#the people being racist you can at least be like oh so you’re a terrible and disgusting person overall cool. but this fake intellectual

[ghostpunkrock]

real funny how “teenagers and broke college students” suddenly all think they’re all experts at budgeting a full production company

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think of Watari? Do you think he read too many comics of Batman as a child and that's why he is willing to go that far for L? Is he just that eccentric that he dedicated his life to create the perfect detective and then created a fabric orphanage that raises more perfect detectives? Or is he another bored genius with too much money? And what do you think L thinks of him?

“I just never thought I’d meet anyone who legitimately thought he was Batman.” Naomi pointed out, “I mean, that stuff just doesn’t happen to other people, but somehow I just managed to find the one guy and…” “I don’t think I’m Batman.” L said in slight confusion as if wondering how that point even had come up. “Oh come on, now you’re just delusional.” Naomi said, “Do I really need to point this out for you?” “There’s a ninety nine percent chance that there is nothing legitimate to your argument.” “Hey, assholes, I’m right here!” Mello said trying to become the focus of the conversation once again. Naomi and L spared him a dull glance before returning to glaring at each other and continuing to pretend that Mello didn’t actually exist. “Wrong. There are many reasons why you think you’re Batman. Let’s start with Watari, tell me, doesn’t he seem an awful lot like Alfred?” Naomi placed her hands on her hips ignoring Mello’s pacing back in forth in the room like a neglected and angry puppy. “That’s rather irrelevant and somewhat racist, not all British elderly men are Alfred…” Naomi continued counting off the reasons on her fingers, “You work with the police but you never show them your face. You learned martial arts and I’m sure that if you didn’t already know that it wasn’t practical you would beat your enemies up in an elaborate costume for the good of the world. You have at least three secret identities just in case someone finds out who you really are. You built a giant building with a helicopter pad just so that you could catch one man who is you’re arch nemesis. You have your own symbol which you display to show your presence in the world. How do you not think you’re Batman?” L blinked and said, “Those were all completely necessary.”

All You Need is Love, by me, circa 2010

I'm sure other people have said as much, but I feel like you're quoting me to me, anon...

I've already given my two cents on Wammy's, the long and short of it being that it's a toxic and terrible idea that is not for the good of the children, the world, or anybody.

So... honestly, yeah, Watari's clearly really attached to this idea of the world's greatest anonymous detective to the point where he built this orphanage that destroys several children's lives while actively destroying L's life (as we have enough flashbacks to reveal that L started this when he was very young). Watari clearly does care for L, we do see signs of that, but it doesn't mean this isn't all very fucked up and that Watari--clearly is chasing a goal in this and feels this is a good turn of events.

The thing is it's not about training people to become competent detectives, even if they were adults rather than children, it's instead making these children compete so they can get a single title for a man who isn't even dead yet to ensure that this legacy of an anonymous super detective continues when... why? L can die, anyone can die, any name can die. Why not let the title of L die and let other detectives step up to fill in the gaps? Why not have the children pursue their own titles rather than L's? Why have them pursue L's title at all from a very young age when this probably won't be what they want to do with their lives when they're adults?

Why this obsession?

It's not a natural thing that Watari's set up, not in any way, and the amount of dedication involved (including personally as he's the living assistant twenty-four-seven to L) speaks to something a lot more than a bored genius.

I think Watari believes in L, the idea of L, more than L himself ever did.

As for L's thoughts on Watari (here his thoughts on Near and Mello), it's hard to say. He treats Watari like shit, but he treats everyone like shit, and we do see him have... a few moments with Watari and no more friction with the man than he does anyone else.

However, we do see things such as L more or less refusing to go along with the Wammy's scheme, despite Watari being very into it. L and Watari always interact in the roles of detective and assistant, we never see them break character despite knowing each other since L was a child. In fact, we see Watari... plying him with sweets twenty-four-seven which really begs the question of whether Watari has ever, in L's life, helped him adult in any capacity. Did you even fucking try, Watari? Or did you just feed this boy hostess snacks for twenty years?

We also see L have a much more... nuanced and passionate interaction with Light than he ever does Watari. It could be Watari's comfortable, the closest thing L has to a father, while Light is exciting and a brilliant murderer and the highlight of his career, and we do see L be even worse with the likes of Matsuda, the rest of the task force, Misa, even people he hires like Wedy, but it really does feel like L means it when he says Light is his only friend.

He clearly has an emotional attachment to Watari but... honestly, it doesn't feel like as much as he has to Light, which is a bad sign when Watari's been around since L was a child.

Basically, I land on "looks complicated, but Watari was a pretty shit father, and L doesn't seem to regard him as one". I don't think L resents him, he clearly enjoys his position and toys too much, but I do think L... thinks of him and treats him as "assistant and butler" and that's the box Watari gets to live in in L's brain.

[theemptyvoice]

This Sucks

This sucks.

Let’s get that name-drop out of the way right now. No coy little dance around it, or a big old wink, or a tired old actor looking for a paycheck looking directly into the audience’s soul as they say, “What are we, some sort of [REDACTED]?”

Can the people perpetually screwing up the DCU sue me for just saying Suicide Squad? Screw it. What is this, some sort of Suicide Squad? It’s a bad movie and a worse line and they should remember it, then go tongue Gunn’s butthole clean or whatever.

But that’s not really what this is about, though that can suck too. Despite popular belief (i.e. Donald Trump’s constant deflections back when we had to think about him every day and presumably still now, even now I don’t have to subject my eyes to his neon orange face), multiple things can suck and need fixing. Like the DCU and late-stage capitalism. My aching joints and climate change.

Like just about everything.

But you don’t need some anonymous stranger on the internet telling you the world sucks. You know that, or at least you should. If you don’t, why are you reading this Elon/Bezos/3rd- Culturally-Relevant-Rich-Person? I feel like this comment should be followed by a witty and biting remark about how terrible these people are, but what can I do that their constant need to flee from their mortality and the fact they don’t matter in any meaningful way hasn’t done already?

Run-on sentences, like running away from your problems (that problem just being one big one called the planet Earth).

I’m not bitter, we’re bitter. And angry, and disappointed, and all those other good dad-talk emotions. Hungry, I guess.

Segue. Not the scooter.

The world is having a bit of a… year, you might say. A few years. Riots, protests, climate chance, abortion, trans-rights, gay rights, book banning (isn’t it ironic Fahrenheit 451, THE book about banning & destroying books as a tool of fascism, is banned?), war, tensions rising, fusion energy (I mean, this one’s good), the rise of megacorporations (that’s the Amazon that’s still around), racists, antisemitism, pause for breath, re-commence panic attack, the growing junk field orbiting our planet (did you know about that one?), animals & insects going extinct… the list goes on.

Religious extremists. Sorry, just wanted to throw in that last one. Oh, and healthcare.

And here we are. I’m an asshole writing what probably is starting to sound suspiciously like a manifesto (Don’t worry, I’m not violent. I’m just a pretentious writer). You’re the asshole reading it. Or maybe you’re really nice, I don’t know.

It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Saying that’s probably a bit of an understatement, but that’s the gist. All these problems, no idea what to do, politicians sitting on their asses.

So few things seem to actually happen on a government level, so let’s start there. Politicians. Lazy, corrupt, but I’m being redundant. And unfair. They aren’t lazy.

Lazy people don’t fuck the lower class on a daily basis. Lazy people don’t pass horrible legislation to remove the free lube and condoms to make the fucking more comfortable. Lazy people don’t ship buses of refugees to a political rival’s house so they can try to fuck all the refugees at the same time to make do with time restraints.

Based on these points, you can see it’s not fair to call politicians lazy. Or stupid, for that matter. It’s actually a bit of a problem, because it makes it easy to underestimate them.

Oh, they’re incompetent. Oh, they don’t know what they’re doing.

The people who have a vested interest in money and the law-making ability to pass bills to create more money for themselves know exactly what they’re doing. When a bill gets pasted and you go, that’s dumb (and probably violates some basic principle of human rights), it’s not there because the senate, or the house, or whoever the heck is stupid. It’s because they know what they’re doing, they’re malicious and greedy enough to do it, and they genuinely do not care about you.

Let’s take abortion as an example. Show of hands, who believes Roe v. Wade was overturned on the principle of good Christian virtues or increasing individual state liberties?

Those of you who raised your hands, there’s not a kind way to say this. But there’s a less mean way, and I’ll try that. You’re not stupid for thinking that. You’re not stupid for hoping for and believing in a better version of humanity, and more specifically a better version of the people in power. But you are wrong. I wish you weren’t, in some ways.

Thought exercise: who does it affect the most?

If you said women, that is correct, but it’s not the whole story. Say, for instance, a woman in a state that has vilified (and more legally important, outlawed) abortions wants one. Well, that doesn’t really stop her, does it? She could just drive to a nearby state that allows it… and seriously, let’s not get into the Texas nonsense. Let’s keep it simple for the example.

Easy as pie, right?

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. A for effort.

There are so many reasons why that isn’t possible for a lot of people. Who are the people it isn’t possible for? Who can’t afford to take that time off work or to travel to another state?

And let me beat you off at the pass—I mean cut you off—poverty isn’t a choice. If it was, we’d all be rich.

Like, say, the rich people who made it so that ruling was overturned. The rich people who can afford to circumvent the shitshow they created without repercussion. Those who definitely do not believe in God ™, or practice God’s Virtues ™.

For them, religion is a tool. Believers are pre-primed to trust them and rally to their cause should they say the right few buzzwords and maybe say Hallelujah once or twice.

And because I don’t think religion should be free from criticism, here’s some shade to be thrown your way. Maybe don’t base your whole personality around a couple thousand-year-old book. Or if you must, temper it with the knowledge that it was translated by people with an agenda that doesn’t necessarily agree with yours. Tell you this much, the reason why there was a long stretch of time where only priests were allowed to read the bible and interpret what was God’s Word ™ isn’t because they were the only special little boys ordained by the holy light of literacy.

For those who get upset when Christianity is maligned, easy now. If your religion can’t withstand this basic scrutiny and the playground-level insults I have the capacity for, it ain’t worth much.

Life ain’t worth much these days either. Why doesn’t that bother religious folk more? Stepping partially back on the abortion train, I don’t mean your lip service paid to the Holy Church of Soothing Your Ego. I mean the people here, and now, struggling beside you to survive in a world that has only grown more hostile as of recently.

Now more than ever we need to band together. None of these issues can be solved alone, but the good news is that they can be solved.

Lotta people would have you believe they can’t be. It’s a fun little trick called learned helplessness. In less psychological terms, it’s despair. You feed people a steady diet of horrible news via doomscroll, break up the monotony with entertainment, then slowly watch as their desire to change the world for the better evaporates like your chances with that celebrity you have a parasocial relationship with.

Weaponized helplessness. For those who haven’t learned to be helpless, riot gear will work. Suppress the peaceful protests with violence and let the violent rioters right on in.

It boggles my mind sometimes why those in power aren’t more afraid of that. Just sitting there, terrified of the day the filthy masses below (their words, not mine) realize that society’s all in their heads. Maybe they are terrified of that. Maybe that’s why they crackdown so hard, work day and night to suppress and oppress and defeat. Maybe that’s why a lot of them want to flee to space (spacespacespacespacespace), even though the technology’s not up to snuff yet.

Maybe they are terrified. I hope they are, that thought makes me a little happier.

In this meaningless world, I’ll take it. A little spark of joy keeps you warm for longer than you’d think, ‘specially when it comes at the expense of those screwing you over.

Voice signing out, or whatever. Callsign. Catchphrase.

[bisexualalienblast]

Okay yes!!! To your commentary on Michael!!! Through the seasons we’ve seen Max, Isobel, Alex, and Maria all make comments about Michael not caring about anyone, being a screw up, having no drive or motivation, throwing his life away, etc., but there’s never been any proof of that in the show! Everything we’ve ever learned about Michael is how much he has given up for the people he loves, and how much he shows up for them, and how much trauma he has experienced in his life.

With Maria and Alex I think it’s totally understandable that they make those comments because they don’t know the full story. To them, he threw away his brilliance and works at a junkyard for no reason, but once they learned why he stayed and what the true stakes are they’ve stopped making them, mostly. But Max and Isobel… how they can say those things after Michael took the blame for killing the girls and then gave up his whole future to protect Isobel is truly mind boggling to me. It makes NO sense. Like I guess it’s just… blame the writers? But if they want us to believe that’s who Michael is, why have they gone the extra mile with the way they’ve written him to show he’s the opposite? It’s totally disconnected and weird and frustrating.

*inhuman screeching* yes, this. And I’m about to word vomit so here we go.

Alex’s line in season 2 about “oh liz said you were at the library. Is that a new dive bar?” REALLY bothered me for a long time, as did Maria’s “smells like a river” comment BUT exactly as you said — at those points they only knew a little bit of information and he does have a rough exterior (hello defense mechanism!!!) so I get it. We moved past that and I think they BOTH saw his redeeming characteristics (“I don’t doubt your capacity for love” is still just *chefs kiss*) — which is why Maria’s line this season about him sitting on a barstool is so OOC? She LITERALLY said last season she can see how much he loves and how deeply he loves but all of a sudden now he doesnt care about others? That’s a wild transformation that’s just bad writing tbh. I know we said “throw the whole season 2 out” but goddamn. You’re so right — it’s disconnected.

Max and Isobel’s characterization (mostly Max I think only because I can’t off the top of my head think of an Isobel line, but I’m sure there’s plenty) of Michael makes the least amount of sense. They KNOW he grew up in abusive households (the exorcism for gods sake!!!) and maybe he never told them about Jesse at the time and for years after but come ON — clearly something was going on and coincidentally Michael’s personality changes right when he and Alex have a thing AND he has a horrible injury? Let’s use those alien brains!!!

And when have we actually seen Michael do the things they keep saying? Never. Because here’s what we’ve seen of Michael: 1) he helped cover up the murder of the dude who attacked Isobel 2) he helped cover for Isobel after Rosa (not saying it was the right thing, not by a long shot, but look what he did for his sister as fucking misguided as it was) 3) he LITERALLY told Alex that his history of abusive foster homes was fine because Max and Isobel were safe and that’s what mattered 4) he has helped Liz how many times to save Max? To his own detriment mind you 5) almost got himself killed in Caulfield to save aliens 7) his “spiral” last season meant that he beat the shit out of a racist?? Ok wheres the actual issue 6) the whole helping Kyle storyline this season — the list goes on and on and on.

Michael Guerin is a good person with a shit past who does literally everything in his power to help the people he loves. We have seen ZERO evidence that he’s some fuck up drunk who doesn’t give two fucks about other people. Ever. If they wanted us to believe that about Michael then they have done an absolute shit job at that characterization — I would argue (very intensely) that Michael loves deeper than anyone on this show. And the real tragedy is his wasted potential — potential that was taken away from him by other, actually terrible people. He doesn’t need to be “less Michael-like” because he’s a good fucking person. Full stop, end of.

[butwhatifidothis]

In the analysis of CaptainFlash's fic, a common theme of the notes is "this is not how Edelgard is", as in the claim is that she is being mischaracterized. But for how much the claim gets thrown, there's little in the way of "this is how she SHOULD be written". And so a question I have is - for fanfic writers, how do you think Edelgard SHOULD be written in order to be true to canon? Assume both from a perspective of BL/GD fic and a BE fic.

Well, I believe that I have put in guidelines at the very least lol, but I get where you're comin' from.

Edelgard is bold, fearless, arrogant, self-serving. She is detached from others for the most part, she does not like being challenged (and not just because the other person is oh so wrong and it just annoys her because how could they be so wrong - no, when her flaws are pointed out to her she does not listen to what the other person says). She allows those in her care to be hurt - sometimes mortally - to get what she wants, and almost always without any guilt or regret. She thinks she's the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most correct. She uses people, lends out her men like tools. Violence is the first option, and peaceful surrender something she will never consider when asked to do so. She looks down on those who oppose her, no matter how they do so, whether they stand their ground and fight to the end or if they try to surrender - that they've fought against her at all is worthy of derision in Edelgard's eyes. She's racist towards the Nabateans and will always kill them. She looks down on religion and those who believe in it. She's deceptive and manipulative. She's selfish and power-hungry. She has no self-awareness, saying things that are factually incorrect without knowing that they're incorrect often, accuses others of doing the morally reprehensible actions that she performs often.

Those above traits ought to always be incorporated into her character no matter what the route - at the minimum, these are the traits an author must work of off from a ground level in the beginning of their fic, because these traits are always present in Edelgard. Of course there are nicer traits - she's a romantic, she's secretly childish (and not in the strictly derisive way either, but that she likes sweets and teddy bears and is embarrassed about it), on the rare occasion she'll try to accommodate for someone (Bernadetta... when she's not setting her on fire that is), she very obviously cares a good deal about family (again, I don't really count Dimitri here for her since she forgot him and even then didn't know they were step-siblings). Edelgard isn't literally, actually, 100% No GMO's evil evil, she has her traits that can make her likeable, but there's a very big reason why she's not just an antagonist, but a villain.

If an author genuinely wants to make Edelgard grow out of a villainous status and be a genuinely good person, they must work through the numerous flaws she has. Her moral bankruptcy, her selfishness, her hunger for power, etc. etc., these must be actually addressed in order for her to have even a chance at being better.

Like, take Flayn's kidnapping for example. In canon, we know that Edelgard willingly hands over the Death Knight to Thales with quite literally no fear in her at all, and we know she must have had, at the very least, some clue as to what the guy was using the Death Knight for (since she teleports to directly where Flayn and the Death Knight are, and will even take them both away if over 25 turns have passed). There are a couple ways to go about this scene in a fic trying to make Edelgard a better person: either 1) have sufficient build-up of Edelgard's very gradually growing morals, have her commit the crime anyway, and then feel a twinge of guilt that steadily grows larger as she grows as a character, or 2) have her commit this crime with little to no guilt at the current state of her character arc, keep building her character until she gains more self-awareness over what all she's doing, and then have her feel guilt. These possibilities (and likely more that I can’t think of at the moment) keep her flaws intact while still allowing her some room for growth; the flaws are acknowledged, and so they can be properly grown out of.

But look at Cap'n's version of events. Remember, in canon, Edelgard was directly involved with the kidnapping. Cap'n, however, not only has it to where Edelgard was forced to hand over the Death Knight, not only was she terrified of Thales while doing so, but she had no idea that Flayn was being kidnapped. It ignores all of her flaws and places her into a status of helpless victimhood, and places her on a higher moral ground than Thales when in reality, in that moment, she is just as bad as him. Her flaws can't be grown out of because they've been erased. This is a prime case of canon!Edelgard being swapped out for Woobiegard - we aren't seeing Edelgard feel guilt for allowing Flayn to be kidnapped, we're seeing Woobiegard feel guilt. Woobiegard doesn't have these flaws that Edelgard has, so she doesn't have to have them acknowledged - which, I don't think needs to be said, is terrible from a fanfiction writing standpoint.

Edelgard has been morphed and twisted so much as to not even really resemble her canon iteration much at all. Woobiegard isn't bold, she isn't arrogant, she isn't morally bankrupt - or at least, isn’t intentionally these flaws, or other flaws - she lacks so many of the deep, troubling flaws of Edelgard because, frankly, they make her too mean and Cap'n very clearly doesn't like that. But, in erasing those flaws in her, instead of writing a fic where Edelgard grows as a person due to the positive influence of Byleth (and, through Byleth, the Black Eagles), he’s writing a fic where Woobiegard feels oh so much guilt for things she just shouldn’t feel guilty for because the poor little darling didn’t have any way of stopping anything. 

Edelgard is a conqueror, as said by her creators themselves. She mows down anyone who stands against her convictions and ideals, even if she knows them personally. This is true for all routes, even and especially CF (as it is known as the Military Rule route), and so this must be kept in mind when writing Edelgard whenever someone tries to write her base character as someone better than she is in canon. What Cap’n is doing is basically writing an OOC crack-fic, except he’s doing so unintentionally. He flat out removes every single flaw Edelgard canonically has, pretends as though he didn’t do that, and then flaunts how much Woobiegard has “grown” thanks to Byleth. But, again, since Cap’n doesn’t want to write Edelgard’s flaws he’s never really written Edelgard. It’s the same idea as keeping Claude never fully trusting his friends in mind when writing him - this is a large part of his character, and leaving that out means leaving out a significant portion of who he is as a character. That has to be acknowledged before having him grow out of it, or else you haven’t really written Claude, as that is a huge part of who he is.

So I guess a TL;DR version of this answer is that to properly write Edelgard, one has to keep in mind her flaws and have her actually act them out before having her grow out of them. It’s just that for Edelgard, because of who she is, it would take a lot of time and effort for the fic to realistically have her grow out of all of these flaws (or at minimum grow out of the more severe ones). That stays whether from a BL/GD perspective or from a BE one. Hope that answers the question!

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Old (2021)

Oh you guys. You guyyyyyys. Buckle the fuck up, I am so pumped to tell you about this absolutely GONZO mummified deuce of a movie. Spoilers will be had in this one, because you need to know everything. 

Old is the latest from M. Night Shyamalan and like....I think we all know M. Night’s track record. For every Sixth Sense, we also get a Happening or a Village. In some ways, he’s the most exciting director working today because every new film is a 50/50 coin toss, and mama loves living on the edge. The gist of this latest roll of the dice is that a group of different families who have all come to stay at a remote luxury beach resort get invited to go to a secluded private beach for the day, and after they arrive they discover they can’t leave. That’s not great, but the bigger problem is that they seem to be aging rapidly - like 2 years older every hour or so. That’s a solid “how are we gonna get outta this one” bottle episode premise, and in the hands of a better writer, it could be a fun sci-fi romp. M. is NOT that writer. 

Some thoughts:

I should have known it would all go wrong from the terrible foreshadowing starting at the very beginning scene. The mom of our main family, Prisca (Vicky Krieps) says “You have such a beautiful voice, I can’t wait to hear it when you’re older.” The dad, Guy (Gael Garcia Bernal) says, “Don’t rush this moment, enjoy the present while you can.” BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS WON’T BE ABLE TO LATER, DO YOU GET IT? dO yOU GEt iT? Wife leaned over and said “look at all the ferns - the oldest plants!” That last one was probably her projecting, but the point stands: there is nothing subtle about Old. 

There’s a lot of just like, shouting out loud the things that are currently happening onscreen. “She’s having a seizure!” “People who go back the way we came black out!” “The rust has entered your bloodstream; it acts like poison!” That’s how you tell stories, right? Just having characters point out events that are occurring right in front of their stupid fucking faces with no other commentary or reflection? 

An additional element that feels woefully ignorant at best and malicious at worst is the inclusion of a black male character (Aaron Pierre) who 1) is a rapper 2) is named Mid-Sized Sedan [I’ll give you a moment to deal with that detail emotionally] 3) says the single line of dialogue “Damn.” at least 4 times and 4) suffers the bloodiest, most violent onscreen death at the hands of a racist white man who is revealed to have paranoid schizophrenia. There are other gruesome deaths onscreen, to be sure, but the worst are body horror nightmares that could never occur in the real world - a woman whose bones are breaking and setting in the wrong position nearly instantaneously until she resembles a horrifying spider creature, and the aforementioned rust-in-the-bloodstream trick that leads to a Jeff-Goldblum-in-The Fly-bubbling-skin infection kinda deal. But Mid-Sized Sedan just gets stabbed in the chest repeatedly, brutally, a bunch of times by a white guy who pleads fear for his life even though MSS posed no danger to him, and it all happens onscreen when so many other characters are offered the mercy of offscreen deaths. I’m not sure if M. is trying to throw some real-world horror in and he’s just shit at it, or if it really didn’t occur to him how malicious this inclusion feels in a fantasy narrative, and I don’t really care. If you have a black character in your story and they die, you better think really long and hard about how it happens and what it means and it’s clear no one did that here.

Nothing to do with the film itself, but it did tickle me that someone brought a tiny infant to my pretty packed screening. The baby was very chill, thank goodness, and as far as I know did not age up to a kindergartner during the course of the film.

There is a Very Good Dog, a Yorkie, present for the first part of the film, but unfortunately the dog dies. It occurs offscreen, and given the premise of what’s going on on this beach, it’s not a shock when it happens BUT STILL. 

The old age makeup, at least on Prisca is pretty great. Good job makeup department!

At one point, Guy gets attacked by another beachgoer, and his eyesight is failing so he has a hard time fighting back. But you are surrounded by sand, my dude, and you can still see blurry shapes. You’re not gonna throw some sand in the eyes until you’ve been stabbed like 10 times? Not gonna try to push him down, or sweep the fucking leg, or do anything but just keep raising your arms and getting stabbed while yelling “I’ll protect you!” I’ve seen stale tuna sandwiches with better defense mechanisms than you. 

Like most fantastical premises, there are only a certain number of ways this narrative can end that really make any sense. It reminds me quite a bit of 2019’s Brightburn which was like “what if Superman but evil?” Either everyone is gonna die, or someone is going to improbably survive and you better have a real neat explanation for how that’s possible. Oh M. Night, when will you realize that your explanations are never as clever as you think they are? There’s no “twist” here really, simply a reveal, and it’s the equivalent of eating one of those sugar-free, gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free snack cakes I broke down and ate out of desperation when I was on Weight Watchers. That shit is ��food” in the same way that the climax is a “logical explanation for all this.” Big Pharma is luring sick people to the resort through targeted ads, then arranging these excursions to the wacky time beach in order to test how medicine they secretly slipped into the guests’ drinks works over decades of life. These sneaky medical breakthroughs are saving hundreds of thousands of people’s lives, we’re told, and the scientists offer a moment of silence for each fallen group of unwitting human lab rats after they inevitably die. Because if there’s one thing the world needs right now, it’s more distrust of pharmaceutical companies and the ethics of modern science! I can’t think of one possible reason we’d want to portray molecular biologists, immunologists, and virologists in a positive light right now, can you? When will those assholes get off their high horses and stop being universally trusted and beloved by everyone, am I right?? 

My saddest takeaway, tbh, is that this is a stacked international cast, with at least half the roles going to POC - this is the future liberals want, etc etc - and the result is THIS.

Did I Cry? Of course not.

Not all is terrible! It’s a beautiful movie to look at, because M. Night’s direction is never the problem, but combined with the script, the acting, and the absurd narrative leaps needed to make this story make even a little bit of sense, the whole thing turns into a mess. Unfortunately, getting Old with M. Night is less “leisurely retirement at a plush resort in Florida” and more “rancid can of Ensure and a poop-choked pair of Depends.”

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Jaune’s Father: “If nothing else, be kind. Kindness costs you nothing, sport”

Weiss: *From underneath many blankets, peeking from behind a comforter* I’m truly sorry, Arc. I had meant to assist you in your dust theory paper, but I’m not feeling terribly well.

Jaune: *Scratches head* Hey, no worries Sn- Weiss. Do you need anything? A hot compress?

Weiss: *Is glad she has a comforter for a shield as she blushes in embarrassment* How! *Coughs, in a normal tone of voice* Excuse me. How did you...

Jaune: I have seven sisters, Weiss.

Weiss: *Nods meekly, still embarrassed* A hot compress would be lovely. I feel awful.

----------------- 

Yang: *Blinks* Is that vomit boy?

Blake: *Reading* You could try calling him by his name.

Yang: You could try acknowledging his existence. *Blake glares, feeling a little guilty*

Cardin: *Walking by* He needed a warm compress.

Yang: What for?

Cardin: *Feeling kinda humbled, a bit envious* Nothin’ serious.

----------------- 

Jaune: *Taking box* Thanks Coco, you’re a lot less scary than Poppy said you were.

Coco: *Lowers her shades* Oh, did snookums slander my good name?

Jaune: *Feels his neck get hot* U-uh, no! Just that you were kinda protective of, um, *lifts box, almost drops it and gives Coco a heart attack* this. Sorry. But really, thanks, it’s really nice of you.

Coco: *Clutching her heart, waves him off* Just tell that leggy blonde she owes me some serious cuddling.

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

Professor Peach: It’s not often I get students actually interested in my hobby.

Jaune: Well, we are all teenagers.

Professor Peach: *Laughs* True enough. Hmm. *Side eyes Jaune* Well, the same can’t be said for you, young man. *Sees Jaune about to protest* I think what you meant to say is you’re all aspiring Huntsmen and Huntresses. Sometimes the future is so bright and shiny to your classmates that they forgot the everyday. It’s quite nice to see that isn’t the case with each of you.

Jaune: *Opens and closes his mouth, shuffles awkwardly*

Professor Peach: *Smiles softly* You have nothing to be embarrassed of, Jaune Arc. Here *carefully hands his request over* exactly as you requested. Have a wonderful day, child.

Jaune: *Nods quickly and walks off*

Professor Peach: And days like today, Rosalie, are why you do this job. *Happily hums as she gets back to work*

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

Jaune: Okay, look, I’m just asking which--

Beryl: *Sighs dramatically* And I’m telling you, kitten *Ignores Jaune’s protests* that they’re all mondo good.

Julie: Like, Bea-Bea’s right. That one *pointing with a fuchsia nail* is just the sweetest thing in the world, will just have you feeling warm and happy inside after.

Cissy: Plus it has just...mmm. Ouch! *Is swatted by Beryl, playfully* You bitch. Anyways, that one right there is just cute and total *squeals* overload. Can’t go wrong with it, it’s a classic.

Beryl: Then that one is probably the safest bet, because who doesn’t love a puppy?

Jaune: A puppy? *Beryl nods* Well, uh, thanks. And I promise I’ll get them back to you by tomorrow. I’ll also see if Ren’s interested, but, uh, maybe keep your semblances ready?

Cissy: *Raises hand* Uh, I haven’t activated mine yet. I’ve just got Nemesis.

Beryl: *Slings arm around Cissy’s shoulders* Don’t worry, kitten, between My House and Julie’s Spit-Spot, plus our weapons we can handle Valkyrie if she gets in a mood.

Jaune: *Deadpan* She was benchpressing one of the academy’s washing machines the other day. No aura.

Julie: We’re good at running away.

Beryl: *Scandalized* Julie!

Julie: Cute boy or not, no way am I getting my face rocked by that monster.

Jaune: *Shrugs, collecting stuff to leave* Um, I don’t know if it’ll work but maybe fill your bags with syrup. Might work as a distraction if Mt. Nora erupts.

Beryl: *Flatly* Really?

Cissy: *Flips platinum blonde hair* I saw her drinking it right out of the bottle once before Lie stopped her.

Beryl: *Sees Jaune’s gone, giggles* Somehow I think kitten got the better end of the deal. *Speculative* Shame he’s super taken.

Julie: Uh, what? Isn’t-

Beryl: Oh you sweet summer child, never change *Ruffles Julie’s hair*

Julie: Ack! Stop!

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

Jaune: Thanks headmaster! This is all really great!

Ozpin: *Working at desk* No need to thank me, mister Arc.

Jaune: Uh, yeah I do. You didn’t have to allow me to do this, but you did and it’s really neat of you.

Ozpin: *Smiles* Well then, you’re welcome. Enjoy.

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

Ruby: You definitely came to the right girl!

Jaune: *Looking at his haul* I’ll say. You’re sure you’re okay with helping? I kinda saw the looks you were giving Crescent Rose back at the forge. *Teasingly* You sure you don’t want some alone time with your baby?

Ruby: *Blushes the color of her cloak* S-shut up! She’ll be fine without me, I was just thinking of trying out some custom dust ammo is all! *Very seriously* I don’t have a problem! You have a problem!

Jaune: Riii-iiight. *Ruby puffs cheeks out, teasingly* Like you don’t have a cookie problem?

Ruby: *Points dramatically, very loud* THAT... *Slumps and sighs* please don’t tell Yang I have a nightly plate of chocolate chip.

Jaune: *Laughs* No problem, Ruby. You know me. How can I turn my back on the girl who actually talked her team into not killing me when I told them I cheated my way into Beacon?

Ruby: Yeah, yeah. So get those babies ready, vomit boy and watch Ruby - I am totally a pro at this and all things wonderful - Rose do her magic!

Jaune: Will do, crater face!

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

Jaune: *Grins* Thanks Cardin. You know, when you’re not being all racist and pushing people around you’re actually a really nice guy.

Sky: Ooooh. What a compliment. The kindness just gently caresses your face like a butterfly’s wings, huh Cardin?

Cardin: *Scowling* Shut it, Sky. I’m still trying so that’s totally fair.

Jaune: I, uh, didn’t mean it--

Cardin: *Rubbing neck* I know dude, no worries. Got a date with my girl coming up and it’s our anniversary, so it’s just a little extra. And don’t worry about paying me back, this is like the very least I can do for you after everything. *Jaune’s about to protest* Nope. I know we’re cool, but I was a huge douchebag. I mean it.

Jaune: Well thanks. It means a lot. *Leaves*

Russel: *Reading motorcycle magazine* You don’t have a girl, bro.

Cardin: *Frowns* I know.

Dove: You know you don’t have to help him out like that. You’re only hurting yourself.

Cardin: *Wipes face with hands, flops on his bed and stares at the ceiling* Yeah, well, too bad for Cardin fucking Winchester. If Jaune’s happy, I’m happy. I wasn’t joking when I said he deserves better than me. *Rolls on side to stare at wall.*

RDL: *All staring at their leader, all of them sad*

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

Jaune: *Cheerfully* I’m back!

Weiss: *Very grumpily glaring at Jaune from beneath her covers, only her eyes visible, her voice is acidic* It’s quite fine, Arc. It’s only been two and a half hours. I know you have better things to do, so don’t bother acting like you were looking forward to coming back to deal with me.

Jaune: *Winces* Yeah, sorry. I was getting the hot towel when I kinda realized that you’ve probably been dealing with this all by yourself. *Weiss growls* It’s just, I remembered how you said you and your Dad don’t really talk and your little brother’s a, a snot, I think you called him? *Weiss feels embarrassed, but says nothing while staring at Jaune* Just hold on.

*Weiss does but when he comes back in the room her eyes go wide in shock*

Jaune: I-I just have a lot of sisters. Four older, three younger and they all have different things they like when they’re on their period. Saphron’s just happy if I’ll bring her things and Coral just wants me to leave her alone. Peri always wants cuddles and movies and *blushes as he realizes how much he’s talking* I just thought instead of whatever you usually do, you might want something more? Just to try something new?

Weiss: *Stares at several hot compresses, an expensive looking box of chocolates, a small boquet of blue Glory of the Snow’s, a stack of films, several unhealthy but delicious looking snacks and a stuffed polar bear with a top hat*

Weiss: *Wide eyed, completely taken aback* W-what?

Jaune: I-I-I don’t mean to assume anything, but I’m guessing you didn’t really have anyone who tried to make your period any better?

Weiss: I have a butler, Klein, who would always check in on me but never, well I never thought to ask for more. *Very softly as she stares at the rolling entourage of goodies* It never occurred.

Jaune: Okay, well, um, how about I bring this in?

*Jaune does, Weiss watching as he sets the flowers near her bed with wide eyes and gratefully accepting the compress, bringing it under her comforter and sighing in relief*

Jaune: We’ll have to set it up on your scroll, but I did bring movies to just so you have something fun to do today. There’s a family film with an apparently super cute actor, another that’s a cute animated movie that’s a staple of everybody’s childhood except mine apparently, *Weiss snorts, watching the covers* and one about a puppy finding his way home--

Weiss: *Eyes glued to the case, speaks immediately* That one.

Jaune: You sure, I checked the fam--

Weiss: *Eyes not leaving the box* I’m certain. *Flushes* Please?

Jaune: Sure. Just let me set this up.

*Jaune also hands over the chocolates, which Weiss stares at curiously and much to her delight, brings over the bags of snacks and she clutches the bag of cheesy poofs to her, very much wanting to try them for the first time*

Jaune: Okay, that should do it. So you’ve got your Cheez-E-Poofs, I grabbed a few sodas, juices that I thought you might like *quickly* but I also got water! Um, here. *Hands Weiss the stuffed animal, which she stares at and brings close to her face, loving how cute it is and how soft it is* Oh, Ruby helped me dip some strawberry’s in chocolate if you wanna try them later. There’s normal ones too.

Weiss: *Touched and doesn’t know what to say* I-it’s all so...umm, thank you. You really didn’t have to.

Jaune: *Scratches the back of his head, looks away* No problem, Weiss. I’m used to stuff like this, so...I’ll go. *Looking very embarassed* You’ve probably had enough of me talking you to death, so I’m just gonna go across the hall--

Weiss: *From behind her bear* Stay. *Jaune stares at her, blinking in surprise* You were going to offer, but you...back home the most I ever got were the occasional visits from Klein. But having someone to be there sounds very nice and I’d like if you would. Very much. I certainly won’t eat all of this anyways, so...please?

Jaune: *Nodding rapidly* Sure. Right. Yeah, I just didn’t wanna assume or impose or *watches Weiss’ eyes light up at the cheesy snack she just tried* I’ll sit.

*Jaune sits next to Weiss’ bed and they watch the film, eat snacks and after the movie, Weiss tries the strawberries as the second film starts. When she wakes up after falling asleep, she discovers the mess she’d made of the comforter is cleaned, Jaune had gathered up her snacks and placed them in a box. Her flowers now have a vase and the bear she had placed on his shoulder is on her pillow*

Weiss: *Smiles and hugs bear tightly*

~~A week later~~

Weiss: *Exasperated* Where is he?

Yang: *Balancing a pencil on her nose on her bed, ignoring her homework* Who?

Weiss: *Notices Berry B. Cold on Yang’s stomach and shoots forward like a bullet, snatching him and hugging him to her abdomen* You know who you bum, Jaune!

Yang: *Grinning like the cat who ate the canary* Oh-ho, finally acknowledging him by his first name after all this time, Weiss Cream?

Weiss: *Blushing* Quiet you.

Ruby: Leave her alone, Yang. But, uh, I don’t really know where he is.

Weiss: Nonsense. I may have missed the chance to help him with his paper but at the very least I can at least explain some of the theory to him, give him better than what Beacon’s textbooks offer.

Yang: Oh yeah, sure, sounds fun.

Weiss: *Bristling* E-even if it’s a boring subject, it is useful. *Hugs bear tighter* And he needs all the help he can get and--

Blake: *Walking in* If you’re talking about Jaune, he’s way too busy Weiss.

Weiss: I beg your pardon?

Yang: Yeah, you didn’t know?

Weiss: *Irritated* No Yang, it’s why I asked you in the first place.

Yang: *Flatly* Oh. I thought you were joking. No, I mean it, don’t look at me like that! Seriously, vomit boy’s been busy the last couple days.

Weiss: *Confused* But why?

Yang: *Staring* Seriously? I mean, he got that whole thing together for you.

Weiss: M-me!? Is that...but he said he was used to it! I-I knew he was talking about his sisters, but he said Ruby helped! H-he...

Ruby: Yup, I did, but I didn’t know Jaune was making them so you could have a nice, comfy that-time-of-the-month. I thought he just wanted a strawberry snack! That he’d finally been enlightened. *Sighs*

Yang: And that whole spread wasn’t just free, he went around and traded a lot of favors to get it together.

Weiss: *Gaping* H-he...what? He traded favors, just... *Uncertain, squeezing her bear while looking distressed* You didn’t know? He hasn’t done that with any of you?

Ruby: Nope!

Blake: Gods no.

Yang: Dad’s sweet like that for me when it’s bad-bad, but if Jaune offered I’d definitely turn him down. *Gives Weiss a look*

Ruby: Yeah, and all I need is my Non-Descript Winter Holiday lights and my guns ‘n ammo mags plus my scroll and I’m happy. *Shrugs* I get really crabby so I prefer being alone.

RWY: *Staring at Blake*

Blake: My ex did it for me once. Never again.

Weiss: S-so he did all that, just for me? Because I was miserable?

Yang: *Sighs, flops back on her bed* I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Ask his team. Jaune’s actually a pretty nice guy. He aimed Neptune in your direction back at the dance even though anybody with eyes knew he was kinda bummed the whole night. After you started talking with him after and started sharing, I think he just wanted you to have, y’know, some normal stuff that we all enjoy because our Dad’s aren’t asshats.

Ruby: Yang!

Blake: *Sees Weiss looking at her, looking upset* He’s been Coco’s personal shopper for the last week, he’s been dodging Nora since Ren agreed to a date with each of those girls from Team SNLT because she is pissed, he’s been doing odd jobs for Ozpin all week, he’s been doing a lot of work outside for Peach and I think he’s also been in the laundry rooms a lot. That stuff wasn’t just free. Plus he’s had to do all his usual leader stuff and his homework.

Weiss: *Gapes, hugs her bear and her eyes drift to her box of treats and she purses her lips* B-but...that’s so much, just so I...

Yang: Um, he likes you Weiss. Even if he stepped aside for Neptune, he’s not gonna just poof whatever he feels for you away just because he doesn’t have a chance. Then he sees you feeling like shit, knows just how bad it is because of all his sisters and gets it in his head that you deserve the princess treatment. *Stretches* He offered for Pyrrha once but she just went really red, yelled ‘NO!’ and apparently pushed him through a wall.

Weiss: *Sits on bed with her knees pulled up, hugging her bear while hiding a wobbling lip as she realizes and RBY just sighs*

~~Four days later~~

Yang: *Grins* Called it.

Blake: Yes, because it was such a mystery that this was gonna happen after Weiss had it spelled out for her that Jaune still has it bad for her even if he was trying to get over her. I’ll admit I still don’t understand the way Weiss thinks or why Jaune would put himself through all of that just because Weiss was having a bad period when it was clear at the time she wasn’t even thinking of him that way, but c’mon Yang.

Yang: *Hand out*

Blake: *Rolls her eyes, puts Lien in her hand* Child.

*Meanwhile Weiss stands on her tiptoes, arms around Jaune’s neck and enjoys kissing her boyfriend*

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

Two things: One, I headcanon Cardin as gay and occasionally having a thing for Jaune if it isn’t entirely obvious. Two, I don’t want my Tumblr to be nothing but crack/lewd. I’d also like some occasional romance/wholesome content. This isn’t the best, but hopefully it’s not quite as bad as I think it is towards the end.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

[jackson--t]

The silver tooth

This is a very small 'spinn off' from my story 'hasta mañana' on AO3. Where Heahmund has fun dragging the handcuffed Ivar in a restaurant and Ivar tells Heahmund the story about his silver tooth. Happened some hours after the arrest. Might post this on AO3 aswell.

Words: ~ 2200.

Pairing: Ivar x Heahmund.

Ivar stared at Heahmund, the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly. Heahmund could see that the boy had briefly let his bright eyes slide down to the handcuffs that Heahmund had tightened under the table to keep at least one of the Mexican brat's hands fixed; it was only when the bright eyes turned sullenly and extremely angrily on Heahmund's face again that Heahmund raised his eyebrows.

"This is humiliating." Ivar snarled, but Heahmund only snorted.

"How is it more humiliating than being chained in a car, huh?" Heahmund replied; he waved to a waitress who nodded slightly at him while Ivar clicked his tongue lightly.

"Is this some American way of taking your prisoners out to dinner? What kind of shit is that?" the boy hissed venomously.

Heahmund smiled broadly. "We've been driving across the desert for several hours, and the turf where your Mexican ass belongs is just a little far away. And since you scum can't be left alone in the car - later someone will think you're a whimpering dog that has to be freed because I would have left the air conditioning off - you'll just have to eat with me. I think I'm even nice. They wouldn't even let something like you knock on the glass door."

Ivar bit his lower lip so hard that the skin turned slightly white where his incisors sank in lightly. Anger, Heahmund could see it exactly, and he loved it. They had had a long trip since Heahmund had arrested the drug lord's son - but as it was in the foothills of the Mexican desert, the nearest police station was not just around the corner.

Heahmund had known that people had reacted terribly shocked to his and Ivar's arrival - but he couldn't see himself sitting in a car with that bastard for 24 hours without eating or drinking anything. Especially since the tormentor put his damn feet down on his dashboard every two hours, the crappy white sneakers that Heahmund already hated on principle. The fact that they hurled racist expletives at each other every 20 minutes added to it. Until Heahmund had discovered this dinky little diner on the outskirts of a small desert town and had decided to make Ivar look really stupid for his own amusement and encouragement.

He knew that people knew who Ivar was. They knew rumors, like ghosts, spoken in whispers behind street corners. And even though Heahmund, as an annoyed cop, smelled treachery behind every Mexican face, he had still decided to make this stage out of sheer amusement. And he loved Ivar's hate-distorted face, the rapidly creeping blush on his cheeks as people kept staring at him. Almost like a lion in the zoo.

"I'm not hungry." Ivar growled; his lip had by now released, but his eyes were still narrowed in anger.

"Then don't eat. I honestly don't give a shit if you have something in your stomach. You're half a shirt anyway.", Heahmund replied amusedly, ordering something to drink and eat. Fortunately, the waitress spoke English; he would never have had the nerve to ask that damn bastard for a translation. And even though the waitress turned to Ivar with slightly red cheeks and asked him in a shaky voice in Spanish what he wanted to eat, Ivar didn't look away from Heahmund's face; hate, so much hate. Heahmund's limbs were tingling. The tension between them had increased since the car ride.

"Sólo agua. Eso es todo.", Ivar muttered hoarsely; the waitress nodded and disappeared. Heahmund watched her go, interrupted only by the slight snort that came between him and Ivar. The boy jutted his chin slightly.

"Do you seriously think women like her go for cops?" he said; Heahmund raised his eyebrows. He'd had a hard time getting used to Ivar's hard Spanish accent, even if it did sound exciting in some way. Like everything else in this country. But Ivar was something very special. Something very special bad that Heahmund had been working towards for years. Capturing the son of the Ragnar Lothbrok, the ghost of Mexico, was a brilliant job. He just had to drive this little bastard safely to the precinct, that was all.

"All women like cops."

"They don't."

"They sure do."

"Tss, as if! Especially on you foreigner. Women don't like traitors."

"Women don't like criminals."

Ivar leaned back slightly in the seat; his bright eyes slid over Heahmund's face, then he gave a light snort of laughter.

"Besides, I don't think you’re into women," Ivar said, and Heahmund fixed the stare of his eyes on him. The young Mexican raised his eyebrows slightly, and Heahmund snorted.

"What did you just say?"

"I said you don't like women. You're looking at me like-" Ivar interrupted; the waitress brought the drinks. And just as she was about to set the glass of water down in front of Ivar, Heahmund lightly bumped the tray with a movement, and the glass of water fell. The waitress apologized, while Ivar pressed the back of his head against the padded bench and stared angrily at Heahmund.

"Oops. My mistake. Well, the good water for the poor boy!  Get another glass, will you?" Heahmund said with a smile, and the waitress nodded after removing the grossest dirt. Ivar's eyes literally glowed as Heahmund looked at him again.

"You're an asshole."

"And you’re scum. A chilled drink like that does a world of good," Heahmund retorted; he took a big gulp from his glass of cool iced tea and tried his best to cover a wide grin in his mouth as he saw Ivar's eyes narrow.

"I hope someone shoots you soon," he said.

"You can wish for that when you're in jail, Goldy."

"Why you fucking cop call me Goldy?"

"Because of your skin."

Ivar's mouth dropped open, then shut again; his eyes swept once down Heahmund's body, and he nodded deprecatingly at the cop.

"Racist."

"With you and your family gladly."

"Oh, that was clear. I swear you're going to regret this," Ivar growled. He didn't move away when the waitress placed a new glass of water in front of him while Heahmund got a plate of food. Heahmund immediately started eating, and he noticed after a while that Ivar was looking slightly out the window. The boy did everything but look in Heahmund's direction, and chewed lightly on his lower lip.

Heahmund knew he was hungry. Since the arrest, which had been half a day ago, the boy had eaten nothing and drunk very little. The water glass was half empty, and there was a reflection of the slowly setting sun in the slightly milky glass. Heahmund stared at the glass for a while, then back at the food. He left a little left over, and after a while pushed the plate over to Ivar. "If you want, eat. You Mexicans don't throw anything away and make tacos out of everything."

Ivar's eyes rolled upward, and he snorted deeply. "Can we maybe do without your standard cop jokes about us for a change, huh? A little more civility? One could almost think you're a cop from the gutter.", Ivar snorted, and before Heahmund could take the plate away from him again, he pulled it over to him with his free hand. It wasn't much - but it was already too much by Heahmund's standard. This little rat didn't even deserve the water that was next to the plate.

Ivar ate hastily. And only when Heahmund paid the waitress and unchained Ivar from the bar under the table again, the bright eyes briefly turned to Heahmund, who took the extremely unruly boy hard by the handcuffs and led him away. It did not escape his notice that a deep shade of red was traveling down Ivar's cheeks, up to his cheekbones. He gripped tighter, even as he heard Ivar's slight snort accurately.

Heahmund chained the boy to the open window of the car door, with one arm, and with a soft exhale took a cigarette from his bulletproof vest a few feet away. It took him a while to find his lighter among the guns, pepper spray and other things, but then he lit the cigarette and took a big drag from it. Only after a while did he feel Ivar's burning gaze on him; he turned his eyes to the boy and nodded. Ivar had leaned back against the car door, his arm contorted so that he could stand reasonably well, before nodding to Heahmund as well.

"Can I bum one?" he asked, and Heahmund laughed lightly.

"Aren't you still too young for that? And more importantly, why should I?"

Ivar rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh; his bright eyes pointed at Heahmund's bulletproof vest. "Come on, I can't take another eight hours in that car with your fucking aftershave up my nose. Please."

"If you keep your sneakers off my dashboard, then yeah," Heahmund snorted; he fumbled again for the cigarettes and raised his eyebrows in annoyance.

"Sure."

He lit Ivar's cigarette. Because of the fact that they were a little closer due to the restricted movement, Heahmund could see the fine scar that stood out on Ivar's caramel-colored skin on his cheek; he also smelled it again, that damn sweet smell of copal and lavender. He wrinkled his nose slightly; something silvery flashed at him as Ivar took the first, deep drag from the cigarette and expelled it gleefully into the lukewarm air.

He had seen that silver tooth the first time he had arrested Ivar. With the roar the boy had put on, it had been hard to miss; besides, it was the tooth next to his first four incisors, quite conspicuous. Heahmund took another drag from the cigarette, then nodded over to Ivar, who eyed him the same way. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm light, which reflected perfectly like melted honey on Ivar's face.

"The tooth, that silver one." Heahmund said; he leaned against the car beside the boy, emitting a puff of smoke.

Ivar raised his eyebrows. "What about it?"

"Is that fashion? Or is that some...Mexican bullshit you guys like to do. Like your fucking tattoos."

Ivar snorted. "You have one on the back of your neck yourself, I've seen it. And no, it's not bullshit, fucking asshole." The boy shifted his position slightly; Heahmund knew that the handcuffs were actually a much tighter fit, because they left marks on Ivar's relatively thin wrist.

 "What is it then?"

Ivar was silent for a moment; he fixed his gaze on the setting sun, and again expelled a light haze of smoke.

"It's a gift. I was traveling in Mexico City once, must have been two years ago. A girl almost got hit by a truck she hadn't seen, and her parents were standing too far away. When I pulled her aside, I hit my head on a hard stone wall. My tooth fell out."

"Must have been a baby tooth." Heahmund said as two pairs of narrowed eyes locked onto him; Heahmund laughed lightly. "It's fine, sorry."

"Anyway," Ivar continued; "anyway, the little girl's parents were so grateful to me that they offered to correct it. The father was a dentist. It's white gold, it was worth more than the damn practice. He said actually he had wanted to save that silver tooth for a specific occasion in his own life. But he said his daughter's life was absolutely worth it. And I've had that tooth ever since. It always reminds me of what happened there."

Heahmund exhaled. For a moment, he didn't know what to say - which was extremely rare in his life. He had arrested Ivar to get to his father with him. He wanted to bust the whole family, this whole cartel - but he hadn't expected anything like this. And he wondered for a moment if he should even believe Ivar, because after all he was part of this corrupt and violent family. This merry-go-round of violence and drug dealing, of murders and illegal activities.

But when Heahmund turned his gaze to Ivar, who was still staring towards the sun, the back of his neck prickled slightly. He saw exactly the slight bulge under Ivar's skin at the mouth, the tender bulge, a clear indication that the boy was just running his tongue over the said silver tooth, obviously thinking back to that experience. So, scum could also do good.

Bright eyes locked on Heahmund, and the two looked at each other for a moment. The rays of the sun made Ivar's eyes seem almost silver, and Heahmund's throat went terribly dry for a moment. Pure silver, beautiful, wild silver. Forbidden silver.

"Once I see your dirty sneakers on the dashboard, I'll kick them out the window myself," he said darkly, and Ivar clicked his tongue.

"You would miss me, asshole."

"Tss. No more than you miss rats after they bite you."

"Charming, cop."

"Shut up, dirty little bastard, and you keep your mouth shut on the ride. I don't want to hear a word."

Ivar snorted slightly, and as Heahmund released his handcuffs from the door and almost roughly shoved the boy into the car, their eyes met again.

"Not a word, bastard."

"Pendejo, you fucking gringos are all the same."

That damn accent. Heahmund almost had to bite his fist as he walked to his side of the car to stop the tingling and fire in his veins. After all, he could never and would never allow someone like Ivar to get too close to him.

@youbloodymadgenius (ehm was it really everything written? 😂🙈)

[ladyhindsight]

I'm not sure if Jem is strictly related to Emma (I think Jem's father - who was white - had a sibling, and Emma's line starts there, so I don't think she's supposed to have Chinese genes), but it would have been so cool for the Carstairs to be an Asian family.

It was mentioned several times that Ascended mundanes take SH names, so potentially Clare could have entire families of color and still use her precious English names.

Or she could have written that Jem had a brother who passed on the Carstairs name, and all the heirs married Asian people, thus making the bloodline Asian.

There were so many options smh

It would have been so powerful to finally have two fully POC families (Rosales + Carstairs) in one series!

Or at the very least have Emma mention her Persian heritage.

Instead we got a Jace copy cat and a token religious latina to support her 🙄

Clare wouldn't be half as popular if she didn't play with nostalgia and used old characters to promote new series.

Yet she seems to believe that a mere name is enough to inspire affection.

She made Emma a Carstairs because the name would hit readers in the feels, but did not carry on the narrative of half POC Carstairs because it wouldn't be aesthetic enough and it would be too hard to write. Effort? What's that?

A Jace copy cat though? Much better right?

(It's something that I hated about Kit's storyline, too. Once people find out he's a Herondale, they start calling him Cristopher (even though he HATES it! that's not his name!) and expect him to give up his previous life for them. A mere name is enough for the SH to FORCE someone to join their ranks. Familial bonds? Never heard of them, but you have the right last name so you MUST be with us and readers MUST love you. It's particularly heinous in Kit's case because his father (idc about what Clare says, your family are the people who raise and love you, not the ones who fetishize your last name) was a Downworlder and lived in fear of the SH)

Clare is so attached to names she doesn't realize the narrative she creates around them are very toxic and racist.

And she uses them to manipulate readers and promote sales, without putting in any effort to create likeable, relatable characters.

Readers are beaten over the head with: You Must Love These Characters Because of Their Family Name.

She uses the names for the nostalgia factor but won't put in any actual effort for representation.

Yet people hail her as the queen of rep 🙄 (tbh it's like 99% white people who do that, because for them a character of color being in the story is omg so groundbreaking! consider yourselves lucky that she even writes these characters! who cares if the story is problematic!)

As someone who didn't pay much attention to family trees before, I was SO disappointed when I went from TID to TDA: from half Chinese Jem... to white, blond, golden eyed Emma.

The name was supposed to make me nostalgic and bond to the character immediately (because that's how shallow Clare is) when it actually made me angry lol

(You can probably tell by my anger that I'm Chinese myself 😂 this shit really hurt me, and my friends too)

Tbh I feel no connection between the TID and TLH characters, and the TMI and TDA characters. Even though they're supposed to be related and family is oh so important for Clare...

Cloning characters does not a family make. It makes for terrible storytelling.

Yeah, Jem and Emma have a common ancestor, like you said, and both are thus from different branches. And it’s definitely Clare’s love for “Shadowhunter” names. But you’re just using compound names, essentially just combining two words, surely you could try to do that with different languages instead of keeping them strictly English? There is, of course, Bellefleur and Morgenstern, but they are still rather Eurocentric for being French and German.

Then not all family names even seem to go by this “rule”. There is Mendoza, Rosales, Delgado, Ke, Wang etc. Cristina, Diego, Jaime, and Manuel are all named according to Spanish naming customs where the given name is followed by paternal surname and maternal surname, most commonly in that order: Cristina Mendoza Rosales, Diego and Jaime Rocío Rosales, and Manuel Casales Villalobos.

It was noted under Rosales Family etymology that “Rosales is not exactly a composite word like English Shadowhunter names, its translation (rosebush) is.” So I went to go see the Ke family, and Ke translates to “stem” or “axe handle” in English. So, I don’t get any comprehensive idea behind the Nephilim naming customs, because if the names of some of the Shadowhunter families aren’t following the compound word custom, then why there has to be such a thing as “Shadowhunter names” at all? The English names are heavily underlined and central to the series as a whole. Rosales Family that is mostly Mexican is rather recent compared to the main quartet—Herondales, Carstairs, Lightwoods, and Blackthorns—and hasn’t had (or doesn’t have) such a major role in the series compared to them.

The character should bring the essence to the name, not the other way around.

The series stresses too much the importance of one’s name. Simon can’t continue on being Lewis and must change his name into a Shadowhunter one. But like, why? Why can’t their names be just anything they happen to be? Sure, there can be old and notable families, crème de la crème of the Nephilim, but to limit the possibilities of someone’s name because it is not an English compound one is way too restrictive and merely forces assimilation. You shouldn't have to give up who you are in order to be other things as well.

I so hated that the name was forced in Kit when they found out he’s Herondale. It began to define his character too much. Clare is so incredibly unwilling to let the name thing go. She seems unable to let these families go. Instead of coming up with a completely different Shadowhunter family in another country and telling some other story entirely, she keeps writing about the same characters and things over and over again. Because, yeah, effort? What is that?

When I read CoHF for the first time, I was annoyed with Emma’s chapter because she meant nothing to me, her name meant nothing to me. Oh, she’s Carstairs? So what? Her character was dull to read about. I wanted the final plot to progress, not read a setup for another trilogy through a character that was not interesting.

The Ke family members apparently appear in The Lost Book of the White. But there is no series dedicated to them as there isn’t series dedicated to the Rosales family. In grand scheme of things, it’s never really about any other family at all. All Clare’s representation stand in the sidelines when the pain of Clary and Jace, Tessa and Will, Emma and Julian takes all the space in the story. And they are given it by Clare.

What is Cristina’s complicated feelings about her love life to Emma’s who is about to blow up the world because of her love for her parabatai? Who cares where Maia disappears after having her life threatened as long as Clary and Jace’s story is finished? What about Maia’s own peace of mind and sense of safety when Jordan Kyle needs to have a “redemption arc”? What is Jem’s part in the contrived plot that heavily favors Will Herondale still?

It’s like Clare is unable to create compelling characters that didn’t need their family names to be liked and loved just for who they are as characters. It's lousy, this narrative and the fixation on names, because all they do is end up spoiling everything else. Especially when the author herself doesn't seem to even realize it or care to realize the disrespect her readers feel and the hurt it is causing.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

One Word Varigo-

Pamper

ao3

“Okay, now this is just getting ridiculous,” Varian says, glaring up at Nuru and Hugo. Nuru looks a little sympathetic, but Hugo’s face is entirely unrepentant. He aggressively tucks the blanket in around Varian, pausing to fluff his pillows. Varian gives Nuru his very best what the fuck do you two think you are doing face, but she just shrugs in response, shoving a bowl of chicken soup into his hands.

“What’s ridiculous is you running around in the dead of winter with pneumonia,” Hugo says, throwing another blanket on the bed for good measure.

Varian kind of feels like he’s going to overheat and die, but doesn’t dare say that to Hugo. He’ll probably assume it’s “the raging fever” (Hugo’s words, not Varian’s) and drag him to the doctor again. Or drag the doctor here, more likely, which Varian does not want to happen. He’s fine without some hack physician poking and prodding at him.

“It’s a cold,” Varian says, exasperated, shoving the bowl back at Nuru. “A small, annoying cold, not pneumonia, not anything serious.”

“Yet,” Nuru says, because she likes to watch Varian suffer.

“Yet!” Hugo repeats, throwing his hands up in the air. “It starts with a cold but then next thing you know your lungs are filling up with fluid and you’re drowning in your own mucus.”

“Ew,” Yong says, distantly from the other room. Varian glares in his direction. No one is on his side today.

“Hugo, I’m fine,” Varian groans. “A little sweaty, maybe a bit of a sore throat, but fine.”

“Wrong answer,” Hugo says. “Now you’re quarantined to be for the rest of the week.”

Varian grabs the blanket and rolls over, successfully cocooning himself from his terrible, terrible friends. He buries his head under the pillow and pretends they don’t exist. Which lasts for about five seconds before Hugo and Nuru are loudly arguing over him.

“What do you mean this is store-bought soup!”

“Do I look like I know how to make soup, Hugo? Do I?”

“Everyone knows how to make soup, what kind of a country are you from.”

“A) That’s racist. B) You can go catch a chicken, pull all of its feathers out, cook it, chop it up, put it in a soup and give it to Varian.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Can you two please shut up,” Varian says into his mattress, but it comes out garbled through the layers of bedding.

Nuru pulls the pillow off his head. “Hugo, will you shut up if Varian eats his soup?”

Hugo glares at the store-bought soup as if it personally can into his house and killed his puppy, but relents. “Fine.” He crosses his arms.

Nuru turns back to Varian, smiling sweetly. “Yes, we’ll shut up if you eat your soup.”

Varian grabs the bowl out of her hands, shoveling the store-bought offense to humanity into his mouth. It tastes barely edible. Varian’s pretty sure Nuru found it in the woods, not a store. “I did not ask to be pampered like this,” he says, in between mouthfuls, glaring at his two best friends.

Nuru shrugs carelessly, flopping down on the bed next to him. “Sucks to be you, Alchemist.” She picks up a book on the nightstand, leafing through it disinterestedly. “I’m not getting between Hugo and his hysteria, so deal with it.”

“I’m not being hyster-”

“Yes, you are,” Varian and Nuru say in the same voice, twin disappointed stares.

“Which side are you on anyway?” Hugo says to Nuru, dramatically falling across the foot of the bed.

“Whichever side is winning.”

“Winning what?” Varian groans, shoving the now-empty bowl into Hugo’s hands.

Nuru just smiles. It’s a little terrifying, to be honest. “Oh, you know.”

“We really don’t,” Hugo says, but he's grinning like maybe he does. Whatever, at least that vein in his temple has stopped visibly throbbing.

“You guys make everything a competition,” Varian complains. “I want new friends.”

“Pffffft, no you don't.” Hugo gets up to dispose of the bowl.

“You looove us,” Nuru says, voice pitched an octave higher than usual. She’s sitting so close her cheek is pressed into his shoulder. For all that she’s fussed at him for being gross and contagious, she seems awfully comfortable with laying on the same bed as him.

Clearly, Hugo feels the same, climbing onto the other side of the bed and shoving both Varian and Nuru over to make room, which doesn’t do much for him anyway because the bed’s so fucking small that Varian ends up with Nuru pressed under his arm and Hugo’s hip jamming into his shoulder.

Varian thanks a bunch of gods he doesn’t believe in that Yong is in lab experimenting and not doing...whatever Hugo and Nuru are. “Why are you two so hot,” he mutters.

“The gods gifted me with naturally stunning looks, I can’t help it,” Hugo says automatically.

“Not what I meant,” Varian mumbles, rolling his eyes for like the four millionth time that day.

Nuru kicks at his shin. “Go to sleep, dumbass.”

“Stop calling the sick person dumbass,” Varian shoots back.

“So you are sick.” Hugo pokes him in the shoulder. “I knew it.”

“Fuck you.” Varian rolls over, causing his friends to squawk indigently as his elbows and legs get all tangled up in their limbs. He’s pretty sure he almost takes Nuru’s eye out, but it’s worth it as he finally finds a comfy position, arm thrown over Hugo’s chest, legs tangled between Nuru’s. Hugo huffs in annoyance, but pats his back consolingly as Varian sniffs. Nuru jabs at his ribs in retaliation for his ruthless attack on her face a second ago, but settles behind him, face tucked between his shoulder blades.

“This is nice,” Varian mutters. It’s not really: the combination of the fever and cuddling with two people is a little too warm for comfort, his throat feels like he’s been gargling rocks, and he still kind of can’t breathe, but Hugo starts running his fingers through his hair and Nuru’s breath puffs comfortingly against his neck.

As his eyes slip shut, he blearily hears Nuru sharp to Hugo, who retaliate light-heartedly, but it’s lost in that moment between being awake and asleep. Varian lets out a long breath and finally falls asleep.

[flying-elliska]

one of the most impactful things I have read lately are two of French author Edouard Louis' books, Pour en finir avec Eddy Bellegueule and Qui a tué mon père (translated into English as The End of Eddy and Who Killed my Father). It's been two months and I'm still thinking about it.

The first book is an 'autobiographical novel' about the author's childhood growing up as an obviously gay boy in one of the poorest areas of France, until he leaves and reinvents himself as a writer. It's fraught with bigotry, abuse, bullying, violence, deprivation and social despair, and it's one of the most harrowing things I have ever read. It reads as many things as once : a recognition of trauma, an angry exorcism, a cry for society at large to pay attention, and to be honest, as a horror story.

It was criticized by some in France as portraying the working class in a manner that was too negative, which tells me they missed the point entirely...ironic for a book by someone who actually grew up poor - one of my least favorite things ever is progressives telling a marginalized person they can't talk about their own experiences because they don't fit the desired mold. (The French love to romanticize the working class and I'm pretty sure it's often an avoidance mechanism.)

The point of the book is so obviously not about 'look at how terrible and bigoted those poor people are'. Little Eddy spends a big part of the narrative trying to escape - himself at first, then his family/circumstances and the persistent homophobia everywhere. In the end of the book, he finally manages to get accepted into a fancy high school in the city on a scholarship and tries really hard to fit in. The last scene of the book is a bunch of his - educated, upper/middle class - classmates throwing homophobic taunts at him, starting the cycle anew. I can't think of a clearer way to say 'this is not a story about a sad gay boy escaping the evil bigoted countryside for the city and then everything was wonderful!!!! this is a story about a systemic, pervasive problem.'

One of the key arguments of the book, to me, is how homophobia, sexism and bigotry in general are both a product and a reproduction mechanism of social and economic exclusion. For instance, he describes how the norms around what it means to be a man in his village (being tough, disobeying authority, quitting school early to go work at the factory, drinking alcohol, neglecting your own health, fighting over women, repressing your feelings, etc) perpetuates the cycle of poverty ; but again this isn't 'oh these people are so stupid' and more 'these people are trapped'. Because he makes it evident how degrading and dehumanizing poverty can be, this masculinity reads as a desperate attempt to cling to a certain amount of dignity - it's an extremely dysfunctional coping mechanism. At the same time, anyone falling outside of the mold is violently ostracized (like Eddy, who tries and fails to fit in). So the system keeps reproducing itself.

In Who Killed my Father, the author makes his political argument clearer. This is more of an essay, centering on his father, arguably the most complex figure in the first novel. The man is an angry, bigoted alcoholic who makes his family miserable ; at the same time he is the son of an abusive father who makes a point of honor to never hit his kids or wife even though it's very normalized in this context. In this essay the author keeps talking about the moments of almost tenderness with his father that haunt him, the picture he has of him doing drag in his youth, the fact that the father tried to leave the village when he was young to find a better life for himself with a close friend but failed and had to come back - the moments of what-ifs, of trying to struggle free from the cycle, when the system appears almost fragile and not so unbreakable after all, that the son kept holding close like a sort of talisman.

The narrative is structured around the fact that his father injured his back working in a factory and that he had to keep doing physical labor afterwards for money, instead of resting to recover, until it completely destroyed his body. Now he finds himself bed-bound at 53. Louis inquires into who is responsible for this premature 'death'. After considering individual choices, he turns towards political decisions - the successive governments, left and right, who have been destroying the French welfare system for decades and accelerating inequality. The point is to step out of the neoliberal obsession with personal responsibility and who is guilty and who is a bad or good person, and look at systems.

An element that isn't focused on but hovers over the story constantly is that this village is one where the majority of the population consistently votes for the extreme right National Front party in most elections. The book is too angry and nuanced to be some stupid "it's not their fault that they're racist because they're poor!" argument. It doesn't make any excuses for how awful this is but instead illustrates how dehumanization replicates itself, how people being denied basic dignity leads to them wanting to deny it to others. If you want to really understand the rise of the far right you have to look at where the inequality comes from in the first place, and how easy it is for people in power to wash their hands of it by blaming the bigoted masses. (Just like you can blame societal ills on minorities ! Two for one strategy.)

Towards the end of the essay, the author talks about how proud his father is of his son's literary success - for a book who clearly depicts him as a horrible person ! And this is a man who has spent his life openly despising anything cultural, because it never showed him a life like his own. But maybe now he feels seen, now he knows people want to read about these things. Maybe there is a reclamation of dignity through looking at the horror head on. Maybe his son somehow slipping through the cracks of the cycle gives him more room. The man stops making racist comments, and instead asks his son about his boyfriend. Most importantly, he asks his son about the leftist politics he's engaged in. They talk about the need for a revolution.

I think what strikes me the most is this attitude of "wounded compassion" that permeates the book. What do you do when your parents are abusive but even after you grow up, you can't help but still love them, and you know they've been shaped by the system that surrounds them ? Recognizing, speaking the harm is essential. You need to find your own freedom, sense of worth, and safety. You need to dissect the mechanisms at hand so they lose at least some of their power over you. You need to find people who love and believe you. But then what? Do you dismiss your persistent feelings of affection and care for those who hurt you as a sign you're just fucked up in the head ? You could just decide to never speak to them again, and it would be justified, but is that really what is going to heal you the most? It's important to realize you have the choice. But there are no easy conclusions.

This makes me think of a passage I have just read in Aversive Democracy by Aletta Norval. The essential ethos of radical democracy, she says, is about taking responsibility for your society, even the bad parts, instead of seeing them as a foreign element you have to cleanse yourself of. It's too fucking easy for queer progressives, especially the middle class urban kind, to talk about dumb evil hicks, to turn pride into a simple morality tale, and forget that any politics that don't center the basic dignity and needs of people are just shit. The injury is to you and by you and you have a duty of care just as much as a duty of criticism. (And this is obviously not only applicable to class matters.) You can't just walk away and save your sense of moral purity. (This is not an argument that the oppressed are responsible for educating the oppressors ; it's about how privilege is not an easy simple ranking and it is too damn easy to only focus on the ways in which you are oppressed and forget the ways in which you may have more leeway.)

There is no absolute equivalence between political and family dynamics but the parallel feel very relevant somehow. Several truths can coexist at once : you needed help and it was not given. You were let down. It's important to recognize that people are responsible of how they treat each other. You need to call out what isn't ok and stand up for yourself. At the same time, there is a reason why things are like this. Making people into villains is often bad strategy (within reason!), and in the end, easy dichotomies are often an instrument of power. The horrors you have been through might have given you a very specific wisdom and grace you do not have to be afraid of ; you are not tainted by your compassion (it is very much the opposite of forced forgiveness ; it has walked through the fire of truth.)

To me these books fit into what French literature does best, sociological storytelling a la Zola or Victor Hugo - the arguments aren't new and they can come across as heavy handed, even melodramatic. But I'll argue that the viscerality is the point, how the raw experience of misery punches through any clever arguments about how exploitation persists for the greater good of society. Really worth reading if you can do so with nuance.

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

My personal Pros and Cons of my ADHD

Pros

-noticing all the little details and appreciating them in the fullest

-Emotional Dysregulation, because when I get a new plant, or find that one oddly shaped metal marble I lost a while ago, I am so excited it’s pathetic, but I love that feeling of pure joy.

-hyperfixation of the week/day/hour (i know some people describe it differently, let me be pls) . I usually switch between art mediums, and/or a few video games/social media sites. for example, I’ve been on tumblr for 3 hours as i write this, after not touching it for, i think a month?

-nuerodivergent friends. They’re just better.

-the ability to completely drown myself in information to ignore reality. Is it healthy? no. But i simply cannot handle another existiential crissi rn, so i will instead play minecraft while listening to alt rock playlists on youtube because getting spotify sounds like a lot of work.

-my ability to retain absolutely useless information, from either my, or my other nuerodivergent friends hyperfixations/special interests. I can explain to you in terrible formatting if it’s out loud, the evolution, history, training, anatomy and roles of the horse in our world, and how ao3 works, and what makes or breaks a fanfiction.

-Object Impermanence. When i literally hide myself a treat or surprise and forget about it, then get so excited when i do find/discover it again. I hide google questions, and/or song lyrics in my tabs :) its so fun. Also, hiding away stressors. Again, healthy? no, but i don’t feel like having anxiety all day, so whatever.

-Emotional Dysregulation, again. I can switch from sad or angry to happy and excited/content in a few seconds. It’s also great for getting my siblings out of their funk. ex., my sister is mad at me. I make a silly voice repeating what she said or cross my eyes at her. she laughs, then we can talk and have constructive conversation about why she shouldn’t get that upset about me “cutting off her reading time” when we share a room and I want to sleep, and know that she will be very tired tomorrow if she doesn’t also go to sleep. (We have this conversation almost every single night, i’m not even joking)

Cons

-Emotional Dysregulation. When i get upset, I’m Upset. Like, big time, ruining friendships and familial ties if i let it get out of hand, Upset. Yeah.

-Time Blindness. Constantly late, or early, or under or over estimating the amount of time it takes to do a thing, not eating til 4 because you forgot but you also should just wait til dinner, but now its 9 and I still haven’t eaten-

-Executive Dysfunction. I can’t do the things needed to function. Don’t have the mental energy to explain this one, so google it i guess? There’s a whole checklist of things you need to be able to do to function, and i can do like, three on a good day.

-Sleeping Trouble. People with adhd have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up. So, sleeping trouble. So I’m constantly tired.

-Internal Clock is SLIGHTLY OFF. Nuerotypicals have that normal sleep schedule. Adhd ers have it shifted forward by, i think, 2, 3 hours. So we go to sleep later, and wake up later, and that’s the only way to get a healthy amount of sleep. My entire family also eats dinner super late, which might be because we’re weird, but I suspect the inner clock thing cuz we all got adhd.

-Object Impermanance. I hid my math homework one time. I failed that class. 

-Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Never trying, or starting cuz I’m so terrified to get a bad reaction. Constantly masking around certain people to appeal to the few of my Nuerotypical friends. Or, y’know, majority of my extended family. They’re ableist. and homophobic. And transphobic. And racist. and sexist. The list goes on, but, yeah. Never coming out to them! :D

-Masking. It’s exhausting and I can only handle so much of it.

-Not Masking around nuerotypicals. The shoot down after finally revealing my true thoughts, urges, feelings, stims, etc. just sucks. Super disheartening. 

-Squirrel or shiny jokes when they’re made by people without adhd. Yes, I do get distracted by squirrels, and shiny things, and dice. Stop pointing it out, and/or putting me into yet another box of your labeling. 

-saying that I’m lazy, worthless, or a disaster when really it’s not helping. I already have that internal monologue, you adding to it and giving it some truth/extra ammunition is not. helping.

-Emotional Dysregulation. Again, because mood swings. like, I’m trying to be rightfully angry with you. Stop making me laugh with you’re silly faces or pointing out of a weird face someone made in a picture you took. 

-the stigma about the hyperactive subtype. I’m inattentive. I have No Energy. Ever. Sometimes i have restlessness, but there is still no energy. Stop portraying me as bouncing off the walls, especially with caffeine. Caffeine just catches my body speed up to my brain speed, settling me down a bit, at least mentally. 

-people not getting when i say I’m overstimulated, or need some time alone to process or re-energize, and following me, or continuing to do the overstimulating thing. I will literally. lose. my. mind.

-when people shut me down after I share something that is really important to me, or make fun of me for liking something an “abnormal” amount. Flashbacks to overnight camp, when whenever I said anything about horses, they said I had to do five squats, and when i got really excited about discussing the differences in riding styles/types with another person who really liked horses, but rode english, they said that it was obnoxious, when i was just.. excited to finally find someone to talk to and who felt the same way after, basically, years and years of no one getting it or wanting to listen or talking with me about the thing. To this day I don’t discuss horses with anyone, cuz it hurts so much remembering that, and the fear of it happening again is still there. 

-seeing other people be ashamed about their adhd and hesitant to mention until i talk, like, super openly about having it, in like, the first 5 minutes of knowing each other. It just.. hurts.

-I’m super empathetic, not in a way that’s helpful though. Like, wincing, or limping myself because I saw you drop something on your foot, and am imagining it so vividly that it feels like it happened to me. Reading a fic about abuse or depression, and it hitting too hard and hurting me almost physically, and on a personal level because I simply cannot handle it. Feeling someone else’s pain so vividly that i can’t comfort or help them in any way, because I am so preoccupied with  feeling their pain. 

-never being able to finish things without starting something else. All the WIPs in my google docs, istg, i will be driven insane by it. 

(y’know, this was kinda fun. As a rant, but also as a way for me to identify things about myself and my adhd that i like. Like, I know its so much shorter, but I have a hard time with positive self affirmation, so it was kinda nice. I might do it again, but just the pros part cuz the cons are kinda depressing ngl.)

(OH, Y’all should reblog with your own personal pros added on! You can add cons if you’d like to :) I’m just interested in seeing how your experiences/feeling differ from mine :) )

[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 4/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two:  The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Part Three: The Fall of Lotus Pier and the Sunshot Campaign

Part Four: The Downward Spiral

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

The war is over. Everything should be great now, right? Wrong.

Wei Wuxian has slept for three days. Jiang Yanli tells him that Lan Wangji was playing music to cleanse him of all the evil energy for most of those three days and that’s the only reason he’s awake so soon. Lan Wangji comes in to play more for him, even though Wei Wuxian is in the ancient Chinese version of his underoos. It’s cute.

Everyone else is having a serious meeting. Meng Yao has been legitimized by his father after killing Wen Ruohan, and this is a Very Big Deal. His name is now Jin Guangyao.

ENTER BAD TOUCH MAN

This is Jin Guangshan. He’s Jin Zixuan and Meng Yao/Jin Guangyao’s father. He sucks, big time. Everything about this guy is terrible. He’s a misogynist, a bully, and a patronizing piece of shit.

Jin Guangshan is having all the remaining Wens hunted down and killed, including the civilians. Nie Mingjue is cool with this. Lan Xichen says ‘hey, maybe murder isn’t the answer?’ but everyone tells him that murder absolutely is the answer and he shouldn’t worry about it.

ENTER THE HUMAN VERSION OF A CAR ALARM THAT HAS BEEN GOING OFF FOR AN HOUR IN YOUR WORK PARKING LOT

This is Jin Zixun, not to be confused with Jin Zixuan. Jin Zixuan is the former fiancée of Jiang Yanli and a spoiled brat but earning some brownie points as the story goes on. Jin Zixun is his cousin, and he has zero redeeming qualities.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have gone out for a romantic stroll. They find a batch of Wen civilians who are in chains, being hunted down and shot for sport by Jin Zixun. Somehow Wei Wuxian manages not to murder him, but it’s close. They play a requiem for the dead people to help their spirits find rest. ~just couple things~

Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Jin Guangyao swear brotherhood to each other in a cool ceremony that was definitely Lan Xichen’s idea.

Int, Nightless City [Qishan]

Jin Guangshan is throwing a big party since they won a war. Wei Wuxian doesn’t really want to go and spends most of it getting drunk outside. Relatable to be honest.

Jin Guangshan says to Jiang Cheng ‘hey remember when your sister was engaged to my son? That was cool, let’s put that back on’. Jiang Cheng looks like he’s been staked out on an anthill. Wei Wuxian comes in and is borderline rude to Jin Guangshan, saying he should ask Jiang Yanli herself. Jiang Yanli, with a retail smile that rivals Jin Guangyao’s, politely says that hey, her parents just died, her home is in ruins, why don’t they leave her alone for a decade and then she’ll think about it. Wei Wuxian bounces because he’s not a party person.

Jin Guangyao announces that in six months, they’re going to be holding a group hunt in Lanling and everyone’s invited.

After the banquet, Jin Guangshan asks Jin Guangyao how much he knows about Wei Wuxian, especially that cool amulet he used during the battle. Jin Guangyao says he’ll find out and then find a way to get it. I cry about the fact that I liked him a lot more before he started sucking up to his shitty dad, even though I understand why he’s doing it.

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Our trio goes home and starts to clean things up. Wei Wuxian is drinking a lot, not setting a good example for the new disciples, and still won’t carry his sword. Jiang Cheng – remember, he doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian gave him his golden core, and thinks he can still cultivate – tells him to get his shit together. Jiang Yanli, as always, mediates.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Wangji is also home. He’s studying manuscripts to find music that will help heal Wei Wuxian from the resentful energy. What he has isn’t good enough and he wants to go to the restricted section of the library. Lan Qiren refuses to allow him in, confines him to Cloud Recesses, and basically says ‘forget about Wei Wuxian, he’s evil now’. For obvious reasons, Lan Wangji does not like this advice.

Ext, some city [Yunmeng]

Lan Xichen arrives for a visit, finds Wei Wuxian, and gently reminds him that people are worried about him and he should remember his actions impact other people. Wei Wuxian interprets this as ‘you’re evil and it’s hurting people, specifically my brother’ instead of ‘we want to help you’, and shuts him out. It hurts. He came so close. *sobs*

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Jin Zixuan turns up to formally invite the Yunmeng sibs to the crowd hunt. He acts like an awkward turtle. It seems like he might have realized he was being a dick this whole time. You know what that is? Growth. However he still says that it’s his mother who wants Jiang Yanli to come, because he sucks at this.

Ext, Phoenix Mountain [Lanling]

It’s the crowd hunt! Everyone’s there. They’re having an archery tournament to determine who will get to go in first.

Wei Wuxian flirts with Lan Wangji and taunts Jin Zixun, who asked for it. But then a bunch of Wen civilians are paraded out in chains to serve as ‘obstacles’ to make things more ‘interesting’. Somehow this does not end with Wei Wuxian murdering all the Jin sect members present. He definitely wants to, but then he looks at Jiang Cheng and remembers that their sect is still weak after the war and they probably shouldn’t piss off the strongest sect remaining.

Jin Zixuan does a fancy shot, so Wei Wuxian blindfolds himself and shoots five arrows at once, partly to show off, but partly because he knows nobody can top that so nobody will be able to shoot at the Wen sect prisoners. Jin Guangyao, who apparently arranged this (presumably because his father likes a little bloodshed as an appetizer), pouts unattractively. I wonder why I ever liked him.

Up on the mountain, Wei Wuxian does a bunch of demonic cultivation with his flute to drive the demons into Jiang sect nets so they can win. Then he decides to chill out for a bit.

Lan Wangji shows up. He tells Wei Wuxian that he has learned new music that should help with the whole ‘full of evil energy’ thing. Wei Wuxian asks who Lan Wangji is to tell him what to do. Lan Wangji responds by asking ‘what do you see me as’, Wei Wuxian replies ‘I used to think of you as my soulmate in this life’, Lan Wangji says, ‘I still am’ and the sound you just heard is my heart exploding.

Unfortunately before they can kiss, they hear other people on the path. It’s Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli. Jin Zixuan makes a pitiful attempt to impress her while she is clearly very uncomfortable.

Even though Jin Zixuan isn’t doing anything worse than inserting his own foot into his mouth, Wei Wuxian jumps in to tell him to fuck off. They argue. Jin Zixuan’s mother turns up and hilariously roasts him for always upsetting Jiang Yanli. You start to like her until she says that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli shouldn’t spend time together because then people will think they’re having an affair. Jiang Yanli reminds her that Wei Wuxian is her younger brother, but Madam Jin sticks to her obnoxious guns. Jin Zixuan tries to say something nice and actually runs away which is the first time he’s felt relatable in the whole show.

Jin Zixun turns up, hauling his enormous bad attitude with him, and gets pissy with Wei Wuxian for using demonic cultivation to lure the demons into their nets. He’s super rude about it. Jiang Yanli politely eviscerates Jin Zixun in response and it’s super satisfying.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

They’re having a big party after the hunt. The Yunmeng Jiang did well and Jiang Cheng is happy for two seconds before he overhears some people saying that it’s only because of Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation and they don’t like that. Wei Wuxian has decided not to go to the banquet because these people suck.

Jin Guangyao, even though he’s now an errand boy for his power-hungry dick of a father, still has a big crush on Lan Xichen, and they have a few tender moments. Other people, like Madam Jin and Jin Zixun, are being absolute assholes to Jin Guangyao, and he’s wearing his best retail smile. I remember why I liked him. But uh oh! Jin Guangyao has made friends with and invited Su She, who you might remember from him betraying all the Gusu Lan who were hiding in the cave. Jin Guangyao doesn’t seem to know these two have history. Lan Xichen tells him not to worry about it but it’s awkward.

Ext, the city [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian is wandering around. He bumps into Wen Qing, who is there looking for Wen Ning.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Jin Zixun has decided he hasn’t been a big enough of a dick for the day, so he asks Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji to have a drink with him. Lan Xichen tells him that they aren’t allowed to drink alcohol because of their sect rules. Jin Zixun takes this as a personal insult, or at least pretends to because it gives him an excuse to act like a jerk.

Jin Guangyao asks what’s going on and who upset his cousin, then looks at Lan Xichen like they’re a biracial couple at a barbecue and he’s trying to apologize telepathically for what his racist uncle just said.

After a few moments of ‘no really, I just don’t drink alcohol’ Lan Xichen decides this fool ain’t worth it and takes a drink. Jin Guangyao looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die. ‘U ok babe?’ his eyes say. ‘No I want to go home, this barbecue sucks’ Lan Xichen’s eyes reply. Jin Zixun then offers a cup to Lan Wangji, who stares into the middle distance and forcefully projects the information that he will literally die before accepting a drink from this asshole.

Wei Wuxian interrupts, snatches the cup, and says ‘I’ll drink for him. That’s okay, right?’ even though there’s absolutely no reason it would be since they’re not actually married. He drinks anyway. Then he asks Jin Zixun where Wen Ning is. Turns out Jin Zixun and his lackeys kidnapped Wen Ning and his whole village.

Jin Zixun pretends he doesn’t remember. Wei Wuxian threatens him a lot. It’s super hot if terribly inadvisable. Jiang Cheng is clearly upset that he’s out of line. Lan Wangji is clearly worried that he’s losing his marbles. Jin Guangshan tries to bully Wei Wuxian and fails on every level. After a few minutes, Jin Zixun caves and tells him that Wen Ning and the others are at Qiongqi Way. Wei Wuxian says ‘why couldn’t you just tell me that?’ and leaves. Jin Guangshan flips over the table. It’s awesome.

Everyone begins talking shit about Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng is more upset. Lan Wangji says ‘I mean, he wasn’t wrong’ and Jin Guangyao replies with the ‘he’s right but you shouldn’t say it’ meme. Lan Xichen reflects on the fact that Wei Wuxian’s ‘temperament has changed a lot’ as if this is something mystical and strange instead of the inevitable result of severe, untreated PTSD and the fact that he’s discovered massive systemic injustice.

Lan Wangji asks Lan Xichen if it’s okay if he kidnaps Wei Wuxian and brings him back to Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen tells him to go for it.

Ext, Qiongqi Way [Lanling]

All the Wen civilians have been forced into a labor camp. It’s really awful.

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing arrive to find out they’re too late. Wen Ning has been killed. (Technically they say later he had ‘one breath left’ but that’s only because Chinese censorship doesn’t allow necromancy to be portrayed on TV. This explanation doesn’t actually make sense, and by and large fandom ignores it. In the book, he’s all dead, and that’s much simpler.)

Wei Wuxian has a complete breakdown and brings Wen Ning back as a fierce corpse (which is similar to a zombie but not exactly the same for xianxia reasons). Wen Ning murders all the guards at the prison (with a little help from Wei Wuxian) and then collapses. Wei Wuxian realizes they are Totally Fucked Now, lets everyone out of prison, and gets out of dodge.

Except Lan Wangji has followed him and is standing in the rain in his way. They have a really haunting exchange where Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to confront the aforementioned systemic injustice, and Lan Wangji tells him if he continues on this path, it’ll be considered a rebellion and he’ll be hunted down and killed. Wei Wuxian says, basically, ‘If I’m so wrong, then you kill me. If it’s you, I’ll accept it.’ Lan Wangji stands aside to let them go. I cry for seventeen hours.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian has brought the refugees here. They ask if it’s really possible to live in such a place. He says he lived there for three months.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

You know, I don’t even remember if we see this, but I assume everyone there is super upset about everything.

ETA: Thanks to the people who reminded me! Everyone’s trashing Wei Wuxian. Mianmian (you may remember her from Turtle Cave, where Wei Wuxian saved her from being burned by Jiaojiao) sticks up for him, saying he doesn’t kill indiscriminately. Everyone pats her on the head and mansplains things to her, so she gives them all a big middle finger and leaves the Jin sect over it. Good for her.

Int, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Jiang Cheng shows up to ask Wei Wuxian what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Wei Wuxian, who is living in a cave and spent their entire refugee budget on candles, has Wen Ning’s unconscious body covered in talismans. He says he’s trying to restore Wen Ning’s consciousness. Jiang Cheng is pretty horrified and basically accuses Wei Wuxian of desecrating a corpse, and threatens to kill Wen Ning (more/again). Wei Wuxian brushes him off. Jiang Cheng says, heartwrenchingly, ‘If you keep protecting them, I can’t protect you’. Wei Wuxian replies, more heartwrenchingly, ‘Then abandon me.’ I cry for another seventeen hours.

ENTER A RAY OF SUNSHINE

There’s a little boy here about two or three years old named Wen Yuan. He’s adorable and likes to cling to people’s legs.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t like any of this so he bounces. Wen Qing walks him to the end of the trail and then gives him back the comb he gave her (she did pick it up!) earlier. He looks like she kicked him in the balls but doesn’t change his mind.

Ext, somewhere [Yiling]

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian stage a massive public fight. There’s some light stabbing. Jiang Cheng publicly disavows Wei Wuxian and says he’s no longer part of the Yunmeng Jiang. (You don’t actually know it’s staged at the time this happens but you find out pretty soon so whatever.)

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Jin Zixuan has now realized that Jiang Yanli is bae. He builds her a lotus pond and looks super awkward about it. It’s sweet. He’s doing much better now that he realizes he just shouldn’t talk.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian is a massive ball of PTSD and angst. It sucks. Wen Qing tries to persuade him to leave them there and go home, but he refuses.

Ext, some city [Yiling]

Lan Wangji is in Yiling because he was in the neighborhood on completely unrelated business. No he’s not there to see Wei Wuxian. Stop asking him questions. Suddenly a small child is clinging to his leg and crying. He is discomfited.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian is buying refugee supplies and realizes Wen Yuan has wandered off. He finds him clinging to Lan Wangji’s leg and insists on buying him lunch. Wen Yuan asks Wei Wuxian to buy him a toy and when Wei Wuxian won’t, Lan Wangji buys him like 15 toys. It’s super adorable.

They have lunch together. Wen Yuan sits in Lan Wangji’s lap. The reason Lan Wangji definitely was not in the area was to tell Wei Wuxian that his sister is getting married to Jin Zixuan. Lunch is interrupted when Wei Wuxian’s talisman signals that Wen Ning is causing trouble back at the Burial Mounds. Lan Wangji has to pay for lunch.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wen Ning is on a rampage. This happens with fierce corpses. Wei Wuxian starts trying to use his magic to calm him down. With Lan Wangji’s help, he’s able to restore his consciousness. Everyone’s really happy.

Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to stay for dinner but he says he has to go. They exchange the world’s most longing look. I resist the urge to climb into my screen, physically manifest in ancient China, and tie Lan Wangji to a tree so he can’t leave.

Wen Yuan asks if he’ll ever come back. Wei Wuxian says probably not. I rehydrate so I can cry more.

Back at the Burial Mounds, the villagers have come together to throw Wei Wuxian a thank you party. It’s super sweet.

Ext, the city [Yiling]

Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli come to show Wei Wuxian her wedding outfit. She’s brought him soup. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian roast each other a little bit, just like old times. However Jiang Cheng is also a bit of a dick to Wen Ning, because he’s still skeeved out by what Wei Wuxian did, and won’t let him sit with them. Jiang Yanli gives him a bowl of soup anyway. He can’t eat it, so he carries it back to the Burial Mounds and gives it to Wen Yuan.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian has planted lotus seeds. He’s still having mood swings and other PTSD symptoms but overall is improving somewhat. He finds out at some point that Jiang Yanli is pregnant and gets really excited about it.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Jiang Yanli has given birth to a boy they have named Jin Ling. They’re planning his one-month ceremony. She wants to invite Wei Wuxian. The Jin sect is skeptical. Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji back her up, saying that Wei Wuxian hasn’t caused any trouble since going into exile, and this is a good opportunity to try to re-introduce him into polite society. Jin Guangshan agrees. He’s also a dick to Jin Guangyao, who asks to hold the baby, and Jin Guangshan won’t let him. Jin Zixuan points out to his father that Jin Guangyao has been loyal and helpful since joining the sect, and maybe his father shouldn’t be such a jerk. Jin Guangshan reminds him that Jin Guangyao is the son of a whore and says someone with his background can never be in a position of power in their sect.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian receives a letter from Lan Wangji stating he’s invited to the one-month ceremony and is really excited.

Int, my apartment [America]

I’m gonna be real honest with you guys. I skimmed through the next couple episodes while sobbing on my phone and unlike most of the show, have only watched them once. It’s very possible that I’m going to get stuff slightly incorrect or in the wrong order. I’ll do my best but holy crap, I absolutely never want to watch these episodes again. This accounts for any mistakes I’ve made in fic, too, LOL.

Ext, Qiongqi Way [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian is on his way to Koi Tower with Wen Ning. Jin Zixun shows up and accuses Wei Wuxian of having cursed him with a curse called Hundred Holes. Wei Wuxian hilariously says ‘I don’t even know who you are’ because his memory is terrible and also Jin Zixun sucks. Jin Zixun has brought like a hundred guys with them and they start shooting arrows. Wen Ning starts to kick their asses.

Jin Zixuan shows up and tries to de-escalate the situation. He promised Jiang Yanli that Wei Wuxian would be able to visit Jin Ling.

Out of fucking nowhere, Wen Ning murders the shit out of Jin Zixuan. I screamed. Wei Wuxian clearly has no idea what the fuck just happened. Then Wen Ning murders Jin Zixun which is less of a problem. Once all the Jin guys are dead, Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning run the hell away and head back to Yiling.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Everyone wants to know what the fuck just happened. They conclude that Wei Wuxian lost control of Wen Ning and his violent nature (now that he’s a fierce corpse) caused him to murder a bunch of people. They demand that Wen Ning and Wen Qing surrender themselves to Koi Tower.

Int, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian has an absolute meltdown, for which we can’t blame him. He, too, has come to the conclusion that he lost control of Wen Ning and that’s why a ton of people are dead.

Wen Qing sticks a bunch of needles in him and tells him that they’re going to surrender themselves to Koi Tower. He hates everything about this but can’t stop them because of the needles. She says they’ll release him in three days, tells him ‘I’m sorry, and thank you’. I can’t see the screen through my tears.

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

The Wen remnants surrender themselves. Jiang Cheng tells Jin Guangshan ‘whoever Wei Wuxian broke, I’ll pay for it, okay?’ but we’re a little beyond that now.

Int, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian breaks out of his needle-induced coma and hurries to Koi Tower. I clutch my stuffed animal and think, naively, that he’ll make it in time.

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

The bodies of the Wen remnants are on display. Wei Wuxian has another meltdown. He tries to find Jiang Yanli, sees her in widow’s white, and runs away.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

For some reason everyone’s decided to go to Qishan to toss Wen Qing and Wen Ning’s ashes in a volcano, I guess. Mostly they’re just throwing a party for themselves because they killed a bunch of farmers. I hate them.

Wei Wuxian shows up and tells them they all suck. Some rando shoots Wei Wuxian with an arrow. He laughs at the dude, pulls it out, and throws it back, killing him. It’s hot. Lan Wangji tries to talk him down but can’t. They get in a fight. Wei Wuxian raises an absolute fuckton of resentful energy and angry spirits and starts trying to kill everyone there, which honestly seems fair to me at this point. For only the second time, he takes out the amulet made of yin iron that he used during the battle with Wen Ruohan.

Except something weird is going on. There’s a second flute playing and it’s unclear who’s playing it. I’m screaming at my monitor.

Jiang Yanli, who is there because this show doesn’t know what to do with women besides fridge them, gets attacked by a fierce corpse. Wei Wuxian tries to control it but can’t. He starts freaking out again. He and Jiang Cheng manage to save Jiang Yanli from the fierce corpse but Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what’s going on and he’s clearly about to break down completely. Jiang Yanli is still really sweet and gentle with him, even though (she thinks) he kind of killed her husband. Then some other rando tries to kill Wei Wuxian and ends up stabbing Jiang Yanli instead. She dies.

Wei Wuxian – I hate to overuse the term ‘freaks the fuck out’ but when the shoe fits – freaks the fuck out. He breaks the amulet into fragments and then throws himself off a cliff.

Lan Wangji catches him before he can fall, even though he’s been wounded in the battle. Wei Wuxian stares at him for a moment before he tells Lan Wangji to let him go. Lan Wangji doesn’t let him go. Jiang Cheng comes over and for a brief second Wei Wuxian sort of looks hopeful, but then Jiang Cheng tells him to go to hell and stabs downward with his sword. It’s not going to hit him – Jiang Cheng’s eyes aren’t even open – but it hits the rock and causes part of it to crumble. Wei Wuxian shakes Lan Wangji’s hand off and falls, smiling with relief, because this show absolutely wants to fucking kill me.

Yes, our protagonist is dead. Don’t worry, he gets better.

~end of part 4~

[arledrone]

Genuine question, and I don’t know if you’ve been asked this before so I’m sorry if you have, but why are you still invested in Twisted Wonderland despite how,,,,,,,racist it can be to its poc characters? No offense at all! It’s just that I’ve seen you’re very passionate about how poorly they’re treated, so I’m just wondering why you’re still into twst? I’ve only recently gotten into it, but I’m starting to feel,,,,iffy,,,,,the whole Fairy Gala event was just terrible (exotic? really?) and they didn’t even have the common decency to give the proper meaning of Kalim’s name. I don’t know, I don’t feel like I can continue to support a series like this, even if I’m not doing it financially,,,,,

I wanna preface this by saying that you definitely should not feel obligated to stay invested, regardless or whether or not you're F2P.  

The best and most concise way I can put it without going into word vomit is just like... You know that meme, "It's not that deep, but it COULD be"?

  I am the Could of the kiddie pool effort Toboso and the rest of TWST's staff put into fleshing out those characters' cultures beyond just making them an 'exotic aesthetic', which you can definitely see from a glance.

Like not to be arrogant, but I Know I Can Do Better.  And something about that fact is motivating and makes me all the more invested, at least in Scarabia and Savanaclaw, and especially Kalim and Jamil.  I know I can do better than what canon gave us, AND I've befriended amazing people that I've SEEN do better (Queenie's posts exploring details of Scarabia influenced by Actual Cultural Details, Iffat's cultural artwork).

So for me, personally, just the fact that I have and discuss these things with friends, and we can explore the lost potential on our own time, somehow keeps me sane and invested, if at least only for Scarabia and Savanaclaw (see: my Very Long post about Beastfolk headcanons and general culture of the Savannah).

Like, on one hand, I am prepared for this, every single time.  I've grown up around these cultures being misappropriated and fetishised all my life.  It's nothing new, but that definitely doesn't lessen how exhausting it gets.

Like, who knows how long I'll remain invested?  At this rate me and my lvl 100 strictly Free-to-play Jamil dorm SSR (thanks Scarabia training camp) may as well stick around to eventually kick dragon fae ass I guess.

So is it frustrating having to go through this song and dance with BOTH the actual writers AND fandom (looking at the freaks obsessing over breeding and aggression in a predominantly PoC dorm).  Oh absolutely.  But also, since I Know I can do better, I have this very spite-driven motivation to actively make content that improves on those concepts and be as outspoken as possible whenever fandom acts up over the characters of colour (which is very often, where was this warfare when local French White Boy Rook is constantly stalking and Physically Harassing  the non-human by invading their personal space, esp Leona and Ruggie).

One day I may reach my limit!  It unfortunately happened with another series I love/hate.  Saiyuki.  Kazuya Minekura has some Very Blatant colourism when nearly Every Single Character is light-skinned DESPITE traveling under the desert sun for Over a Year, and having Not a Single dark-skinned character in one of the major settings: India.  Not a SINGLE dark-skinned Indian.  Not to mention the anime CONTINUOUSLY made the characters lighter-skinned through various installments.  Just... I am not joking.  They STARTED OUT WITH DARK SKIN, AND THEN GOT LIGHTER, AND LIGHTER, AND THE MOST RECENT ANIMATION?  ZERO PIGMENT ALLOWED.

Eventually I got fed up with it, and dropped the series, which sucks I'd been invested in it since I was like.  13 or something.  I would do edits, of them with their og skin colours, but Intentional, Blatant colourism stings a lot more than just knowing someone skimmed a wiki page and watched Aladdin for their ~Arabian~ details.  Obviously Minekura hates my race, so.

I am also just completely off the fucking rails. I hated the second season to K so much I rewrote it, scene by scene, second by second, over the course of 33 chapters and 100k+ words.  Which ties back into the whole I Can do Better, Fuck You, mindset, mind you I never touched K ever fucking again after completing that fix-it fic.  So between criticising Toboso's obvious lack of care for finer details outside the Aesthetic and Mysticism (*points at Soma and Agni*) and fandom's own white nonsense, just knowing I can do my sons justice is worth not neglecting them.  But that's only bc I have the energy and support to do so!  

. It's not for everyone and if you don't feel comfortable/are fed up with how twst writes its characters of colour, I'd rec either having a (ideally small) set of friends you can discuss its issues with privately (I vent A LOT online but discussing it privately with someone seems to always circle into having a bit of fun by detailing how you'd both polish those details), or trying to find something better? I don't mean to sound like one of those obnoxious "leave the fandom" ppl that pop out, but to relate to you, uh. Imagine if I got into Fate Grand Order. I would lose my absolute fucking mind. Just trying to get into Fate itself wasn't in the cards so I just decided it wasn't for me bc I love and respect women. Sometimes self-care is just saying Fuck This and noping out.