#watch any scene between the two of them and tell me it doesn't feel exactly like your parents silently moving through the house. saying

[carefulfears]

mulder and diana literally have the most intense divorced energy anyone could ever have...they have the chemistry of two people who've been married for decades and maybe don't wanna be married anymore, maybe aren't married anymore, but once you're married you're grandfathered in. you're always married. haven't touched each other in years, go most days not even considering the other, but owe each other something, and aren't sure of what it is. diana lies and lies and lies to his face, and then dies to save him. she feels entitled to him, she knows what's best for him, what's his is theirs. always. she was there when he got it. she helped him build it. (she tells him herself: "don't forget that"). so much of what she does appears as she's trying to establish a claim over him, but she doesn't have to try. she just is. she's irreproachable. you don't talk about the wife. (and you don't talk to her, as scully and diana arguing is met only with mulder's impatient, "scully...scully...scully.")

any time she comes up in conversation, his friends are uncomfortable. i love the way byers goes "well....yeah?" when scully asks if he knows diana. he says it like he's surprised that scully didn't know about her. when scully won't stop pressing mulder about diana in one son, all three of the boys tense up. the camera keeps going to their reactions. (you don't talk about the wife. they were there. "i always wondered why they split up.")

scully says "special agent diana fowley" as though maybe if she had one more title to throw in, she would disappear. diana says "fox" like she has something to prove. mulder says "diana" like it communicates everything he doesn't say. and in a way, it does. the first time scully heard him call agent fowley "diana," she knew.

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[sunnynwanda]

Hi, how are you doing? I hope you’re finee❣️

Can you write a snippet with a huge fight scene and a lot of action (you can include some weapons or gadgets if you want!). Make the villain or hero very angry at their nemesis cause they feel too much tension between them. If you want, make it spicy. Ik it’s hard to put some suggestive things here but that’s exactly why i am curious to see how you will make it! No forcing tho, i would be happy with a fight only too

Two to Tango

Warnings: Suggestive. Slightly spicy. Language. Minors beware. P.S. 'Sternchen' means 'little star'.

They sense the weapon aimed at them, an imaginary red dot dancing over their strained back. Their body fails to match the speed of their gut feeling, causing them to turn with a seconds' delay. The electricity shocks their shoulder, piercing through their arm and shoulder blade. It hurts like a bitch, and with a loud hiss, Hero retreats behind a wall, cursing under their breath. Villain's triumphant cackle riches their ear a few moments later.

"Is our brave Hero scared of a little tickle?" Their tone is taunting, a smug smile undoubtedly tugging at their thin kissable lips. "And here I thought you could take it."

Hero grits their teeth in annoyance. "I'll show you a little tickle, bitch." It's a promise, not a threat. Hero doesn't know what they are going to do yet, but they intend to pay back tenfold for every single time Villain's weapon has fired today.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Villain sings, cocking their newest toy again. They were dying to test it for weeks now, and Hero seemed the best target to do so without actually killing someone. "Watch your language, Sternchen. We don't want to ruin your goody-two-shoes reputation now, do we?"

"This was the fifth fucking time you've zapped me tonight," Hero snaps. Villain came dangerously close to discovering their true personality this time, and - Hero was sure of that - Villain would live to regret provoking that revelation. "Fuck off already."

Today's patrol was meant to be a short round around the city. Hero was exhausted from the shit of a week they had and in desperate need of a break. They had intended to finish their round and spend the evening in bed, eating junk food and watching mindless rom-coms - a guilty pleasure of theirs. Yet here they were, hiding behind a wall with a half-numb arm while Villain closed in on them.

"And where's the fun in that?" Villain rounds the wall only to discover Hero long gone. They look around, confused and slightly on edge. Something tells them to avoid getting caught at all costs tonight. The shock effect from their gun didn't last all that long, but Hero's irritation sure did. Villain did not test their weapons to know for sure, especially not on themself. "Hiding from me, are you? It takes two to tango, darling. You're gonna have to come out."

When no reply follows, Villain pauses. They could bet they heard Hero's voice from this exact spot moments ago, yet they are nowhere to be seen. They scan the area, holding their breath to hear any shuffling of Hero's clothes.

Where the fuck did that fucker go? Villain thinks to themself, still too wary to lower their gun. They couldn't have just left, right? The floors sure look empty. Wait a second.

Villain fails to complete the thought when Hero lands behind their back with a loud thud, and before Villain can even register the situation, they are pushed face-first against the wall. Hero twists their arms harshly, pinning them near the small of their back and pressing one knee to the back of Villain's to effectively immobilize them. Their weapon clings on the concrete floor, sure to be scratched.

Villain should probably focus on what's gonna happen to them instead. Their cheek is flush against the cold stones, their chest heaving in sharp inhales from the discomfort of the position and suddenness of their capture. Shit, they were fucked.

"Hey, it's dusty here," they attempt to sound light-hearted but can feel the anger radiating off of Hero in raving heat waves. Definitely shouldn't have gotten caught. "You're gonna ruin my costume."

"Oh yeah?" Hero's voice is sheer venom that sends a chill down Villain's spine. They refuse to acknowledge the pleasure and anticipation it carries within. "Does it look like I fucking care?"

"You obviously don't," they bite back, earning a disgruntled huff from Hero, who steps on the handle of their gun with their toes, lifting it up into a position that allows them to grab it without releasing their hold on Villain. "You wouldn't dress like you do if you had any regard for fashion... or any damn taste, really?"

Okay, Villain knows they are in no position to be cocky at the moment, but they can't help their smart mouth. The fact that their comment earns a dark chuckle from Hero has nothing to do with the warm feeling in their stomach - it's pure satisfaction from a successful jab, nothing more.

Hero's breath fans over the shell of their ear in time to draw them back from the pointless argument with their mind.

"Want me to show you my taste then?" Hero purrs, but there is something sinister in the brush of their lips against Villain's jaw. They press their hips further against Villain's half-bent form and use a combat knife to rip a large cut through Villain's expensive leather suit.

"What the fuck?!" Villain's voice is incredulous. They look down in disbelief, trying to free their hands from Hero's grip in vain.

"Shut your mouth, or I'll keep going," the knife grazes against the exposed skin of their upper thigh, too light to cut but enough to send a shiver down Villain's leg. Hero was surprised at the rush of pleasure that shiver sent through their bloodstream, attributing it to the adrenaline from their battle.

You keep telling yourself that. Their inner voice is interrupted by Villain's actual one.

"Shit, fine," Villiain surrenders, as if there is any other choice at this point in their predicament. They definitely overdid it with the teasing today. It didn't help that Hero was in a mood, either. "Just stop."

"Good villain," Hero pats their cheek, withdrawing the knife from their thigh and going to release Villain's hands. It would have been all done because, honestly, Hero was exhausted and had no intention of retaliating today of all days.

It would have - had Villain had any control over their goddamn mouth, that is.

"Motherfucker," the word rolls past their lips before they can consider the consequences of voicing it. Hero's hold tightens around them almost instinctively, their leg returning to its position behind Villain's knees. If they thought they were fucked then, now they are fucking done for.

"You wanna repeat that?"The knife returns as well, only now it's against their throat, grazing their skin with a kiss of the cold metal. And Villain will be damned if they don't hear a rasp in Hero's voice. "I said repeat that."

"N-no," they breathe out, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of their face and over their neck. They freeze when Hero kisses it, their tongue hot and wet against Villain's feverish skin.

They barely contain the whimper that threatens to spill past their lips when Hero drops the knife, instead wrapping their hand around Villain's throat. They squeeze harshly, choking a torn exhale out of Villain, and pull their back flush against their chest, another arm winding across their torso. It takes Villain a minute to register their hands are free of Hero's iron hold. Free yet entirely useless as they flex at the sensation Hero's tongue wrecks in its wake.

"It takes two to tango, darling," Hero whispers, nibbling on the sensitive spot beneath their ear. Villain's head drops against Hero's shoulders, exposing their neck to Hero's impatient mouth. They struggle with their mind, trying to come up with a response, but fail miserably upon contact with their own gun.

"Hero," they startle, twisting their head to look at their nemesis when a numbing pain pierces through their hip. "Fuck, fuck! That hurts!"

They jerk away, but Hero maintains their hold of them. Something tells Villain they would collapse to the floor had they not.

As if on cue, they let go of Villain's body, and Villain's knees buckled under them, muscles still numb from the shock of electricity. They lean against the wall, sitting down to collect themself. And that's one shot. How the fuck was Hero able to walk around after five?

Hero grabs their gun again, snapping it in half before discarding the pieces. Villain brings a hand to cover their watering eyes. They aren't sure what's causing them more distress - the pain imposed on them or the sensation ripped away from them. They expect Hero to leave and are determined to keep their eyes shut until they do, but when an arm snakes around their waist, their eyes fling open against their will. They perk up as Hero pushes another arm under their sensation-deprived legs, pulling them up in bridal carry.

"And here I thought you could take it," Hero murmurs, pressing another kiss to Villain's temple. Villain's irises are dilated, tears still pooling in the corners of their eyes. Their pettiness be damned.

"How are you fucking alive after those?" Villain questions, noting that Hero pauses, unsure where to take them - their apartment or Villain's lair. "I can't feel my legs."

"I'd much rather you said that for an entirely different reason," they mumble under their breath, but Villain hears.

"You wanna repeat that?" They let out an amused chuckle, staring at the thick blush creeping up Hero's neck.

"N-no," their voice is small. Villain finds it amusing after everything they took the liberty of doing to them. "I'll take you to my place in case you still need assistance. And to make it up to you."

"Uh-huh," Villain quirks an eyebrow but nods, a satisfied smirk finding its place on their face as Hero's blush intensifies. "Solely for that purpose."

Hi, love! I'm doing quite well, although busy - as indicated by my relative absense here. I hope you are fine too!

Can I just say I absolutely loved this request! It had my fingers itching to get to the keyboard from the moment I read it. I'm not quite sure if I've followed your idea but I still hope you'll like it. I sure had an absolute blast writing it... and I kinda love them. They felt exceptionally alive. Although, the hero/villain duos always do.

Thank you for the request and thank you to everyone for reading. Love you,

Sunny xo

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose  @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood

[neuroticbookworm]

The Kindness of TsukuTabe Season 2 Episode 8

I watched episode 8 of TsukuTabe Season 2, and I wanna discuss the absolutely breathtaking scene that was designed as a mutual absolution of guilt that women feel for breaking the chain of patriarchy, an act that forces them to abandon the woman before them to a worse fate, to face their woes alone.

I was scared and on-guard when Fujita-san and Kasuga started discussing their responsibilities as the women in their household and how it makes them disappear over time. Because it hits too close to home for me and I was just not ready to have this guilt dissected in front of me. But the writing of this show is so wonderfully brilliant and treated the emotions that both the characters in the show and I, as an audience, were feeling with precious care.

The “You don’t have to go home” from Fujita-san was an unexpected but necessary reassurance for Kasuga. I’ve not yet watched Kasuga interact with her mother over the phone, which could be because her mother doesn't even have the autonomy to call her own daughter. Kasuga most likely has mixed feelings about her mother’s place in her life, because her mother would’ve also unwittingly contributed to the misery and hopelessness Kasuga felt in her family’s house. Any meaningful nuanced conversation between them right now, when the tensions are boiling over is almost impossible. Fujita-san’s “I would tell my daughter the same thing” is exactly what Kasuga needed to hear to soothe her bruised heart, even if her head has already made the correct and logical decision to not go back.

And Kasuga’s “You should take care of your own life too” to Fujita-san makes her visibly happy! She hugs herself and says “It is as if it was my own daughter telling me that”

(look at the relief and happiness on her face! I'm so emotional about this episode)

This scene then blending into the two women sharing a meal together, enjoying a brief respite before going back to their respective battles was so poignant. And the fact that this scene is immediately followed by Kasuga absolutely decimating her dad and his tantrum, demanding her return, was extra triumphant. Kasuga may have drawn most of her strength from her chosen family, but I believe she also got some of it from an Asian mother who told an Asian daughter to cherish her life and not sacrifice it for the sake of her parents.

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRET OF US - IV

i miss you, im sorry

i don't wanna go, think i'll make it worse

everything i know brings me back to us

i don't wanna go, we've been here before

everywhere i go leads me back to you

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

summary: being around coriolanus snow was like a forest fire, intense and heated, but can quickly turn out of control with a change of wind.

pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking

The temperature starts to decline, and so does whatever conversational habits had bloomed between you and Coriolanus. It isn't back to normal animosity, you had decided you wouldn't go back to typical hating him after all, but you aren't nearly as chatty as you usually have been. You blamed midterms, you blamed whatever happened that night, you blamed weak feeling slipping through the cracks confusing your thoughts and dreams. You hate that you wonder, you hate that there is an odd ache of longing for him, you hate that there is no hate no matter how hard you try to grasp at it.

Flickerman doesn't push the intimate scenes stating he's still busy figuring them out, but everything else is still business as usual, you look internally for gratitude but instead silence greets you and you are thankful for that at least as you try not to examine your feelings too closely.

You're heading to campus, stopping by the little coffee shop for a warmer drink when you see him standing in line on his phone. You pause, watching him through the window as your heart picks up its rhythm, willing, wanting him to see you.

He does. He picks his head up blue eyes meeting yours as your hand slowly rises in a small wave. The corner of his mouth ticks up as his hand mirrors yours and then you're tugging the door open to walk towards him. You think of a before, of a time you would have stuck your nose up and kept moving to avoid him, but that seemed long ago, in a different life.

"Hey," You say standing off to the side so people don't think you're cutting.

He looks down at you, "Hey."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting coffee," He motions to the barista at the register the condescending smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes the heat in your cheeks from the wind, nothing more. "You know what I mean."

"I was heading to the library to study for my stats midterm." He responds.

"Yeah that one was a little rough." You nodded.

"Are you two done flirting with each other so we can order?" The man standing behind him bites out.

Coriolanus shoots him a look but his eyes soften when they turn back to you, "What do you want?"

"What?"

"Were you dropped on your head as a child?" He muses your hair, his hand lingering too long as it glides off of your head. "My treat." He motions to the menu, "If you tell me whats on the midterm."

You cross your arms, "No then you'll get a better grade than me."

"Exactly." He beams.

You tell him your order anyways, "I'm going to tell you everything thats not on there."

He pays for both drinks and moves to the side while they're being made. "I can work with that."

"Cheater."

He pokes your nose, "Work smarter not harder kitten." He glanced at the door, "Where were you headed?"

"Poli-sci midterm." They call his name sliding both drinks across the counter for you to take.

Coriolanus Snow smiled, more to himself, "You'll do fine." It actually sounded genuine, a tone that surprised was directed at you. Then you're walking down the sidewalk together towards campus, "Any big plans for the holidays?"

"When have you ever cared?" You scoff sipping your warm drink.

"Since your spit was almost in my mouth."

You cringe, "Gross, don't say it like that." It almost distracts you from the original question...almost. You sigh, "Probably staying here."

"Did you do something to piss your father off?" He chuckled to himself.

You glare at him, "I hate that you know so much about my family."

He only smirks deeper, "No you don't." He takes a step sideways, closer to you, his knuckle brushes against yours accidentally causing yours to twitch towards his in response. "Also, I know you go on the offensive when you're avoiding questions."

You shove him with your shoulder to break the connection, "So, what's your grand plans for the holiday Snow?" His face falls, eyes overshadowed by overwhelming grief.

"I have to go." He's off before you can stop him, before you can pull back the words that had set him off. You don't know why, it's not like you had ever cared for hurting each other's feelings, but you can't shake the look on his face, you can't shake the sympathy.

You sit outside your classroom after the test staring at old pictures on his page once again; pictures of him and Sejanus. He had been an orphan for most of his life, fostered with his cousin Tigris with various family members. Then suddenly The Plinth's had adopted him, taken him in like a second son, then Sejanus had died. You only knew part of the story, only parts you heard through other people, and now you knew he had gone to military camp for some reason after Sejanus had died.

You trace his name on the empty coffee cup you were still holding.

You're moving before you realize, before you can let reason stop you from making your way to the library. He's still there thankfully, hunched over a notebook writing things out a stray curl loose against his forehead. He brushes it back as he glances up at you.

"We have this dinner." You say coming around to stand in front of him. "My friends and I...we have this dinner and spend the holiday together." You toy with the wood on the chair avoiding looking at him. After everything, after every hurtful word and angry stare, after the party and the alley and his apartment, you should not let the words leave your mouth. "You should come." You meet his hard gaze watching his jaw tighten, "Or don't, it's up to you. You know where to find me." Then you're leaving before anything else can come from the conversation, from the invitation you left open

"You've grown soft in your old age." Clemensia shakes her head at you as you help her place plates down.

He had texted you later that night asking for the time and place of the dinner ending the conversation at that not hearing much since. "He doesn't have anyone else."

"You don't know that." She looks up at you eyes narrowing remembering your long rant regarding Livia Cardew, "Something's changed between you two."

You chuckle to hide the flush forming in your cheeks, "Did Arch tell you about my dream?"

Clemensia gasp, "No, but now I know something is definitely going on." You chew on your cheek staring down at the place setting unable to think too much on the statement. "Be careful, you two have always shared a similar...fire." She comes around the table running a soothing hand down your arm, "I don't want you to get burned by his." She drops her hand, "Is you mother devastated you're not going home?"

You're thankful for the change in subject. "Yes."

"Why don't you tell her? Tell both of them?" She goes to the kitchen grabbing the dish she had made to move it to the center of the table.

"It wouldn't do any good." There's a knock on the door cutting off any further deep dive into you familial ties. You knew your mother was upset, you knew it the minute you had turned off your phone to avoid her texts. You're not even sure how to phrase it to her, to them, how you didn't want what they wanted for you anymore. And it wouldn't do good at all, that much was true, your father would have none of your feelings, your self doubts. He wouldn't care for what you wanted at all. You greet your friends watching as they add their dishes to the table grabbing their various drinks and taking up unoccupied seats.

You can't help but glance at the door, waiting and waiting for someone you had once wished would never come. Maybe he had decided not to come after all, he never really had given you a definitive answer. You try not to let it effect you even as your head whips around at the sound of an additional knock. You glance around the room, at ever accounted body, and stand up to open the door yourself.

He stares down at you in the doorframe, "You didn't answer my message."

"I uh..." You close your eyes and open them again trying to shake the warm feeling blooming in your chest. "I turned my phone off." You allow him to step into the apartment closing the door behind him, "What did it say?"

"I asked if you needed anything while I was at the store." He sets the brown paper bag down. "I got you wine anyways." He hands you the bottle.

You trace the label, it was a favorite of yours, "Thank you." You motion to the cabinet, "I'll get us some glasses, you can sit next to me." You turn to head into the kitchen hearing various mutual friends saying hello to him, even Arachne's sly voice being cordial with him. You smiled to yourself as you opened the bottle realizing you could get used to the mingling voices. You pour it out into two glasses and walk them back towards the table.

You avoid his hand ghosting your back, avoid it guiding you into your chair. He rest it on the back of your chair strands of hair caught between fingers as his thumb twitches forward. His knee brushes against yours as you settle in; it was a small space, nothing more, yet it isn't jerked away, its heat sneaking into your thigh. Everyone eats, everyone laughs, the room filled with warmth and joy and everything a family was supposed to consist of. You steal a glance at him over the rim of your glass seeing a genuine soft smile on his lips.

"What?" He asked, catching you in the act of staring at him.

"Nothing," You shake your head chuckling to yourself.

He smirks leaning towards you, "Tell me what's so funny about my face kitten."

You take a breath, eyes fluttering around his pretty blue ones, "I'm just...thankful." He snorts pulling back, "I'm thankful for our mutual truce." Something flashes across his face, you can't read it, and then its gone as he looks away from you, only to turn back with a familiar cold expression.

"I'll add your white flag to my collection."

You laugh humorlessly, "You mean your shrine." It has always been difficult with him, always trying to one up the other, but now things seemed simple, quiet acts of joy instead of cruelty for the sake of cruelness.

The rest of the dinner is filled with casual conversation and a gentle flow of soft laughter. He seemed to be enjoying himself enough that you two are amongst the last to leave. "Thank you for dinner Clemmie." He tugs on his coat.

"Thanks for the snake," Her painted nails hold the door for the two of you. "I sleep with it every night."

He smirks, "As long as you're thinking of me."

"You're a shameless flirt Coriolanus Snow." She rolls her eyes, "Get her home safe please."

He glances at you, "Always do."

You waved goodbye to her and walk out together heading out into the chilly night. "Why didn't Arachne go home, she's always had a nice family."

"They weren't too happy when she came out a few years ago." You frowned hands stuck in your coat pockets. "They're better now, but things are still a little tense."

He shook his head, "And you? Are things tense?" Your jaw sets as you refuse to answer, he didn't need to know everything. He pushes anyways, "Oh come on I know your parents, I met them on all those little events at Academy. They adore you."

"Adore what they've made of me." You mutter.

"What do you mean?"

You shake your hair out. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Is this why you're having an existential crisis on docks?" He scoffs. "You're so spoiled."

You stop on the sidewalk the door to your apartment a few meters away. "Excuse me."

He stops too heaving a breath towards the sky like he too didn't want to have this conversation, like you were always destined to fight on concrete slabs. "I just mean they've given you everything you've every wanted and you're upset about it."

"Maybe I didn't want it." You cross your arms.

"Didn't want what exactly?" He turns towards you, "A family? Money? Success no matter what?"

You grid your teeth, he made you sound so shallow. "You don't know anything about me."

"Oh yeah?" He takes a step closer, "I know your father is an important man and he wanted you to follow in his footsteps like a little puppet." Another step closer to you, "And you fucking hate that you're so good at it, that your perfect life will always be his." He looms over you, "I know you better than you know yourself."

It flies out of your mouth before you can catch it, "What's your story then? The Plinths stop feeling sorry for you and finally kicked you out?" His foot falters backwards shock crossing over his face at your harsh words, "I-I'm-I shouldn't have-!"

He takes a step back the air so much colder now, "No." He laughs, it's a cruel sound that cuts deep. "That's who you are isn't it, I knew that, always have." He stares forward, gaze empty. "Your father raised you as vicious as him, power hungry and armed to the teeth like a little viper."

"Aren't you the same?" You stare at his face while he stares at nothing. "Just as loathsome and lonely as I?"

His eyes quiver as he finally meets your gaze, "I don't need your pity."

Your eyes flicker around his angry face, "I don't pity you."

He glares down at you. "Then stop trying to be my friend, stop trying to care when we both know the only thing you care about is yourself and your shallow little life."

"That isn't true." It's a whisper, you hate the sinking feeling in your chest, and yet you had only cared about your life until...until...

"Just because I bought you some coffees, and took you to a party doesn't mean anything." He seethes, the white flag up in glorious flames around the pair of you. "You are nothing to me."

You swallow, throat dry. You will not cry in front of him of all people, so you dig your heels something familiar. "Like I care what I am to you." You spit out taking a step closer so he can soak up every hateful word. "You want to know what I truly hate? You, Snow, you." You go to turn, purse tucked tight against you. "Once this play is over I'll be happy to never see you again." Evil words sat on your tongue, evil vicious words that would poison a soul; you can't bring yourself to say them, and maybe that was pity. You walk away before you could sink you teeth in to rip apart his frosted heart.

You don't really see him the rest of the semester, it was for the best anyways as you focused on finals. It wouldn't be strange, to fall back into the pattern of glaring and undermining him, but for some reason you don't think you would have been able to.

You don't think on the why.

He claimed to be sick, avoiding rehearsals and stating he would be back when the semester started up again.

You don't hear anything from him, not through any of your friends, he had blocked you on social media finally cutting of any form of communication. It was fine. You didn't need him in your life, but you couldn't deny the want of his presence there, and that doesn't seem right at all.

"I wish you could have come home honey." Your mom says on the other line. "They decorations were so nice, I'll send you some pictures." She sighed, "Your father is upset, he was throwing this party to help you network and-!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I know mom, but I have this big project I need to work on."

She doesn't even think on the lie you tell her, "Oh we understand, we just miss you, and you father wants you to do well." Her tongue clicks, "Oh and did you get his email about those internships?"

"Yes." You mute yourself before you sigh letting her ramble on with the speech your father gave her, he always used her to get through to you. There's a knock on the door though and you clicked the unmute button, "Hey I have to go, can I call you tomorrow?"

"Of course," You hear her smile, "And happy new years honey, we love you."

"Love you." You hang up going over towards your door to peer out of the peep hole. No one is there. You shrug, well it was a good excuse to get off the phone.

There's another knock, slower, lazier. You stomp back over and fling it open. "This isn't fu-!" He's slouched against your doorframe sitting on the hallway ground. "What are you doing here?"

He hiccuped, "You're so lame spending the holiday alone kitten." He hadn't spoken to you in weeks, he cut you off and avoided you and now he had the audacity to show up drunk on your doorstep to add insult to injury. You go to slam the door on him, but he shoves his foot through to stop it, "Ouch." He peers up at you, eyes red rimmed and lost. "So cruel to me."

"What do you want Snow?"

"Some water." He's wasted and you decide to be nice despite it all. You help him up and into your apartment. He stumbles onto your couch while you grab him some water. "I unblocked you." He rest his head on the back of the couch staring at the ceiling. "You never messaged me."

You hand him the water, "What would I have said?"

He smirks at you taking the glass. "That you miss me."

You take a seat on your coffee table across from him, "I didn't miss you."

"Liar."

You glared at him, "You were rude to me, why would I miss you."

He gives you a lazy smile, "You're so pretty when you glare at me."

"You're obliterated." You scoff standing up and going to your pantry to find food to sober him up. "Where were you tonight anyways?" You ask pulling out bread to make a sandwich, but he never responds and when you turn around he isn't on your couch. You glance at the still locked door, then down the hallway towards your bedroom. You hurry down the hall spotting him standing at your bedside flipping through the book on your nightstand.

He glances up at you, "I recommended this book in class." He shook the title at you, "And you said I was stupid to even think it was a good book." You watch him approach you, "Yet here it is on your nightstand. I know you've read it before, can tell by all the annotations, the crinkles in the pages, the cracks in the spine. I know you're reading it now from the bookmark tucked away on page 314."

He's in front of you, too close and you gape up at him. "I-uh..." You had no explanation besides the truth; that you had picked it up to see for yourself after that class, and then again when his absence had filled your life. "Friends close, enemies closer thing," You throw his words back in his face.

"Back to enemies then?" He drunkenly chuckles swaying on his feet causing your hands to dart out to steady him. "Hm," He mumbles as your fingers twist into fabric gripping his sides to hold him up. "Cruel, wicked curse of mine."

"Why are you here?" You blinked up at him.

He stares down at you, "Would you even believe the truth?" You shake your head, so he sighed coming even closer, "You were right, I am just as loathsome and lonely as you."

His hand comes up to your face and all you can do is look at him, "I thought I was nothing." Your eyes flicker around his face, "I can't keep up with you."

"Then don't." His thumb strokes your cheek and its tender, too tender.

"Coriolanus." You breath up at him.

He tilts your face up the same time he leans his down towards yours. "You've never called me that before." He whispers, his breath fanning onto your face, you can taste the vodka he had drank, the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, the unknown shape of his name still tingling along your tongue. His lips are so close now, a featherlight touch against your own, and one inch closer would connect your mouth to his.

The book clatters out of his hand as he goes to hold the other side of your face, and you're stepping out of his hold clearing your throat. "I'll go get your water." You leave him there not even caring what else he could find in there as you go to get him water. He almost kissed you, you almost kissed him, even after every spewed venomous word that came out of the other's mouth. This was messy and chaotic and shouldn't be happening, but he tugs on something drawing you back to his wildfire. "Here." You pushed the door open to find him lying on your bed fast asleep.

You set the water on the bedside table anyways and go to leave when his hand wraps around your fingers. "I missed you." His voice is heavy with sleep, but you caught it. "You keep me warm."

"You could get burned." Your voice cracks remembering Clemensia's warning.

"Burn me." He tugs on your hand, "Burn me until I'm nothing but ashes."

You squeeze it once before letting go, "Goodnight Snow." He doesn't answer as you leave him alone in your dark room.

You don't sleep much, tossing and turning on your couch while he sleeps off the alcohol in your bed. You spend most of the night staring at your ceiling wondering how you had ended up here with him. You had hated him, you wanted nothing to do with him, and he had proven time and time again how much of that was true, and you knew you had done the same for him. But here the two of you were, almost kissing in your bedroom, and not for the play.

Blame the alcohol, always a good excuse.

He sleeps until the late afternoon coming out into the kitchen with sleep mused hair and his clothes on from yesterday. "You should have made me sleep on the couch." He tells you sleep still dragging his voice down a couple octaves.

"I tried." You smile sarcastically going to your cabinet to pull down a clean coffee mug.

"I shouldn't have come here." It isn't anger; it's guilt lacing his tone.

You pour coffee into the cup. "No you shouldn't have." You turned around sliding it across the island towards him. "Why did you?"

He doesn't look at you, just at the black swirling liquid in the cup. "I don't know." He does know, he had muttered it to you in the dark, and you wanted-needed to hear it in sober words. "I didn't mean what I said that night." He blinked up at you. "I was trying to hurt you."

The corners of you mouth turn up in surrender, "Isn't that what we do best?"

"You aren't shallow." His hand wraps around the mug pulling it closer. "You are not your father." His blue eyes quiver, "And you are not nothing to...you are not nothing."

You turn your back on him pretending to search through your cabinets for food, you didn't like the way he was looking at you, the way it made your insides twist, so you attempt to break up the mood. "I tend to say unkind things I don't mean as well. I'm a pain in the ass, your pain."

He chuckles, but it's weak and you avoid the urge to turn around to take in his facial expression. "Guess you are." You pull down bagels. "So...are we..." You slide four into the toaster. "Okay?"

"When have we ever been okay Snow?" You twist the sleeve back up. "We've been at each others throats since we met." You finally turn back around blue eyes meeting yours and your fickle heart thumps two extra beats at the lost expression there. "We're fine." You cup your own coffee in your hands, "Isn't that the glory of being enemies, we have seen that absolute worst side of each other."

He brings the mug to his lips, "Are we still enemies?"

The toaster dings, bagels popping up. "That's for me to know and you to find out." You turn back around gathering the food and setting it on plates. "Do you remember anything from last night?" You're stiff as you ask it, wondering if he remembered his lips so close to yours, the words he had spilled across bedsheets.

"No." He forces out a laugh, "Why did I say anything embarrassing?"

You wave your hand around lying through your teeth as you joke back. "Obviously just that I am the most amazing person ever and how I am so much more smarter than you." You turn back towards him sliding the plate across from him as you both wear mask; no one will surrender tonight leaving you two forever in this roundabout game. "Any big plans for tonight? Should I leave my door unlocked just in case?"

"No." He chuckles. "I was stupid last night, went to the bar and got even more stupid."

You chew through food. "On that we can agree." He stares down at his plate pushing it around before eating himself. You knew he was just going to go home to be alone again, you swallow. "Stay tonight." He blinks up at you, "I can make hot chocolate and we can watch cheesy holiday movies." You set your bagel down, "No one should be alone this time of year."

"Take your own advice kitten."

You glare, "I am Snow, that's why I am asking you." His eyes flicker around your face, you're so pretty when you glare at me. You relax your face remembering his words and wonder if he was too.

He mockingly sighed, "Fine only because you begged me to."

You shake your head fighting the smile as you continue to eat breakfast with him.

Soon enough under the cover of snowy darkness the two of you sit beneath separate blankets watching some of your favorite holiday movies with large cups of hot chocolate smothered in whipped cream. You're laughing, you're crying, you're having too much of a good time with someone you're supposed to dislike.

But it's beginning to become hard to dislike him, it's beginning to frustrate you how much you didn't dislike him as much as you should. He was cruel and cunning and everything you had always hated about power hungry men. You weren't that much different though as you suddenly were starting to see that.

It's why you began to distance yourself from your parents, noticing how you father was turning you just as cold as him, only allowing you to focus on one thing; remaining on top, destroying anyone close enough to you that could jeopardize that. You know you needed to continue the path he set for you in order to succeed, but the appeal was lackluster and you were resentful.

You glanced out of the window watching the snow fall silently outside.

"Do you like snow?"

You blink looking at him. "Hmm?"

"Snow?" He motioned outside. "Do you like it?"

You chuckled to yourself, "I guess so." You were standing up padding over to the large glass doors to open up onto the balcony. "I like when it makes the world so quiet." You lean against the railing closing your eyes listening to nothing as the snow trickles down to the cement below. Your fingers were chilling as they held onto the frozen railing, but you didn't mind, just a little while longer. He slides next to you, "We never did normal things." You stare out into the world, "Never went ice skating, or made gingerbread houses." You met his blue eyes, "Watched holiday movies together. He never had time." You scoffed shaking your head, "Always dragged us around to parties and events."

"A company ski trip." He nudged you.

"Don't remind me." You rolled your eyes enjoying his warm shoulder remaining pressed into yours. "Some parts were fun." You nodded, "But I think I just craved normalcy, emotionally present parents, I don't know, a father who didn't view me as a pawn." You cringed at yourself looking down, "I do sound spoiled."

"No." His voice was so soft you don't dare look up. "It's okay to be upset they weren't there for you in ways you needed." He nudged you again, gentle this time. "Even if you got everything else you wanted."

You sighed, "Maybe I need to move on from it all, stop holding a grudge over something so silly."

He doesn't answer for a while forcing you to finally look up at him. "It's not silly."

"How is Tigris?" You force the change in subject.

"She's good...really good." He smiled to himself, "Thinking about opening up her own store, launching a new line in a few weeks, all the cool stuff."

You smile with him pinkie twitching towards his against the railing. "That's awesome for her."

His eyes lower taking in your face, your lips. "You have..." He brings his hand up thumb brushing off whatever was there. "Whip cream." He whispered out fingers still under your jaw holding your face.

"Thanks." You breath.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, skin too hot for the frigid temperatures as he gazes down at you, as he caresses your flushed face. It felt too intimate for this without the buffer of alcohol, the buffer of a play. You were here alone with him in the snow while the sound of holiday music floated outside from the movie playing on your television. He turns his body completely towards you tilting your face up so much that you have to turn as well. He cups your face, you lean into it,

"Coriolanus." You sigh hand gently wrapping around his wrist to touch him, stop him, stop yourself.

His grip tightened, "Don't." He isn't angry, he's conflicted. "Don't say my name like that." His other hand is on your waist, "You test my patience enough as it is."

"What do you want?"

He leans down, nose brushing yours. "To stop feeling this way, to know it doesn't always lead to ruin."

Your brows furrow, "Am I truly so horrible?"

"No." He breaths you in, the only thing separating your lips. "Gods no."

"We..." You swallow down the overwhelming urge to connect your mouth to his. "We should go back inside."

He nods, but doesn't move. "We should." He licked his lips, "You were always the stronger one."

You hated that it was true as you slowly peel yourself away from him. Your brain feels muddled and consumed by him as you walk back into your too warm apartment. He closes the balcony door with a soft click the room tense with unsaid words. You have too much to say, to ask; why, why now, when, is this real or a game? You don't ask it, you can't, you can't formulate words as your heart throbs for the man you had always loathed.

But why? Why did you hate him? You suddenly couldn't remember the reason behind such intense emotions. You can't remember much besides the feel of his breath on your lips, his hand on your waist, how much you wanted to kiss him.

You were lonely, simply lonely from the holidays and not thinking straight, blurring the lines between reality and fiction of theater. You didn't like him, you couldn't. He and Clemensia were right, it would all be ruin and flames.

You take your spot back on the couch the energy shifting between the two of you, suddenly too aware of how close he sat down on the same couch. "I never thanked you for letting me come to your dinner party."

"What are friends for?"

He smirked, "So, friends now?"

You rolled your eyes, "Don't make it such a big deal Snow."

"Coryo," He sighs, "Call me Coryo, you always use Snow when you're scolding me."

You softly smile, "Okay...Coryo."

You didn't mind the taste of it on your tongue.

endnotes: omgggg what yall feeling so farrr hehehe

chapter 5 coming soon!

[actual-changeling]

i thought about the end scene of 'beyond the sea' too many times and this is the result. mulder is so soft with her for the entirety of the episode, and it drives me insane.

first ficlet i've ever written for these two, so hopefully i got their voices right.

—

Mulder's hand against her arm is warm and comfortably heavy, a tether keeping her close enough to the ground to not drift away like she's been prone to do for the last few days. When her eyes flutter shut on their own accord, Scully doesn't fight it, all too aware of the hours of sleep she hasn't been getting.

Between fragmented nightmares about her father and the feeling of blood under her fingernails—Mulder's, dried and darkened no matter how hard she scrubbed—the last time she got more than twenty minutes at a time was before she saw her father's ghost in the flickering television light. The regular beeping of the machines echoing through the hospital room calms her somewhat; they're familiar sounds, no matter how far from medical school she might have ended up.

"Maybe you should head home, get some rest," Mulder suggests softly after an extended period of amicable silence, slightly squeezing her shoulder before reclaiming his hand. Her fingers twitch against the sheets as she fights the urge to chase after him, her body suddenly oddly cold. When she opens her eyes again, she catches him staring at her with concern clouding his gaze.

"I'm fine." 

It's a reflexive answer, a lie she keeps telling even though they are both aware she's everything but.

"I know," he replies, smoothing his palm down her arm until he can gently take her hand, and the chill disappears as quickly as it has arrived. "The last couple of days have just been a lot, and you deserve a break."

The noise is out of her mouth before she can stop it—something between a dismissal and a sob, tinged with bone-deep exhaustion. Even if she were to go back to an apartment full of Christmas decorations and unwanted quietude, she wouldn't be able to get any rest at all; not with guilt sitting on the bottom of her lungs and fear poisoning her breaths.

Scully tightens her grasp on his hand and turns to watch his heartbeat weave its way across the monitor. Alive, it whispers, over and over and over. 

Alivealivealive, and no thanks to her. 

She thought about it a few times, only when the darkness seemed entirely ubiquitous and the sleep deprivation spun webs across her ceiling, if maybe her choice to join the FBI, to go against her father's wishes, to put her life on the line while the distance between them grew—if all the stress she caused him somehow made her responsible for his death. 

No matter what she tries to tell herself, her father will still be dead, and Mulder will still be injured because she allowed him to run off alone despite Bogg's warnings. She had known without wanting to that he was going to get hurt, and yet. Always too little, too late.

"…Dana."

A tug on her arm rips her back out of her mind, and the worry carved deep into Mulder's face tells her that he has been trying to get her attention for longer than she can simply shrug off; she attempts to smile anyway and fails miserably.

"Whatever it is you're blaming yourself for, you're wrong."

"Mulder—"

He releases her hand in favour of cupping her cheek exactly as he had days ago in their office, and she relaxes into it without wanting to, the touch warm and comforting.

"If you don't want to go home, at least close your eyes for a little," he smiles for the two of them, his thumb caressing her cheekbone. Whatever protest she was about to utter dies on her tongue, so she simply nods. Mulder pulls back slightly to invitingly lift his arm, and for once, Scully doesn't even pretend to need time to consider it. 

God, she is beyond tired. 

She toes off her shoes and lies down on the scratchy hospital sheets, conscious of his injury as she carefully fits herself against his side. With her cheek resting on his chest and one palm above his heart, Scully closes her eyes and enjoys the comfort of Mulder holding her like she is doing him a favour. 

His fingers trace slow patterns up and down her back, and when she feels him press his lips to her hair, she inches impossibly closer in silent thanks.

The day bleeds from her limbs, and little by little, the tension in her aching muscles dissipates until only exhaustion and a familiar sense of safety remain. For the very first time since waking to see her father's ghost in her living room, sleep comes easily and remains completely dreamless. 

Mulder keeps her wrapped in his embrace and rests easier than he has in years.

[lamialamia]

We have a problem: why am I watching this sex scene again?

Ah. Sex scenes. You wild wild beast. The crossroad of many discourses and analyses and opinions and essays and now, here I am, a mere casual ww2 rpf fan, throwing my own hat to the ring. In this blog post I'm going to talk once more about sex scenes -- two in particular -- and why the eff one of them matters, making the ww2 rpf more compelling and the other did not.

Disclaimer: Whether or not sex scenes are needed in media in general or the right way to implement them across the vast spectrum of art is not part of this discussion. Please keep in mind I'm trying to complain about the writing decision in the small scope of the HBO War shows.

I have discussed the problem with the Crosby/Sandra plot line in a previous analysis here. But I think the problem with it requires another (and maybe a third) write-up. Here, I want to talk about why the tiny sex scene between Crosby and Sandra in episode 7 is a waste of screen time.

So, we have the sex scene in MOTA episode 7. It is somewhat explicit and it was clear it is consensual and that the people who are fucking is very into it. In comparison to other sex scenes in HBO War fandom, it doesn't exactly stands out to me with just the imagery of the act (of course this is a personal opinion, whether or not I find a sex scene hot or bad or corny or lovely or [insert adjective here] is not universal).

However, my problem with this sex scene between Crosby and Sandra is that it doesn't matter to the story.

After getting it on with Sandra, and then after she left him, Crosby never talked about this affair in anyway. Not over the narration, expressing some kind of sentiment over it, not with Rosie or any other guy, so me, the audience, have no idea what he think about it or how he might be affected about it. We didn't know what Sandra think or feel about it either because her scenes are about her spy works and that's it.

You might say: well he doesn't have to tell us how he feel if the show can demonstrate to us the same thing.

Yet, MOTA never did that. Furthermore, the show never portray the sex between them matters to the characters beyond getting their rocks off. And then, the sex doesn't matter to the theme of the episode nor the overall theme of the show either. It's just something that happened.

(Sad to say that maybe this sub-plot distracts me from the rest of episode 7 and 8)

This might be consider 'realistic'. In real life, people can have sex just for the joy of it. Which is true, but in a drama mini-series, the choices to include or exclude details must take in consideration whether what is on screen is valuable to the story the show is trying to tell. Why are they including this sex scene instead of the hundred other real life details that don't make the cut? We don't have a training montage for the pilots, we never learn how Quinn and Bailey get back to base from Germany, we never have the D-Day invasion sequence,...

Let's have a comparison to another sex scene.

In The Pacific episode 3, Sidney Phillips met Gwen in Melbourne and started a romance with her that ended in them having sex before he got shipped back to Pavuvu. Personally for me, it wasn't an awesome sex scene either. Both Gwen and Sidney were awkward, they kissed and the entire thing ended with him kissing her bare shoulder.

But what truly matter happened latter. When Eugene arrived in Pavuvu and reunited with Sidney, he asked Sidney about what combat was like. And to answer this, Sidney mentioned him sleeping with Gwen not to brag about his sexual conquest but to make a comparison with the brutal battles he survived.

Despite the fact that the two of them grew up together, in just a small amount of times, Sidney have been through things and done things Eugene hadn't. All of that (both combat and his brief romance with Gwen) had changed Sidney to the point that Eugene could not longer connect with him. There was now a chasm between them. Eugene looked at his friend and tried to understand him but couldn't. There were things that must be experienced to be understood.

And then, Eugene himself went through life-changing events. The war changed him so much that when he returned to Mobile, he once again couldn't connect with Sidney

Or his brother (who was in the Army and was in the euro theatre) -- another person who had gone through the war himself.

Both Sidney and Eugene's older brother had returned home before him while Eugene had just came back, fresh off the board with his mental wounds, and it showed the chasm had formed between him and these two men who supposed to shared this brutal experience with Eugene.

In fact his brother specifically mentioned how Eugene is still a virgin, which highlight further how he was 'missing out' on that particular experience that both these men have.

And this all started when we were still following H company and witnessed Sidney and Gwen having sex. That small thing compounded over time. It snowballed into all these differences and distance that Sidney would have with Eugene, and then Eugene would be having against his own hometown, his brother, his family, and his best friend. It served to show how war had did its number on Eugene in many ways.

The sex scene between Sidney and Gwen mattered to the story, it served a narrative purpose eventually.

Crosby and Sandra's sex scene did not. And to include it meant there would be less screen time for any other story line, leaving not just the sub-plot of Crosby's arc weaker, but the other ones as well. Overall, this creative decision left MOTA a weaker show in term of its writing.

[beware-of-pity]

Just before tonight's episode airs, I wanted to get out of the way some of the little thoughts that still wander my head from last Sunday's one. I know this post will hold little to no meaning or significance after the episode airs, because it could probably completely change the trajectory of where the relationship between Rhaenyra and Jacaerys stands seeing as we already got teased a conversation with these two, but there was something that did bother me about how they choose to portray these two th last episode that I feel the need to talk about it.

I really, really, cannot get down to what they want to do with the dynamic with these two. I really do not understand where Jacaerys and Rhaenyra's relationship is heading as of last Sunday's episode. While it seems like they can have moments where they communicate and understand what they're both feeling and going through, most of the time these two are on screen they do nothing but misunderstand and be angry at each other.

Rhaenyra treats Jacaerys just like how Viserys treated her under Otto's influence, as seen in episode two of the first season. She ignores him, doesn't listen to his suggestions except for when she's on board with them, and shuts him down at every turn- and yet she deliberately tells Mysaria that Jacaerys is rebelling against her, a feeling that showrunners like Sara Hess back up as the truth of the matter.

And all I can do while watching all of this unfold is ask myself if I've either lost the plot of what's in front of me or if I'm just not seeing what the showrunners want me to see. All I've been seeing for the past six episodes is an inactive Rhaenyra being angry at her council for.... something I'm still not exactly sure about. I understand, her, feeling diminished and put down and perhaps still not being taken seriously as a woman in a room full of men but every time there's a council scene and Rhaenyra is in it, I can kind of also understand why she's still not being taken seriously. Every time she recoils with uncertainty because she does not know what to do, how to retaliate, or how to get her faction back on her feet, her mind leads her to what she knows best, participate with Syrax. When she's told that her getting on her dragon and becoming an active participant in the war is a bad idea, she scoffs and becomes annoyed because she doesn't know any better. Rhaenyra doesn't know what to do because with the little education she was given by her father battling a civil war with her half-brother was certainly not on the curriculum. And while I wouldn't blame young Rhaenyra for not knowing better, adult Rhaenyra should have certainly foreseen that her ascension to the throne would have been challenged, challenged enough that a dragon war breaking out would have been on the cards that she would have to, one day, play.

This hesitation is what costed her rook's rest. Had she already started cooping up the men-at-arms of the houses whose support she had on her side, she could have had the means to face Cole with an army. But the writers were literally obsessed with turning Rhaenyra into another version of Viserys, that instead of us getting the Rhaenyra that's grieving and wanting to avenge the death of both Luke and Visenya, we got the Rhaenyra who doesn't even mention the death of her only daughter, the one she was desperately dreaming of, not even once and treats the death of her son as something of a matter of fact, something that happened that we have to get over with, something that the show almost wants us to believe Lucerys either deserved or had it coming for him. Something that will not have anyone mention the faults of Aemond's intention and doing, with him not even once being called or denominated as a Kinslayer, while he actually goes down in history as being the prime epitome of said act.

Jacaerys feels virtually and emotionally alone, there is no other way to put this. His half-sister and cousin, as well as his three little brothers, were sent off for their own good and the only person that he feels comfortable enough to open himself up to is Baela, but even he understands that he cannot put and vent all of his feeling and frustration on her. He knows he cannot burden other people with the things he shouldn't even have to go through. The person he has ever felt closest to, both in age and in as a human being is now gone, and he cannot even let himself properly grieve him because of the war he now has to put himself to the bone for. The person he openly seeks out to consolidate and ground himself is his mother, the only other person who can feel his pain to the fullest and because of everything going on Rhaenyra cannot see what Jacaery wants in her in those times he tries to seek her out. And it's both tragic and makes you want to bash your skull on the nearest wall available at the same time.

[izzysillyhandsy]

Ed-and-Izzy-related stuff that stood out for me in episodes 6 and 7:

Their quiet familiarity and mutual fondness

The main thing I wanted from S2 regarding Ed and Izzy was at least a hint of a mutual, loving relationship between the two of them in the past. The way Izzy acted around Ed in S1 made no sense to me if there wasn't a strong, very old, tried and tested bond there. Equally, Ed's behaviour around Izzy, the familiar way he called him Iz, the exasperated way he reacted to Izzy's izzyness, showed (for me) a closeness of decades living together.

Izzy's "You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you" is the truth, in my opinion. It's about the little things, all the experiences they've had together, sharing a space, food, drink (how natural did it feel when Ed took Izzy's bottle?). Everyone who's had a close friend for decades knows how that feels.

Yes, there are aspects of Ed that Stede gets and Izzy doesn't. But I always had the feeling that Ed feels like home for Izzy and vice versa. This feeling was just very well hidden in S1 because of Izzy's confusion, jealousy and resentment.

(Of course, Izzy is also in love with Ed and Ed, as of S1, isn't. But the (platonic) love, friendship and fondness underlying everything is tangible.)

2. Together, they've got this "us against the world" vibe

One of my favourite headcanons is young Ed and Iz mutinying together, or deciding to kill someone who made their lives hell (with Iz doing the actual killing, obviously). Both learning to fight and to survive in a cruel world together.

I'm not saying this was in any way confirmed or anything (flashback scene, I'm still waiting), but the scene above with Ed looking out at the sea, Izzy who can't take his eyes off him... they seem so attuned to each other. "Where you go, I'll follow."

I know this isn't the most coherent analysis, I'm struggling to describe the feeling I got when watching this scene.

It was like yes, they've fought their way up together. Even after everything that happened, put them next to each other on a ship and they just fit. If they wanted to, they could do anything.

(In a way, it's such a pity Ed doesn't want to be a pirate anymore, at least not a scary Blackbeardy one. Those two have a look going.)

3. Izzy and Ed both connect Izzy's love declaration to Ed shooting him

"You know what he did when I told him I loved him?" "He shot me." "He shot you, yeah." "I know."

This is not 100% clear cut, but to me Izzy's delivery very strongly infers that Izzy didn't know Stede knew (and didn't tell him).

Which means that ED TOLD STEDE.

If that's the case, then

Izzy, at some point, realized that Ed shooting him wasn't (all) about him reminding Ed of Stede

Izzy has a better grasp on Ed's inner struggles than previously assumed

Izzy and Ed both see this declaration as important enough that Ed would permanently injure and eventually kill Izzy for it and Izzy and Stede are both like "yeah, figures"

Ed himself knows and admits that him shooting Izzy was about Izzy (still) loving him in that moment

I mean, I'm still shocked about that.

There were a lot of great metas about Ed's motivations after Ep2 came out, and some of them suggested exactly this: that Ed wanted to be an unloveable monster, that this was the only way he could deal with what he'd done, and Izzy's love was standing in the way of his grand self-destruction.

I wasn't prepared for Izzy, Stede and probably Ed being concious of that and kinda offhandedly acknowledging it in the show?

And even if it wasn't Ed but Izzy who told Stede (which I don't believe, but it's possible) - it's still crazy.

Izzy matter-of-factly telling Stede "Yeah, Ed shot me because I told him I loved him" and Stede being like "Yeah, of course, that's our Ed <3" is mind-blowing to me.

4. Izzy's love song

The lyrics at this exact moment:

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie. - He told me, he swore to me, for life.

He really means it. They're married. I rest my case.

5. The first kill's always a mindfuck

So, I have this persistent obsession about Izzy being Ed's personal henchman, and Ed "outsourcing the big job" Teach resenting him for it.

In that respect, Ed's reaction to Stede's first kill was very interesting.

It probably wasn't like that in the beginning, but Ed seems to be a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to violence. Izzy is irrevocably tainted, but I think he wants to keep Stede "pure" (he didn't mind when Stede torched the ship, but that's the hypocrisy in action).

This is of course totally my headcanon, but I think Izzy's first kill was significant. I think Iz did it for Ed. And I think it was very difficult for him (either because Izzy-the-artsy-outsider was actually quite sensitive and nowhere near a bloodthirsty killer and/or because he cared about the person he killed). But Ed was so impressed, and so thankful, so he just carried on doing Ed's dirty work and it changed him forever :(

6. Ed's apology

This whole scene.

Scowly face. Mopey twat. Oh, look, you're talking to me again.

The way they're saying it, Izzy's expressions, their body language - it feels so incredibly intimate. From this exchange alone I would bet they were lovers at some point.

Iz bringing the bottle as a cover and excuse and Ed understanding and playing along.

Ed's "Sorryboutyourleg" being the exact opposite of his public "apology".

I almost cried (like Iz) 😢

CONCLUSION: Why is there only one episode left I need more of this!!!

Also: IZZY LIVES <3

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Shamelessly spamming your inbox as well! Why do you think Kaz takes off his shirt in front of Inej? We know he likes to get a rise out of her (“something about the furrow between her brows was so satisfying”). Do you think he realizes he’s making her blush? Would you consider doing an analysis of your favorite parts of Kaz’s first POV in SOC and the CK bathroom scene? thank you so much!!

Hello and welcome to episode three of DK Finally Gets It Together And Answers Her Asks Because It's About Damn Time (working title)

Episode One - Episode Two

Hi, thanks so much for the ask and sorry that I've taken an eternity to get back to you, but yes absolutely let's talk!

Why does Kaz take his shirt off in front of Inej? The fact that Kaz takes his shirt off in front of Inej is kind of a strange one because it implies feeling a level of comfort around each other that neither of them are emotionally prepared to admit that they have - it's not that long ago (in fact I think it may have just been the previous chapter?) that Kaz told us "to say he trusted Inej would be stretching the point" and yet here he willingly removes his gloves and his shirt in front of her, a massive concession to his ability to be more vulnerable in front of Inej than he is anyone else. I think it's possible that, as you said, he enjoys getting a rise out of Inej however I aslo think this could be interpreted as yet another self-deprecating habit Kaz has collected around Inej to convince himself away from caring about her. I've talked a lot about the way his language separates them and famously the sarcastic delivery of "my darling Inej, treasure of my heart" to offend her even though the words represent, at least to some extent, his genuine feelings because he knows it will elicit a negative response (in this case pointedly referring to his cane and wishing him a long trip down the stairs before Inej herself slides down the bannister) and therefore he can somehow justify ignoring his feelings for Inej's because he had some kind of 'evidence' that she doesn't reciprocate. This is a damaging mentality to both of them, in Kaz with the evident self-deprecating qualities of the action and in Inej the belief that Kaz sees nothing in her except her monetary value to him (I believe the quote is something along the lines of "she was an investment no more no less" and is borne in Inej from the multiple times Kaz refers to her as such in his efforts to distance himself from her, unintentionally presently a massive and damaging misunderstanding of her trauma and the dehumanisation she went through - "bought her, and then sold her again and again"). the scene when Kaz removes his shirt in front of Inej is told from her perspective and we know she sees absolutely nothing beyond the practicalities of the moment as being any kind of vulnerability or romantically charged because she wonders what Kaz would think if she undresses and started washing herself in front of him, and comes to the conclusion "he'd probably tell me not to drip on the desk", and arguably this has a similar impact on her to the idea of being an "investment" rather than humanising terms because from her perspective he is acting exactly as he would if he were alone and with the way she's been treated and the kind of responses trauma and ptsd can cause in people this could to her feel like an extension of the dehumanisation tools that were used against her, effectively she may believe that he's willing to remove his gloves and shirt in front of her because he doesn't acknowledge himself as actually being watched by anyone - or at least not anyone of importance. Whilst this is obviously not Kaz's intention with the action I do wonder whether it's possible that it is to some extent another way of distancing himself from Inej. When Kaz removes his shirt Inej looks away from him, embarrassed, and pretends to study some of the papers on his desk. She comments that she had "lost most of her modesty at the Menagerie" but that there were still "limits". I think there's every chance that Kaz knows she will look away because she's uncomfortable with immodesty and the general vulnerability of the scene, as well as any relation she could reasonably find to her ptsd in this action, and that he is once again forcing himself to come up with this 'evidence' of her disinterest in him so he can bully himself into ignoring his feelings for her. I hope this made sense maybe it's just a rambling mess...

Also:

I have written an analysis of the CK bathroom scene so I will link that here

And when I was doing that series where I analysed my favourite quotes from each chapter I didn't get very far in because the posts took a long time to put together but I did cover chapter three (Kaz's first POV) split into a few different posts :)

Also, I'm back on my analysis nonsense right now so if y'all would like to see that series come back let me know, because I did have fun putting them together they were just also time consuming and I had a lot of other stuff to do at the time

Thanks so much for the ask! Sorry I took so long to respond, and the same to everyone else with questions in my inbox right now, but thanks for sending them in and thanks for reading this post - and don't let it put you off sending more asks if you'd like to! I am working my way through them, I promise :)

[kerizaret]

Hello everyone and welcome once again to my brain! Today I want to ramble a bit about

✨️ Tsukasa and Rakunosuke (Emu's grandpa) parallels ✨️

Because I feel like we don't talk about them much. Or at all actually

Now, I'm not pulling this out of nowhere. It's quite literally stated at least once, outright, in the game, that Tsukasa is really similar to Emu's grandpa (or even twice – but the other time I'm unsure 100% whether its about Tsukasa specifically, which I'll get to later). That's not to mention the other little things throughout the stories that I think similar between the two

So here's just some thoughts I've had on the topic after rewatching some events, more or less cohesive

1) Tsukasa's PXL auditon & WMS speech

Starting at the very beginning, we've known ever since the wxs main story that there's something in Tsukasa that has drawn Emu in to him already the first time she's ever saw him, at his audition for PXL, which made her hire him herself. She says "found you" at that moment, as if she's been searching for someone exactly like him. Out of all the possible candidates who applied who she might've seen, why Tsukasa specifically?

It could be just about him boasting about making fantastic shows, which of course is a part of it. But I feel like this isn't all, that there was something else that she noticed, that maybe she didn't fully realise at that moment

Then later, in Wonder Magical Showtime, after Tsukasa's motivational speech, Emu specifically thinks back to that audition and how she felt something special there. And, most importantly, she thinks it as if she's talking to her grandpa – like he's somehow tied to it, to her realisation that Tsukasa is the one

Putting aside the fact they were fighting for Rakunosuke's park, which obviously makes Emu think back to him, there's something more. Emu doesn't think anything of the sort about Rui, even though he was the one who came up with the night show, or about Nene. Nor did she mention any kind of this strong feeling/conviction about having them on the Wonder Stage in the main story

She's focused on Tsukasa, because he's the one that brought all these people together and gave them the last push they needed to fight for PXL. He's the one they listen to, he who understands what this park was all about and why they need to save it. He's standing on the stage her grandpa built, looking at all those people working here, and he's leading them, telling them this dream CAN be made a reality and it's more important than anything else

And I feel like she could have looked at that and been reminded of her grandpa a bit, with how much he loved the park he built and brought people together with the same ideals and love and made dreams come true

2) Miles

Speaking of WMS, I'm sure we all remember Miles, the sorcerer Tsukasa played in the night show in WMS, and how he was a character very clearly based on Rakunosuke. It's not very surprising it's Tsks who got this role, but it's still interesting to me. It feels like no-one else would've been able to get this character right and neither would Emu as Shao with someone else playing Miles

I won't get into what "Miles" Tsukasa says in the play, because that's just the script and not a representation of Tsukasa himself, but I do want to draw attention to the specific scene where Emu's father is watching the night show and looks at Tsukasa, then says this:

This is the first time that – i suspect – Tsukasa is outright "stated" to be like Rakunosuke. Here I say "suspected" since I'm not 100% sure of it for two reasons. One of them being that as we know, the ensekai translation is sometimes often bad. For that I looked up the original text as well as an old translation of the event on YT to check for differences

The line ends up being similar in meaning, more or less, but a bit more vague. That also ties to my second doubt though, which is that Emu's father might be referring not to Tsukasa himself, per se, but rather to the character of Miles he's playing

I feel like both can make sense, in their own way (and the event is a Tsukasa focus for a reason, too), but for here I'm throwing it more as a hint than any kind of outright proof. Food for thought

3) Tsukasa and Rakunosuke's deams

Then, as we reach Popping in my Heart! and learn more of Rakunosuke from Riley's pov, there's another interesting thing that pops up. That is, the fact that Tsukasa and Rakunosuke share the same dream

And then, that's when Emu confirms what I've talked about before – that this whole time, she's felt something about Tsukasa being so reminding of her Grandpa

So Tsukasa has all this time "carried the same spirit" as Rakunosuke – which is possibly the reason why Emu has been feeling strangely drawn to him from the beginning

4) The Wonderland SEKAI

Hey. Hey. Remember this line?

(tl by tsukasa's #3 fan on YT)

Yeah, this one. The same reason why wxs even has "Wonderlands" in their troupe name

You know what else has Wonderland in its name?

That's right! Tsukasa's SEKAI!

Tsukasa's SEKAI. A different world that's created from his feelings, that's a place born from his desire to make everyone smile with his shows. A world that just recently expanded to include plushies representing all those different shows – different worlds – wxs created as a troupe. It's a world that Tsukasa, in a way, made by himself (albeit unconsciously)

Oh did I mention the Wonderland SEKAI is also, primarily, pre-wl, a theme park? With a big ass ferris wheel and several stages and a castle and a train and a merry-go-round, a rollercoaster and more? You know, kind of just like Phoenix Wonderland? Which was built by Emu's grandpa?

Do you ever think about that? That both Tsukasa and Rakunosuke "made" their own "Wonderlands"? That the SEKAI is so similar to PXL? Because I do

Anyway. Those were the main similarities or references I noticed, but I still have some few other miscellaneous thoughts i had aside from that that I'll sum up a bit quicker

Tsukasa and Emu's grandpa both care more about the shows (& pxl) themselves and the effect they have on people to make them smile than any kind of fame or recognition

A reminder, too, that despite the movie's popularity, nobody really knew that Rakunosuke worked on "Smiley" (or that it was even a Riley Entertainment movie at all)

There's also the fact that both tsks and rknsk get stuck more on the excitement they want their audiences to feel rather than on the technical sides or worries about how it would be possible – as seen with Rakunosuke convincing Riley to include all his dreams and ideas in "Smiley" without focusing as much on the budget and all to install that wonder in the viewers, and Tsukasa doing anything to perfect his acting, and also agreeing to most of Rui's stunts and experiments and production ideas as long as it gets the audience to become more immersed

I noticed as well that they're both people who wear their hearts on their sleeves, who easily get emotional and enthusiastic, who empathise a lot with the others' emotions and struggles, becoming happy when something good happens to them

^ he cried here. And later at the fan festa seeing nene sing confidently and happily he teared up again

And also just *gestures vaguely at pandemonium event and Rui's "tsukasa's friends' happiness is his own happiness" line*. Yeah

Most importantly, Tsks and Rknsk both care so, so much about shows ending with smiles and not tears

And overall about everyone smiling and being happy. Like Tsukasa telling Emu in the main story, on the ferris wheel, that when her grandpa meant making EVERYONE smile, it included Emu, too, and he wanted to make sure she's happy as well

There's also everything with Emu, too. The way she's very clingy with Tsukasa, always throwing herself at him (not that she isn't with everyone, but she does seem to jump at him the most often)

She's also implied to open up a bit more around him – in Smile of a Dreamer, when wxs expressed their worries about emu hiding her problems, KAITO implies that its unusual she "hasn't told EVEN Tsukasa"

And it's Tsukasa who first understood that, despite how it may seem that "she always is so optimistic and says whatever's on her mind", in the end "the bigger the problem, the less likely she is to talk" (paraphrased quotes from smile of a dreamer). And also underdstood what's the most important to her and how to give her a push to voice her worries to them

It's Tsukasa who Emu first got so scared of leaving their troupe and her behind

I simply feel like Emu is aware of the similarities her grandpa and Tsukasa share and, subconsciously, trusts him a lot and gets attached to him easily

Anyway. This is just a bunch of thoughts that came to mind that I wanted to share and hear your thoughts on maybe too. I love emukasa so much they have such a great dynamic, and I feel the implied similarities between Rakunosuke and Tsukasa add a lot to that too. I'm really curious if it'll be something they'll explore more in future events. Because I feel these parallels are there for some reason

[foolforharrry]

Bunnies And Buckets

Word count: 2.8k words

Summary: Protective Harry to just pure fluff at the end.

This doesn't really make all that much sense. Again. It went a lil away from what I had planned initially.

But i hope you like it anyway. And if you wanna read more of my work, I have it all linked on my masterlist.

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and if you have any requests please feel free to give them to me and I will do my absolute best to do it.

I love you 🫵🏻

“You’re imagining things, darling.”

“Am not!”, I protest, scowling up at him accusingly. “You totally fell asleep.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I could tell you everything that happened at any time during the movie. Name a scene and I’ll prove it.”

“What did they do to the rabbit?”, I inquire. He tries his best to make it seem like he’s just building suspense and proving me wrong. We both know it’s useless because Harry dosed off exactly around that scene of ‘Now You See Me’.

The fluffy curls around his ears sway with the same wind that’s turned the tip of his perfect nose red and tinted his cheeks in the same colour. His arm is draped across my shoulders, keeping me tucked into his side as we stroll through the quiet park. The barely illuminated short cut peaceful and inviting despite my fear of the dangers that lurk in the darkness.

There hasn’t been one moment since we started down this gravely path where I’ve felt an ounce of fear or anxiety. The warmth and comfort of being so close to Harry quiet my mind in a way I had never experienced before him.

“It was turned into a pigeon.”

I almost feel bad for shaking my head, with how confident he seems in his answer. Magic tricks have never really been Harry’s thing, so I’m not exactly sure why he was so intent on going to see this movie in the first place. He has a habit of falling asleep if whatever movie or show we’re watching isn’t engaging him enough.

“Better luck next time pretty boy.”, I quip at him, momentarily tightening my arms around his waist.

If it weren’t for the way Harry is guiding us both, I would probably have tripped over my own two feet from how much I keep looking at his gorgeous face.

“Last time I’m taking you to the cinema, I swear.” The slight upturn to his mouth gives away that he’s not serious, but nevertheless, I give him my best pout, “Do you not want your girlfriend to be happy anymore?”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but he’s interrupted by an unfamiliar voice popping our bubble.

“What are you doing out so late at night, sweetheart?”

Turning around at the speed of light, Harry keeps me behind him protectively, my own body tensing up with the immediate discomfort that settled in the pit of my stomach the second that sleazy voice spoke up.

“She’s with me. Now leave please.” Harry is curt and crystal clear, shoulders broad and tense as he stares at the man who’s leisurely closing the space between himself and Harry and me.

Everything about this stranger feels wrong.

From the way his eyes drag up and down my body to how he’s clearly intoxicated. The brown paper bag disguising alcohol gripped tightly in his hand and the way he’s stumbling every other step. He looks to be in his twenties. Dark messy hair and an expensive-looking suit.

“C’mon, popstar. Don’t be like that.” He slurs out, directing his attention to Harry now. “Big star like you? Bet your little whore wouldn’t mind being shared a little, huh.”

My nose wrinkles in disgust and I feel like I could throw up when his droopy eyes meet mine. The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. I’m about to tell Harry that I just want to leave, but before I get the chance to he’s taking a strong step forward, making the man stop in his tracks.

“What the fuck did you just say?”, he snaps in a tone I’ve never heard from him before. It’s low and angry and he sounds dangerous.

But in the fucked-up state of mind, the stranger just laughs maniacally as if Harry had just delivered the funniest joke he’s heard in his life.

“Harry, leave it.”, I beg Harry quietly, gripping his arm to get his attention. “He’s not worth it.”

I’m not even sure if he heard what I said as he doesn’t budge when I tug on his jacket.

Instead, Harry takes another step forward, leaving me to wrap my arms around my body as a sort of shield from the anxiety that’s making it difficult to catch my breath.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to get the fuck out of here before I break your nose.”

The man stops laughing, instead straightening himself, gesturing to me, “You willing to ruin your squeaky-clean record for some cheap slut?”

Before I can even process what’s happening, the man is on the ground and Harry is standing over him with his whole body vibrating with anger. I can see Harry’s mouth moving, forming words at him, but all I hear is noise.

I can feel my own body shake with all the strong emotions ravaging my veins.

Our night changed so quickly that I’m not even sure how we ended up here.

One moment I was teasing Harry about how he had fallen asleep at the cinema, feeling so safe and serene, just disgustingly content. And now I’m frozen. From fright or shock or disgust or all three, I don’t know.

It isn’t until Harry’s face morphs from fury to concern when he looks at me that I realise that there are tears tumbling down my cheeks.

“Oh, baby c’mere.” Harry wraps me up in his arms and I fall into him instantly with a sob. Clinging to his back as if he would disappear if I were to let go of him even for a second. My face is smushed into his firm chest, no doubt staining his jacket with salty tears and mascara.

Shushing me, Harry keeps a protective hand on the back of my head as he rubs my back to help me calm down all while coaxing me to walk with him.

And I do, blindly setting one foot behind the other and trusting him to not let me fall.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Harry steps in front of me, blocking my access to the staircase.

“You’re not.”, I tell him. “You need to ice that hand.”

As he’s about to protest again, I grab his wrist before gently brushing my fingertips against his knuckles. The contact has Harry whining in pain and ripping his hand away from me, cradling it to his chest. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“If you want that to get better faster, you have to ice it for a bit.”, I explain even though I know he knows it. “Acting tough doesn’t help.”

Harry considers it for a moment before he steps aside, “Ok, you win.”

Cupping his jaw, I stand on my tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips, Harry’s hand automatically going to the small of my back. “Good boy.”, I say jokingly before giving him a last peck and bouncing down the stairs to fetch him his frozen back of peas along with a tea towel.

The “You’re lucky I love you” that was sent my way nearly had me tumbling down the last couple of steps from laughter.

Harry is in the exact spot I left him, a grumpy pout on his lips.

“Here.” I hand him the towel-wrapped bag of peas, which he accepts, a small thank you mumbled as we make our way down the hallway, turning right and into our bedroom.

Even though we don’t officially live together, it might as well be ours considering that every time Harry has time off, he stays here.

At first, I was shocked he even wanted to come visit, let alone sleep here since I have two roommates. Now, a year and a half later, he adores them and they’re equally fond of him. It’s gotten to the point that Lauren said she and Vera would kick me out on my ass and give my room and space in the fridge to Harry if it came down to it.

Can’t say I blame them.

Harry wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pulling me out of my thoughts as I relax into him and his familiar scent. That is until I feel a freezing cold hand sneak under my shirt and lay flat on my tummy.

The stark contrast in temperature has me screeching and pushing his hands off me, careful not to hurt his bruised one.

The words die on my tongue as I watch Harry double over in laughter, bracing himself on his knees to keep upright. Any frustration I had at him for that freezing cold hand dissipates and turns into swarming butterflies as I can’t help but join him, my demonic laughter joining his.

Once we’ve both calmed down, Harry hugs me again, this time without the cold. Instead, the loving kiss he places on top of my head has a warmth travelling through my whole body.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry about what happened.”, he murmurs, nose buried in my hair.

I shake my head. “There is nothing to be sorry about, my love.”, I tell him for what feels like the hundredth time.

He has been apologising so many times for punching that man ever since it happened.

“No, there is.”, Harry protests, pulling away enough to look me in the eye, his hands cupping my face tenderly. “I don’t know what came over me. I was so scared for you just thinking about what could’ve happened if you were alone. And when he said those things, I just snapped. And I shouldn’t have. I should’ve gotten us out of there and not escalated it. I scared you and I fucking hate myself for-”

“Hey, stop that.”, I interrupt him, “I get why you did it, baby. If he spoke about you like that I would’ve punched him too.”

Harry laughs at that, and the sound tugs a smile on my face automatically.

Still, I tell him seriously; “But you didn’t scare me. He scared me. People like him scare me. What people like him do scares me. Never you. You’re the person I feel safest with than anyone else on this whole, stupid planet.”

“Do you promise?” He searches my eyes as if to see if I’m lying when I tell him yes. The relief that washes over his face when he believes that I’m being 100% honest is like someone just smoothed out all the unusually harsh lines that contoured his features.

“Plus. You defending my honour was kinda hot. I’m not gonna lie.”

Shaking his head, Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “You’re fucking impossible.” “You love it though.”

“I do.”, Harry nods, dipping down and connecting our lips in a sweet kiss, my eyes fluttering close as I hum into it.

I’m never going to get tired of the feeling of his soft lips on mine.

“Ok, wanna make that bucket list now?”, Harry asks once he pulls away, caressing my cheek with the pad of his thumb. Nuzzling into his hand, I nod, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Reaching into my nightstand drawer, I pull out my journal and pencil case while Harry lights the lavender-scented candle on my desk, sending me a sweet smile when our eyes meet. While I’ve always been a sucker for scented candles, my love for them is nothing compared to Harry’s.

Almost as if he read my mind, Harry says; “We need to order some more candles. I found some online the other day if you want to try something new.”

“What were you thinking?”, I ask as I slide onto the bed, my back against the various pastel-coloured throw pillows. Shuffling in next to me, head on my shoulder Harry lets out a relieved sigh as he holds the cold peas to his hand.

“I thought cherry, pomegranate or pumpkin sounded pretty nice.”, he tells me.

Kissing the top of his head, I hum in agreement. “Yeah, let’s buy those.”

“Now. Let’s get this bucket list going, shall we?” The excitement in his voice is infectious and I can’t help but smile as I flip to the first free page in my tattered, leather-bound journal.

I write ‘Bucket list’ in large letters on top of the lined page. My heart swells in my chest when Harry takes the black pen from my grasp and takes a minute doodling flowers and small hearts with a line across the middle. His tongue pokes out in concentration and the only sounds in the room come from the tip of the pen dragging across the paper and Harry’s soft hums.

“You’re so damn adorable.”, I speak my mind, making Harry stop what he’s doing, a half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lifts his head from my shoulder to look at me. “Yeah? You think so?”

“The cutest.”, I confirm, booping his nose with my pointer finger. A squeal leaves my mouth when Harry tickles my stomach. A smile bright enough to light up the world on his face as I firmly plant his hand back on his thigh, my cheeks flush with colour.

Harry kisses my shoulder as he settles his head back against it. “And you call me the cutest.” He says it as if it’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever uttered out loud.

As soon as we get started on the list, it grows with points neither of us even considered until now. Everything from wanting to adopt a pet bunny and name it Dora to parachuting. It’s as if the second we let ourselves just say all of our little hopes and big dreams without judgement crossing either of our minds.

“Are you serious, Harry?”, I ask him through tears of laughter. The shock of what came out of his mouth had me clutching my stomach from laughter for the past few minutes while Harry just observed as I tried to catch my breath with amusement and fondness on his face any time I managed to keep my eyes open for long enough.

Once I’ve calmed down, Harry kisses my burning cheek lovingly before he says matter of factly, “Anyone would want to have sex on a pile of money.”

“Whatever you say.” I don’t question it anymore and write his wish down right below dog sledding. “I can’t think of anything else right now.”, I confess.

Harry smiles softly at me. “Me neither. But I think we did pretty good.”

“Me too.”, I agree. “Where were you thinking of crashing a wedding though?”

He thinks for a second, the crease between his eyebrows deepening in thought, “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. But I wanna give a speech to the happy couple.”

“What would be in this speech?”

“Seeing that we would wait to crash this wedding for a few years, I would reminisce about the time I got married to my loving wife, Helga. Throw in some words about how I hope they have a marriage as happy as ours. And of course to remember that if either of them snores as bad as Helga, earplugs are their new best friend.”

I brush the curls that have fallen in front of his eyes back off of his forehead again. “And who is this Helga you’re married to in the future?”

“We can’t use our real names, now, can we?”

I’m not quite sure if it’s the meaning behind his words or the way he’s looking at me as if I hung the moon for him or both but before I know it, my throat is tight with emotion and I’m burying my face in the crook of Harry’s neck to hide the tears that are leaking from my eyes.

“Hey, darling. What’s wrong?”, Harry asks, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to.”, I whine, more tears wetting the warm his soft, warm skin.

“Oh, my love.”, Harry chuckles, “I thought I’d made it obvious that I wanted to put a ring on you someday.”

Detaching my face from his damp neck, I warn him; “That’s not fucking funny, Harry.”

“I’m not fucking joking.” The impossible warmth that spreads from my heart and fills my whole chest from his words as he swipes the tear streaks off my cheeks with his thumbs has more falling from my eyes. The pure sincerity and love bathing in his sage green eyes make me feel like I’m floating on a pink cloud, and I never want to get off.

What if I don’t ever want to marry you?”, I ask teasingly.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat, “Then I’ll keep asking until you’re so sick of hearing ‘Will make me the happiest man alive and marry me?’, that you’ll just have to say yes.”

-

[ragingbookdragon]

In The Presence Of Angels

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: But it's about the struggle to admit the love-- Thorne

**********************************************************************

I’m in love with you. Both of you.

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes what he’s said and her eyes widen just as big as his does, her mouth opening to respond but she doesn’t even know what to say to that. He beats her to it, panic so evident, laden in his tone and expression as he raises his hands in surrender like she’s going to beat him into submission.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Forget I said anything.”

A call of his name doesn't stop him, he’s running like hell is behind him, fleeing the scene, fleeing her, fleeing his feelings. She curses herself, a hand on her forehead as she lets heaves a sigh that dents her chest. How the hell is she supposed to tell Ghost?

She decides not to. Especially not when the meeting is about to start and recruit training is all day after. Tonight, she thinks. I’ll tell him tonight.

But tonight, doesn’t come easily. Ghost knows something has happened, knows it when he’s laying on his back, eyes staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to finish her nightly routine and join him. She’s talkative and so is Soap. But now she’s quiet and Soap is too. He knows something has happened.

“Poppy,” he calls out and she sticks her head out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, those gold discs under her eyes as she shoves the toothbrush back and forth. “What happened with you and Soap today?”

Her eyes widen in shock, then her brows furrow in confusion, suspicion, how the hell is he so perceptive about this; she opts to feign ignorance. “What do you mean?”

She can tell he internally rolls his eyes as he simply replies, “He’s avoiding us, you especially, like the plague. What happened between you two?”

“Aw crap,” she mutters around her toothbrush, disappearing into the bathroom only to emerge moments later, mouth clean. She climbs atop him, perching herself comfortably on his pelvis; his hands gently brush her skin, dipping beneath the edge of the skimpy robe she’s got on. “I was gonna tell you tonight, but…I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

He's still watching the ceiling.

“Soap…he’s…” she falls silent, brows pinching together as she bites her lip, worried about how to break the seal.

He waits.

She sighs and decides to just rip the Band-Aid off. “He’s in love with us.” She’s watching him closely, for any sign of change in his face. His brows steadily rise on his face, and he lets out a “hmpf.”

“Took him long enough.”

“You knew?!” she blurts out, bending down to get into his vision so he can only stare at her. “You knew Soap was in love with us and you decided to stay silent?”

Ghost blinks at her. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“You seem it.”

“I’m not. I mean, I’m shocked but I’m not like uncomfortable. I—”

“Love him too,” he finishes, and she pauses, gaping at him. “You love him too.”

“No, I don’t.” She says it a little too fast to be believable. “I mean I do, I do love Soap, he’s a good man, a good friend. I love him. You can’t exactly do what we do with the people we do and not learn to love them. But I don’t love him.”

“Yeah, you do.” Ghost doesn’t seem angry. She knows when Ghost is angry, this isn’t it. This is a new emotion she’s never seen on him. It’s calm. It’s almost like he’s expecting it.

“Simon,” she murmurs, “I love you, not John.”

His hand is warm on her thigh. “Why are you so apprehensive about it? I’m not mad at you.”

“Well, I don’t know, let’s see, I’m dating you, not John. I have committed feelings for you, not John. We are together, not me and John. Admitting I have feelings for another man kind of defeats the purpose of this whole relationship.”

Ghost seems almost disinterested in the conversation at this point. “I never imagined Johnny would be in love with us. I mean you, but not me. I’m not exactly loving material.”

“Oh, shut up,” she gripes. “Yes, you are.”

His face is thoughtful, voice calm like he hasn’t heard a word she said. “But I wouldn’t mind him being with us. Might…brighten me up some. Maybe teach me to be a better man.”

She’s on the verge of a panic attack, trying to figure out how to swallow the new information about her feelings, and she stops on that spoken thought. “Did you just say you want Soap to join us?”

“In more words, yes.”

She ignores the jab. “You’re polyamorous?” her expression is full of shock.

“Not acting, but I’ve been in one before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was pre-military.”

“I mean fair, everyone’s entitled to pre-military secrets, but that’s still kind of an important thing to tell your lover.”

Ghost shrugs. “I didn’t think you were interested in it.”

“Well, I’ve never attempted one,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest, cheeks hot. “I’ve only ever been in monogamous relationships.” She lets out a hum and falls back between his calves, staring up like he is. “I’m confused now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters. “I love you. There’s no doubt about it. But now that Soap said it, and you confirming it and then you telling me you love him too…there’s just a lot to think about.”

“Like what?” he asks, rubbing her legs, digging his thumbs in deep to her muscles.

“Where we go from here. I don’t want Soap to be ashamed and avoid us, but I can’t just ignore this now. We, can’t just ignore this.” She lifts her head as if realizing she’s missing something very, very important. “Wait, do you have feelings for Soap?”

The ass doesn’t even lift his head to say yes, he just tosses a thumbs up.

“How come you never told me?”

“…Didn’t want you to think differently.”

“What, like I’d leave because you were into a man? I’m kind of offended you think so lowly of me like that.”

He pats her leg in apology. “That, and you wouldn’t want another. Throuples…they’re kind of…difficult to navigate at first.”

She’s quiet as he works her legs and feet, thinking hard about what she wants, what she wants for them, all of them.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

“Oh, fuck off, you can’t hear anything.”

He smiles and moves his hands, grabbing hers by his thighs; he tugs her up and lets her flop against his chest. “Sleep on it, decide in the morning.”

She slides off his chest to nestle into his side and props her chin on his shoulder. “Simon.”

He looks at her. “Yeah, Poppy?”

“It’s okay that we both feel the same for each other and for Soap, right? That we both love him?”

“Mhm.”

“So…if we talked to him about joining us in the relationship…it’d still be okay? You wouldn’t be upset?”

“Nope.”

She nods, laying her head down. “I want him. I want Soap to be with us.” She frowns. “This life is hard. If you aren’t married to the job, you’re married to someone you work with because they’re the only people that can deal with this.” She squeezes his hand. “I don’t want Soap to go alone in life thinking he’ll never find love…he’s got us. I want him to be happy with us.”

“He will.”

***

She’s finally managed to corner Soap, ironically it’s in his quarters because he disappears so quickly that she figured if she hid away inside, he’d eventually come back here to get away. And a surprise it is when he walks in and sees her perched on his bed, legs crisscrossed beneath her, and Ghost sitting in the chair in the corner.

Soap looks like he’s about to faint.

It’s almost funny how scared he is, and she knows it’s because of Ghost.

He’s scared the Brit is going to strangle him.

“John,” she says, and his knees go weak the way she calls for him; her smile is pleasant. “Mere,” she adds, patting the bed beside her.

She watches as he swallows thickly and takes a few nervous steps before he’s in front of her.

“Sit.”

“I can’t,” he whispers, and she laughs, a sound that makes his stomach twist.

She reaches up and gently places a hand at his chest, feeling his pounding heart beneath his warm skin. “John, we’re not here to make you upset or berate you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, turning to Ghost. “I didnae mean it, I swear. I know you two are together. I mean we all do. I’ll forget abou’ it all. I’ll just ask Price for a rotation in the 141 and we can all forget about my feelings and all this, I swear I’ll—”

Soap’s almost in tears and she kneels on the bed, eye level with him as she pulls him close to her, his head on her shoulder. Her fingers brush the hair at the nape of his neck, soothingly, so caringly, and he falters, hands reaching up to wrap around her but he’s hesitant, can’t help but look at the man in the corner who still hasn’t said a word; he nods at Soap and he lifts his arms around her, holding her close like it's the first and last time he’ll ever be able to.

This time there are tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didnae mean to fall in love with you two. It just happened.”

“Shhh,” she hushes, and signals Ghost with a free hand; the man comes up behind Soap and props his chin on the Scot’s shoulder, a heaviness that only makes Soap’s heartbreak worse.

“I’ll forget about it, I promise. I’ll move on. I’ll be okay.”

“You silly boy,” she sighs with a smile and pulls away, brushing his tears away; Ghost’s arms wrap around his waist. “What part of this looks like we want you to forget and move on?” she takes his hands, brings them to her lips and presses them to his palms, soft and gentle, kind and loving. “John, we’re not upset at you. Neither of us want you to stop loving us. We want you to be with us.”

His eyes are slowly starting to widen, like he’s finally managed to grasp that “holy crap, they’re reciprocating this.” “You, you feel the same?” he manages to get out; he turns his head to try and catch Ghost’s eye. “You both?”

Ghost just nods, which is a lot of emotion for the usually stoic man.

“We do,” she affirms. “We’ve been thinking about it and…John, we want you.”

He lets out a shaky breath, uneasy smile crossing his lips. “Aye Christ,” he breathes, lowering his head, his body shaking with relieved laughter. “Aye, I thought you—I thought you both were going to—”

“None of that,” she tuts and tugs at his shirt until he gets the drift to curl up on the mattress with her; she makes a “come here” gesture at Ghost who does the same and nestles up against Soap’s back, one arm wrapped around his waist and hand flat against his heart.

Soap looks as comfortable soaking up their warmth as he looks relieved, which seems to be a lot. His cheeks are still damp with tears and he keeps wiping his eyes. She shifts up, cradling his head to her chest, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Sorry it took us so long to figure this all out, John,” she murmurs, feeling him shake his head. “But…I think we’re good now, yeah?” this time he nods, one hand wraps around her, the other lays atop Ghost’s at his chest.

She lifts his head, nuzzling his nose. “I love you, John.”

He stares up at her like she’s an angel, feels like he’s in the presence of angels. “I…I love you.” It’s reverent, a worshiping testament that’s quiet but strong.

Ghost has always been a man of few words, so he squeezes Soap’s hand three times, an evident “I love you,” that Soap returns.

She presses feather light kisses across his face, whispers, “Take a load off, beloved,” and watches as he tears up again, unable to process the overwhelming feelings inside.

But he obeys, and curls back against Ghost and into her, content to lay in their arms forever; and they, are content to hold him forever.

[skyborneveggie]

for the character ask game, I'll do a death note one: How about Matsuda..? :)

Matsuda!!! My favorite little guy! I really loved your recent post on him, & it got me thinking about other ways that he and Light are similar... but those thoughts are still percolating...

First Impression: Honestly, for the life of me I cannot remember what I thought of any characters except the two mains. My first experience with Death Note was by watching the anime around 2011-12, and at the time I was underwhelmed & uninvested 🫣.

What I can remember, is that a few years ago I watched some kind of DN analysis video on a whim & the youtuber mentioned how fitting if was for Matsuda to be the one to shoot Light in the end. And my reaction was: who??? I had forgotten everything about him 🫣🫣🫣

Impression Now: Matsuda is best boy who I like to woobify in my head.

Regarding Matsuda's role in the story, I somewhat get the impression that he is supposed to be either an audience surrogate or an author surrogate. Almost everyone else in the story is either all for Kira or all against Kira, with Matsuda being the only named character (at least iirc) that can openly balance the duality of sympathizing with him while simultaneously believing he is a bad person.

(An alternative possibility is that he is supposed to be insurance against edgelords saying "Light is Right Actually," and a way for the author to refute those people directly. But I find this to be 1000x less narratively compelling.)

And of course I feel awful that everyone in the story underestimates him. I just want to scoop him up and tell him it's ok and that he can (sometimes) be a good liar and he can (sometimes) think well on his feet.

Favorite Moment: It's gotta be the end of the warehouse scene. So much so that I compiled all of my favorite panels from it so that I can look at them all together 💔. It's just so heartbreaking to watch the one person who trusted Light entirely, fall apart under revelation of the truth. And cathartic too, to see the depth of Light's betrayal embodied in Matsuda's visceral rage. In a room full of grim and stone-faced people, Matsuda is the only one whose grief flows freely. Light was not in his right mind enough to realize it, but he died with the possibility of knowing that someone had cared about him enough to grieve him, and do so immensely.

Idea for a Story: I've been toying with the idea of a Matsulight and Heathers the Musical crossover au... This won't make any sense unless one is familiar with this show, but I think Matsuda as Veronica and Light as JD makes perfect sense. Especially the ending, when Veronica realizes the full extent of JD's capacity for evil, and finally takes action to stop him... 😭 I can see Matsuda stepping into those shoes. I'm currently filing this idea under "things i like to imagine, but probably won't ever actually write."

Unpopular Opinion: I haven't been in this fandom long enough to know what would constitute an unpopular opinion yet tbh. But I do sometimes wonder if there is a possible interpretation of DN where events did not happen exactly as they were written because everything is filtered through Light's unreliable narration and subject to his biases. Then I can ask questions such as, are all the police officers in DN really as honorable as they are portrayed, or is it just Light's perception? And, is Misa really as clingy and intrusive as the narrative says, or is it just Light's perception? The way this relates to Matsuda is that I wonder if he is really as undiscerning & impulsive as shown, or if it could be that Light just really doesn't like him and so perceives him as an exaggerated version of his actual character.

The difference between Matsuda and the previous two questions however is that I do like Matsuda exactly as he is written, and prefer him as his silly, cinnamon-roll self.

Nothing I've said in response to this q is really an opinion though, it's more a half-baked thought experiment. Idk if it leads anywhere 🤷‍♀️.

Favorite Relationship: Matsulight, either romantic or platonic. Part of me just feels like their interactions in the finale were sooo heartbreaking that I want to push it even further by introducing more feelings. Another part of me feels like there are a lot of subtle similarities between them that I don't quite know how to put into words yet. Your post mentioned their shared need for approval. They can both be impulsive, they can both be naive. Yotsuba!Light temporarily sympathizes with Kira in a way not unlike Matsuda. Maybe something about Matsuda (and the other task force members) being willing to abandon his societally-approved police career in order to chase what he thinks is right, which is similar to what Light is trying to convince himself that he's doing too. But these are only half-formed ideas...

I do wonder if Light dislikes Matsuda because he subconsciously registers some of the traits he doesn't like about himself being exaggerated in him, namely his need for approval. Perhaps it also bothers him that Matsuda is emotionally open and honest about those perceived flaws, whereas Light tries his hardest to hide them.

I enjoy reading fics that explore the idea of these similarities instead being things they could subtly bond over, creating an emotional incentive for Light to want to manipulate Matsuda over to Kira's side. Successfully or unsuccessfully. I like seeing Matsuda's pain magnified under the turmoil of choice.

Favorite Headcanon: I wouldn't necessarily say this is my favorite, but I do like to imagine that Matsuda's open-mindedness and willingness to acknowledge all truths of a multifaceted situation, would eventually lead to his eyes being opened about the current state of the law enforcement system. And that would set him on a different path. If anyone in DN could do it, I think it would be Matsuda.

Thanks for the ask 💜~~~ As always feel free to disagree with anything I said, I'm pretty new here so I don't know that much & am always open to changing my opinion.

[allwormdiet]

Arc 2: Insinuation, Concluding Thoughts

God, was this arc just one day? You're telling me it's only been like 72 hours since the start of the story and where we're at now? It feels like so much more somehow, so I guess let's get digging

Let's do the broad strokes and then go chronological through the chapter details, I don't have any kind of structure or template for this stuff but that's as good a way as any right here

I know there's so much fucking ground left to cover, but at this point I think I'm confident enough to say that I like Worm. I don't know if I'd recommend it to a friend, exactly, because I think it's rude to trick someone into reading more than a million words and also because the list of content warnings I'd have to provide up front would run longer than my forearm (I knew what I was in for going in but I also made this choice mostly independently), but I feel like there's a difference between liking a work and recommending that work to others. I think Midsommar is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, but it also removed all the oxygen from the living room where I watched it via sheer oppressive malice so I don't really tell people "oh you should watch Midsommar," y'know what I mean?

(I don't actually know if Worm is at any point going to fill me with the same kind of yawning dread that Midsommar inflicted, so this might not be an even parallel to draw, but I'm not going to completely dismiss the possibility)

More on topic though. No fight scenes this time, but that left more room for delicious and filling character interactions. I'm so on board with the Undersiders so quickly, I love them all, the things they're going to be made to suffer are going to agonize me for years to come I think.

It also left more room for Taylor's day at Winslow High, and... okay we'll get there. Let's do this chronologically.

The Hebert family feels like it's a broken heart in the shape of a house. I wish that they could reconcile with each other, but I don't know if they manage that, or if they even can manage it. I think Annette's death tore a wound between them that never fully healed, or maybe it was on the mend before Taylor started getting bullied and now that process has just stalled out

...Speaking of which

Winslow High is a fucking pit. Like Jesus fucking Christ that was so agonizing to read. Everyone at this school feels either useless or brimming with malice, and for the life of me I cannot puzzle out why. I mean, okay, I get the mechanisms at least, the main three girls are popular and Sophia is a Ward and with that together they can bend the students and faculty around like putty, people are often willing to go along with a heinous status quo if rocking the boat puts a target on their back, yadda yadda. But just. What the hell is going on with the main three girls? You could maybe read Sophia as some kind of sadist, but that doesn't explain why she's taking to this with such gusto, and I don't know if this kind of behavior wouldn't be caught out by the Protectorate if she's acting like this around other Wards. Madison I don't even know, so far I don't actually know if there's any meaningful depth there beyond acting as a complementary force to the other two.

Emma, though. Fucking Emma. I was just talking in an aside about how I distrust any argument that paints a mostly realistic teenager as some kind of soulless monster or evil mastermind, and I'm trying really hard to cleave to that, but I just don't get what drives Emma to behave like this, how she justifies it in her own head. She's torturing her best friend, she triggered her power's awakening for God's sake, and I just don't know what can happen in a week or month that could ever make this explicable or justifiable. Maybe I'll learn something that makes it all make sense but for now it's just some kind of incomprehensible monument of cruelty

That last twist of the knife with the line about crying to sleep at night is also just. God. Like, fucking credit to Wildbow, I feel some amount of stress writing about this all like the day after reading it, that was a really really well written sequence, I just also hated every word of it.

Let's change to a happier topic

Love the Undersiders, they're all great. I love that Brian works so hard to meet on a level playing field, to be open about expectations and show vulnerability to make Taylor feel more welcome, and I like how he seems to take pride in being The Normal & Responsible One even though I somehow doubt that's the case. I love Lisa being so friendly and so quick to assure Taylor about what's going on and what it all means for her, and I literally can't stop thinking about what she must be reading off of Taylor with her powers. Alec is a snarky little snot and I love that about him, I really want to see him open up further. And then Rachel... oh Rachel. You might end up being my favorite once we manage to move past the whole "siccing dogs on the new teammate" thing.

And now Taylor's a part of the crew, and she's immediately second-guessing this decision because she's realizing that it had deeper repercussions than she'd initially thought! Like she already felt betrayed by all of them over a slight from Rachel, even though her entire goal of joining them is as a means to take them down from the inside and hand them over to the Protectorate, and that irony is absolutely not lost on her! She's terrified of being found out as a rat but still lets herself be vulnerable around these people in a way she hasn't even allowed her dad to see, and before the Undersiders he was basically the only person she still trusted for anything.

This is like, either the best or worst decision of Taylor's life, I dunno which. I'd like to think best. I'd really like it to be best.

And I think I already said this but I could gorge myself on just reading about the Undersiders fighting and growing and bonding together for the entire length of this story, and I want it so bad, and I'm not getting it until I dig up the appropriate fanfiction to that end so I'm just gonna have to cope with that

Basically fell in love with Victoria the moment I met her, I wish her the best and hope she learns to cut down on the accidental spine-breaking (if she breaks a spine on purpose they probably deserved it)

Amy... at this point I mostly just feel bad for Amy. She's gonna do bad things and a lot of it's gonna be her own damn fault but somehow I doubt she was born a monster.

New Wave in general I get weird vibes from. Like the Protectorate are cops, yeah, and cops suck no matter the uniform, but New Wave does it with nobody watching over their shoulders to check their work except for each other, and we see in their first on-page appearance how that's kinda fucked up!

...Like the guy was a Nazi so fuck him, but I don't have full faith it'll be a Nazi every time, y'know? God knows there's every chance Glory Girl or Brandish or whoever else decides to play this kind of hardball with someone a lot less guilty and a lot more sympathetic

And then speaking of the repercussions of Taylor's actions, again I'm looking at the threat of destabilization and gang warfare facing the Docks and wondering how much of the story's escalating danger is going to be a natural response to her deeds. Somehow I don't think Leviathan's attack is going to be Taylor's fault, or that she called up the Slaughterhouse 9, but she keeps making calls that are good but have unintended and dangerous consequences.

Call me crazy but I don't think I'm gonna like what those consequences look like when she acts to save the world. I'd rather she be happy than the world's greatest hero, but she wasn't even happy before she became a cape, so. Maybe she gets a legacy in the doing.

If that falls through I guess I'll just go read more fanfic.

[vickyvicarious]

Then seizing the shaving glass, he went on: "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

.

He has a curious habit of looking one straight in the face, as if trying to read one's thoughts. He tries this on very much with me, but I flatter myself he has got a tough nut to crack. I know that from my glass. Do you ever try to read your own face? I do, and I can tell you it is not a bad study, and gives you more trouble than you can well fancy if you have never tried it. He says that I afford him a curious psychological study, and I humbly think I do.

Several of us pointed out last year how the timing of Dracula Daily juxtaposes these two lines/scenes, with Jonathan's mirror being taken from him just before Lucy talks about looking into hers. I'm going to try not to retread the same point too much, but instead I'd like to note the contrast between the way Lucy and Dracula speak of mirrors.

Dracula calls mirrors an agent of man's vanity. Essentially, he's dismissing them as promoting excessive ego. Looking in the mirror too often leads one to think too highly of themselves. And the image of a beautiful young woman spending time staring at herself in her mirror plays right into stereotypes about exactly that. It suggests self-absorption, obsession with beauty over substance, etc.

But that's clearly not what Lucy is doing. She links her mirror to self-knowledge, not self-praise, and in fact specifically points out the difficulties involved. She is flattering herself a little here as she says, but only in the context of realizing it can be hard to figure her out from appearances alone. Her doctor friend says she's a curious study, and despite looking her straight in the face cannot figure her out. Even she has trouble telling from her mirror. This could hint at her deliberately putting on a false front, or perhaps at feelings of uncertainty about her own identity, or difficulty expressing herself in the ways she wants. Regardless, her time spent looking into mirrors isn't vain, it's inquisitive.

And while that doesn't match up to what Dracula says about mirrors, it fits very well with the reality of what mirrors mean to him. He has no mirrors in his castle. Not because he's humble; he's obviously got a very inflated sense of his own importance and superiority. But he doesn't keep mirrors because they reflect what he is by failing to reflect him at all. It's a curious mix of being unable to see or know himself by looking at his own reflection... but also being known/revealed in a way that cuts past any examination of his actual face. Jonathan looks very closely at Dracula when he meets him, but despite spotting various unusual features* he doesn't realize his monstrous nature. But when he sees him in the mirror - or rather, nothing where he should be - he finds his first real proof that Dracula is inhuman. And that's why Dracula gets rid of Jonathan's mirror; he hates being known, unlike Lucy who enjoys the struggle of trying to figure herself out.

Mirrors as a window to knowledge also connects back to Jonathan. With his mirror stolen and destroyed, his ability to assess himself is hampered accordingly. Perhaps it would be a difficult study regardless (as Lucy says) but no mirror makes that even harder. He will have to rely on sub-par reflections in tools not made for that purpose. Not just to shave, but to be able to see himself. This coming when he realizes there are no other people around cuts him off even from seeing himself from the outside, so he can't see a human face... only Dracula's face. But also, Dracula is outright trying to deny him knowledge, and Jonathan is in a position where he's having to try and maintain his faith in his own sanity. The inability to look at his own face and examine his appearance might make that harder... although it also cuts him off from comparing his current appearance to how he used to look, and I suspect the lack of that comparison might be better than the alternative at times.

* This also ties in physiognomy. An inherently racist "science", of course, but one that was popular at the time this book was written, and engaged in by a couple characters. I don't think Jonathan outright says he's examining Dracula's features for that purpose, but I believe readers could be expected to take that description and use it to 'figure out' aspects of his personality. It's possible that Lucy is hinting at using a similar process on herself here, but if so then she seems not wholly satisfied with the results. She isn't saying that studying her face reveals her true character - closer to the opposite, if anything.