurers. We should never be too far from our gear.”

Bowing his head in acquiescence, Adrien returned his attention to Nino.

“After you are declared, the King seems even more curious about you. He speaks with a clear, booming voice, one used to commanding armies in the field. ‘I recognize your names. There was a wretched matter afoot last night - one that you were the center of. I admit, I had wondered what would force someone’s hand in such a way as to send assassins. What business do you have with me?’”

When it became clear that both Marinette and Adrien weren’t going to speak up - each seemed to be stuck in a cycle of catching the other’s eye, blushing, and looking somewhere else - Alya sighed and responded.

She cleared her throat. “During our travels, we uncovered something that we felt you ought to know. There was a…” Her eyes widened and she glanced between her flustered friends. “Um… What was he called? An evil sorcerer?”

Marinette mumbled something that might have been, “Dark adept.”

“Thanks, M.” Straightening her back, Alya looked toward Nino again. “There was a dark adept raising the dead to fight for him.”

“A flurry of murmuring erupts around you. The royal guard flanking the King tighten their grips on their halberds. The King himself has his lips tighten into a thin line before saying, ‘That is a bold claim, young knight. I trust that you brought justice to this renegade, in accordance with the laws of our land?’”

Alya nodded. “Of course! But there is more to it than that.” She checks her character sheet. “Who has the decrypted journal of the dark adept? It looks like it isn’t on me.”

There was a rustling of papers.

“Oh, right,” Adrien said, “I forgot that I was checking it for other clues.”

“Is that when you rolled another one and forgot how to read for a few hours?”

“Hush.”

“Anyway,” Alya said, returning to her character voice, “My ally has a decrypted journal we took from the adepts quarters. There were repeated references to the adept’s master, and hints of a larger plot against the kingdom.”

“The King frowns. ‘Let me see this journal.’”

“I’ll take it up to him.”

“He takes it from Adrien’s character and quickly skims through it, his eyes narrowing as he reaches the end. ‘I must thank you for your work in ending this threat, but it seems a larger one has made itself known. While I am sure you must want to rest, I must ask you to meet this threat to the kingdom.’ He gestures to an advisor nearby. ‘Pay these heroes five hundred gold pieces for each of them.’ His eyes land on you once again. ‘I’ll pay double that once you bring me proof that the Necromancer is dead, and his plot has died with him. Do you accept?’”

The other three exchanged looks between them.

“I’m all for earning a name for myself. And a quest from King Haman himself is about as good as it gets. I’m in.”

“I don’t have anything else planned,” Marinette shrugged, her eyes pointedly on the table in front of her. “I’m sure fighting evil will be its own kind of fun.”

“And where she goes,” Adrien nodded towards Marinette and met her eye. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “...I’ll follow. Always.”

Something passed between them and it felt almost as if Nino were intruding. The moment passed, and the two of them broke out into furious blushes again.

“Right… so. The king nods, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Excellent. May the gods be with you in your quest.’” Nino took a sip of his drink. “Well, now you’re a little richer, and its time to level up your characters.”

For the rest of the session, Nino walked them through their first time leveling up and taught them the time honored art of spending their hard-earned gold. A new rapier for Adrien. Alchemist’s fire for Marinette. That sort of thing. They were feeling more confident now that they had more than their starting array of equipment, and Nino smiled as he watched them work. It was good to be the dungeon master.

--------

Later, after Adrien had taken Marinette home, Alya and Nino cuddled on the couch. With how big both their families were, it wasn’t often that they got a chance to hang out alone.

For a while, Nino was comfortable with the silence. But then curiosity got the better of him.

“So… how are you liking Dungeons and Dragons now? Still think it’s just for nerds?” He smirked at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I admit… I’m having loads of fun. It’s always nice to spend more time with you guys. And you especially,” Alya said, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “I’ve gotten surprisingly invested in this story. It almost feels like being Rena Rouge again, fighting evil and all that.”

“Not as likely to end up getting thrashed by a super villain, though.”

“Fair. And it’s nice to act like someone else for a while. Although,” she stretched, “it’s also nice when I don’t have to be the one taking the lead. I hope the babies get their act together soon. Being the leader is exhausting.”

“Poor babe,” Nino cooed, earning himself a gentle punch in the shoulder from his girlfriend. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll figure things out sooner or later.”

“It’s the later part I’m worried about. I just hope they’ll get their act together by next session.”

“I’m sure they will.” Nino wrapped his arms around Alya. “What’s the worst that could have happened? It’s not like they have big secrets that they are sitting on.”

They considered this for a few moments before Nino added,

“Besides the obvious crush thing, at least.”

[sayijo]

A/N: I’m finally resuming writing for my OCs

Summary: Troy is sleep deprived + he purrs

Words: 4076

Warnings: Swearing

Troy didn’t know how it happened. 

Everything had been going fine that day. There wasn’t much to be done, so the team just hung around and did whatever they pleased. Kardin was out in the garden, Heidi had decided to help Scalyne in the garage, and Rae was probably in his room playing video games. 

But Troy was still busy. Mission reports, repairs for Rae’s prosthetic, possible weapons upgrades, the list could go on for ages. He had spent the last few days pulling all-nighters, not once stopping for a break. He couldn’t afford a break. 

His entire body ached, given that he hadn’t laid down on a bed or anything soft in days. Everything felt sore. His body had decided to go slightly numb, making him feel like he wasn’t the one who inhabited it anymore. 

The sky outside was dark. Thick, ominous clouds began to roll in, their dark presence stretching across the heavens. 

Then, all of a sudden, while sitting at his desk, he could feel his vision beginning to warp and distort. He let out a yawn, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, wanting to stay awake for just a while longer. He just needed to hold out for a few more days…

Water droplets dripped onto the paper he was writing on. 

What was happening? He stared down at the marks on the sheet before his body let out a shaky exhale, involuntarily. All of a sudden it seemed the exhaustion from the past few days had caught up to him, forcing him to bend down to its power. He inhaled, but it was shaky and he could feel his body let out a shudder. 

His vision warped some more, and then he realized what was going on. 

He was crying. 

What the fuck? Troy doesn’t remember feeling so overwhelmed. He raised one hand to wipe at his eyes, but it only seemed to make things worse. He choked back a sob. He was just so tired. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? Why was he the only one who was going through this? 

“No—“ Troy grumbled angrily to himself, almost furious that his mind had thought up such a question. “They don’t deserve to go through this. Only I do. Shoulder the burden by yourself, Troy. They don’t have to go through this if you can do it for them.”

He swallowed the lump in the back of his throat before he looked down at whatever work he was occupied with. His neck was cramped up and his breathing came out in pants. He wanted to go over to open the window, but that would take up too much time—

He got up from his seat. The world spun violently, and his vision darkened for a few seconds. He stumbled his way over to the window before he weakly unlatched it and swung it open. Immediately, the breeze from the oncoming storm came rushing in. He let in a sharp inhale before he heard the sound of paper scattering—

“No! Shit!” Troy spun around on his heel and scrambled over to his desk, grasping at papers before they flew off the surface. He weighed them underneath his laptop before he looked around at the papers that had spilled onto the ground. 

He sighed. 

He rubbed at his eyes again, attempting to stifle a yawn. Why did nothing ever go his way? The wind picked up outside, howling, ruffling his clothes and pushing his hair in front of his eyes. He wiped at his face furiously. Dammit. Why was he breaking down at a time like this? There was still so much left to do. 

Tears began to streak down the left side of his face—

“No!” Troy hissed furiously to himself. “Stop stop, stop!” 

He ran his fingers through his hair— or rather, tore at his scalp, pulling on his white locks. The strands stuck up at odd angles, making it obvious that he didn’t have the time to take care of it. It was dry, losing its softness and becoming coated with smoke particles from working in the garage. 

He let out a choking gasp. 

“Dammit!” He cursed to himself. He couldn’t afford to break down right now! 

It was a horrible mix of both anger and exhaustion. The anger was unexplainable, but it felt like a burning hot rage trapped in his chest cavity. His eyelids were struggling to keep themselves open, dark murkiness tugging on the edges of his vision. His limbs were heavy and he just wanted to sit down and rest his head on his desk. His sight began to split and distort, and the world spun around and he suddenly found himself struggling to remain upright. 

The wind blew in through the windows again, causing him to shudder. He gripped at his arms, shaking from the cold, standing in the centre of his room, too tired to move and too exhausted to think. 

“A nap would be good—” 

“NO!” Troy shrieked, before his eyes opened up in horror, realizing he had just screamed out loud. The tiredness wore off slightly, but not by much. He cringed, waiting for someone to come knocking on his door. He stared at his desk again, lazily watching as the papers flapped around in the breeze.

Nothing.

Troy let out a sigh of relief.

A knock.

The nindroid nearly had a heart attack. He jumped a bit, letting in a sharp inhale. He scrambled back a bit, almost like how he would move back when he needed to gain more ground over an enemy. His heart was racing in his chest.

“...who is it?” Troy asked, trying his best to sound awake. 

“It’s me, dude. Rae. I heard you scream. Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine. Leave me a-a-l-l-lone.” Troy spoke, but he tripped over his tongue and he began to sputter, his grip on his emotions beginning to slip away from his grasp. He let in a shuddering inhale of oxygen, already knowing that Rae wasn’t going to let that slide so easily.

Sure enough, the doorknob jiggled before the lock restricted it.

A pause.

“Open the door, T.” Rae demanded. 

No answer from Troy. The nindroid didn’t trust himself to open his mouth anymore. He just stared down at the ground, blinking harshly, wishing for the tears to stop falling. Wishing that he wasn’t so weak. Wishing that he had the strength to continue forward a bit more—

“I...okay.” Rae seemed to come to a decision. “Just...if you want, call me, okay?”

Troy could hear the sounds of Rae moving away from the door, and then the second-in-command footsteps slowly receded until the nindroid couldn't hear them anymore. 

There was a feeling of regret that had ignited itself in the nindroid’s chest. There was a part of him that wanted to call Rae back. To have him come in, to just be in the human’s presence. He just wanted someone to be there—

“Stop it.” Troy grumbled to himself, shaking his head. “You’ve already made your decision. It’s too late for that now.”

He managed to stumble back to his desk and sat down, sighing in relief once his legs weren’t burning anymore. He stared down at the papers on his desk again. Blueprints for...something. He squinted, trying to make sense of the words lazily scribbled on the sheet. His neat handwriting had been replaced with a messy, illegible scrawl. 

He couldn’t read anymore. The words seemed to dance off the pages, worming around on the sheets. He growled a bit. His eyelids felt like they had been set on fire. He hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He jolted awake, the feeling of impaction on his forehead, in the middle of a recoil away from his desk. He struggled to remember what had happened. Had he fallen asleep the second his eyes had shut? Then that meant he couldn’t even close his eyes for longer than a blink. 

He grasped the pen on his desk after a few seconds of fumbling, before he reached his hand forward to write—

There was a knock at the door. 

Troy startled, almost falling out of his seat. His heart began to race, and his entire body tensed up immediately. He turned to his left, glancing at the door. 

“Who?” Troy snapped, a rage boiling itself to the surface. What was happening? Just five seconds ago he had felt nothing but fear, but now he could feel as the anger ignited itself in his wires. His hands had clenched themselves into fists. He got up from the desk rapidly, causing the chair to roll back and hit the wall. 

“General? It’s me.” Heidi spoke from the other side. 

“I have an idea for an upgrade to one of the vehicles, I just wanted to run it by you. Can you open the door so we can talk better?” She continued. Troy sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a silent yawn. He thought for a few seconds, before he sighed again. 

“Okay.” Troy mumbled, lazily making his way over to the door. On the other side, he could hear shuffling from Heidi as he approached, and...one other person? Too tired to care, the nindroid reached his hand towards the doorknob to unlock it. 

He clicked the lock open, and opened his door a crack—

There was walking. The footstep noises were unharmonious, like their two feet were made of different materials. 

An organic leg and a robotic prosthetic—

“Shit—“ Troy cursed out.

Immediately, the door was forced open. Troy could barely see Heidi standing there, before Rae stepped in front of her and basically barged his way into the room. The nindroid scrambled back some, startled, and Rae slammed the door shut behind him. 

The two stared each other down.

Then it was silent. 

“What’s up?” Rae questioned, but he spoke in a tone in which it was clear that he wanted an answer.

A pause. 

“Rae. It’s fucking nothing.” Troy turned his head, unable to look at him. He stared out the window, praying to the FSM that Rae didn’t see tears that were streaming down his face. Praying that he would just leave. 

“Nothing? You look like absolute shit, T. I don’t think that’s nothing. Come on. What’s with you and lying all the time?”

“I said I’m fine!” Troy snapped. His vision beginning to distort with tears. He almost took a deep inhale, before realizing that Rae would hear the hurt in his breath. The nindroid resorted to small puffs of air, walking over to the window, hoping the strong winds would dry his tears. 

“No, you’re not fine.” Rae spoke steadily. Troy could hear him approaching from behind. Why the hell couldn't Rae understand that the nindroid just wanted to be left alone?! Was it that hard to comprehend?!!

“Rae!! Just!! FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Troy completely snarled with anger. He whirled around to face Rae, his features curling up as he snarled at his second-in-command. Rae blinked, before his expression morphed into one of worry and concern. 

“T?” Rae’s eyebrows creased. “You’re…”

What now? What else did the dumbass have to say? And why was everything so blurry all of a sudden?

Oh shit. 

Troy was crying for real now. Tears were streaming down his face, blurring his vision, making his entire body shake. The nindroid turned away quickly, a hand moving up to cover his face, but by then he already knew that Rae had seen. He gritted his teeth, already knowing that the human would start yelling—

“What’s happening?!” Rae demanded, this time his voice raised. Troy winced at his tone, feeling a sob building up in the back of his throat. He wasn’t supposed to be like this: on the verge of a breakdown, breaking at the seams, struggling to hold himself together. 

“Troy?” Rae spoke again, this time his voice much softer, like he was comforting a wounded animal. “Look at me, dude.”

Troy bit his lip. 

“No.” The nindroid hissed. 

“Troy? Please. Just, I want you to look at me, okay? Please. Just, look at me. Turn to face me.”

“R-Rae. I’m fucking f-fine.” Troy spoke, desperation bleeding into his tone. He was aware that Rae had approached the nindroid from his right, and Troy was now spinning to his left, away from Rae’s sight, hiding his face. His white locks fell before his eyes. 

“No, you’re not. Please. I care about you man. You look fucking awful. Just tell me what’s up, and we can work it out, okay?”

“I said I’m f-fine! Plea-please! Rae just!! Leave me a-a-alone!” Troy was basically begging at this point. His tears had made everything blurry, and his eyelids were burning in exhaustion. He could feel Rae place a hand on his right shoulder from behind. 

“No.” Rae spoke. His voice was stern, like when he commanded the team instead of Troy.

One word was all it took. 

Troy turned to face his second-in-command, tears spilling down his cheeks, his face contorted into a snarl. He was just so fucking tired. Rae’s expression softened a bit, before he opened up his arms, gently beckoning forward with his hands. The human smiled softly, relaxing his stance. An open invitation. 

Troy moved forward, before his knees buckled out from underneath him and he collapsed into Rae’s arms. His hands gripped the fabric near Rae’s chest, burying his face in the human’s torso. He could feel as Rae wrapped his arms around the nindroid, hands running down the nindroid’s back. 

The nindroid didn’t even realize that he was sobbing until a few seconds later, when his head began to clear, crying out all of his exhaustion and frustrations. He clung to Rae, hands scrambling for anything that he could find purchase on. His hands wrapped around his back, the nindroid’s grip tightening up, his joints locking. He was aware that Rae was talking softly, the second-in-command gently lowering both of them to the ground. 

“Shhhhh.” Rae whispered quietly, tightening up his hold in return. “What’s up?”

“...I-I’m tired.” Troy rasped, his vision completely blurred was tears. He leaned all his weight against Rae, and thankfully, the human was able to keep them upright. Troy shook, the nindroid’s right hand reaching up and trying to cover his face, shameful. His breathing came in gulps, all his exhales irregular and unbalanced. 

“It’s...it’s okay.” Rae spoke, taking pauses to think over his words. He sighed softly, looking down at the nindroid who leaned against his chest. He reached up, patting the nindroid’s back, and when Troy didn’t say anything else, he started to talk once more. 

“You’re gonna be okay. I got you. Dude, you look like shit. When’s the last time you slept?”

Troy looked up, peeking up at Rae. His face morphed into a tired glare. 

Rae smiled weakly. He hummed quietly, listening as the nindroid occasionally would heave and hitch in painful breaths. The sounds felt like a stab in Rae’s heart, like someone had grabbed a hold of the organ and squeezed tightly. He was never good at comforting people, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. 

“But like seriously dude. How long have you gone without sleep?” 

A pause. 

He could see as Troy’s face twitched, struggling to remember. The nindroid’s eye dimmed, before he slumped against Rae’s chest. He sighed, sleepily looking out the window as the wind picked up again, chilling then both to the bone. 

“...few days.” Troy mumbled softly. 

“And you never thought to take a break because..?”

“I—” Troy opened his mouth again, but shut it. His eyes were struggling to remain open. He looked up at Rae again, before he looked away once more. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip. 

Rae shook the nindroid slightly, as if trying to shake the answer out of the nindroid.

“Troy.”

The nindroid sighed, and he grumbled a bit. 

“I just...didn't want to bother you.”

“...what?” Rae raised a brow. 

“With work.” Troy answered, looking down at the ground, turning his head away. “You don’t have to do it. If I can do it, then you don’t need to.” 

“What the fuck? You gotta share that burden with me, dude. With us.”

“But there isn’t a need to!” Troy snapped, his eyes darting to over where Rae was, his eyes brightening up, but not by much. He winced, his face bunching up into a grimace, teeth-baring back into a snarl. 

“If I can do it by myself, then I will! There isn’t a need to ask you! There isn’t a need to ask anyone! I don’t want you to go through what I go through! I’m the fucking leader here! I should be the one doing all of it!” The nindroid continued, anger rising in his tone, bleeding into his voice. 

“But...you’re overworking yourself. Just because you can do it doesn’t mean you should.” Rae spoke softly. He gripped Troy tightly, not wanting the nindroid to leave, resuming the motion of his hands against the nindroid’s back. 

“But I—!”

“No buts. If you keep this shit up I’m sure you’re going to overheat your brains. We’re a team, T. Stop shouldering all this shit by yourself. I don’t give a shit that you are the leader. Alright? Now, you’re going to go to sleep whether you like it or not.” Rae spoke, before he got up, hauling Troy up like a sack of potatoes. The nindroid grumbled a bit, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Rae pretty much dumped Troy onto the nindroid’s bed like he weighed nothing. The nindroid could barely move, his head sinking halfway into the pillows, sprawled out on his left side. He watched as Rae walked over to the window, struggling to shut it. The sound of the wind outside quieted, and the warmth of the room returned.

“Alright, asshole. Go to sleep.” Rae eyed the papers on Troy’s desk.

“...no.” Troy grumbled, before he shakily forced himself to sit up. 

Rae marched over, planted his two hands on Troy’s shoulders, and pushed down, The nindroid crumpled back down onto the mattress with barely any resistance, his eye dimming until it was nothing but a black void. He yawned, before covering his mouth with his elbow and looking away. 

“But I have work—”

“No! Shut the fuck up!” Rae pretty much crawled onto the bed and pinned the nindroid underneath his weight, sprawled over his chest. 

“But—”

“Troy you bastard. Just go to sleep.”

“I...fuck, Rae. Leave me alone.”

“Nah.”

“Rae! I...I have work to do.” Troy sighed, allowing his eyes to close, feeling like there were drawstrings pulling them shut. He could hear the mechanisms in his body begin to slow down, all of his processes decelerating to a crawl. He weakly attempted to push Rae away, but found that impossible. The human refused to budge from his spot. 

“Fine.” Rae sighed, a look of disappointment passing over his features. He turned his face to glance at the nindroid, but made no effort to shift off of Troy. 

“Ten minutes.”

“...what?” Troy whispered.

“If you nap for ten minutes then I’ll let you work. I’ll wake you, don’t worry.” Rae answered, casting the nindroid a weak smile. 

A pause.

Troy sighed softly, allowing his body to relax, sinking into the mattress. 

“Okay.” He whispered, the word barely even audible as it hung on his lips. That seemed like a good enough deal. His breathing was soft, and he could feel his grip on the outside world fall away from his grasp. The world grew darker, and he aware of the sound of rain pelting against the window, its quiet lullaby and rhythmic pace lulling him to sleep. 

“He’s not going to wake you.” 

The nindroid barely had enough time to consider that possibility before he passed the point of no return. His breathing deepened, his world blackening as all of his senses cut out. His entire body grew slack, falling into a deep slumber.

“He’s not going to wake you.” 

To be fair, he kinda hoped that was the case. 

Rae chuckled quietly. He glanced over at the nindroid, who lay on his back, his head slightly slumped over to the left side. His arms were folded over his chest, his torso expanding and contracting in sync with his breathing, the gentle sound of machinery accompanying so.

They lay like that for a while. The sound of the rain outside picked up its volume, the wind rattling the frame of the window. The room darkened significantly from the clouds outside, and the automatic lights in the room flickered to life, bathing the walls and ceiling in a soft neon purple glow. 

It was too silent. 

Rae glanced over at the nindroid again. Troy’s face was set in a slight frown, his lips parted slightly every time he would exhale softly. Rae frowned, before he dug around in his pants around for a while, before pulling out what he wanted. He tapped around for a few seconds, before he placed the phone away. 

It wasn’t long before Rae heard shuffling from outside the door. He looked up, and noticed a shadow from underneath the crack between the door and the floor. 

“Hey, come here.” Rae whisper-hissed at the door, trying to keep his voice low. 

“But…” A soft voice came through the door, muffled by the material. “It would be unwise to wake him, no?”

“This is life or death here!” 

That certainly seemed to get the other nindroid’s attention. The door was quietly clicked and pushed open, and Kardin stuck his head in. He blinked twice when he set his eyes on Rae, before his eyes darted to where Troy lay sprawled on the bed.

“Yes?” 

“How do you get him to do it?” Rae asked. He shifted into a sitting position on the mattress, rolling his tense shoulders around. Kardin raised an eyebrow, confusion passing over his features. He stepped into the room, his footsteps barely even audible against the wooden floor. 

It was only when the nindroid stepped into the room did Rae realize that Domino was slung over Kardin’s shoulders, the cat looking like an extremely fluffy travel pillow. His blue eyes stared Rae down in a condescending manner.

Kardin strode over to the side of the bed, before he blinked again, his mouth opening before closing without making a noise, still confused.

“Do what?” Kardin finally managed to ask.

“The...shit. What’s it called? Purring? Yeah, the purring. Last time you worked your magic and he started purring like a cat. What’s happening now?”

“He’s not purring.” Kardin answered.

“That’s not what I meant.” Rae chuckled quietly, before he winced a bit at his tone. He gestured with his left hand back to Troy, who remained asleep. “Am I missing something? Like, why not now? He’s so...quiet.”

“You’re not doing anything.”

“Hey. Gimme some credit here. I made him sleep.” Rae countered.

Kardin merely sighed, rolling his eyes, before he approached Rae some more. He reached a hand out, and gripped the human’s left wrist in his hand. Rae looked up at him, a bit confused, but allowed Kardin to guide his hand towards Troy.

Rae’s hand softly planted itself on the top of Troy’s head as Kardin removed his own hand, the human’s palm buried in a sea of white strands that the leader called hair. 

Almost immediately, a soft rumble emitted itself from the taller nindroid. Rae flinched slightly, startled at the sudden noise, before turning his head over to look at Kardin. 

Domino began to purr as well. Kardin reached up and scratched underneath the cat’s chin.

The shorter nindroid smirked softly, before he stood up fully, slowly, making sure Domino remained on his shoulders. He then made his way to the door gently, trying his best not to make much noise.

“You should know what to do now.”

Rae resorted to running hands softly through the nindroid’s hair, gently scratching at the scalp. The purring increased in volume, Troy shifting his head into the touch. A small smile pulled at the nindroid’s lips. Rae nearly laughed out loud. He wanted to record a video to blackmail the nindroid later, but was sure that if Troy ended up finding out, Rae would find himself six feet underground.

“Sleep well, you dumbass.”

[grimtwin]

Honest opinions on all YYH characters. Go!

On ALL of them? There’s not a single character in YYH I don’t like in some manner, but all of them is too much. I’ll do the “main” characters.

Yusuke -  One of the few main characters of an anime/manga series that I honestly like. Perfect rendition of a stubborn, emotionally repressed teen trying to figure out his place in life. Most of his problems in life would be solved if he just bit the bullet and took shit seriously though. I think what I like best about him, is how he does things that no one ever expects him too, always surprising everyone.Kuwabara - He’s far too loud and a bit thick skulled, but even then, he’s still a cool dude. Sticks to his morals, chivalrous when you don’t see it much anymore, and the guy was literally in agony, crying over Yusuke’s death in the first episode, a guy who was meant to be his mortal enemy. He’s just a good guy through and through, and I appreciate how willing he is to sacrifice himself for his teammates. Kurama - For the longest time, I wasn’t sold on Kurama. I thought he was a bit…underwhelming, I guess you could say. Especially after we saw that little memory flashback between Gouki, Hiei, and Kurama. You could tell Kurama was smart, but in every arc, he was getting his ass handed to him in some way. It wasn’t until the Territory stuff that I really started to respect Kurama for his strategic ways and completely terrifying mind games. His mental battles with Game Master and Yuu Kaito are probably my favorite moments of his…but then that utter savagery against Elder Toguro is really got me to step back and go…”whoa. This is not a dude to be fucked with.” Youko is cool though. You could tell his full demon form was much better than Shuichi in battle moments.Hiei - Total bad ass, rude as can be, but deep down he’s a good guy. Its obvious he cares for Yukina, and despite how much he tries to hide it, cares for his buddies as well. Favorite male of the series, I appreciate how he can be so utterly ruthless, but then turn around and be furious that an enemy killed their own comrade. More emotionally stunted than Yusuke, it was nice to see him grow throughout the series. Pretty sure the guy has an inferiority complex though, since he gets so angry when his strength doesn’t match Toguro’s, or that Spirit World ranks him only at an Upper B class demon. Dragon of the Darkness Flame is the coolest attack int he series. I hate how tall his hair is. He should have relations with Botan.Botan - Love everything about her. She’s what got me into the series in the first place. Five minutes into the show and she’s mocking the shit out of Yusuke’s death, then a few episodes later, possessing Keiko’s mother in order to convince Keiko to go save Yusuke. Time and time again, she puts herself in harms way to protect friends and enemies alike. She’s just too good of a character; cute as a button, funny as hell, has the best reactions in the entire show. Should have relations with Hiei. Yukina - She is so fucking adorable. And I think people overlook just how mentally strong this woman has to be. Her people are forced to repress their emotions so their tears aren’t stolen for profit, so that’s one thing. She abandoned her people in search of Hiei which eventually led to her capture. Manga wise, she was held prisoner for years, and probably endured untold tortures, but still walked away from it liking humans because of what Kuwabara and Yusuke did. She’s incredible.

Keiko - In a world full of demons, spirits, and super powers, she’s just a plain human girl, and that’s largely why she’s overlooked or generally looked down on. I’ll admit, she’s not incredibly interesting as a character because of that, but that doesn’t mean she’s bad in anyway. She grounds Yusuke and is his main connection to his life in human world, toward the end of the series. That serves a strong purpose as well. Shizuru - Strong, feisty, gorgeous as hell, and could beat my ass. This is the kind of woman I’d happily bring home to meet the folks. Not that I’m into being beaten…>.>. She’s so cool though. Tough when it’s needed, but has these moments of tender, gentleness that seem to be missed when people look into her character. Comforting Botan after the death of Genkai, the way she smile at Yukina when she worries for Kazuma, the apparent love she had for Sakyo. She’s a very interesting character I wish we got to see more of. Genkai - Genkai is the type of teacher I wish I had. The hands on, no bullshit teacher who’s actually trying to knock some sense into your head. I thought she was so crazy cool throughout the series; training Yusuke, kicking ass in the Dark Tournament, making Shishiwakamaru fall for her, setting up Yusuke’s kidnapping, blowing through Game Master’s video game, and finally, after her death, getting Yusuke to stop shaking in his boots and make a decision which saved his home city and Spirit World. What is not to like about this woman?

Koenma - At first, I did not take Koenma seriously in any way. Like Yusuke and Kuwabara, I was laughing at the baby who thought he was top shit. It wasn’t until the Dark Tournament, where he showed up at the finals (even though he was ready to bail out at the first sign of trouble) and offered up his life along with Team Urameshi, that I got some respect for him. He upped his game in Chapter Black by going out and trying to stop Sensui himself; reviving Game Master, and trying to use his Mafuukan to kill Sensui and close the Demon World portal, and going as far as to reject Spirit World in favor of supporting Yusuke. He had his cool moments. Still think he’s more of a comedic character though, which is fine. 

If you want others, jut lemme know. 

[svtwish]

☆ ; soonyoung | ninety-four

requested by anon: “Hi! Can I request a Hoshi scenario where you’re a 94 liner noona and he likes you but he feels insecure because he thought you like Seungcheol or Jeonghan but you’re only interested in him? Thanks :)”

a/n: i kind of made it into an au, so i’m not sure if this is what you’re asking for, but i hope you like it anyway :-)

≫ words; 2229

≫ genre; fluff

≫ au; modern office!au (does this make sense)

≫ pairing; co-worker!soonyoung x fem!reader

↳ in which he misses you a bit too much when the company moves into its new office, and his seat is too far from yours.

He felt something churn in his stomach when he saw you smiling and laughing with Jeonghan.

Again.

It was unavoidable, though; Jeonghan was seated right next to you, while poor Soonyoung was stuck halfway across the room.

Being far from you had its advantages; for example, he was able to have a perfect view of you without making it too obvious that he was staring. It also meant that he was seated near the pantry, which made things much easier for him whenever he was in dire need of a cup of coffee.

At this point, however, the advantages paled in comparison to the glaring amount of disadvantages present.

One of them being unable to talk to you. Another being, well, Jeonghan.

It’s not like Soonyoung hated Jeonghan or anything; in fact, Soonyoung respected the guy. It was just that the usually overly-giggly man had developed a not-so-tiny crush on you, who happened to be older than him. If the age barrier had you out of his reach before, now you were even further away. Both physically and figuratively.

Where did all the happiness from being next to the pantry go?

“Stop glaring at Jeonghan already.” An amused voice sounded behind him, making the frustrated man jump. He rolled his eyes at his taller co-worker leaning against the wall, slowly sipping his cup of coffee.

“Shut up, Wonwoo.” He groaned, stretching his arms above his head as he leaned further into the office chair.

“You’ve only been apart from her for like, three days,” Wonwoo snorted into his mug, throwing a lazy glance to where you and Jeonghan were still chatting. “Aren’t you happy that you’re next to the pantry?”

Soonyoung continued to glare at the handsome man who was known as the office’s angel. Not that he acted like one. His birthday just happened to be the forth of October. “Yes, I am happy that I’m next to the pantry. What I’m not happy about,” He took a dramatic pause, wheeling his chair so that he was facing Wonwoo again. “is the fact that I’m unable to talk to her, while Jeonghan can.”

“Dude, just confess to her already.” Soonyoung’s office neighbour, Seokmin, peeked out from the partition.

Soonyoung spluttered at Seokmin’s comment. “No.”

Seokmin raised an eyebrow, exasperated. “Why not?”

Wonwoo let out a huge sigh, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Because,” The pink-haired male gushed, his frustration evident from his voice. “Just look at the way she talks to him. She probably likes him, not me. Plus, she’s older than me. By two years.”

The other two men snickered. Soonyoung glared at the both of them.

“You won’t know for sure if you don’t ask,” Wonwoo proceeded to take yet another sip, only to realise his coffee was finished. “Besides, you and Y/N are pretty close, no?”

“Stop being such an over-thinking teenager and just tell her.” Seokmin added, giving up on reasoning with his love-struck friend. It had only been three days since they’d moved into their new office, but Soonyoung was already getting antsy, and it was affecting the colleagues around him, too.

The said man was about to reply when he caught someone leaving the CEO’s room from nearby. Instantly, he turned back to his desktop, continuing with whatever it was he was doing. Wonwoo fled back to his desk, and Seokmin’s head disappeared from above the partition. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you returning to your seat, breaking off the conversation with Jeonghan.

Was it the age gap? Was it because he was younger? Was that why you seemed so out of reach?

Soonyoung’s mind refused to stray away from the topic of you. Normally, that would have been okay, but this time, his mind was dead set on finding a long list of reasons as to why you were more interested in Yoon Jeonghan that you were in him. It made him overly-anxious and annoyingly insecure.

He sighed, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on his work. Looking up, his eyes drifted to where you were seated. His heart nearly stopped when his eyes caught yours.

He tore his gaze away, missing the blush that crept to your cheeks.

I mean, she is a 94-liner. Sooyoung’s mind continued reeling. And it would make more sense for her to like Jeonghan because he’s only a year younger.

Great. She probably just sees me as her younger brother or something.

He wanted to tear his obnoxiously bright hair out of his scalp; he truly did. Why, of all people, did he have to fall for you?

It reminded him of the story of Jihoon’s first love. A noona.

Soonyoung frowned, blinking at his computer. He was never going to get any work done at this rate.

A soft ping from his phone snapped him out of his anxiety-filled thoughts. Pursing his lips in annoyance, he proceeded to swipe the notification away before realising what it was and who’d sent it.

Y/N L/N:

soonyoung!!

He gulped, shooting a glance in your direction. Your head didn’t lift from the desk; you pursed your lips in concentration as you resumed your furious typing on the computer, probably in a rush to meet deadlines.

kwon soonyoung:

??

Y/N L/N:

do you mind giving me a ride home

it’s fine if you can’t

kwon soonyoung:

why? don’t you have a car?

Y/N L/N:

my friend borrowed it for some road trip

kwon soonyoung:

oh

Y/N L/N:

sorry it’s just you’re the only one who lives in the same area as i do :-(

it’s really fine if you can’t

kwon soonyoung:

it’s ok i don’t mind giving you a ride

why would i say no haha

Y/N L/N:

you just saved my lazy & broke ass from taking public transport thank you

kwon soonyoung:

sometimes i wonder if you’re really older than me…

Y/N L/N:

shh

Soonyoung felt his frown fade away as he put his phone back into the corner of his table, his mind resting for a bit. He looked up in your direction once again, meeting your tired eyes with his hopeful ones.

Then you shot him a thumbs up. He grinned in response, earning a silent chuckle from you.

“Soonyoung, are you done yet?” You approached his desk, adjusting the straps of your handbag. Soonyoung raised his head at the sound of your voice, his stomach doing flips.

It’s just a drive home, Soonyoung. Don’t get your hopes up.

“I just need to finish this email. I’ll be done in five,” his fingers flew across the keyboard, eager to hurry up and go home. The office was more or less empty, except for a few co-workers who were still trying to finish what remaining work they had left.

Nodding, you made your way to Seokmin’s table, throwing yourself onto the chair. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t be more grateful to Soonyoung for saving you from the likely possibility that you’d fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop.

The said man padded over to where you were sitting, tapping you on the shoulder just as your eyelids were about to shut. He gestured for you to come with him.

The walk to the carpark was silent, the air filled with awkwardness that wasn’t there before. Soonyoung tried to calm his racing heart; constantly telling himself again and again that it was just a car ride, just a ten minute journey home, and that nothing would happen.

No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t extinguish the small glimmer of hope he felt.

Pulling out the car keys from his back pocket, he unlocked the car. You slid into the passenger’s seat, fastening your seatbelt as Soonyoung did the same. The engine whirred to life, and he stepped on the accelerator.

“You know where I live, right?” You asked teasingly, throwing him a side glance.

Soonyoung let out an amused chuckle. “This isn’t the first time I’m sending you home.”

You didn’t reply, knots forming in your stomach.

Silence.

You cleared your throat, looking out the window. “You don’t seem too happy lately.” You didn’t fail to notice how he’d been smiling a lot less, how his face seemed to take on a more serious expression more often.

He broke out into laughter, one that would have been contagious, if not for the obvious fact that it was forced. “What are you talking about? I’m perfectly happy! You’re just overthinking.”

“Is it because of work?” you questioned softly.

Soonyoung thought about it for awhile, his hands still on the steering wheel. “Not really.”

“Then? What is it?”

He turned to face you just as the car approached a red light, his neon pink hair messy and tangled. You felt the sudden urge to reach out and straighten the strands for him as your eyes locked with his.

He pursed his lips into a straight line, turning back to the roads when the light flashed green. “Do you…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. Trying to ignore the way his stomach kept doing flips, he continued. “Do you like Jeonghan or something?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as you shook your head. “Why would I?”

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as he took a left turn. “You’ve been talking to him a lot lately.”

“That doesn’t mean I like him.”

Soonyoung continued to argue. “But you keep laughing and smiling with him.”

“Is there a rule that says I can’t laugh with my friends?” He was being ridiculous, and you made it evident in your tone and words.

He pressed his lips tighter together. His knuckles went white from gripping the steering wheel too hard.

“Seriously, what’s gotten into you?”

He didn’t reply, a tense silence washing over the two of you.

It was at the next red light where he finally spoke. “Seokmin was right about me being an overthinking teenager.” He let out a bitter laugh. He was more than glad that his anxieties had been proven to be untrue.

“I miss sitting next to you.” Soonyoung confessed, heat creeping up his cheeks. “You’re older than me and I probably don’t have a shot so I have absolutely zero idea as to why I’m about to say this but,” he paused, stepping on the accelerator again. “I’ve — crap, this is hard.”

You were looking right at him, your eyes burning holes into his skull as his heart beat wildly in his chest, his tongue twisting, refusing to let him continue. He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want to look at you and know for sure that he wouldn’t have a chance. He didn’t want to see that stupid look of pity on your face.

“I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”

There was an awkward pause that made his heart sink. Regret started coursing through his blood, his face burning red. He could envision your friendship flushed into the toilet bowl, already lost in the pipes.

“Soonyoung, pull over.” You voice came out as a whisper, and he did as he was told, mentally preparing himself for rejection.

The car was nicely aligned with the curb when you unbuckled your seatbelt with a soft click, making it easier for you to face him.

“Look at me,” you said softly, reaching out to place your fingers over his wrist. When he finally found the courage to look at you, he felt his body relax, his hands dropping from the steering wheel.

Your fingers never left his wrist as you opened your mouth to continue. “It doesn’t really matter than I’m older, you know.” The tips of your ears were pink, and Soonyoung seemed to notice. He let himself smile.

Suddenly, he felt relief spread throughout his chest as he pried your fingers off his wrist, choosing to intertwine them with his. “Is that supposed to be your way of saying you like me back?” He let out a laugh — his usual, genuine, contagious laugh. You felt your lips tug into a smile.

You nodded, and he laughed even harder. You found yourself laughing along with him, your hand clasped in his.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked Jeonghan,” you said through a fit of giggles. “You don’t seem like the type to get jealous easily.”

“I was not jealous!” Soonyoung exclaimed, his laughter coming to a halt as his lips formed a pout. You snorted and broke into another fit of laughter at his reaction, earning a smack on the arm.

“Ow! Is that how you treat your noona?” You whined, and he chuckled.

“No, this is how I treat my girlfriend.” He pulled you into a bear hug, laughing at the sight of your red ears. “You really don’t mind that I’m younger?”

“Soonyoung, I’m literally hugging you right now,” you mumbled into his chest. He muttered an embarrassed oh as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Can we go home now? I’m really sleepy.”

He smiled before letting you go, making sure you were buckled before continuing the journey home; this time with one hand on the steering wheel while the other was holding yours — his anxieties rendered to nothing, his cheerful smile plastered back onto his face.

Ninety-four isn’t that far from ninety-six anyway.

[theemightypen]

A 1 and B 1-3 of the trophy prompts for Eothiriel please :)

(Some of these got a bit long, but I hope y’all enjoy them! The rest are under the cut :) )

A1) I’m a cashier and you’re buying some really random products, I’m trying not to judge, but…wtf dude?

Lothiriel has been working in the markets in Minas Tirith since she was old enough to count money. Ada doesn’t like it, per se, but Naneth had started the tradition, and he was hard pressed to deny her anything that reminds her of her mother, gone the past two years.

The shopkeepers know her here, and are kind enough to indulge her for the few hours a week she can drop the role of princess and diplomat, and simply be. There are few things on this earth she loves more than flowers, the lovely smells, the way you can use them to send a message of hope, of love, of joy.

Which is something the man before her is utterly, utterly failing to do.

He is not the first suitor to know nothing of the language of flowers, but as he haphazardly chooses another bloom–hyacinths are lovely, but she sincerely doubts he means to express that whoever the bouquet is intended for brings him sorrow–Lothiriel cannot help but wince.

Mistress Alwien catches her expression and snorts. “Go on then, my lady. It would not be the first time you have aided a befuddled suitor!”

Lothiriel smiles, making her way to stand at the man’s side. He is a Rohir, that much is obvious, from both his dress and his hair. A tall man, taller than even Faramir, with all of his Numenorian height, and a handsome one, made even more apparent by the breadth of his shoulders, the grace with which he carries himself, even in confusion. She can feel the blush creep into her cheeks and berates herself; he is clearly looking for flowers for his sweetheart, and here she stands, writing odes to how handsome he is! It is not like her, and she will blame it on the giddiness surrounding the return of the King.

“Can I help you, my lord?” She asks. The man jumps, turning to offer her a near furious expression that almost immediately softens as he takes her in. “With the flowers,” she explains.

The man’s face contorts into an impressive grimace. “I assume I have done it all wrong, then?”

“There are good intentions, here,” Lothiriel answers, wanting to be gentle. They have been through so much, these men of Rohan. There is no need to embarrass him for not knowing flower-lore. “Hyacinths are lovely, but a purple one means ‘sorrow’.”

The man nearly drops the flower as if it had burned him. Definitely a suitor, then, she thinks, plucking the flower and returning it to its proper vase. “A white one, however, indicates ‘unobtrusive loveliness’.”

His sudden snort makes her smile. “That will not do either, for I have never met the lady.”

Lothiriel can feel her eyebrows hit her hairline. Arranged marriages are common amongst Gondor’s nobles, but from what she has heard from Eowyn, it is not so in Rohan. “You are making a courting bouquet for a lady you have not met?”

Now it is his turn to look shocked. “No! I–I wished to express my gratitude to someone who has been kind to someone very dear for me.” His embarrassment is palpable. “It was a foolish thought–”

“Oh, no,” she says, unable to stop herself from reaching out to grasp his elbow. “It was a lovely one. And I can still certainly offer you my help, if–,” at this she bites her lip, suddenly self-conscious. “If you would still like it?”

He smiles then, warm and sincere. “I think it is not a matter of liking, and more a matter of necessity.”

Lothiriel laughs, pleased at his wit. “We shall see. You may surprise yourself yet!”

As it turns out, he has a good eye for color, though he flinches after suggesting asphodel and she must tell him their somber message, and laughs aloud at the thought of the tansy, so bright and cheerful, declaring war on its receiver. “I did not know flowers could be so…talkative,” he says, amusement clear in his tone.

“Like so many other beautiful things, there is often more to them than just their appearance,” she agrees.

“Indeed,” he murmurs, something bright in his eyes.

Lothiriel blushes, looking down at the arrangement they’ve managed to put together. Sprigs of sweet basil, for good wishes, lavender for admiration, and finally cheerful bluebells for gratitude. It is a kind bouquet, and a respectful one. “I think this should satisfy your helpful lady.”

He smiles again, somewhat softer this time, and she gulps when his fingers brush hers as he takes the flowers from her hands. Mistress Alwien bustles over, to help bundle the arrangement for its journey. In the past, Lothiriel would have turned to other customers, or said a final farewell, but she simply feels…stuck, staring at his back as he pays for the flowers. Oh, she had not even asked his name! Nor given hers, like a foolish child–

He is suddenly in front of her, looking uncertain as he had with the flowers before she’d begun to help him. A bloom is in his hand, offered up to her. White jasmine, she realizes. A many-meaning sort of flower. Paired with others, it meant appreciation or good luck, but on its own…Carefully, she takes it, eyes on his. “I wonder if you would offer this so freely, if you knew its meaning.”

“I suppose I will have to come back again, for another lesson,” he says. He lifts her hand to his mouth, presses a kiss to its back, and grins when she flushes scarlet. “Until then, blóstm cwén.”

Mistress Ailwen chuckles as Lothiriel presses a hand to her mouth, both of them watching him leave. “Careful now, Princess. Can’t have you losing your heart to a Rider of Rohan over something as silly as a flower!”

Still, that does not stop her from tucking the bloom behind her ear, nor does it stop her from smiling the entire walk back to Faramir’s rooms. Eowyn is waiting for her, startling out of her happy daydream by nearly pouncing on her once she’s entered the doors.

“Where have you been all day?” She asks, impatiently.

“Mistress Ailwen’s flower stall,” Lothiriel says, thinking of dark eyes and surprisingly deft fingers, “oh, Eowyn, you would never believe–”

Eowyn huffs, the fond expression on her face at war with her clear impatience. “Lothiriel, I promise I will listen happily to you waxing poetic about whatever star-crossed suitor came looking for the perfect flowers today, but for now, there is someone I would very much like you to meet.”

Lothiriel’s brow furrows and then–”Oh, Valar,” she groans, “Eomer King comes today?”

“Even worse, he is already here,” Eowyn says, sounding utterly cheerful. “Faramir he knows already, and I am afraid we have both told him nothing but good things about you–”

“Eowyn!”

“–but fret not, my brother is notoriously hard-headed when it comes to first impressions–”

Thinking of how frazzled Faramir had been after meeting the man, Lothiriel can only agree–

“–but seeing as how you are a beautiful lady, and not a man intent on courting his sister, he should be somewhat more polite to you–”

“I need to change,” Lothiriel tries to interrupt, though they are already nearing the gardens and she can make out the sound of masculine laughter above Eowyn’s footsteps, “Eowyn, please–”

“Nonsense,” Eowyn insists. “You are as lovely as ever.”

And that’s how Lothiriel finds herself stepping out into the garden. Faramir grins when he spots her, standing and pulling her into a warm embrace that serves to take away a small measure of her nervousness. “You smell of fresh blooms and sunshine, cousin. Has Mistress Ailwen worked your fingers to the bone in her stall?”

“I enjoy the work, as you well know,” she answers, pinching his side in retaliation. “And you are being very rude, for being a Steward.”

Faramir winces. “You are right.” He turns, ushering her with an arm around her shoulders, saying, “You’ve met my other cousins, Eomer, but this is Imrahil’s youngest. Lothiriel, of Dol Amroth.”

But Lothiriel can only gape in, in–shock? Wonder?–as the man from the shop, the Rohir, her Rohir, stands, grinning so widely his face looks likely to split in two.

“Blóstm cwén,” he says, offering her the bouquet they’d spent the afternoon putting together, “I can think of no one else who deserves this more.”

B1) You forgot your sleeping bag, but I have mine.  Surely we can figure this out.

Lothiriel is not an outdoorsy sort of woman.

Eomer knows this, her brothers know this, and Faramir and Boromir know it. So Eomer cannot fathom why–or how–they managed to convince her to join them on this camping trip of theirs. Eowyn is much more comfortable climbing rocks with a pack strapped to her back, but Lothiriel…

It is not a bad thing, merely a fact. Her face is already flushed pink from exertion, her pack looks exceedingly haphazardly jammed full, and her once-neat braid is already unravelling. They are, perhaps, two hours into the hike. And yet, she has not once complained, not asked for help from any of the men or even from Eowyn, who keeps shooting her concerned looks over her shoulder.

Were they with any other group of people, Eomer would have already offered to take her bag–he is used to this sort of physical activity, after five years in the military–but as they’re surrounded by his meddlesome sister, her over-protective brothers, and all three of their respective too-knowing cousins, he can’t.

It’s not that he wants to keep the fact that they’ve been on a handful of dates a secret–Bema knows he could do worse than Lothiriel–but their families would blow it absolutely out of proportion. Helle, they’d probably try to force them to get married on the spot.

Another two hours later, they’ve finally reached the campsite. Lothiriel all but collapses, laying comically across her pack as Amrothos laughs at her.

“I hate you. All of you,” she says faintly. “You said this was an easy trail!”

Boromir snorts. “Easy for us, little flower. It is not our fault you were always more interested in books and tea than the great outdoors–”

“I like books and tea, too,” Faramir defends, passing a now sitting-up, if still wobbly, Lothiriel his canteen. “There is nothing wrong with not liking hiking.”

“And you two,” Eowyn says, pointing accusatory fingers in Boromir and Amrothos’s directions, “could have chosen an easier path.”

“And missed the opportunity to reduce Lothiriel to a pile of mush?” Asks Amrothos. “Eowyn, it is as if you don’t know me at all!”

Eomer ventures over, pulling Lothiriel to her feet as Faramir and Eowyn do their best to help dig through her pack for her sleeping bag.

“Ugh, my legs are jelly,” she grumbles, trembling slightly in his grip.

He grins, leaning just close enough not to be overheard. “I’d offer to rub them down, but I think your brothers might have something to say about that.”

She swats him, but the pleased blush in her cheeks lets him know she’s not truly upset. “Fiend. Now that’s all I’ll be able to think about.”

It’s all he can do to keep from bending to press a kiss to the particularly sensitive patch behind her ear, brothers and cousins and sisters be damned, but then a sudden groan from Faramir calls him back to their surroundings.

“Lothiriel,” he says, sounding exasperated, “you did remember to pack a sleeping bag, didn’t you?”

Any lingering color drains out of Lothiriel’s face. “Of course I did! I put it on top this morning–”

But there had been a mad rush for all of them to pack the car and the more Eomer thinks about it, the more he thinks he remembers seeing a dark blue bundle laying on the counter as Theodred had locked the door behind him. Lothiriel’s face is ashen as Amrothos begins to laugh anew, as Erchirion sighs and passes money into Elphir’s outstretched hand, and Theodred ambles over to give her shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“Cheer up, Lothiriel,” his cousin says, kindly. “We’ve all spent a night on the ground. It won’t kill you.”

But she isn’t used to such things, though the stubborn set of her jaw tells him that she won’t complain, that she won’t say a word even if she ends up curled on around a root with dirt in her hair. She’s quiet all through dinner, though she offers Eowyn a sincere smile when she offers her an extra blanket, nestling down into it as if she’d like to disappear.

Eventually, Eowyn and Faramir disappear to stargaze–Eomer choose to believe that’s what they’re actually doing, and likes his blissful innocence–while Elphir, Erchirion, and Amrothos amble off for a midnight swim. Boromir is asleep already, snoring loudly from where his head is pillowed on Theodred’s thigh. Lothiriel is nearly asleep as well, leaning a chin on her hand and wavering dangerously close to the fire. Eomer frowns, coming to gently shake her shoulder.

“Lothiriel,” he says.

“Hm?” She hums, blinking sleepily up at him. Even uncomfortable, more than a little disheveled and with a smudge of dirt on her nose, he’s struck by how lovely she is, how soft.

“Take my sleeping bag,” he says.

Eomer can see Theodred grinning at him out of the corner of his eye, and he shoots his cousin a rude hand gesture out of Lothiriel’s range of vision.

“No, that’s not fair,” she protests. “It’s my fault I forgot one, I don’t want to inconvenience you–”

Knowing Theodred would be absolutely insufferable in the morning, Eomer ignores her protests, bending down and scooping her up in his arms. Her outraged squeak is equal parts hilarious and endearing. “Eomer! What are you doing!”

“If you won’t take it, I suppose we’ll have to share,” he says. He won’t lie down, for fear of what her brothers might do upon finding them spooning, but he sits, back against a nearby tree as Lothiriel adjusts herself more comfortably in his lap.

“They’re going to be merciless, you know,” she murmurs, lips brushing distractingly over his neck as she speaks.

“You are not sleeping on the ground,” he argues. “It’s damned Amrothos’s fault you weren’t well prepared.”

She lifts her head to smile at him, reaching up to lightly scratch her nails along his jaw. “Hm. I can’t say I mind, really.”

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead even as Theodred all but snickers from across the campfire. “Sleep, Lothiriel.”

(Amrothos’s squawk wakes the entire camp a few hours later.

“Do shut up, Amrothos,” Lothiriel grumbles, burrowing her face deeper into Eomer’s shoulder. “Aren’t you lot always going on about needing to adapt to one’s circumstances?”

“This is not what I meant!” Amrothos cries.

Eomer hides his smile in Lothiriel’s hair.)

B2) Air Mattress that keeps deflating, leaving them smushed against each other by morning

Lothiriel supposes she should have seen this coming.

It’s not as if Eowyn has been subtle about it–constantly dropping hints about how well she and Eomer get along, how nice it would be to do stuff, just the four of them–but she didn’t think she’d stoop to, well, this.

She hadn’t thought anything of it, at first. Eowyn and Faramir had just moved into their new apartment, and Valar knows that between her cousin’s…rather spartan taste and Eowyn’s strange obsession with horses, the end result would be…interesting to say the least.

“Come help us set up, we’ll break the house in with a few bottles of Harad red, and you can sleep in the guest room,” Eowyn had wheedled. “My payment for you playing interior designer for free.”

Lothiriel does love her cousin-in-law, and Faramir always manages to have the best wine in the family…it had been an easy thing, to agree.

Waltzing into their living room to find Eomer, however, had certainly not been something she’d expected. He’d looked equally dumbfounded to see her before turning an angry expression in his sister’s direction.

“Eowyn,” he growls, somehow making her name sound like a threat.

“What?” She asks innocently. “We need all the hands we can get!”

Lothiriel is a bit hurt by the reaction–she and Eomer get along, when meddling relatives aren’t trying to get them to agree to some sort of antiquated arranged marriage–and it must show on her face, because Eomer frowns even deeper at Eowyn before coming offer her an apologetic expression. “Sorry,” he mutters, “you know I can’t stand when she does things like this…”

Yes, that Lothiriel knows very well, and she can only smile back at him and ignore the stutter of her heart when chucks her under the chin at her forgiveness. “As long as you promise to never look at me like I’m as bad as Grima Wormtongue again–”

Both siblings shudder at the mention of the aptly named man.

“I promise,” Eomer agrees, looking slightly shamefaced, as Eowyn scoffs, “Really, Lothiriel, Wormtongue?”

“Well, it was far from a smile,” she counters, trying to ignore the very obvious looks Faramir and Eowyn are exchanging behind his back. She shoves him off to paint not long after, as she moves off to help Eowyn sort through the truly obscene amount of knick-knacks she and Faramir have to choose from. Hours later, they’re settled around the kitchen table, a bottle and a half of wine deep, decorating long since forgotten. It’s mostly done, anyways, and it’s the people in the room–a softly smiling Faramir, his hand in Eowyn’s as she argues something about horses Lothiriel can’t even begin to follow with Eomer–that make it homey.

Another glass later, she’s pleasantly buzzing, and leans comfortably on her hand as Faramir tells a story about Boromir. Talking about him makes her melancholy in a way nothing else does–she misses him, they all miss him, Faramir most of all–and she doesn’t realize she’s sniffling until the sudden brush of someone’s hand over hers under the table nearly makes her jump out of her skin. It’s Eomer, his hand large and calloused and grounding, bringing her out of her sudden sadness as quickly as she’d sunk into it.

Faramir, though, is just as observant as he is, and says, “Lothiriel, if you’re tired, the guest room is just down the hall.”

Eomer’s hand tightens for a second, but a strangely sharp look from Eowyn holds him silent. Murmuring her thanks (and giving his hand one last squeeze), she shuffles down the hall. The sight that greets her makes her laugh: the guest room is the one room not even close to being set up. It’s just an air mattress, with admittedly comfy sheets and a blanket piled on top, a lamp, and a number of boxes in the furthest corner. She’s too tired to care, and wrestles herself into her pajamas. Just as she gets settled, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

But instead of Faramir’s concerned face, or Eowyn’s smiling one, it’s a nervous-looking Eomer who opens the door. He’s…also in his pajamas, looking deeply uncomfortable.

Oh, Eowyn, Lothiriel groans internally. “Let me guess. Eowyn offered you the guest room as well.”

“Subtle, my sister is not,” he says. “I can sleep on the couch–”

But they haven’t even put the curtains up yet, and the couch is almost too small for Lothiriel, who is nearly a foot shorter than Eomer’s obscenely long frame. “Don’t be stupid,” she says, sliding to one side of the mattress before patting the other. “Though I can’t promise not to kick you if you snore.”

Eomer snorts a laugh. He settles in beside her, both of them hesitating when the air mattress gives an ominous hiss. Slightly reassured when it doesn’t do it again, Eomer flicks the light off. The even rhythm of his breath is soothing, familiar when it shouldn’t be, and it doesn’t take long for her to drift towards unconsciousness–

At least, until she’s suddenly very aware that her pillow is warm, and much, much more solid than what she’s used to. And that Eomer’s hip is digging rather uncomfortably into her stomach.

“What–” She manages to blurt out. Eomer jolts–he must have actually been asleep–and then just as quickly scrambles away from her.

“The mattress,” he stutters, and she could almost swear he was blushing when he flicks the light back on. He’s right, of course–the mattress has obviously deflated. They fill it, quickly, neither looking at the other, and settle back down on their respective sides.

It takes 20 minutes, this time, until she’s rolled back towards him. This time, his arm is pinned between them, the back of his hand horribly–and frustratingly–close to her breast. Groaning, they fill the mattress again.

It only takes 10 minutes this time before they’re touching again, and it feels as if every nerve in Lothiriel’s body is alight when Eomer hesitates reaching for the light.

“Oh, for Valar’s sake,” she finally says, propping herself up on her elbow and reaching for his arm with her other hand. She tucks herself against his side, smiling slightly against his shoulder as he–inch by inch–lets his arm curve around her, his hand sliding to rest at her hip. “If this thing is going to deflate, we may as well be comfortable until it does.”

Eomer chuckles and the lowness of it makes something inside her clench–Elbereth, of all the times to realize your best friend has been right about this entire situation–and he presses his cheek to the top of her head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had designs on my person, Lothiriel.”

Maybe I do, she thinks, the sudden pang of want still echoing in her veins. “You wish, Eomundson,” she says instead, suddenly afraid that he’ll know, somehow, and that everything will have to change between them.

The sudden touch of his hand to her chin makes her heart stutter. “Maybe I do,” he murmurs, echoing her thoughts, breath ghosting hot and painfully close over her cheeks.

“Eomer–”

And then he’s kissing her, or she’s kissing him, and it’s all she can do to remind herself that they are on a rapidly deflating air-mattress, in her cousin’s apartment, and that Eowyn would be smug enough in the morning without them adding this to the mix.

“Deflated air mattress!” Lothiriel manages to gasp, when he lets her up for air. “Terrible for sleeping, even worse for–for–”

“Anything else,” Eomer agrees. He tucks her comfortably back against his side. They’re both quiet for a moment, the only noise is his heart racing under her ear, before he says, “You did have designs on my person–”

“I will smother you with a pillow, I swear to the Valar–” She starts to hiss.

Eomer kisses her until she can scarcely remember why she was so irritated in the first place. “Sleep. Then proper date, then–”

“Proper mattress?” She says, hopefully.

Eomer groans, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. If the mattress deflates again, neither of them mind.

B3) This hide-a-bed is the most uncomfortable thing in the existence of everything and now I have to share it with you.

“So it’s not ideal,” Lothiriel says, biting her lip as she looks down at the bed.

“Not ideal?” Eomer asks, incredulous. He’s not a big believer in karma, but currently he suspects he must have mortally offended one deity or another in a past life. Instead of getting to spend time with his girlfriend for the first time in weeks at the comfortable bed and breakfast he’d begged Eowyn into finding for them, they’re stuck at at a hotel he’s positive has negative stars. It’s near as old as Erkenbrand, judging from the curtains, and apparently the owners don’t believe in real beds, as the only place offered for them to sleep on is a hide-a-bed that looks vaguely like a medieval torture device.

“The roads will clear in the morning,” Lothiriel says. “It’s just one night, Eomer, how bad can it be?”

He loves her optimism, under normal circumstances, but as he sits on the bed and nearly bruises himself–it feels more like sitting on a rock than anything resembling a mattress–he can only grimace.

Dinner, at least, isn’t totally horrible; there’s one good restaurant in the tiny town they’ve ended up in and Lothiriel turns on the charm full-blast to wrangle them a table, despite the fact they haven’t made reservations and are clearly not two of the 317 locals. The food is decent, the wine more than decent, and all of it is eclipsed entirely by Lothiriel, leaning across the table to hold his hand, their feet tangled together underneath.

“I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend the first night of our vacation,” she says gently, “but I’m just happy to be with you again. Lumpy mattresses irregardless.”

Eomer smiles, lifting her hand to press a kiss to its palm.

(The bed and breakfast, by contrast, has a perfectly comfortable mattress. Eomer thinks it’s almost a pity they scarcely get to sleep on it hardly at all. Almost.) 

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2017, Part II

Part I can be found here. I should have mentioned the films I haven’t seen, which include BPM; Faces Places; The Square; Coco; Thelma; Last Flag Flying; Roman J. Israel, Esq.; Wonder Wheel; Jane; and I, Daniel Blake. Long-time AHOLs also know that I’m in the fifth year of a self-imposed five-year break from superhero culture, so I haven’t seen Logan or Thor or whatever else. With that: ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS 87. The Great Wall (Zhang Yimou)-  Zhang Yimou's The Great Wall has a lot in common with Wong Kar-Wai's The Grandmaster. Both are high-concept international co-productions that bear just enough of the filmmaker's signature but feel unfortunately cut to ribbons in the editing room. Computers have made us all a little worse at our jobs, Zhang included, and his spectacle is achieved despite CGI, not because of it. I liked watching a boulder's journey through the stages of being catapulted, even if it eventually landed into a physics-negligent pit of cartoon monsters. By the end, the picture is more bloodless, sexless, and simplistic than a game of toy soldiers, which makes it seem just as child-like. It's a forgettable sort of fun, but it is often fun. 86. The Ghost in the Shell (Rupert Sanders)- A bit more comprehensible than the original but far less beautiful. It's a shame that visions of future exteriors haven't improved or at least changed since Blade Runner. Big advertisements. Got it. (Also, we have telepathic walkie-talkies, but people sleep on the floor?) There are a few good ideas drizzled around. If people can basically toggle back and forth between languages, why not hire a famous actor who doesn't speak English for one of the supporting roles? Speaking of acting though, Johansson is pretty bad in this, hamstrung by the whole playing-a-robot problem. (She looks as good as she ever has though, which is saying something.) She could have taken some notes from Michael Pitt, who brings some edge and skitter to his cybernetic replicant or whatever they call it. 85. Wilson (Craig Johnson)- It hits the notes that a Daniel Clowes property usually does: misanthropy, formlessness, begrudging acceptance at the end. I laughed a few times and appreciated the huge left-turn at the two-thirds mark, but I didn't think it amounted to much. 84. Patti Cake$ (Geremy Jasper)-  Other than the Basterd character, there's nothing really broken about this movie, but I'm selling on anything with double-digit dream sequences. 

83. Colossal (Nacho Vigalondo)- The ending, both the final act and the final note, went a long way to save what was a tedious sit for me. I appreciate the big swings that everyone took with this budget and material--Sudeikis once again gets to show impressive range. But this is an hour of material stretched to an hour and forty-nine minutes. 82. Rough Night (Lucia Aniello)- Hide-the-body movies never work, but what makes this one disappointing is that there's a daring, original corrective somewhere on the margins. You can tell from the comparatively tame bachelor party or the unexpectedly positive threesome that this movie has refreshing ideas, but both the Machine and TV visuals from a TV director shaved the edge down. No one wants to hear such a thing about a sorely-needed female-driven comedy, but Paul W. Downs is the funniest thing in this. 81. Beauty and the Beast (Bill Condon)- Shout-out to the morons protesting this movie's gayness but not realizing that the original was always an allegory for AIDS. These live-action remakes are all around the same quality, but this one feels especially bloated, with really dicey CGI. Things get borderline boring in between the musical numbers, but, man, do those numbers hold up. There's the title track obviously, but songs that would be throwaways in something else--"Gaston," "Be Our Guest," "Something There"--are BANGERZ here. The real IP is the music, and Disney is just going to get each generation's Josh Gad to sing them forever. 80. Darkest Hour (Joe Wright)- This movie reminded me of The Imitation Game in the sense that it's a staid presentation with a solid structure that feels cheap whenever it zooms out beyond its back rooms. The grander version of this, which Joe Wright in some ways already made, is probably just as unsatisfying, but it wouldn't have the pinnacle of goofiness that will hereupon be known as The Underground Scene. I’m a bit bored of this type of film. Darkest Hour might be worth seeing for Oldman's performance, which is a true transformation, absent of any actory vanity but invested with some real myth-making. Churchill gets introduced with just his hat, then lit by just a match, then lit by a shock of sunlight. Oldman is very good in his scenes with Scott Thomas, so it's a shame that her character disappears for a half-hour at a time. The more troubling thing to note is that there are many men in this film who are so English that they can't pronounce their r's. If you catch it eawly, it's a weal distwacting pwoblem. 79. The Fate of the Furious (F. Gary Gray)- Since some of the dumbest stuff is some of the best stuff*, I'm not going to get caught in the web of assessing how much sense The Fate of the Furious makes. But I can say that this entry is the least intentionally funny of the series, and other than "the White girls' soccer team is the Monarchs," it loses some of the class undressing of 6 and 7. From the endless scene-setting to the overstuffed character roster, this is now more of a comic book than a movie, an exercise in being a plot without being a narrative. *- See: the "make it rain" sequence, Statham swinging the baby carrier through a gun battle, Rock redirecting the missile with his bare hands.

78. Nobody Speak: Trials of the Free Press (Brian Knappenberger)- The first hour, centering on the Hulk Hogan/Gawker case, is compulsively watchable, even if it doesn't shed much extra light for anyone who followed it when it happened. Terry Bollea explaining that his penis is shorter than ten inches while Hulk Hogan's, the character's, is not: That's what I signed up for. When that case veers into the bizarrely vengeful, pretty much when Peter Thiel comes in, Nobody Speak becomes something else. The final third pits the sensitive, diligent bullpen of the Las Vegas Review-Journal against billionaire liver spot Sheldon Adelson, who bought their paper to suppress it. Then, of course, the doc expands to Donald Trump's vilification of the free press. If that sounds like a straight line, it doesn't come off that way in the film. The Hogan/Gawker stuff, which takes up the majority of the running time, feels unresolved after all the tangents. 77. The Reagan Show (Sierra Pettengill, Pacho Velez)- I'm cringing for the next five years, in which I'll have to judge a movie's success based on how subtly it invokes its mandatory Donald Trump comparisons and allegories. They're coming. In general, it's kind of sad to see how much more literate people were even thirty years ago, even as they populated a medium we all agreed was low culture. This documentary feels sharp at first, understanding something essential about the way Reagan owned his own persona. With the American Right treating him like some patron saint, it's also helpful to remember how much pushback he got at the end of his second term, for something that would be, like, the fiftieth most controversial thing Donald Trump would have done already. (See?) When the doc gets to its own fascination with Reagan's Star Wars program, however, it basically loses its thesis. As lean as it is, it still sort of stumbles to the finish line. 76. Beatriz at Dinner (Miguel Arteta)- I appreciated this portrayal of a culture clash way more than I liked it. For a while the characters are highly specific. (The delivery of "It's 6:13, Kathy" made me laugh out loud.) Then the plot turns into "Oh, so we're talking about Trump's America, right?" (See?) Here's a critique that's catty every time: This film has great ideas about class and race if you've never thought about class and race before. 75. I, Tonya (Craig Gillespie)- Oscar is calling...for the fat dude playing Shawn Eckhardt and no one else. If Allison Janney wins for doing the thing she always does over Laurie Metcalf's fully realized human, then it's a huge mistake. Successful in some of its comedic goals, especially in its depiction of northwestern goons, the shame of the working class, and period detail. (I laughed out loud when I saw the Girbaud tag on Gilooly's jeans.) Unsuccessful in most of its other goals--if I'm even reading the film correctly in my assumption of those goals. The most obvious one is the slippery nature of the truth, and that idea is handled clumsily. Gillespie goes to great GoodFellas-aping lengths to grapple with perception--having characters break the fourth wall even though there are already voiceovers and to-camera interviews. That talking to the camera comes up a few times in the disturbing scenes of domestic violence, which do humanize the characters because the other elements of the film can't, but they distract the viewer with their blitheness. The most puzzling angle of the film is the Hard Copy reporter, played by Bobby Cannavale in yet another example of his agent not knowing how famous he is. It's a missed opportunity in a movie full of them. 74. It (Andy Muschietti)- I don't get why people went nuts for this. The ensemble avails itself pretty well, despite all the sitcom-y dialogue. (Dialogue that, based on the Stephen King that I've read, is probably faithful to the book.) Some of the visuals nail the distinction between surreal and unreal--my favorite is the children's TV show that sporadically drifts into the murderous. But the movie just kind of hangs there, all the way to its interminable ending, satisfied with its own literal presentation of events that seem to be metaphorical. As I understand, It--however It manifests itself--represents the death of childhood and the emergence of an adult banality of evil. But the movie engages with that level as little as possible, and maybe that's why people are going nuts for it. This is a scary movie if you're a child, and most of the moviegoing public seem to be children. 73. Before I Fall (Ry Russo-Young)- I mostly watched this because I think Zoey Deutch is a Movie Star, and if I'm going to be there for her Speed, I have to be there for her Love Potion No. 9's as well. I appreciated Before I Fall's brevity, but the premise offers a lot more fun than the film is willing to have. In the end the balance was off: It had to be either more moralistically PG-13 or go way darker. For example, just like in Groundhog Day, the character realizes that she'll live out the same day no matter what she does, and it triggers a nihilistic phase. But rather than going on a shooting spree or stealing stuff from a mall, she just, like, wears a sexier dress and talks back to her parents. Good swing, kids, but I'm waiting for the crazier version.

72. War Machine (David Michod)- There are some standout moments in War Machine, many of which are thanks to its impressive cast, but I don't think the film is cohesive enough for me to recommend. I know what Michod is against--counter-insurgency, military hubris--but it's harder to figure out what he's arguing for beyond some sort of level of transparency. The war sequence near the end feels at odds with the tone of everything else, even though it benefits from the Nick Cave and Warren Ellis score. In a similarly frustrated vein, I feel as if I know exactly who Glen McMahon is, and the script's greatest strength is how sharply it draws him, but Pitt's studied performance adds distance to it. It's as if all of the film's comedic nature is supposed to come from how people revolve around his straight man, and that expectation is too much to put on his shoulders. There's more than a little Bud Turgidson in the voice Pitt affects, but the difference is that, as mean as this sounds, I always believed George C. Scott when he played a smart person. 71. The Trip to Spain (Michael Winterbottom)- Diminishing returns. 70. Downsizing (Alexander Payne)- There's a meta-effect to the structure of Downsizing. Its characters decide to shrink themselves, finding unpredictable challenges in the process, and the film similarly gets more problematic as it focuses further into each of its four legs. The first part, the outside world, is when the film is at its most cutting and well-observed. It still lays its points on thickly--dude at the bar asking if downsized people should be able to vote, for example--but the questions are worth asking. The second part, Leisureland, the bourgeois subdivision lil' Damon lives in, is more satirical and less satisfying. (I do love that downsizing ends up being such a gauche pursuit though. Payne has always had his finger on the pulse of people with poor taste.) The third part, which takes place in the downsizing slums, is a sharp, unfunny left turn that discards characters but at least develops the protagonist further. And then the wheels come off in Norway. At least we got to hear Udo Kier say, "I do love my boat." 69. Okja (Bong Joon-Ho)- Since Okja is such a unique movie, I feel as if people will overpraise it as a way to brand themselves: Its poster is probably going to be in a lot of dorm rooms. But there's a lot that you have to look past in order to recommend it. In general, I find that Bong's English language work has a bizarre mixture of muddled themes being presented in direct ways. There is some sweetness here--most of it due to the amazingly detailed rendering of the pig--but too much of the comedy doesn't work, and the ending feels a bit easy. I liked most of the stuff with the Animal Liberation Front, and I kind of wish they had been the focal point of the movie. Can I say, as my main takeaway, that I'm worried about Jakey G? He is so big here, so out-of-tune with the rest of the film, that I blame Bong for not reining him in. At the same time, I keep making excuses for Gyllenhaal, claiming that his parts are under-written, but at a certain point, you have to point the finger at him if there's such a pattern of bad performances emerging. I didn't see Everest, but this is his fourth brick in a row. Help us, Dan Gilroy. You're our only hope. 68. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos)- An interesting swing that ends up missing for me. Excepting The Lobster, Lanthimos's works seem obsessed with family dynamics, and he plays some interesting games with this family's perversions. Farrell's character's story about his father dovetails with his somnophilia, which seems to inspire the way his daughter offers herself to her object of affection. From Anna's medical past to Steven's alcoholism, these characters seem to have full lives that have been in motion long before the events of the story. But I kind of suspect I'm worshiping at the altar of auteurism, and I wouldn't have half the respect or patience I do for this film had I not known who made it. The dialogue and performances are purposefully flat and stilted, thus creating an off, eerie quality before we know why we should be unnerved. But what if the performances are just, you know, bad? The film also creates a premise that concludes in an inevitably unsatisfying way. I don't know what I would have done instead, but I'm not a genius filmmaker who gets the benefit of the doubt.

[ragingstillness]

As a female water polo player and anime fan, I have always dreamed of a water polo anime. I raved about how well suited to anime the sport was with my teammates and could barely wait for the sports anime genre to pick it up...I have never been so let down.

In light of how disappointed and furious this makes me, I'd like to inform the creators of their obvious mistakes.

1. One shot in the promo shows the girls playing against the bare side of the pool, which is utterly unrealistic. In real polo, lane lines are used, and they are different from swimming lane lines. Polo lane lines are divided into sections. Where I live there is one tiny white segment, near the goal; a slightly larger red one; a larger yellow one; the largest green one; and a white spot. This is per side. Everything inside the white is out of bounds, the red is called the two meter as everything within it is within two meters of the goal, the yellow is the five meter, the green is excess area of play, and the white dot is the center of the pool. 2. The players are also playing in regular swimsuits. Water polo has specially made suits of their own. These suits are made of a more slippery material to prevent grabbing and zip all the way up the back to the base of the neck. 3. On suit fitting and grabbing: with a proper polo suit, that isn't too old, it is almost impossible to pull a suit down so much you'd see someone's chest. These suits are made for speed and thus are quite form fitting, often too tight. In addition, the material they are made of makes them difficult to grab. 4. Even with the proximity that dude had to her, her would most likely not pass out from a hit to the head. As someone who has, multiple times, been hit in the head, your eyes may tear up, it might hurt something awful, but you won't pass out. You scream internally, then keep swimming. 5. Not all water polo girls, or girls in general, have large boobs and tiny waists. Polo is a wonderful sport in that all body types give you a special advantage. It isn't like others, where there is one ideal. Being heavier makes you more difficult to push away and gives your shots power. Being smaller or thinner makes you faster and more slippery. 6. You do end up touching people during play but you never intentionally try to be perverted and no one considers it that way. The game is played in such close quarters that there exists an understanding that if you accidentally touch someone where you shouldn't, you move on or apologize and if you just kick someone or hit them by accident no one cares. It just is a nonissue. 7. These girls also seem to be only wearing the classic polo caps with ear guards. In reality two caps are worn, one to keep your hair in, which these girls clearly aren't doing, and then the other cap over it to protect your ears and display your number to teammates and referees. 8. It isn't very common for boys and girls to play together. Occasionally practices or camps will be co-ed but the games and olympic events are men and women separate. 9. The scene where the girl pulls her suit off like a jacket by pulling the straps away and over her shoulders is physically impossible. Not only for a polo suit but also for any swim suit worth its salt. They just don't stretch that way and unless your arms are really flexible all you'll end up with is the straps jamming into your arms, pinning them against your body. 10. And of course, play is nowhere near this sexualized and polo girls are not any more up to sex than anyone else because of the sport they play.

@demon-hound @what-the-hell-minski

[theliterateape]

I Like to Watch | Game of Thrones (All Eight Seasons in Three Weeks)

by Don Hall

On April 17, 2011, I watched the first episode of the first season of HBO’s Game of Thrones. I immediately loved it like so many others. I was so happy to see Sean Bean as another epic hero in a Lord of the Rings sort of drama. Before the second episode, a friend of mine let me know she had read the first book and that Ned Stark is beheaded shortly after.

“Fuck that!” I thought. “That’s some bait and switch bullshit.”

Despite the overwhelming pop-culture gravitas the next eight or so years held, I ignored the show from that point on. Sometime during Season Five, I decided that I’d wait until the goddamned thing was done and then I’d watch all of it in one fell swoop.

Thank you, COVID quarantine.

I’m not one of those DON’T SPOIL IT assholes unless it just opened, so I knew a number of things going in. Of course, that Ned Stark would get his head lopped off. I knew that there was something called The Red Wedding and all hell had broken loose after but didn’t know whose wedding it was or who got axed. I knew about Cersei’s walk of atonement but not the circumstances. I read some squawk about Arya finally getting laid and I knew that the finale disappointed, well, everyone. 

I also had heard that Daenerys dragon-flamed thousands in a bloodthirsty move, John Snow killed her, and that Brandon Stark was made the king at the end (all making long-time fans Twitter-furious).

I read that the show runners for the final season no longer had a book to adapt but an outline of possibilities from author George R.R. Martin and that there was a Starbucks cup present in Season 8, Episode 4.

Endings are hard. I recall really enjoying LOST during its six seasons. I loved the characters, the riddles, the labyrinth of theories about the island. I also have a sour taste in my mouth because I hated the conclusion. That failure to stick the landing tainted the entire six years of engaging and fun television.

I loved Spielberg’s AI: Artificial Intelligence but the last fifth of the film (the epilogue following the kid’s descent into the ocean staring at the statue of the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio) was both unnecessary and has made any repeated viewings uninteresting.

Stephen King is almost legendary for shitty endings to brilliant tales. The most notable is the creation of Pennywise the Serial Killing Clown. Easily on of the scariest villains ever penned only to reveal at the end that he is just a big fucking spider.

On the other hand, Six Feet Under, The Leftovers, and the most recent Watchmen all ended so well and I was so satisfied that they sit on a mental shelf of some of the best told stories I know.

Watching Season One of GoT and knowing the ending likely had me looking for clues. And the clues are there. Brandon Stark is the first significant character we see which indicates in some way that the whole thing is his story. Likewise, Daenerys shows us her impulsive anger and desire for power very early on. Throughout the series, both these aspects built a resume in my viewing that indicated the logic behind where it ended.

By Season Four, I realized that there are three things that define this sprawling storyline: a fixation on cocks (and the removal and absence of balls), broken vows and lies, and spectacular deaths. 

Lots of talk about testicles. Like almost ridiculous amount of time spent on so many characters without them. Ramsay Bolton cuts off Theon’s nuts and he became like a neutered puppy. Varys has a dude in a fucking crate he keeps as revenge for lopping his grape nuts off. Grey Worm, while often badass, still spends an awful lot of screen time either reminding us or him being reminded that he is a Ken Doll in the crotch.

Add to that the nearly non-stop cock bragging by Bronn, Tyrian (a dwarf in size but, oh, the size of his Johnson!), the mysterious primacy of Podrick’s magic man meat. Yeah, George had a fixation on dick and sack.

I could be wrong but the only character among hundreds who never told a lie or broke a promise was John Snow, right? I mean it was fucking 76 hours, so I may have missed it but it was almost a guarantee that no one in this series could be trusted ever.

By Season Six, if Martin were trying convey some sort of overarching message it was not that power corrupts but those who pursue power are corrupted by the pursuit. The only truly decent characters in the entire cast of hundreds are the ones who do not want to be in power. Ned Stark doesn’t want to be Hand of Robert Baratheon. John Snow has less than no interest to be Lord Commander, King in the North, or Occupant of the Iron Throne. Tyrian Lannister enjoys power but rarely seeks it. Arya Stark isn’t invested in acquiring power but instead skill to avenge injustice. Jorah Mormont only wants to serve a Queen he loves and is inspired by. 

Back to the spectacular deaths.

The best Death by Dragon Fire was the first, Kraznys mo Nakloz, the slave trader who sold the Unsullied to Daenerys.

Sansa Stark feeding Ramsay Bolton to his own dogs was well-deserved (he was maybe the only truly irredeemable character in eight seasons) and satisfying. I never liked Sansa but her double-tap with Arya killing Littlefinger was just exactly right.

Lyanna Mormont dying by being crushed by an undead giant just as she stabs it in the single blue eye was rad.

Oberyn Martell getting his eyes gouged and his skull crushed by The Mountain after one of the best single combat scenes in the series was awesome.

Tyrian capping his dad while Tywin is dropping a deuce wasn’t spectacular but was somehow perfectly fitting.

In my view, the best death was Arya’s assassination of Ser Meryn Trant. Gruesome, well deserved, and by the exact right means and by the right character. 

Arya Stark was, hands down, my favorite character in the entire thing. Her journey to Bravos and subsequent training and then what she did with that training was righteous. Tyrian was also a favorite and Peter Dinklage carried so much of this series it’s difficult to imagine any of it working without that specific actor playing that specific character. Third on this list was Bronn. Plain-spoken, always true to his nature, funny, and surprisingly honest in intent, Bronn felt like the audience stand-in in this world of royals, religious fanatics, and soldiers.

Also, I’ve been seeing cinematic dragons since I was a kid and these dragons were what I think real dragons would look like.

I understand the need for so many to want there to be messages of import from such a pop culture behemoth but I’m not so sure Martin was going for any of that. Aside from the idea that the act of pursuing power is the true corruption, any über-ideas were like the best characters — set up for our enjoyment only to be axed as soon as we fell in love with them.

The feminist message seemed to be that women are perfectly capable of being in charge and just as capable to be fuck ups and despots as well. The whole Bernie Sanders-ishness of Daenerys freeing all the slaves would be quite progressive except that, once freed, all her slaves tended to serve her, die for her, or kill for her. In fact, the two most prominent freed slaves — Grey Worm and Missandei — served virtually no distinguishing purpose in the storyline.

I read some pissing and moaning about the only two black characters in eight seasons either being killed off or becoming the tool of fascism and I’d be more distraught but Missandei was a cardboard cut-out of a character and Grey Worm was simply a follower. Not a lot on diversity in Westeros, you know?

But let’s look at that fucking ending.

If I were to throw out a recommendation to anyone thinking to watch the series for the first time, I’d say STOP AFTER “THE LONG NIGHT” AND GO NO FURTHER! First, the epic battle to defeat the Night King is a fucking ride and definitive. Season One, Episode One: “Winter is coming.” Season Eight, Episode Three: “Winter came and we kicked its ass.” Done. Finished. Second, after saving the world from the undead and the creepy snow god on his undead snow dragon (was that blue fire hot? Cold?) who gives a flying fuck about the Iron Goddamned Throne?

Sure you’d miss the fight between The Hound and The Mountain but after eight seasons of build up, that battle royale was pretty much just a brawl, devoid of the emotional pay off expected. You’d miss Daenerys burning the Red Keep and thousands of innocent women and children (which is some spectacular filmmaking and completely in character for her despite your need for her to rise above her obvious and oft-stated lust for power and vengeance). 

You’d also miss the two biggest missteps in the series: the deaths of both bloodthirsty Queens. Which ain’t much to miss because spending 76 hours of Cersei connive, betray, napalm hundreds in a church, fuck her brother, try to kill her other brother, lose her children, and become one of pop culture’s most indelible villains, she dies by getting rubble dropped on her. WTF? Are you kidding me? Not even a callback to the first episode and drop her out of window?

And, while I felt the transition from Mother of Dragons to Pol Pot was rushed, I bought that Daenerys let the rush of power seize her. But a character so larger than life, so imbued with destiny, dies by getting stabbed in the gut? WTF? Even her shitty brother got a molten gold crown.

In a series defined in some ways by creative and satisfying deaths, to punt the demise of two of the most interesting and central characters just blows.

The internet is filled with die-hard fans playing coulda/woulda/shoulda with the ending of Game of Thrones but that changes nothing. We are stuck with the ending we are given. 

I thoroughly enjoyed the world of Westeros. Like a book I’m thrilled to read, I feel a little wanting for more after the final page and I’m still hearing that goddamned catchy theme song in my head. I choose to pretend I never saw the final three episodes. I choose to end the series with the defeat of the Night King because once you save the world, who gives a fuck about almost anything else?

[thesinglesjukebox]

BRING ME THE HORIZON FT. GRIMES - NIHILIST BLUES

[5.78]

Say what you want about the tenets of Roko's basilisk, at least it's an ethos...

Will Adams: Amo gave a power surge to the beginning of my 2019 by providing me everything I want in a rock-goes-dance album, namely filling the void that Pendulum left at the start of the decade. "Nihilist Blues" is its peak: blustery trance-rock that refuses to let up across its five and a half minutes, working in half-time breakdowns, suspended-on-wire pre-choruses, moments where all the air is sucked out of the room, and finally, the culminating drop where Grimes brings everything together. Her presence is inspired, given that the track sounds like Art Angels at its most relentless. The lyrics' nihilism would fall flat were the track not so bracing. It neatly mirrors the beginning of the decade, when apocalyptic music actually sounded like the apocalypse. Only thing now is that it's real. [9]

Iain Mew: Amo was one of 2019's pleasant surprises, an energising album full of ambitious twists. Among its more brilliant and batshit moments, though, "Nihilist Blues" isn't a highlight. Bring Me the Horizon meet Grimes in a middle ground that's well on its way to just being her ground. It's a cool place to be for a while, but they sound too polite or awed to give more than a soft reflection of her. [6]

Katherine St Asaph: Not the blackpilled tract I feared after reading a song title in 2019 containing "Nihilist Blues" and "ft. Grimes." But once I was all set for this to this to turn into Covenant circa "Call the Ships to Port," it instead turned into Imagine Dragons: worse, and also impossible to take seriously. Grimes, as far as I can tell, is only here to be human creepypasta, sing and/or be mixed at 25% of capacity, and add a half-time break from 2013. [4]

Alfred Soto: The Grimes additions are as easy to spot as an ostrich on a highway: the manipulations of space, the murmured vocal promises, the sense that something mysterious no one has yet identified is visible on the horizon. She accomplished her mission: animating a track whose rock elements remain stolid. Speaking of missions, I credit her for getting the dudes to allude to "Katy on a Mission." [5]

Nortey Dowuona: A loping hyena bass chases meerkat synths in and out of a tunnel network filling with raindrop drums. Oliver sings alone in the water, pulling the meerkats onto a boat he builds from a slippery bass progression. The bass and guitar jab in and try to pull out Oliver and the meerkats, who cluster around him, frightened. Then an anthill of a bass drum breakdown lands on top of them, scattering the hyenas. Grimes climbs out of it, sending her ant armies to consume and devour the hyenas, who are shredded by the thunderous drum bites of the ants. Oliver and the meerkats make for the river while Grimes pursues. They pull out a guitar and some drums and send the entire ant army into the sun, while a furious Grimes pulls her stalk eye in frustration. [10]

Oliver Maier: Bring Me the Horizon shoot for the cheesy, dystopian "everything's-fucked-so-might-as-well-boogie-about-it" catharsis of all good death disco, and nail it in spirit. You can instinctively balk at the aesthetic or try to meet it on its own terms. The sludgy bass and urgent synths are suitably atmospheric, and the blown-out rave drop is nothing if not the logical move. Where "Nihilist Blues" falls apart is in its admirable but kind of inexplicable ambition. It's obvious that BMTH have underwritten, given the pointless, fidgety sounds on the verses and blockbuster drum fills on the pre-chorus, the latter a clumsy means to a climax. The vista should be stark, not cluttered, and the musical detour that announces Grimes' vocal feature (itself delivered via peculiar croak, where her spooky soprano would be a better fit) exacerbates the issue, trading a focused four-to-the-floor kick for ugly syncopated drums and sending the whole track into a tailspin that it never really recovers from. If you don't have enough ideas to fill five and a half minutes of song, maybe just make it shorter. [3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It aims to be a stadium-sized epic and nothing more. The walls of sound and pounding beats have a hollowness that feel more lazy than poignant -- I blame the title for making me think such empty-sounding racket could be hiding something meaningful. Grimes's presence is appreciated, but the track's outro makes one wish they were listening to "Venus Fly." [3]

David Moore: I finally googled I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness the other day, a band-as-sentence whose identity has been a disembodied phrase buzzing around the periphery of my mind for year. This band name is just like that, but I can't tell if this is really what they sound like or if it's Grimes I'm recognizing. So I doubt next time I will be able to ID them while listening -- maybe they really sound like Dogs Die in Hot Cars? We Are Scientists? Surely not Pretty Girls Make Graves? [5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Hard to pin down. I've spent the week going back and forth on whether or not this is as cool as it sets out to be, or if it's too pretentious for its own good; whether it needs to be two minutes longer, two minutes shorter, or is just right. Grimes plays it coy; Bring Me the Horizon are either deadly serious or just good at never breaking character. The fever dream backdrop pulses with adrenaline and emo dance music angst. If they pull it off just barely, I suppose that makes it all the more exciting. [7]

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