#we’ve only ever like. been present in the room while one episode plays

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

okay so to recap

reasons to watch mlp:

-minty, our favorite pony. she is so delightful

-derpy, our favorite pony. she is so delightful

-maud pie, our favorite pony. she is so delightful

from what we’ve seen:

-minty is very autism-coded. she is very energetic and passionate and has a nice flow to her speech. she loves her sock collection and she always tries, even if she messes up sometimes. she is wonderful and we love her

-derpy started as a joke character, but became dearly beloved by the fandom to the point that she started being referenced in the show. these scenes were later edited to remove her name and lazy eye. while ‘derpy’ definitely isn’t the best name for a disabled character, the fix is not to remove the disability. she is funny and helpful and brightens up any scene she’s in. we love her

-maud pie is much like us. she is expressionless, her voice monotone. because of this, most mistake her as being emotionless, accusing her of not even passions. to the contrary, she has a deep fascination with geology and feels more comfortable around rocks due to them not judging her for circumstances beyond her control. she’s deeply relatable, her bond with her sister is immensely important to us, and her fight to be accepted and understood is inspiring

this will probably be the last time we bring up mlp but holy shit do we need to sit down and properly watch the show. ae want to see more of these guys 🥺

[hugespace]

Therapy helps rhett realize that all of those "I'm dead" UFC moves were actually just a way to fulfill his need for physical intimacy at a time in his life where he didn't feel it was acceptable to ask for it, especially from another man. Now that they're both adults and completely different people than they were in college, rhett decides it's time to explain it all to link and let him know that he actually misses that physical contact with him.

It took me a really long while, but I finally finished this one! I really loved that prompt, so thank you so much for giving it to me, lovely Anon. I was initially going to write it as a platonic/romantic friendship kinda story, but it seems I'm determined to write a hundred different first kiss + feelings realisation scenarios, I simply enjoy those way too much.

*** 2,5K ***

Let me hold you

He’s done it again.

Not so long ago, Rhett promised himself not to bring it up in front of cameras or a microphone unless he talks it out with Link, privately.

Especially not as a joke.

And he’s failed already, he scolds himself short after the Ear Biscuits episode is recorded and they’re both out of the room, heading back towards their office.

He thinks he could have just omitted it, shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It simply wasn’t necessary to mull over it again, even with the topic of the episode revolving around their college experience. It wasn’t a big deal, he said it himself, countless times. Every time they talked about it on the show.

So, every time.

There’s never been a conversation in private about that incident or anything that preluded it, never in the absence of people to entertain, never not around at least one recording device. Because why would there be? It wasn’t a big deal. A funny story, s’all.

He’s also never been able to just let things go, though, and thanks to that inability, the lore of wrestling and the “I’m dead” move had to live on. It was an innocent story, a funny albeit embarrassing one – their unofficial brand after all, an easy misunderstanding and a fun little anecdote, not his carefully curated version of what happened, nor a watered-down one, not just a part of the entire story devoid of any feelings associated with it, not a big deal-! And most of all, not… true. Not true.

Rhett isn’t sure if Link has been consciously going along with that wordlessly agreed upon version of what their UFC phase looked like, repressing the truth behind it, or… simply never realised what it meant for Rhett and genuinely thought of it as a humorous yet insignificant part of their friendship in the past.

Most likely the third option, he has to assume. After all, why would Link attach any meaning to it? It’s not like anything actually ever happened, not outside of Rhett’s mind at least. Frankly, he himself went decades without understanding his own motivations, more than once confused by why the memories of wrestling with his friend and laying on top of him felt both shameful and deeply comforting. Why even long after they grew up, stopped being kids, and as a result retired all their UFC moves, the only way he could describe what he felt thinking about that time was longing.

Until therapy happened.

Just like with many different things in his life:

There was something in the darkness, and then therapy shone a light on it.

It was like there were countless situations he navigated solely on instinct, without paying much thought to the reasons behind why he acted a certain way, and once therapy equipped him with the ability to do so, he unearthed an entire deep layer of feelings and emotions that were always there. Just hidden, even from himself.

The wrestling being one of those things.

So, he thinks Link doesn’t know.

And he’s finally determined to change that.

Why now, when he’s had so many chances to talk to Link over the years ever since he started being more in touch with himself? He doesn’t really have an answer; it’s just that after talking about it with such levity again, after repeatedly making a joke out of it, it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confess to Link what it was really like. And most of all, it feels like the yearning has become stronger lately, and the conversation yet again playing it all off as them being young and silly only ignited it, made the flame inside of Rhett burn brighter, threatening to make his heart combust.

“I need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.” Rhett says easily once they’re in the office. It’s not an unsure statement or a nervous plea with words tumbling out of his mouth before he can lose his cool and change his mind. It would have been all that and more a couple of years ago, sure.

But he’s a different man now. He’s not afraid to tell the person who’s been with him for almost the entirety of his life what he feels.

Link, however. He does look unsure, a bit alarmed even, when he looks at Rhett and responds.

“Sure-? What is it? Do you wanna talk now?”

It’s just like him to worry. Run a hundred different scenarios in his head, most of them negative, trying to prepare himself for every possible outcome of a serious conversation before it even began. It’s an anxious survival instinct that makes Link resilient to even the worst that life has to offer and able to face it all head on. But right now, it’s nothing scary. Rhett doesn’t want his friend to be worried, so he quickly says as much.

“Don’t worry, s’not bad. Just something we talked about on the podcast today.” The blonde sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, hoping he appears to be as calm as he truly feels inside and that it might dissolve some of Link’s concern, still written all over his face.

The other man takes his place on the sofa and looks at him expectingly.

“Right. So-“ Rhett’s calmness doesn’t completely evaporate once Link gives him his full attention, but it’s suddenly laced with some nerves. “About the wrestling. You know, in college. And before that. And- Especially about my ‘I’m dead’ move. I’ve been thinking about it, and-“

“Rhett, I swear, if you made me sit down for a talk only to tell me you’d like to make it a part of our conflict resolution again, then ha-ha. Very funny. I’d like to go get myself some coffee now.” Link cuts him off with an unamused look in his eyes and almost makes a move to stand up.

Rhett is quicker though and grabs the brunette’s arm before he can really move, effectively making him stay in place.

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. Like, at all. I-“ He realises he’s still holding onto Link’s arm and instinctively wants to retract his hand, but that same feeling that led him to initiating this conversation in the first place makes him reconsider. “I’ve been thinking about what it all meant and why I did that, especially when we fought or you were angry with me, and-“

“Because we were young.” Link quickly answers what wasn’t even a question. “We had too much energy and neither of us really wanted to hurt the other by punching him or- or fighting in earnest. What else would it mean.”

“Link can you let me talk? I’m trying to say something important.” Rhett squeezes Link’s forearm. “So, as I was saying. I mostly did it when you were angry or I was feeling unsure, and I didn’t realise it back then, but- But I know now, that I just… needed reassurance. You know, physical contact.” He explains, looking straight into Link’s eyes and trying to interpret his reaction before it comes.

When nothing happens, and the brunette just stares back at him with a furrowed brow, he feels compelled to continue and elaborate.

“Like when people… hug after an argument-?” His brain almost challenges him to make a different comparison, presenting a parallel between laying half-naked on top of your best friend and another activity people often partake in to make up after a fight. But that’s not- It’s not what he’s trying to say. It’s not like that.

The face in front of him frowns in confusion, blue eyes squinting and mouth opening and closing again, only letting out a puff of air and no sound at first.

When Link finally responds, his voice is unsure, like he suspects that he’s not understanding something right. “Are you trying to tell me you wanted to hug me when we bickered, so you pushed me to the floor and laid on me till I was even angrier, instead…?”

That’s not fully what Rhett meant, but it’s close enough, so he nods.

“What the crap, Rhett-? You're not making any sense.”

“Okay, listen…” He decides to go for a different approach. “We still don’t hug after arguments. We never hug hello. I think I could count on my fingers how many times we’ve actually hugged each other as adults, outside of the show!”

“Yeah! That’s just not what we do! We’ve never done those things, it’s just not a part of our relationship- I still don’t know what you wanna tell me here Rhett.” Link throws his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.

“I want it to be a thing we do, okay?! I always did, but I was afraid to ask for it so I just took what you could give me without talking about it. Can’t have actual intimacy? Make up a UFC thing so I can be close to you! Can’t hold you when I’ve made you mad? Better lay on top of you till you give up and have no choice but stop!” Rhett pauses to finally take a breath.

“That time that guy saw us- I’m sure you remember I stormed off right after-? I panicked, it was like him seeing us and thinking there was something else happening almost made feel like it was something else, and since I started it, it also felt like I wanted it to be something else. I got so angry at myself for even trying and I never did it again. I’m sure you remember that, too!” Words flow out of Rhett in a hurried and increasingly loud cascade, while Link’s eyes grow bigger and comprehension dawns on his face.

“I know how stupid it sounds. But you know how I was. We were well into our thirties when I still refused to get close to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, it was the opposite – I wanted it a lot, man.”

„But I thought...?” Link seems to be turning a thought over in his head. “I thought you just never liked it. That the wrestling thing was about you… asserting dominance. That’s what it felt like at least. Like you trying to act like an older brother or somethin’.”

“No- It was me wanting to be close to you and not knowing how to ask for it. My very convoluted way of expressing love, you could call it. And I’m sorry it took me-“

“What changed-? I mean, what made you wanna talk about it?” There’s urgency in Link’s voice when he cuts Rhett off.

“I… I realised I miss it. I told you, we still don’t really hug or get intimate, however that sounds, and I’m not gonna just topple you and pin you to the ground again. We’re too old for that. For once, I don’t think either my back or your shoulders would survive if we started wrestling every time I wanted to be affectionate. But also- We’re over forty, Link. What does it say about me if I can’t just ask a person I love and have loved for almost four decades to hold me when I need it and would resort to, well, aggression-? That’s not how it should work.”

Link ponders Rhett’s words for a few beats before opening his mouth again, only to let three breathy words escape. “You love me-?”

It seems like the wrong thing to focus on, Rhett just opened up to say he not only craves physical intimacy now, but also struggled with that same need when they were younger so badly, he had to invent an entire intricate system allowing him to be closer, and Link questions the one thing he knows already. Because of course he knows, Rhett’s said as much dozens of times, of course he loves him. But it appears he has to say it anyway, judging from the weird look in Link’s eyes.

“I do, of course I lo-“ The blonde begins, yet he doesn’t get a chance to finish and ask whether Link heard the other part of his confession at all, because at once, his mouth isn’t free to keep talking and there’s no air left in his lungs as the man who was just sitting right next to him plunges forward and collides with him, lips first.

Oh. Rhett manages to form one more coherent thought despite being startled and entirely taken aback. Link misunderstood. That’s why he got hung up on the love confession. That’s not what Rhett meant, that’s not what he was trying to say, it’s not like that-

He feels like he should clear things up as quickly as possible. Logically, he should be panicking, racking his brain for a way to straighten things up, to explain to Link that it wasn’t what he was trying to say without making things worse, without ruining everything and making his best friend feel miserable and embarrassed, until…

Until Rhett realises his body went rogue and started responding without his conscious decision, his lips are moving against the other man’s, one of his hands is cupping Link’s face, while the other strayed away and is caressing his back. And it feels like his heart is trying to break out of the ribcage with how hard it’s pounding in his chest, along with his stomach doing wild summersaults. And he’s not panicking, not at all. And it’s not a misunderstanding, how could it, when he loves Link with his entire soul, with his whole being- And exactly like that, it hits him. Starting this conversation, he thought he already understood everything, but he didn’t– there was still that last puzzle piece missing.

They come up for air, panting from the intensity of that first kiss, foreheads flush with each other. Rhett finishes the sentence he began before Link’s move changed everything. “Of course I love you.” He means it now, he means it exactly like Link took it and can’t comprehend how he didn’t think of it before, but it’s perfectly obvious now.

So he hugs Link. He encircles the man’s body with his long arms, squeezes, and holds him, feels his friend snuggle into him, nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, holding Rhett's larger body in return.

All he needed was ask for the closeness.

He asked, and he got it.

He got all he wanted and so much more.

So, so much.

[spilledkauffie]

Little Snitch

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x ForceSensitive!Reader Word Count: 1.4k T/W: chronic pain/illness, ft. fluff A/N: vent fic, I thought it was kinda cute, might be kinda stupid though

Din had welcomed you in as a permanent passenger of the Razor Crest almost a year ago; he’d known you longer, but never in quite as close proximity as the present one. He knew he needed you to stay when he saw how you connected with Grogu. Now aware that what you really were was force sensitive, he thought you’d make an excellent companion for Grogu, even if you weren’t a Jedi, he could still communicate with you in a way that Din knew he couldn’t. 

Likewise, Din had to admit he appreciated your company. About six months into your stay with them, feelings were shared and hearts raced as the two of you talked through the night about what would become of said feelings. In conclusion you decided the two of you were officially a couple, Grogu would be both your responsibilities until further notice. Naturally when Din asked if Grogu knew about your feelings before he did, you answered “of course,” with a smile and the child snorted in response to the Mandalorian’s question. 

Despite being extremely open with Din, there were things you still tried to hide, namely your ever present pain, sometimes it was mentally but mostly it was physically. He knew about it, of course, but you didn’t like to acknowledge it and you didn’t want to cause a scene over it. Especially being in such close spaces, you figured yourself annoying if you brought it up as often as you felt it.

However, there was always a little snitch you forgot about...

This time it came on strong, first in your head then throughout your body radiating through you, almost paralyzing. You were in the cargo bay of the ship organizing a few things here and there so you’d have more room to play hide and seek with Grogu, when you staggered back towards something to support yourself against. Leaning against the metal doors that contained his weapons, you enjoyed the coolness, feeling as though it numbed the pain a little. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled deeply and exhaled calmly. It lingered, and you twitched at the intensity a few times, but eventually it subsided to a dullness. Letting out a hum of annoyance with your own self, you opened your eyes to find Grogu a few inches from your feet, tilting his head. 

You dropped your shoulders, “no, it’s not that bad.”

He let out a little whine, still staring at you, “he doesn’t need to know,” you said, turning around to continue rearranging, when suddenly Grogu let out a loud little cry, bringing your attention back around to him. Immediately crouching down to his height you tried to hush him. Picking him up and bouncing him.

“Grogu, honey,” you tried, “I’m okay he doesn’t need to know-”

“Doesn’t need to know what?” You heard the familiar muffled voice behind you.

Closing your eyes and turning to face him you swallowed, not wanting to lie to him. He stood there looking between you and the child tenderly, even in the helmet you knew exactly what kind of look he was giving. You parted your lips to begin an explanation when it came over you again. Snapping your eyes shut and placing a hand to your temple, you swayed side to side, uneasily. Grogu reached a hand to touch the bottom of your jaw, and gave a distraught little coo.

“Whoa,” Din exclaimed as collectedly as he could, while rushing to brace you. He came around behind you and steadied your elbow in which Grogu was settled with a hand under it for support. His other hand came to your waist, pulling you back against him for better stability. He managed to slip the child from your grasp, setting Grogu on the floor, so he could better assist you. 

“I’m really fine-” you were cut off with a wince as you clutched your side with a furrowed brow. Tossing your head back, you were resting against the front of his shoulder while you slightly groaned. 

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Din said with a slight chuckle, making you partially laugh to yourself.

His hand ghosted up your side, as he wasn’t entirely sure where you were hurting and where his hand might help. With your head on his shoulder, he looked down at you, and you felt the metal edge of his helmet against your temple. With his opposite hand he held your hand in his, he could feel you tightly grasping it for support. 

“This is the closest we’ve been in a while,” Din stated.

You hummed, placing your hand atop his settled above your hip. 

“Yeah well-” before you could finish you had passed out, causing Din to have to completely embrace you as your body began to sink. 

He lifted you up into his arms, almost cradling you, before looking down to Grogu, “what would I do without you, kid? ...she’d have never told me.”

Grogu tilted his head again, followed by a warm coo and giggle. 

When you woke up, you found yourself in the cockpit, under at least two blankets. Looking up, Din was in the pilot’s chair and looking to your right you saw two bright eyes staring at you from a carriage crib. You smiled softly at Grogu, he cooed back, bringing Din’s attention to you. He turned around, saying nothing.

“What happened?” You asked as you hugged yourself tightly.

“You...passed out again,” Din explained, voice sounding broken.

“Oh,” you nodded, looking to the floor instead of him, “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene, especially while we were flying.”

“You didn’t, it’s okay,” his voice sounded a little brighter, more reassuring, but still hurt in his own way, “I’m just glad Grogu was with you or I’d have never known,” Din turned away from you, returning to piloting, “sorry I’m not force sensitive.”

Your jaw gaped a little at the cold sting towards you, but thinking on it more, you knew he was making a point. Despite being in a relationship, you hardly ever let him know how you were feeling, mentally and physically. The only way he ever found out was if Grogu made him aware of it thanks to your connection. It wasn’t fair to Din and you knew it, especially after he’d let you in.

Crossing your arms tightly across yourself, you nodded to no one in particular, feeling Grogu’s kind thoughts towards you. Yet, somehow they didn’t help, you still felt tears swelling. Biting the inside of your lip, you tried to stay as quiet as you could. 

“Look,” Din turned back around, “I just- why don’t you trust me with this?”

“I do, Din, I really do,” you said.

He tilted his head and you knew that you didn’t make him feel like you trusted him. Which was the main problem.

“I’m just really bad at expressing it,” you curled into yourself a bit more, before meeting his eye line, “I don’t want to be annoying.” 

“You’re not annoying,” he responded.

“You seem annoyed,” you said, but regretted it the moment you heard yourself say it.

The Mandalorian took a deep breath, glancing over at Grogu, who was witness to the whole conversation. Cute as can be with his big ears and bright eyes, listening and watching intently.

“Okay, listen,” Din started, resting his forearms on his knees, leaning closer to you in the passenger seat, “I’m a protector, and I just want to protect you. And this is something I can’t spot unless you tell me,” Din sighed, “so when you don’t tell me, I feel like I fail you...and that’s something I never want to do”

You tilted your head, tears now slowly crawling down your cheek as he admitted his heart to you. Grogu lowered his ears after feeling what you were, meanwhile Din gave you a hoarse ‘hey’ for encouragement. You still didn't meet his gaze though, instead you reached out a silent hand, it took him a moment, but he placed his under yours once again feeling you squeeze his hand for support. 

“You could never fail me,” you turned to face him, a little embarrassed at all the emotions taking over, “I can’t control this, and sometimes it feels like it controls me. But I promise when I feel it most, I will let you know from now on.”

“Alright, good,” you could hear his smile. 

“So long as you agree that we have more close moments, not brought on by an episode of mine,” you raised him one more.

“Alright, that seems doable,” he shook his head.

Suddenly Gorgu broke his silence, cooing happily.

“Yes,” you sniffled your tears back and smiled widely, reaching your other hand for his, connecting the three of you. Grogu grasped his little hand around your finger, “you did good...this time, you little snitch.”

The child snorted.

[t4tharuspex]

house of mirrors

2.5k word mlp fanfic. dont judge me >.>

summary: rarity and twilights visit to the crystal empire is more eventful then either had hoped. somethings wrong with the castle, and more importantly, somethings wrong with shining armor...

content warnings: fear of transphobia (no actual rtansphobia bc this is the colorful horses show)

Rarity held back a whinny of delight as she trotted off the train and into the crystal empire station. Everywhere she looked she was dazzled by gleaming crystals of every color refracting rainbows on every surface while somehow remaining the farthest thing from gaudy. Starting to feel faint from excitement, she leaned on twilight's shoulder as her eyes fluttered.

“Rarity come on!” The alicorn laughed as she helped her friend upright. “We’ve hardly been in the empire for a minute! Save your fainting for the ceremony.”

The white horse perked up immediately at the reminder of what she had come here for: she was to assist Cadence and Shining Armor in the preparations for the newborn princesses presentation to the public! She cantered in place with excitement, lifting twilight's luggage with her magic and running off to their suite in the castle with twilight hot on her heels.

The suite was spacious with generous decor in simple light colors. the main focal point of the suite was the giant bay windows which cast giant swathes of warm light across the room. upon closer inspection rarity was amazed to discover that the windows were made entirely of cut crystal rather than glass. the faint color of the gemstone created a slight cast on the light coming in, giving a view of the city below that was ever so slightly tinted. this realization recontextualized the furnishing in rarities mind: it wasn't dull and plain, but simply a blank canvas for whatever the crystal windows brought in. a strange method of decor indeed. or was it a response to the material conditions of living in a house of crystal?

When the two had almost settled into their apartment, they were startled from their rest by a brisk knock at the door.

“A summons for princess twilight sparkle,” a booming voice called from behind the door. “You are needed urgently by princess mi amore cadenza for matters concerning his highness the prince.”

Worry flooded the purple alicorns features. “Urgent? Then I guess I had better go now.” She magically gathered a few items into her saddlebag and gave a parting smile to her friend as she was rushed away by royal guards.

Shocked by the suddenness of it all, rarity let out a chuff and sat squarely on her quarters. Was shining armor alright? she wanted to put her anxieties to rest, but it was plainly obvious that she hadn't been invited. would the entire trip to the empire consist of her sitting alone in her room while twilight attended to all matters of actual importance?

Trying to shake the thought from her head, rarity got up and left her room to explore the castle. It truly was extravagant, with pillars of crystal stretching to the high vaulted ceilings spreading refractions of glittering iridescence that made the whole space seem somehow both extraordinary glamorous and warm and homey. Inspiration flooded her mind as she trotted the decadently decorated halls. She just couldn’t wait to get back to her studio and put this inspiration to good use.

She was halted in her exploration when her ears picked up familiar voices talking from behind an ajar door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but listen in...

"-i don't know what to do twilight, he hadn't seemed this off for years, and now flurry is here and hes completely absent!"

"i don't know cadence, he hasn't said anything in his letters-"

“- all I’m saying is maybe you could get through to him! He won’t talk to me, or anypony else here. you're my last hope. maybe hell listen to his best friend”

“i've never been able to help him in one of these episodes before. if he’s not ready to talk then confronting him will only make him more defensive.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m worried for my husband twilight.” Rarity leaned on the door to hear better as the princesses voice dropped, “please, if not for shining armor, or for me, then for flurry heart. She deserves to have a father who can dedicate himself to her, not one who’s so preoccupied that he can hardly look after her.”

There was a sigh, then rarity heard twilight speak “very well. I’ll do this for her. Maybe that will get through to my brother.”

Sudden approaching hoofsteps started rarity out of her reverie. She stumbled backwards just in time to miss the swinging door as twilight entered the hall. “Rarity? I thought you were still in the room? Oh well, I need your help anyway." She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure they were alone. "I think somethings wrong with my brother. It's possible that one of the unreformed changelings has taken his place to try too take advantage of the upcoming love boom from flurry hearts royal presentation."

Rarity was taken aback by her friends leap of logic. "Doesn't that seem like an extreme suspicion? Having a baby is stressful enough for normal ponies, I cant imagine what kind of pressure would be on a royal prince."

"I don't know rarity, after what happened at the wedding we can't be too careful. I hope its just nerves and parental stress, but we have to expect the worse if we want to be prepared to handle it."

rarity nodded. "alright, then let's find your brother."

The two ponies galloped down the halls in search of the princes chambers. the crystal walls seemed to burn with energy, the warm cast of light from earlier having turned harsh and almost too bright. rarity wondered absently if this was a product of the changing time of day or a trick of the mind. could the walls of a castle really know how somepony felt, and shine it back at them like a diamond mirror?

a distant commotion pricked the two mares ears. "this way!" twilight called as she rounded a corner, dashing after the sound with rarity at her side.

the two skidded to a stop when they reached an open doorway from which the sound seemed to emit. with a flick of her ear twilight motioned for rarity to follow her and the two cautiously made their way into the room. twilight emitted a small light from her horn, then lit the rooms lamp once she could find it on the wall. with the room lit rarity immediately got an impression of drabness and depression, the tightly draped windows letting in no light and the gemstone walls shining the same dim echo back and forth across the space, almost seeming to beg for the light to go out again.

twilight gestured with her chin to the curtained bed at the center of the room, grabbing one edge of the curtain with her magic and indicating for rarity to take hold of the other. once the unicorn had secured the curtain, twilight gave a sharp nod and both ponies tugged their curtain aside, revealing a stallion-sized lump that spectacularly failed to live up to either mares fearful imagination.

the blue-maned unicorn sat up at once, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. he seemed to calm down slightly when he recognized his sister, but he remained guarded. "twily? rarity? what are you two doing in my private chambers?"

"well to be fair," rarity gestured back at the entrance, "you did leave your door open."

"cadence must have done that when she left." shining armor gruffed. "that doesn't answer my question though: what are you doing here?"

twilight stepped forward with a cautious expression, ready to fight if this really was a changeling. "were just here to check up on you, see how youre handling the upcoming princess presentation" it was clear that twilight was being reserved with her supposed brother.

then, shining armors eyes met hers, and her suspicion evaporated. that peculiar sadness that had haunted her brother in her young filliehood, then she had thought he'd escaped when he found happiness in cadences arms, was burning hot tears from shining armors eyes. she had never seen a pain like that before or since. if there was anything twilight was certain of, it was that this pony was the same one she had known her whole life. but the question still lingered, was he the real shining?

completely without her permission, tears began to well in twilight's eyes. "oh shinning, whats happened to you?"

her brother choked on a sob. "I'm sorry twily, you were never supposed to see me like this. no one was. i should be able to hold it together for you... for cadence... for my daughter..."

"shining nopony wants you to hide any part of you! we want to know when you're hurting so we can help. i had thought you'd healed from whatever's causing this pain but it seems to be back and i wont let you hide it from me this time!" the purple alicorn sniffled as tears streaked down her muzzle. "please shining, tell me whats wrong."

The stallion nervously rubbed his hooves together and cast his gaze to the ground. "i don't even know where to start."

"the beginning," twilight proposed. "i want to know everything. you cant heal until you let your wounds be seen."

shining nodded and took a deep breath, "its just that, when you were a fillie, everyone expected me to be the perfect big brother, and i never measured up to that expectation. it was like being thrown into the ocean with no idea how to swim, and everypony kept insisting that i was a fish and i should know how, but i didn't. then in the royal guard it didn't matter how i felt as long as i followed orders and played the role, so that's what i did. i don't know if it actually quieted the pain or just forced me to ignore it, but for a few years i thought maybe i could live with it. cadence was the only pony i've ever met who could make that noise in my brain silent; with her it didn't matter if I wasn't brother enough fro you or stallion enough for the military. i was always enough for her, no questions asked. i was so happy when we got married that i could almost forget about that feeling, telling myself it was a phase i'd outgrown. but now with flurry heart, all that anxiety is back. its like no matter what i do ill never be able to be a good father for her. i love her more than anything, id do anything for her, but it isn't enough. i'm not enough." the white unicorns neck gave way as he succumbed to quiet sobs, his once proud chin quivering and brushing his chest.

"shining... i..." twilight was speechless. what could be said? her brothers pain went far beyond anything she knew how to mend. at that moment being the princess of friendship meant nothing; she couldn't even move herself to speak in the face of her first best friends deep sorrow.

"i hope im not overstepping here," a timid voice chimed in, startling both siblings as rarity cleared her throat. "but i think i may have an idea as to the source and solution of your distress."

"rarity?" shining choked, "how could you possibly know how i feel?"

the mare nervously flicked her mane with an idle hoof. "there's a lot you don't know about me." turning to twilight, she asked "would it be alright if the prince and i could have a moment alone?"

Twilight nodded and bowed out of the room, and the two remaining ponies listened to her hoofbeats echo down and again further down the labyrinthine crystal hallway, which now seemed to glitter coldly like a sterile knife where it once had gleamed so warmly. rarity shivered at the thought of living in a place like this, which could transform before your eyes depending only on ones own emotion. that was, she mused, the property of crystal. it created nothing, only reflecting what was cast onto it. in a dimly lit cave the finest diamond was often mistaken by novices for a common quartz, but at the heart of a kingdom built on a foundation of admiration it gleamed on every surface like the morning dew on a freshly budded rose. this castle wasn't a cold cage or a warm embrace, it was an endless hall of mirrors, each perfectly angled to show you the deepest darkest crevice of your heart.

"i understand why it tortures you to live here." rarity whispered. "each surface gleams to a pristine chrome finish, yet the face it reflects is fundamentally and inconceivably wrong."

shining armor appeared startled, "that's exactly how it feels. how do you know? is it that obvious how miserable i am?

the mare shook her head, "only to those who have felt the same misery. shining armor, i once lived the same life as you, albeit in a much more drab estate. I felt that at every turn i failed at the very task of existing as myself, my relationships suffered because it pained me to view myself as a part of them. mirrors became my enemy because i couldn't face the pony looking back at me. the stallion looking back at me."

a small gasp escaped the taller unicorns lips "what-"

"think about it shining," rarity pleaded shakily, " everything you cant stand to be: brother, father, soldier, prince. they all have one thing in common." tears welled in her eyes and choked her throat "you cant run from it shining. it never stops. you only make yourself more and more miserable. you can cover as many mirrors as you like but eventually you're going to look around and realize that you're still the same pony you hated, standing alone in complete darkness."

something clicked behind the other ponys eyes. "no, it cant be... what about cadence? flurry? twilight? i cant throw all of them away because i have some twisted dream of living as a-"

"-you're not sick shining. maybe a bit different, but there's nothing wrong with you. you'll find that the friends worth keeping don't care at all. they're suffering by watching you suffer; freeing yourself will only free them too."

"i have no idea where to even start though. aren't i a bit too old for this?" shinings eyes were wide and scared.

"i would love to personally see to all the aesthetic changes you wish for, if you'll have me. you really couldn't ask for a more qualified personal stylist. and as for the social shift, you've got the princesses of love and friendship in your corner."

"but that's just it: they're not in my corner. they may as well be on the other side of equestria, or a gaping cavern. how can i even know that they'll still see me as me?"

"i know how scary it is, especially in the early days, but i can personally account for twilights acceptance. and as for cadence, i'm pretty sure they don't go around giving titles like the princess of love to ponies who cant accept others for something so harmless as gender." her smile faded and her face grew a bit serious "i can be there with you if you want. like i said, i know how scary it is." she placed a hoof on top of the other mares own.

She smiled. "I think id like that."

[maxwell-grant]

AIUI, Burbank is even more a question mark than The Shadow is; we don't know if that's a personal name, surname, or nickname, we no nothing of his past, his personal life, or even (again, AIUI) his personality. Is that something that should be kept in adaptations, or ought he be developed more?

Both.

The thing about developing a mystery is that you still need to have something in place to purposefully obscure or slowly reveal. You still need to give your audience tidbits and information here and there that makes them want to learn more and find out what the answer is, even if they know it's never really happening, even if the answer couldn't possibly live up to the hype.

Twin Peaks was able to delay the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder for an entire season and more partially because Laura Palmer had such an rich, troubled inner life and turmoil, that we could gradually receive snippets of information regarding it every episode and still not know the whole story, so much so that, even after we learned who did it, there were still many, many stories to be told within Laura Palmer's life and the city. This holds true for The Shadow, and it holds true for Burbank.

Gibson successfully created intrigue regarding Burbank because, not only was Burbank a crucially important figure in The Shadow's organization and therefore someone we'd want to know more about, but because everytime Burbank showed up to play a substantial role, you could gleam something new about him. Burbank is a great example of staging in The Shadow pulps because his scenes are often written as if we were watching a movie where the head of our main character keeps being blocked from view, until it's revealed, and it doesn't really help us understand him much better than before, even though we've come to learn more about what he acts and looks like.

In fact, The Shadow even seems to be aware of this, such as in the scene below when the narration goes to great lenghts to obscure Burbank's face, even in a scene when there is literally no one around but Burbank and The Shadow. Why go through this much trouble to obscure Burbank from no one but the reader? Why not just refrain from describing what he looks like instead of making sure we can't even imagine what he looks like in our heads in the scene? What's the mystery over what's ostensibly just an average quiet-faced man? And so Burbank doesn't become just a mystery, but a tantalizing one.

The fellow's back was toward the light; since the elevator was dark, it was impossible to distinguish his features. When he helped The Shadow carry the boxes to an open apartment, the bulky objects came in front of the man's face. Since the apartment was dark, too, the features of this silent companion remained as concealed as The Shadow's own.

The fact pleased The Shadow. The less people who saw Burbank, the better - Voice of Death

For example, we do know where Burbank's name comes from, and potentially his first name. In both “The Shadow Laughs” and “The Case Of Congressman Coyd,” Burbank is referred to as “Mr. Burbank,” which indicates it's a last name. In The Death Giver, Burbank hands Harry a business card

At three fifteen, the stenographer entered and tendered Harry a card. It bore the name:

L. BURBANK MOTION PICTURE OPERATOR

A later story specifically namedrops famous horticulturist Luther Burbank, and according to Will Murray, Walter Gibson did confirm to him personally that Burbank was named after Luther Burbank.

We know Burbank's main feature is that he's "quiet-faced" with a "soft, even-toned voice", and that characters can recognize Burbank by his voice even when his face is obscured, but his look isn't consistent. His sole appearence in a cover comes from The Lone Tiger, where he seems to be past his fifties and being semi-bald, but it's not how he looks in Edd Cartier's illustration where he's got a hairdo. Both seem to be somewhat based on Dr David Burbank, the New Hampshire dentist who founded the city. He's been said to be at least 40 once, and this in itself is at odds with some descriptions that place Burbank as younger than The Shadow and describe him as "a young man with a solemn look", which is more in line with how he tends to be depicted in comics, particularly the blonde man with the eyepiece designed by Michael Kaluta.

We know he was officially introduced after Harry Vincent and Claude Fellows, but that apparently he's known The Shadow for quite a while, as he (as Cranston) refers to Burbank as "an old friend" in his introduction (is he an old friend of Cranston as well?). Robert Sampson speculated that the two met in 1924 at a radio station, where as Rick Lai speculates that Burbank may have been recruited in an unrecorded adventure in Rio de Janeiro, mentioned in Gypsy Vengeance, that took place between the first and second novels.

We know that Burbank is at a rather unique position among the agents because he is maybe the most important figure in The Shadow's network, the main keeper of The Shadow's secrets, the one entrusted to run the organization on The Shadow's absence, the only one who can directly reach The Shadow in the Sanctum, and if anyone knows anything about whatever secrets there are in The Shadow's past, it's definitely him, but he's also the one we know the least about as a person, and contrary to the other agents, Burbank is often described in mechanized terms, which gives him a rather inhuman aura somewhat different than that of The Shadow's.

In a sense, Burbank was the mainspring of the machinery that The Shadow used in his warfare against crime.

As contact man, he kept in touch with all the active agents; there were times when he actually ran things, during The Shadow's absence. Tonight was one of those rare occasions when Burbank was needed on active duty.

Nevertheless, the human cogwheel had connected up a switchboard and had a short−wave radio set handy, so that he could continue his contact duties from this empty apartment - Voice of Death

When emergency demanded, Burbank served as he now was serving. Instead of making calls to the deserted sanctum, he was issuing orders in The Shadow's stead. - The Key

Everytime Burbank gets any sort of spotlight, we learn a little more about him, who he is, what he can't and can do. His methods, what he does to spend the time, some of the things he does for The Shadow outside of communications like planting recording devices in criminal hide-outs and devising or managing electrical devices and The Shadow's advanced technology (even if he doesn't fully understand it).

"Burbank began his own attempt to scale the wall. Ordinarily, his clutches would have been inadequate, and his toe holds were uncertain. But the wire was drawing upward under The Shadow's haul. It gave the needed support whenever Burbank floundered. The Shadow could actually sense his agent's progress by the varying strain upon the wire. At last, Burbank flopped over the roof edge like a landed fish" - Masters of Death

There were remarkable devices here. Burbank understood some of them, but the millionaire alone was familiar with all the equipment - Eyes of The Shadow

“To Burbank, long, lone vigils were nothing. He was not a man of action; he was one of endurance. Prompt, precise and always dependable, Burbank had served The Shadow well.“ - The Key

During his long hours of duty, he resorted to one methodical habit as he bided away the time. He always had a supply of chewing gum.” - The Killer

Burbank leaned back in his chair. His position was one of patient relaxation. While he awaited new telephone calls, his attitude was one of complete passivity. There was nothing excitable in the make-up of this man who sat with his back toward the light. Yet Burbank was a man of amazing endurance. In place of action, he exercised untiring vigilance. It was this quality that made him a most important factor in the affairs of that amazing personage known as The Shadow - The Killer

Burbank is, at once, the barrier between the agents (and by extension, us) and The Shadow, as well as the bridge that allows the agents (and us) to find and reach The Shadow.

And I do like it that Burbank's specifically said to not be cut for action, that he's not really a fighter or a marksman or even a super tech genius, on paper he's really just a guy who sits in a chair all day fiddling with radio equipment. But he is still cool and impressive by the standards of what matters most in The Shadow's world. He's patient and resourceful and vigilant and clever and trustworthy, and he's someone that The Shadow trusts more so than anyone else.

There was no sound of the door closing; no sound, indeed, to indicate that any person had moved in that direction. Yet Burbank knew, from experience, that his master, The Shadow, had departed, after giving him the sign that his vigil was ended.

Such word usually came from The Shadow’s sanctum. Tonight, being in the vicinity of Burbank’s present station, The Shadow had preferred to give his faithful agent fifteen or twenty minutes of extra respite by visiting him in person

Such was the way of The Shadow. Though none of his trusted operatives had ever seen his undisguised face; though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them; they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation - Death Triangle

In Suite 808, a figure was seated in front of the writing table. It was The Shadow, in his guise as Arnaud; Burbank was off duty, asleep in the other room.

The telephone buzzed; The Shadow answered it. He spoke in a quiet, methodical tone, a perfect imitation of Burbank's voice. Harry Vincent reported - The Case of Congressman Coyd

On one hand, I don't think the "mystery" of Burbank is ever going to be ruined, or should be ruined. But on the other hand, I definitely think there's a lot of room to explore more regarding what exactly is he as a person, as an agent, what kind of roles he plays, what is his connection to The Shadow or what relationship he has with other agents or other people he's meant to be in more direct contact with. I think it's a matter of balance.

There's a lot of room to work with particularly regarding how you could adapt Burbank into adaptations set in different time periods (not necessarily modern day), because with how communication technology had advanced beyond imagination, there's a lot of ways you could adapt or recontextualize Burbank, The Shadow's social network.

[queerspacepunk]

For DADWC: “I wish we’d never met. I only bring you pain" for Anders/Fenris?

sorry this has taken forever, my weekends have been chaos and now i'm sick and i think i forgot to respond to the @dadrunkwriting headcount for this week but OH WELL. I think i slightly tweaked the wording but i'm sure we'll cope.

Hawke had prepared him for this. Anders had too, in a way. Far more self-critical, admission lined in deflections, but it’s Hawke’s words Fenris turns to, nights like these, where Anders is in pieces and not all the way in the present.

“I wish we’d never met!” Anders snaps, pushing Fenris away as he scrambles across the bed, putting the furniture between them, foot catching in the duvet as he goes, tripping him. “All I ever do is hurt you!” His voice cracks at the end of it, and his eyes are wild.

Hawke had warned Fenris about this, back in the stilted month between the last time Fenris had tumbled Anders into bed drunk and the first time he’d done it sober. Well, not warned perhaps. To warn would imply Hawke was advising him away. No, Hawke had prepared him for this.

Anders had too, in a way. Far more self-critical, admission lined in deflections, but it’s Hawke’s words Fenris turns to, nights like these, where Anders is in pieces and not all the way in the present.

He’s not reacting to you, not really. He’s like an injured kitten.

“You feel dangerous,” Fenris says carefully. Acknowledgement, not validation.

“I am dangerous,” Anders spits, “I hurt you, it’s all I ever do. Out of control, out of-”

Blue begins to break through his skin, as if to prove a point. Fenris wonders if Anders knows that the pattern of light is different depending on whether his protector is being summoned or coming through of his own accord.

If he’s out of line, tell him.

Fenris breathes out instead of lighting up himself, much as he wants to.

“No Justice in our room without asking,” Fenris says, by rote, without anger. “You’re overwhelmed, do you need a moment?”

“I need you to listen to me!” Anders says, howls, “to get away before I hurt you more. Before I can’t stop myself.”

He’s gets memory mixed up with prophecy. He’s scared of what he thinks he’ll do, of how he thinks you’ll react.

“I’m grateful that hurting me is not something you want to do,” Fenris says, “even if you fear you will.”

Fenris moves around the bed, noting the way that Anders has, even in this state, has left him with an open line to the door, even as he’s had to back himself into a corner to do it.

“I am stepping out for a moment,” he says, “not out of the house, just out of the room. I will be back soon.”

For all Fenris’ skill in running, he hates this part. Hates the brief hint of grief and resignation that Anders never quite manages to hide as he steps away, but he knows it needs to be done.

He’s irrational like this. You could talk at him till you’re both blue in the face and he wouldn’t believe it. You have to play it out, give yourself a chance to prove him wrong.

Fenris doesn’t speak as he walks to the kitchen, but he lets his feet fall heavier than he usually does, slams the freezer door a little harder than he needs to as he pulls the icepack out.

He’s out of the room a minute, maybe two, but Anders has sunk to the ground in the time he was gone. The glow of Justice all but gone, gaze unfocused and distant. He looks up in something like surprise when Fenris enters, brow creasing in a frown when Fenris sits down beside him, lays the ice pack over the back of his neck.

Anders sits with his knees tucked up, wrists resting on them, head hanging between, for a long while before he can speak. The slightest tremor running through his frame the only real indication that he’s still there.

“I- fuck, I’m sorry,” Anders croaks, not raising his head.

Fenris presses his side slightly closer. A reminder of presence, a continuity error for the tale Anders’ mind is trying to spin.

Time travel’s exhausting. Fenris had always wondered how Hawke had known that. Guide him home, ease him in.

A broken, painful sort of laugh shakes out of Anders, and when he sits up, icepack slipping off his shoulders, the tears he’s shedding are frustrated.

“In the morning?” Fenris asks, because he knows as well as Anders does that they will have to deal with this, eventually, but not tonight.

“Yeah,” Anders agrees, “in the morning.”

This seems like an easy one, considering. They’re getting practiced, but Fenris can tell how heavy it is sitting in Anders’ chest.

Be ready for the second wave, go with him through it.

Fenris stands, a little sooner than Anders wants, perhaps, but he’s pliant now, apologetic and emptied out and as much as Fenris doesn’t want to take advantage of that, he needs to get Anders off the floor and to the bed before the next part.

They make it most of the way. Shoes already discarded when they came home, all Fenris really has to do is help Anders out of his jeans, his own long fingers too clumsy, like they’d been under the ice too.

Anders is leaning against him, hands balanced on Fenris’ shoulders as he helps kick away the jeans now pooled on the ground when the second wave does hit. His gaze going from distant to painfully focused on Fenris’ shoulder, where his own hand is resting.

“I hit you,” Anders says, chokes out. Fenris has often wondered if Justice allows Anders to see things that others can’t, or if it’s just the way memories seem to sear themselves into Anders’ vision.

They interact with the past so differently, the two of them.

“No,” Fenris says, for once having to drag himself back into the present as much as he’s dragging Anders, “you shoved me. And only because you were concerned you might hurt me.”

Anders glances up. Not to Fenris’ eyes, not quite, too soon for that, but close, “shoving you isn’t better.”

“When was the last time you were able to push me somewhere I didn’t want to go?” Fenris asks, and takes advantage of Anders’ state once again to push him back toward the bed, angling it so the soft edge of the mattress is what catches him behind the knees and sends him toppling gently onto it.

He’s scared because he loves you. Wants you to be safe. Let him know that you are.

The look on Anders’ face when Fenris does this is so close to the way he looks when they’re playing at things in bed that the first time he’d tried this, Fenris had had to run to the bathroom to retch up his lunch. He’d called Hawke earlier than usual that night.

It still isn’t easy, but he’s learnt since that submission given willingly is less about resignation and more about relief, and he knows now that that is what he’s seeing in Anders’ face. That what Anders’ is responding to isn’t force, but the knowledge that he isn’t a threat to Fenris. Not now.

Change the scene, change the tune. Leave the past in the past, however recent.

Fenris reaches down and helps Anders pull his shirt off, the collar damp from the icepack, the rest of it warmed from his panicked sweat. Fenris tosses it away, pulls another out from under the pillow, helps Anders pull it over his head before stripping his own clothes off in favour of sleep clothes.

Loose pants and no shirt. Anders is rarely ready to be bared to the world so soon after a night like this, but Fenris knows his skin is a warm comfort, knows that even when he sleeps the slight glow of his tattoos will chase away the total darkness.

“I will fetch us tea,” he says, after pulling the blankets over Anders, and Anders nods in response, pulling the duvet up so only his red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair are visible.

Fenris can’t help but push the hair back gently before he leaves. He keeps his footfalls heavy, shuts the cupboards loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to sound angry, fills two cups that he knows probably won’t be finished, but will root them to the present nonetheless.

The cats have materialised in the time it took Fenris to make two cups of tea. Slunk into the room and positioned themselves so as to almost immobilise Anders. One behind his knees, another at his back, a third at his waist.

There is a brief glaring contest between Fenris and The Viscat before the tabby sighs far too heavily for a cat of even his vast size and vacates the spot in front of Anders’ chest where he had been pinning the blankets down, allowing Fenris to lift them up and slip into the bed. To let Anders curl close around him. Clinging with a sort of desperation that Fenris can never quite figure out what to do with.

They sip at their tea and watch cat videos on Fenris’ phone (his recommendations will be a mess after this) until Anders is dozing, halfway to sleep. Fenris lets the video run itself out, and then presses Hawke’s number.

Call me, after, to check in.

“Hey, how’s he doing?” Hawke never seems to need to guess what he’s calling about, not at this hour.

“To debrief with you about your ex-lovers... episode?”

“Nearly asleep,” Fenris says, brushing the hair back from Anders’ forehead again. Anders nuzzles further into his side and mumbles something, “he says ‘hello’,” Fenris relays, “I think.”

Just because we didn’t work together like that doesn’t mean I don’t still care about him, that he’s not my friend, you both are.

“How are you doing?” Hawke asks next, equally gentle.

“You think I’m not capable of handling this on my own.”

“We’ve had worse nights,” Fenris admits, “better ones, also.”

I think you’re more capable than I am.

“You did well,” Hawke says, “you always do. Do you need anything?”

“We... will talk about this in the morning,” Fenris says, “the two of us. After that, perhaps?”

“I’ll bring lunch,” Hawke says, “but call, if you need me before then.”

I think that a person can hurt someone all on their own, but healing is a team effort.

“I will,” Fenris says, surprised to realise his eyelids are heavy, “goodnight Hawke, thank you.”

“Nah,” Hawke says, “thank you.”

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Five (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki: 

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four.

Against her better judgement, Tatsuki takes an early flight home the next morning, so she really doesn’t know what went down. 

Frankly, between battling her colossal hangover and focusing on not puking on the plane when it hits turbulence: she doesn’t even think about it until later in the week. 

Since the tour ended, the band has a week off to just chill and take some time for themselves before regrouping and planning their next move. Tatsuki goes straight home to smoke weed and binge dumb movies on her to-watch queue. Chad and Orihime had plans to stay in their last tour city for a while since they had friends and family there. 

And as for Ichigo and Rukia…

Who knows. They’re both such dorks that they’re probably that gross couple who serenade each other in bed, naked, making weird metaphorical lyrics about the sex they just had.

Gross. But kind of sweet.

She makes a point to not think about or reach out to any of them (besides Orihime, of course) the entire week - not that she doesn’t love her team fiercely, but they all need the break away from each other... Especially after they spent all their time together making the album and going on tour, and especially if Ichigo decides to show one of his new Rukia-love ballads to the band upon their return. 

Still, she attempts to check in with Ichigo on the fifth day over text. 

How ya doin’, tiger?

He doesn’t respond for a few hours, but she doesn’t think much of it. He’s always been sort of a shitty texter, and there’s a strong chance all the raucous love-making isn’t reminding him to check his phone. 

She’s on the fourth episode of Terrace House’ newest season, debating whether one of the cast members is a chaotic queen or absolute garbage when she hears the familiar ping of a text message on her phone. She picks it up and reads:

Fine.

Huh. 

Not exactly the sunshine-y answer she expected, but then again: it’s Ichigo. He’s not exactly a sunshine-y person, even when - apparently - he’s radiantly happy. 

She shrugs, deciding not to push it. She’ll find out soon enough how everything’s going when they have practice in a couple days. 

--

Practice is in Chad’s garage, and Ichigo, Chad, and Orihime are already there.

She mostly chats with Orihime, who has so much to update her on about her newest recipes, like natto ice cream and sriracha orange juice, and hey, Tatsuki, what are your thoughts on this newest article I found about robots dominating the planet within the next five years?

Tatsuki glows in the babble, chuckling when she can’t help herself. Says the first sounds… Interesting, the second sounds like maybe she can keep revising it a little, and that last article sounds like it might be from a not so trust-worthy news source. 

Her friend tries to argue the source’s credibility when she looks over at Ichigo. He’s silently tuning his guitar, head bent and posture weirdly… Slumped when she catches his eye.

She raises her eyebrows at him without interrupting Orihime’s chatter. You good?

He shrugs, gives a weak smile and thumbs up before returning his attention back to his instrument.

Uh oh. 

Ichigo Kurosaki does not do weak smiles… Or thumbs ups, for that matter.

It’s another few minutes before Rukia swings the door open, a bit of a sweaty mess and running out of breath. 

“Hi all, I’m so sorry I--”

“You’re late.”

Everyone swings their attention to Ichigo, who observes their keyboardist stone-faced. The shocked silence that follows is short, but suffocating. 

Rukia flushes before she blinks, raising her chin. “Yes. As I was saying… I’m sorry I’m running late, everyone. I had a lunch meetup with an old friend that went longer than expected. Please forgive me.”

“Chill, Rukia - you’re fine. You’re only five minutes over.” Tatsuki shoots a look at Ichigo, who’s still ruthlessly eye-ing daggers into Rukia. 

What the hell…? 

“... Whatever. Let’s just get started. Go over everything to catch back up to speed, and all that.” Ichigo plugs his guitar into the speaker, and Rukia nods as she quickly sets up her keyboard. 

Practice from there is…

Like. It’s good. It is. Despite the long break, everyone is still on top of their shit: Tatsuki’s beats are muscle memory by now, and Chad is as on it as he ever was. Ichigo and Rukia are in perfect sync, per usual.

The energy, however, is another story. While there was always some sort of joy and excitement when they all played together, now it’s like the air is stiff, heavy. From behind, Tatsuki can see Rukia keeps trying to look at Ichigo during all the parts they usually harmonize together, to get some sort of connection. 

Ichigo doesn’t even remotely glance her way the entire time. 

They’re near done with the entire set when Ichigo clears his throat, turning to the rest of them. Urahara has joined them by this point, watching with an unreadable smile as ever.  

“So… I think we should scrap Sun and Moon from our main set.”

Orihime lets out a soft gasp. Chad’s fingers accidentally let loose a note on the live bass. Tatsuki chokes on her spit. 

“Sun and Moon? You mean our crowd pleaser? The one we always end shows with a bang on?”

“It’s not our only crowd pleaser, we’ve also got some other great ones. I’m just afraid it’s gonna be a one-hit wonder, ya know? And with that note…” He turns to Urahara. “What do you think about us going ahead and starting to write for our sophomore album?”

They gape at him. 

Even Urahara raises his eyebrows. “That’s… Well. That was fast.”

“Is it? Our album is more like EP, anyway - just a little longer. Like a warm-up. And it’s good, of course I’m proud of it - everyone worked so hard on it - but, just… Why not start now? Why not take advantage of the momentum we’ve got going on?”

Rukia clears her throat. “Ichigo, that’s… We’ve got such a good grip on what we have -”

“I just think Soul Vibes is static for us. Outdated.” He quickly looks back at her before returning his attention to Urahara.

 Rukia looks like she’s been slapped. 

“I think we’re more dynamic now, even just in these few short months. And yeah it’s fast, but - we have time, right? To get started on writing?”

“I suppose so.” Urahara looks at Tatsuki and Chad, who both shrug. Something’s really off here, but Tatsuki sort of sees his point. It’s clear Ichigo’s raring to write something new… Why not? 

“Sure, if you’d like, I can make some arrangements with the music studio. You and Rukia can go in there and--”

“Actually, I was thinking we can work on some stuff alone before presenting it to the group.” He stops Tatsuki when she begins to sputter.  “Look, I know the whole reason for pairing Rukia and I for songwriting was to get us working as a team. But we’re fine now…”

Ichigo looks back at Rukia, and they share a look that’s so… Tatsuki doesn’t know what it is, but she sees Rukia swallow heavily in response.

“We’re fine now.” He repeats grittily. He starts again, stronger: “We collaborated on some cool shit, now I think it’s time to make it a little more diverse like I mentioned earlier. Have my songs, have her songs, have Chad’s songs if he still wants - all threaded together with Tatsuki’s beats. Why not?”

The room is quiet as they contemplate it. It’s not a bad idea, but…

Tatsuki glances over at Rukia, who’s looking down at her hands.

Urahara clicks his tongue. 

“Well, Kurosaki, you raise a good argument. I don’t see why not, and I’m not hearing any objections… Just one thing: you’re not striking Sun and Moon quite yet. No arguments! Hear me out.” He stops Ichigo with a hand. “You’re not striking it until any of you come up with a song just as good, if not better. There’s power in that one, you can’t deny it. Make something as rock n’ roll as that and the team will talk. Let’s just… Keep each other in the know, all right?” 

The band - Rukia included, albeit softly - agrees, and they start to pack up. 

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on; she’s always down for making more jams, she knows Ichigo and Rukia have got more up their sleeves, that Chad definitely deserves to put more of his stuff forward - but that… Look the two vocalists shared…

What happened that night after she left the bar? 

She doesn’t have much time to wonder, however, because suddenly she’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears Ichigo approaching Orihime about whether she wants to go out and get a couple of drinks. 

Tatsuki’s heart is too busy falling to see Rukia’s stricken face.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Loki Series Thoughts—The Variant

With the release of episode 2, I’m back with another analysis. Spoilers ahead!! This will be a combination of personal thoughts, theories, and objective analysis. This is overall, a positive review, so if you do not want to see that, I would not recommend continuing to read. I am however more than open to some friendly debate and discussion over any and all of the following points, whether you agree or disagree with them.

With all that being said, let’s dive in:

I feel gypped on the Holding out for a Hero fight scene. I mean, I liked how the scene was shot, especially with the whole loudspeaker thing (it set the mood very well), but where’s Loki fighting to that song?

Alright, I might as well address the elephant in the room: Is Loki OOC? Well, for my money, the answer is both yes and no. And I don’t mean to be wishy-washy; it really kind of depends on how you define OOC and/or who exactly you take this Loki to be.

What does OOC mean? To me, the literal definition of “out of character” would be the character acting in a way unlike they’ve been seen acting before. Likewise, according to Collins Dictionary it would be defined as “not typical of the apparent character of a person or thing.” Now, that’s a bit too black and white. What if you have a character in a new situation, how do you know how they’d react? By analyzing their past actions and seeing if they line up. And if you stop at this point and deem Loki entirely OOC, well you’re allowed to and that’s valid. I, however, would not say entirely is the word to use. Somewhat, yes, but not terribly and not inexcusably so. I’ll come back to this in a moment.

Who is this Loki? He’s the one right after the Avengers, of course, but he’s something different too. Think about it, the whole series is centered around how different choices can shape the very fabric of the universe. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that changes in Loki’s story would cause him to behave differently than what we’ve seen before? This is, in essence, a different Loki, albeit one who’s own narrative is shaped by a shared backstory with ours. It even says it on his jacket in big, bright letters: VARIANT. So while he shouldn’t be too dissimilar from the Loki we know, I do not think we can entirely look to the old to determine the new.

Now that we have that out of the way, we’re back to my somewhat noncommittal answer of the original question. Loki has some moments that seem OOC, but almost always has a (valid) reason for acting that way, both in and out of universe.

Loki’s OOC moments:

◦ The Renaissance Fair: And I by no means think this applies to his whole spiel. In fact, I think it was largely in character. What got me was “Which is absurd, because my people are, by nature, gullible fools. A trait that I, the God of Mischief, exploited time and time again simply by listening.” And then again, right after B-15 announces they are one unit away from red line. Though, my issue with the latter is how rushed it is. This could make sense because he’s worried about having time to finish his ploy. It’s a small thing to harp on for sure, though, for the point I am trying to make.

◦ In the hallway: This is where I think he’s most OOC. It feels rambley and pointless. More a desperate plea than a calculated last resort.

◦ With the librarian: I was hesitant to put this one in, but he seemed a bit unsure at points in his dialogue here. The inflection of his voice in the middle just sounded, like I said, unsure.

◦ The cafeteria (both times): More so in the first. The metaphor was, like Loki himself said, clumsy. But what I really think is OOC here is how excitable and obvious he is after Mobius concedes, “Not bad.” And the only thing on their second cafeteria chat is at the very end. His response of “I know” to being called clever, once again has an inflection to it that I would not typically associate with Loki—it’s too pronounced.

◦ Pompeii (beginning of scene only): Loki seems pretty flippant about the whole thing in the immediate moments after their arrival. (As an aside, I don’t think he’s necessarily unsympathetic here; he knows what happens and to keep himself safe and prove his point, he can’t branch the timeline.) To be quite honest, I think he might just be goading Mobius as he’s done to our God of Mischief many a time already.

◦ Before Roxxcart: He seems nervous, and his speech is a bit rushed again. Then again, this is something he wants—to be better. I’d think he’d be a bit more calm about it, though. Then again, with everything that’s happened recently, maybe it’s a natural response?

The reasons why he seems OOC:

◦ It’s on purpose: He knows what they think of him. If he plays into that, even in an exaggerated way, they’re not going to call bs on it.

◦ He’s been through a lot/Not our Loki: Like I mentioned earlier, not only is this a new environment, it’s a new Loki. He’s been shaped differently from our Loki because of how he was immediately thrust into the world of the TVA after many traumatic experiences.

◦ It’s an acting choice: No, it’s not one you have to agree with. But I believe Tom could be doing it to highlight moments where Loki is saying things he personally does not actually believe or that he knows others believe. Just to distinguish from the more calculated lying he does.

So, are there moments when Loki acts OOC? Yes. Is it inexplicable? No. Are the answers to those questions always the same from person to person? No, because like so many things, it’s all about how you frame it. And, of course, every person perceives each moment of time through their own eyes, with their own thoughts, in their own ways.

Loki has plenty of moments in character, too. In fact, I’d say he was overwhelmingly in character, for my understanding of it. In the earlier parts of the Renaissance Fair he is witty and lying with ease. At all other points that I didn’t mention, I found his vocabulary and inflection perfectly fine. I can’t think of any one moment his hand gestures particularly stuck out to me as out of place. And during his impromptu magic lesson, he seemed so sure of himself. He has snark without being rude. His interactions with “the variant” are on point. Even in the majority of the Pompeii scene, he’s not acting OOC, he’s just acting. He wanted to make an over-exaggerated splash to test his theory. Between that and speaking Latin, aren’t we seeing his cunning and wit?

Well, with that divisive and slightly negative topic out of the way, let’s move onto Mobius, his character, and his role in the show. He’s a bit different than the Mobius we see last time. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still moments where he seems to be manipulating Loki, or at least attempting to (the walk to the elevator; dangling a meeting with the Time Keepers in front of Loki’s face). In episode two, he’s presented as a victim. Mobius is just as much a slave to the “sacred timeline” as those living in it. He can’t go into the world and do the things he wants to do. Even any questions about time that Loki has, he answers seemingly by rote (perhaps drilled into his brain through propaganda?) or he can’t explain well (note, two times he somewhat hesitantly deems what Loki says as “an oversimplification”).

We’re also told that Mobius has a soft spot for broken things. That seems like a bold thing to say if Mobius hasn’t done something big before. Has he possibly ever used a variant like this before? Could he even possibly have a deeper connection to the rouge variant? Probably not on that second one, but it’s not wholly impossible. Though, going back to “has he done this before?” (and get ready for me to get absolutely insane now) do the rings on the table have deeper symbolic meaning pertaining to this? Yes, it could have just been for comedy, it may have just been a cool shot, but why put so much focus and emphasis on it like that with the camera and dialogue if it has no significance. Basically what I mean is, it’s symbolic of Mobius messing up. He messed up Renslayer’s table, maybe he botched a mission. Or maybe he even screwed up when working with another variant. Regardless of whether that’s symbolism, we do see him have a soft spot for the people at the hurricane shelter.

Mobius’s role in episode 1 was trying to break down Loki and recruit him. In this episode, he was more of a guide, more of a friend. Yes, there are lines like at Roxxcart when he says he knows he can’t be trusted, but there’s also a lot of camaraderie between the two. By the time Loki and Mobius are having their second chat in the cafeteria, they seem familiar with each other, engaging in what seems to be a friendly bout of verbal sparring. They seem, at very least, fond of each other, and I believe Mobius is, to some extent, on Loki’s side.

In fact, Mobius and Loki share something in common; they want something more than what the time keepers have preordained for them, even if Loki is more ready to admit that. Mobius is still, however, playing the part he’s been assigned, his “glorious purpose.” And, yes that includes some digs like that at Loki, whether Loki’s in the room or not, and whether they’re subtle or not. Is “I’ll delete him myself. He’s really arrogant.” really a dig though? I mean, it sounds like he could just be saying what Renslayer wants to hear. And when he talks about Loki wanting something more, wanting to change, I don’t think he’s actually talking about Loki. With the inflection and stage whisper, it almost sounds like he’s projecting. Remind you of anyone? Mobius will likely end up helping Loki, or may even turn into a tragic hero, his fatal flaw being his unwillingness to admit the TVA is not infallible.

The TVA workers. Isn’t odd how some of them have names and others don’t? Do they name themselves? More likely, I think whoever is in charge of a branch of the TVA gets a name, and all underlings get the less than human mix of letters and numbers with which to identify themselves. It also seems that the people with the most personality are the ones with names. B-15 has a personality, sure, but it’s more just in line with “I work for the TVA. This is what they want. I will do exactly that.” It’s almost lacking something that the named characters have lying beneath the surface of their character arc.

And then she gets enchanted, and if Wunmi Mosaku wasn’t already shining with the limited story for the character, oh boy she is now. When B-15 comes to, she is scared. It’s on her face and in that little shuddered breath. And when asked what happened, she seemed so unsure, timid. I’m definitely interested to see how that progresses!

Back to the workers in general, they didn’t seem as sad about their coworkers this episode as in the last. Even with C-20 it seemed to be a respect thing. I mean, they reset the timeline with their colleagues lying dead on the floor. I think in a lot of scenarios, dead soldiers would be given a proper burial.

Ravonna Renslayer and the time keepers. Renslayer is even more steadfastly devoted to the sacred timeline and the time keepers than anyone else. Why? Well, I think it’s because she is the time keepers. Any time they’re brought up, it’s quickly explained away with a simple “they’re busy.” That’s because they’re not real. But Renslayer sure seems chummy with them, huh? What other reason then its her timeline she has everyone protecting.

Then again, she may only be second in command, but not to the time keepers. (I mean, omniscient and omnipotent beings who are relatively aloof and unreachable? They’re perfectly set up to be revealed as not real. Plus the constant non-answers when it comes to them, I’ll be more surprised if they’re real than if they’re not.) But in the comics, her plot line is interwoven with that of Kang the Conqueror, a time traveler, among many other things. Even more likely than her being in charge, is him being in charge.

And now for the variant. It’s not Lady Loki, we all know that right? Ok, that comes off a bit harsh, but she is listed as Sylvie in the credits for languages other than English. This was also who Sophia Di Martino was previously listed as on IMDb. I won’t get into her story in the comics now, but I’d bet we’ll take elements of that in her story in the series. And if you’re still not convinced that’s who this is, why have her blonde? It just doesn’t make sense to change that about her. Plus, Sylvie takes on the name of Enchantress. What does Loki say her powers are? Enchantments. She doesn’t want to be called Loki either. She does say the main Loki variant is her, but if she’s framing him or taking on his persona for her crimes, why stop now? Her language is distinctly un-Loki like, too. She also boldly declares “This isn’t about you.” And finally, there’s the foreshadowing in Loki’s line, “I would never treat me like this.”

I only wonder what her motives are. Is she looking for revenge on the Loki from her timeline? Or perhaps she’s working fo him? Maybe he’s dead and she’s avenging him? Or he’s alive and she wants to grab his attention? Maybe she has motives all her own. And what of Mephisto? Does he actually play a part in this? I’m just spitballing, I need more information.

When Loki finds the file. No. Like. Give a detailed description of this please!!!!! He thinks he’s evil. That he causes all that death with malicious intent. Even if he doesn’t, there’s clear pain over the destruction of Asgard. And look at his eyes, the only thing we’re shown as he process the information fully for the first time. He’s hurt, confused. Disappointed and angry with himself. The bit we’re shown of his face before it zooms in on his eyes portrays this too. He looks so lost in that shot. And he looks to be tearing up a bit.

Maybe I’m just being dumb, but what does it mean 9,719 casualties? Didn’t they all escape? His face as the scene zooms back out is... defeated. Scared. Scarred. He’s barely holding it together. Then something else catches his eye, giving him an idea. And I’m sure more than anything he wants to be distracted from the storm in his mind. So yeah, he’ll happily throw himself into his work. The epiphany on his face as he’s still recovering and discovering new things is just so perfect too.

The confrontation at Roxxcart. This was really well done, I felt. Loki felt in character, and he was fighting smartly, using what he could. Because clearly the enchantment also lent Sylvie’s powers to the person. But Loki manages to hang in there and dig for information while keeping the battle going.

He gets mad, too. He starts yelling. And that makes sense. He wants answers, and for so long he’s been denied them; it’s a recurring theme in his life. He’s losing control of himself a bit here. And that’s a large part of the reason why he goes through the time door. Loki doesn’t want to lose control again. I don’t even know if it was exactly a betrayal of the TVA. I don’t think he’s on their side, but I think he just saw that he couldn’t lose the variant again. Because for what he says his plan is, he wouldn’t have followed the variant. However, he does because he wants answers.

What about that plan though? I’m working a bit in reverse with this scene I realize, but bear with me. That look on his face as he stands, it’s calculating. I think he’s lying about his plan. I think he’s trying to bring the variant in, not work with them.

Also, I’m so concerned for C-20. What’s real? I want to know!! But we’re already getting a feel for Sylvie’s powers. The people she enchants live, but they’ve seen something they’d rather not. What other reason is there for the similar way B-15 and C-20 act? And I know she mentions telling Sylvie the time keeper’s location, but really, it’s their location to her knowledge. It doesn’t necessarily mean they exist. Or maybe it’s just Kang.

And Mobius at the very end of this scene, the very end of the confrontation, the very end of the episode. The last thing is him calling after Loki. And he sounds genuine, almost. It didn’t sound like he was fearful for his own life, but rather more worried for Loki. Though, maybe I have that confused and it’s worried about Loki. Whatever the reason, it sounded like genuine fear in his voice to me.

Finally, some random thoughts that didn’t fit anywhere:

Gugu Mbatha-Raw is so talented. I mean, I got a lot of emotion from Renslayer. Confident and proper at the beginning, panicked and afraid at the end. Even in her talks with Mobius, there’s many subtleties to pick apart. I think it’s heavily implied through her words and actions that she’s evil.

The casual magic use was great. Hope there’s more.

Why do setting off reset charges in the main timeline have a different effect than setting them off in the branch timelines? Like shouldn’t it wipe it, not make branches?

Loved all the rapport happening in the episode. There was a lot of good dialogue.

Despite the manipulations going on, I like the relationship forming between Mobius and Loki. I think they make a nice little duo.

I love all the Loki variants we’re shown. Very, very interesting. Just give us Jötunn Loki for real, please.

Loki was very clever this episode, particularly with figuring out you could hide in an apocalypse and at Roxxcart.

Does Roxxcart have a link to Roxxon?

Their little motto thing is a bit creepy. “For all time. Always.” Sounds like it’s just part of their propaganda.

“You see, I know something children don’t. No one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.” I love this line. Seriosuly, why not use this sound bite in the trailers? Loki himself is morally gray, and I love that we’re addressing this fact of life; the world is not all black and white, not all good and bad.

CASEY!!!

In the second cafeteria scene, there is a guard in full armor just standing there. I guess they’re monitoring the employees. How likely does whoever is in charge think it would be for an uprising of sorts to happen?

Between sleepy Loki, him putting that jacket on, his hair, that talking to himself and that annoyed little shh in the library, and just being the happy goof that he is deep down (Miss Minutes scene and salad metaphor) Loki was just so adorable this episode.

I think it’s important Mobius said sorry when talking about ragnarok. He knows Loki cares.

Mobius does kind of understand Loki when saying he has an “insecure need for validation.” He’s right, honestly, albeit harsh. But that’s all he wanted throughout the Thor movies too, not to be looked down upon. To be treated as equal. As worthy.

Of Mobius’s two options for why he’s sticking his neck out for Loki, I think they both hold some truth.

Interesting how TVA agents like to keep souvenirs from lives they can never live. Though maybe Renslayer keeps them for a different reason. Like from timelines that were particularly a threat to order—her order.

The score is still on point. Loving the theremin.

Wow an explanation pertaining to time travel I’ve found no holes in. It’s unstable and they have to enter in real time (furthest point on the branch) because of that. Ok, yeah. Checks out.

I’m so glad they kept the title card from last week. I like it so much better than the one from the trailers, and it fits the vibe of the show better.

Is it bad I want all these new branches to red line? I think it seems a little too early into the show for that to happen, but maybe a few of them will? Perhaps improbable but not impossible. But think of the chaos! What better playground for the God of Mischief than a universe thrown into disarray.

And now, my final thoughts. A very good episode with a mainly in character Loki. I like how we’re slowly learning more with what’s going on, while still keeping an element of mystery. Though, Marvel’s twists aren’t landing as well as I think they were hoping (assuming I’m right of course. I’ve seen plenty of other people who were thinking along the same lines though, so). It’s lacking a certain je ne sais quoi that Glorious Purpose had, but I still enjoyed it. Overall, 8/10. Let’s just hope my rating doesn’t go down point with every episode.

Like something I said? Totally disagree? Really want to talk more about one point? Whatever it is, I’d love to hear! Reblogs and comments are appreciated. My ask box is always open, and anon is always on. I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Thanks :)

Me, after not liking one, but two episodes:

[twistedtummies2]

Ele-May-ntary - NUMBER ONE

Welcome – for the last time – to Ele-May-ntary! All throughout the month of May, I’ve been counting down my Top 31 Favorite Portrayals of Sherlock Holmes. I’ve talked about different versions from movies, television, radio, and even video games! And now, the time has come to unveil my number one choice. Now, we’ve covered a LOT of takes on Sherlock Holmes, obviously. I’ve talked about versions that are very popular, and I’ve talked about versions that are more obscure. Who could possibly top all of the different versions I’ve discussed? For some people, this may be a no-brainer…but to many others, it might seem surprising. NUMBER ONE IS…Jeremy Brett.

I recently saw a report from GQ Magazine, of all things, that claimed Jeremy Brett’s Holmes was “vanilla.” I frankly find this statement to be offensive. People are entitled to their own opinions, and I won’t deride anyone for having different favorites from me, but…“vanilla”? That is about as far from Jeremy Brett as you can GET. Until Benedict Cumberbatch came around, for many people, Jeremy Brett was tied only with Basil Rathbone as perhaps the single most definitive take on Sherlock Holmes. Brett starred as the character in the long-running Granada TV series – initially released under the title of “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,” but retitled with every other season to sort of emulate the books. He also played Holmes in a play titled “The Secret of Sherlock Holmes,” in which one of his two Watsons, Edward Hardwicke, also appeared. (Hardwicke, for the record, has played Watson more than any other actor; before him, Brett’s Watson was one David Burke, who I actually personally like a little more, but I digress.) What I love about Jeremy Brett’s Holmes is what I love about nearly every Holmes worth their salt: they capture everything about the character, but they also make it their own. And by Gadfrey, does Jeremy Brett make it his own. Brett had a long standing career on television and in theater before playing the character of Holmes. He appeared in various Shakespeare productions, tackled the role of D’Artagnan in “The Three Musketeers,” and even played the character of the lovesick Freddy in “My Fair Lady!” (Yep. Sherlock Holmes was in that movie. As if it wasn’t good enough.) Interestingly, not long before getting the role of Holmes in the Granada series, Brett actually played Dr. Watson in a stage adaptation of “The Sign of Four,” entitled “The Crucifer of Blood.” He was a highly versatile actor, and no two performances were ever quite the same. As Holmes, Brett does something very, very clever. His Holmes has all the qualities you would want Holmes to have, in all of the right places: all of his virtues and all of his flaws. But there’s a different sort of flair Brett has. He doesn’t MOVE like any other Holmes, doesn’t SPEAK like any other Holmes; there’s a very specific and particular way he does things and says things that is entirely his own. His mood swings are extreme, and there are so many little quirks and nuances to what he does it’s hard to keep track of them all. Even when he’s just standing perfectly still, there’s always something going on in his eyes, and when he’s in motion, he’s a whirlwind. His disguises are a bit more transparent physically than some other takes, but the way he actually PERFORMS in those disguises does allow you to believe that others would be fooled. He was just that great an actor. I really feel that Brett captures the freewheeling thought processes of Holmes in a way that others seldom do; in one episode, he moves around a room methodically, totally silent, picking up hints and clues from all over the place…and when he’s done, addresses the room as if he’s been telling them everything. When Watson says to him, “Holmes, can’t you tell us anything now?” he suddenly realizes he’s been pondering everything to himself the whole while, and then begins to detail his findings and theories to the rest of the characters present. He gets so wrapped up in his hunting and deducing that he forgets everything else. I love seeing Brett’s Holmes work, and I love seeing his relationships with the various other major figures of his canon. Jeremy Brett is both the definitive Holmes and yet not definitive at all; he is one of a kind, taking everything you know and love about the stories, and translating it into a totally unique, fascinating performance that captures your attention thoroughly, stealing every scene he has. He captures both the darkness and the light perfectly, and gives us a portrait of the super sleuth no one has truly managed to match up to, in my opinion: neither before nor since. It is no surprise that he is My Favorite Portrayal of Sherlock Holmes. Thank you for joining me for Ele-May-ntary! I have another countdown planned for October. See you all in a few months on that front! ;)

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 29

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 5.5k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part four

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Silence is like an old friend: always present and there for you even when everyone and everything else left you. You find comfort in the quiet, and as such, you normally wouldn’t find yourself so bothered by the absence of sound. Yet here you are, standing a few feet from Jongho’s bed in a room that is all too cold and all too quiet. Truly, there isn’t much to say, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to speak up and offer some sort of weak attempt to get him to stay. Before you can, however, San beats you to it. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or not because the lingering goodbye just hovers on your tongue now.

“Are you truly going to do this, Jongho?”

The Berserker hesitates where he stands near the bed, hands clasped around a small bundle of clothes. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore San’s question and continue to pack in silence. Then, he offers a shrug.

“Hongjoong didn’t stop me, did he?” You shake your head with a certain fervor to your movements.

“There’s no way he wants you to leave,” you counter. Perhaps it is merely an attempt to cling to that hope, but the Hongjoong you saw in his quarters was a version of him you’ve never seen before. Jongho shifts to look at you, eyes a bit melancholy as he drags his gaze over your face.

“Obviously information is far more important than I am.” He says the words with a bit of a laugh to his tone, though all three of you know that there’s no humor to be found in this situation. Your lips fold into a delicate frown.

“Why is this even an issue? Is there a reason why Hongjoong is so adamant about bringing Mingi to the arena? Why can’t he just stay on the ship while the rest of us go on the mission?” You shake your head a bit as you ask the questions and drop your gaze to the floor. There is no reasonable explanation as to why Hongjoong would behave this way in your mind, no matter how many excuses you try to give in his defense.

“Because Vladimir plays dirty,” San says through a sigh. “He knows that Mingi is on this crew, and he’s been after Mingi for years. Offered countless deals and bargains for Mingi’s head, trying to get Hongjoong to give him up. Hongjoong has always turned down the offers without a second thought, but that doesn’t keep Vladimir from trying time and time again. He wants Mingi. And he is a man who is used to getting what he wants.”

“Do you think that what he’s after?” You inquire, blinking over to where San stands with arms folded neatly over his chest.

“If he has agreed to meet Hongjoong, then yeah. That means he, in the very least, has eyes on the ship. So if he sees every member of the crew leave the ship except for Mingi, his men will ambush and take Mingi by any means necessary. Even if someone stays behind with Mingi, the risk is still there. Thus… Hongjoong would rather risk Mingi having an episode in the arena or take the easy way out and wipe his brain.”

“But why?” It still doesn’t make sense to you, but at this rate, it’s seeming less and less likely that it will ever make sense. “That seems too pricy a cost for such a small risk, along with the assumption that Mingi can’t protect himself.”

“It isn’t about cost,” Jongho cuts in. “Nor is it a failure to believe in Mingi’s capabilities. It’s… deeper than that. Hongjoong always worries about something happening to Mingi when he isn’t there. He thinks it’s risky enough to send Mingi with San and me, but he can’t bring him to Vladimir. That would be the worst of all shitty ass ideas. Do I see the logic in bringing Mingi to the arena? Of course, I do. Having him be off to the side and in one of the wings – that would make it easier to keep him out of Vladimir’s sights. It would help him blend in with the crowd, hide from whatever guards Vladimir will have, more space to run if the need arises. You can’t do that on a ship with only a few exits. Hongjoong is thinking, and he’s thinking hard, yes, but at the same time, he’s being a complete dumbass.”

The steady thrum of silence follows Jongho’s explanation, and you can’t come up with anything to say in response. Neither can San, or so it seems, because he offers a nod but nothing other than that. Then, like a switch being flipped in his brain, he spins to face you with inquisitive eyes.

“You’re the only one here who has actually had the procedure done.” It isn’t spoken like a question, moreso a fact, but you find yourself responding as though it is one nonetheless.

“Yes? As far as I’m aware.”

“Well, that would also make you the only person who knows what it’s like to go through that even if the memories of it are hazy and foggy.” You press your lips tightly together, unable to look San in the eye any longer. The embarrassment of your earlier collapse and partial breakdown is still fresh, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you also are struggling to get past the harsh memory. “Would you willingly subject another person to that?”

Ah, morality. An equally funny and tricky thing to handle in any situation. Now, it seems even more delicate and fragile, something you have to weigh ever so carefully to keep from saying the wrong thing. What is wrong when it comes to criminals though? Are there different rules to play by, a separate set of guidelines that all should follow to decide what’s best, or does one leave it to fate instead? Let the universe decide how morality should be weighed on the scales of justice?

You’ve never been one to listen to the universe, even when it stands in your path and screams for you to listen.

“Only if they want it,” you start in a whispered tone. “Never against their will obviously but… but if someone were to ask for it and agree to it, then yes.”

“So if Mingi truly wants it, then you would be okay with the method?” San’s question stops you in your tracks. Perhaps you have said the wrong thing or made a mistake in saying what you did — you are well aware of what San’s response would be, so maybe that is why he is so frustrated with yours. San would have you say that it is impermissible under any and all circumstances, even with clearly defined guidelines and consent. His morals make you question your own even though you know where he is coming from. To him, it is all a matter of relations. Having a relationship with a solid foundation means that it is perfectly alright to think that way. Yet using San’s moral guidelines, that would mean that the closer you get to someone, the more you take away from them. Their choice, their thought process, how they decide things, even their own moral standards. Can you truly permit that in good conscience? For once, your answer seems clear.

“Yes,” you relent after a few breaths of hesitation. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Would you say the same if it were myself or Jongho? Or Seonghwa?” Again, you hesitate – this time longer than before, and you almost neglect to answer the question entirely. You muster up the courage at the last second, however, but you don’t think it’s the response San wants to hear still.

“Again, if it’s what you truly want, then why would it be fair for someone to stop you? Why take away that choice?”

“But Hongjoong is taking away Mingi’s choice now!” Jongho argues, stepping towards you with knitted brows. “He is abusing his power as Captain! He knows that Mingi would do absolutely anything that he told him to do. It’s not free will or a choice if someone only gives you one option.”

“And yet… it’s not all Hongjoong, is it?” San inquires through a delicate frown. “Yunho is the one who brought it up and made it an option in the first place.”

Jongho brings a hand to his hair, carding his fingers through the dark locks sitting atop his head. He drops his gaze to the floor too and refuses to look in San’s direction until he makes it back to where he was packing clothes.

“Yeah, I already ripped into him for that.”

“Do you know why he did it? It doesn’t make sense for Yunho of all people to bring it up. Out of everyone, he’s the one with the strongest moral compass, so why – no, how – how could he do something so immoral?”

“Morals are different for everyone.” Jongho huffs air through his nose and lets the sound fill the air without interruption for several moments. “What’s moral to one person could be wholly immoral to another. Look at how Mingi was raised, how he was taught that the way he thinks is right and that it’s the proper method of thought and morality. Others consider him to be an immoral monster with no concept of right and wrong, but in his own mind, that isn’t how it works. Yunho… Yunho genuinely believes that doing this is truly the only option. We’ve never seen eye to eye on Mingi’s condition, of course, but – or how to help, now that I think about it – but I know I can’t convince Yunho to change his mind. Hongjoong however? I can change his mind for certain.”

“What do y–” The door interrupts you, sliding open before you can complete the question, and you whip to face the source of the sound. San and Jongho move with you, eyes reaching the door before yours do. You almost expect to find Hongjoong standing there just based on the sigh that through Jongho’s lips, but you’re even more surprised to see that it is Seonghwa instead. He pauses midstride upon seeing you, no doubt expecting to find Jongho alone in the room. His mouth hangs slightly open as his eyes dart up to meet yours. The stare lingers too long, continuing to bore into you as he shifts his chin in Jongho’s direction.

“Lieutenant,” Jongho greets. His tone is cold and flat, almost like nothing is different about this situation. You know better than to believe that. Jongho’s next words only solidify that fact. “I suppose that’s the last time I’ll be calling you that.”

It’s like a knife in the chest yet somehow ten times worse. San’s expression visibly twists, and he turns away so that no one sees the extent of his pain.

“Don’t think so negatively, Jongho,” Seonghwa murmurs as he steps further into the room. “Hongjoong doesn’t want you to leave. Why would he ever want that?”

“Then why isn’t he here to tell me that himself?” Jongho snorts out a laugh following the harsh question. “Why is it that good Lieutenant Park always does the dirty work for him?”

“Come now, Jongho. Don’t get bitter now of all times.”

“Oh, fuck off! Let me be bitter! Mingi is the only fucking person on this ship who knows what it’s like to feel the way I feel and suffer the way I suffer. He’s the only person who I think can give me the redemption I need so desperately. He has always been my responsibility and mine alone. I know how to help him, I believe in him, and I put some damn faith in him getting better without any fucking procedures. I can be bitter all I want because Hongjoong is putting zero faith in Mingi.”

“I understand, Jongho.”

In the blink of an eye, Jongho has moved from the edge of the bed to the wall, the only thing between him and the metal being Seonghwa. His hand closes around Seonghwa’s throat while the other draws back as though he’s about to punch the lieutenant.

“You don’t understand shit!”

Seonghwa doesn’t dare to budge, but both you and San snap into action, rushing to grab Jongho and pull him off the other man. Before you have the chance to do anything, Seonghwa lifts his hand and makes a halting motion.

“You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”

Jongho’s fist wavers where it is, and he lowers it back down to his side after a moment without doing anything. His hand falls away from Seonghwa’s throat as well, letting the lieutenant breathe easily once more, and he steps away while heaving a deep sigh.

���You shouldn’t take everything for Hongjoong. If I’m gonna hit someone, it’ll be him.” Jongho waves a hand towards the door. “If all you came here to do was be a punching bag for Hongjoong, then you can go.”

“No, actually... that’s not why I came.” Seonghwa pushes himself off the wall, straightening the collar of his turtleneck as best he can. “I don’t want to use the serum, Jongho. I don’t want Mingi to go near the arena at all. Hongjoong and I -- we never came to an agreement about it after everyone left. He merely made the decision as the captain. I tried my best to change his mind, I truly did, but I couldn’t -- I-I don’t understand why I couldn’t.” Seonghwa’s gaze darts to the floor, looking over the patterns along the carpet before pulling back up to look Jongho in the eye. He stretches a hand out and clamps it over Jongho’s shoulder. The Berserker allows the touch, albeit begrudgingly. “I truly don’t want any harm to come to Mingi, but I can’t stop Hongjoong just by talking to him.”

Seonghwa glances past Jongho’s shoulder to stare San in the eye with such intensity to his gaze that you get a chill down your spine.

“The mission tomorrow cannot be successful under any circumstances.”

“Yes, you’re right.” San hums to himself for a moment, then looks off to the side. “The only way to stop Hongjoong from getting his way would be to fail to get the serum. What’s the plan then? We should destroy the serum if we find it, no?” San turns to you now, eyes expectant and waiting for some sort of input on your part, but you genuinely don’t know what he wants you to say.

Instead of saying anything, you shift your chin in the opposite direction and avoid his probing stare.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you mutter back quickly.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

No one presses you for answers, and you’re immensely grateful for that because it allows you to ask your next question with relative ease.

“How are we going to pull this off with Yeosang on the mission? Wouldn’t he tell Hongjoong?”

“Even Yeosang will see reason,” San argues. A sigh passes through Seonghwa’s slightly parted lips.

“I would take Yeosang’s place on the mission, but given my resistance to the plan... that would be suspicious. Hongjoong knows me far too well and would see through it in an instant. He picked Yeosang and San because they follow orders best and do what’s asked of them. And he picked Y/N because she’s the one with the most military experience. Yeosang has experience but… he was a prince, not a soldier. His specialty was out in the field, whereas yours was in teams, working in units, not being at the front of the line. That’s why you’re being put on the team, for that experience.”

“Experience that’s absolutely useless,” you snort, folding your arms over your chest. “I don’t remember what the serum looked like. And no offense, but I sure as hell don’t want to try to remember what it looked like either.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Seonghwa shakes his head, barely sparing you a second glance in favor of looking at San. “In order to get the serum, you’ll be breaking into a military base.”

“Have you gone fucking mad?” San seethes, hands balling into tight fists at his sides. Seonghwa levels him with ease and sends such a heated glare his way that Jongho stands up a bit straighter.

“If you think even for a second that I did not try my damndest to get Hongjoong to change the plan, you would be horribly wrong,” Seonghwa hisses through gritted teeth. San shifts under the weight of his tone but doesn’t say anything in response. “The only reason I left Hongjoong’s quarters was to keep from knocking him out. If there was any other option, I would take it.”

Jongho clears his throat and effectively breaks the tension between the two men, shaking his head slightly as he steps closer to them.

“There is another option.” Jongho jerks his head towards you and San. He points a single finger in your direction, aimed right at your head, and you press your lips together tightly as confusion washes over you. “I’m leaving in the morning at the same time as you two and Yeosang are to leave for the mission. You will have comms on hand, obviously. Yeosang and San can sneak into the base, guided by you over comms, but you won’t have to set foot inside. And at least for your peace of mind and security, I can stay with you at a secure location while you guide them through the base.”

“That...” Seonghwa trails off and draws his lips together in a tight knot. “That might work, actually.”

“Wow, don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, I’m not surprised,” Seonghwa retorts through a scoff. “I’ll be in charge of listening over comms throughout the mission. If we can come up with a system – a sort of code word – to keep Hongjoong from catching on, we might be able to pull this off. I’ll be at the comms station on the bridge, so Hongjoong won’t hear anything except for what I say. Thus, I can’t very well say that it’s time to destroy the serum.”

“When I was – in my team in the military, we had a system for explosive and detonation squadrons,” you cut in, fingers snapping together in sudden realization. 

“I didn’t realize you were a part of an explosives team,” Seonghwa remarks. His brows draw together a bit as he speaks, and you can sense the question on his lips before he even asks it. 

“That’s the thing you’re most concerned about right now?” You don’t intend for the question to come out so aggressive, and the slight shock that passes over Seonghwa’s expression only serves to make you feel ten times worse about the slip of your tongue. “Anyway, there was always a worry of someone listening in on our comms, so it was a failsafe more than anything else, but we used ‘package’ as a keyword for a bomb. ‘Secure the package’ meant it was time to place the bomb, ‘package secured’ meant that the bomb was in place and ready to be detonated, and ‘come home’ was a go signal for detonation. A bit basic, yes, but useful nonetheless.”

“That should be a perfect plan, no?” San inquires, blinking over at where Seonghwa is standing. The lieutenant maintains his stare on you for quite some time; he almost seems lost in thought to a certain degree, and it takes San clearing his throat for Seonghwa to snap out of it.

“Yes, we’ll just need the package to be the serum rather than a bomb. Jongho—” he outstretches a hand to the Berserker, hesitating a few inches from his arm, “—does this mean that you’ll stay then?”

“Only if you manage to pull this off.”

“I’d like to think I know what I’m doing.” Seonghwa huffs out a light laugh and pulls his hand back to run it through his hair. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone against Hongjoong’s wishes. Right now though, someone needs to go talk to Yeosang about this plan. Preferably one of you two.” Seonghwa angles two fingers towards you and San, and you glance over at the Spectre before saying anything yourself.

“Yeosang will never listen to me,” San cuts in with a sharp shake of his head. “And I’m not all too inclined to have a one on one conversation with him anyway.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jongho mutters through a sigh. “I need to talk to Wooyoung about… this mess. I know he’s the most upset by it.”

“Right, that’ll be fine.” Seonghwa thumbs over his chin, seeming to drift off into thought once more. The wear is starting to show more clearly on his features; the way his blinking has slowed considerably and become a bit hard to keep up with. It’s more than evident that he is struggling to stay awake with each passing second, and that alone makes you wonder exactly how much he and Hongjoong have been up over this past week in preparation for this mission. “Y/N, inform Yeosang of the plan. If Wooyoung is there, it should be easier to convince him since Wooyoung will most certainly agree with the plan. Hopefully, this can be a smooth and painless mission for once, but nonetheless… good luck. I won’t be able to talk to any of you until we’re on comms tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to Yunho about what the hell is going through his head in all this mess.”

Seonghwa turns to the door and readies himself to leave, but Jongho doesn’t let him get far, hand darting out to catch hold of the lieutenant’s arm. 

“Keep… keep working on Hongjoong, would you?” Jongho’s request is spoken in a soft tone, and he barely glances up at Seonghwa as he speaks. Seonghwa smiles back at him even though the other man can’t see his expression.

“Of course. We’ll get this worked out as best we can.”

Jongho’s hand falls away from his arm, and Seonghwa takes the opportunity to step out of the room without saying anything else. The silence that drapes over the remaining three of you is not welcome, but you relish in it while you can, knowing that these next few days won’t be peaceful in the slightest. San lets it linger for a few seconds, fingers combing through his dark hair, then he releases a deep sigh.

“Good luck with Yeosang. You’ll need it. I’m gonna head down to the hangar bay to get weapons sorted for tomorrow.”

Jongho nods, and you follow suit quickly when San’s gaze travels over to where you’re standing. He smiles a bit, gaze unreadable as he moves out the door and leaves you and Jongho alone. There’s an opportunity now – you could ask Jongho if he’s truly alright now that it’s just the two of you, but your voice dies in the back of your throat before you can even think about what to say.

“Let’s go get this over with. I’m not looking forward to chatting with Wooyoung.”

“Why not?” You rush to ask the question before you can second-guess yourself, falling into step with Jongho as he leads the way out of the room.

“Outside of Yeosang, I’m the closest to him but… if there was a way to avoid this, then I would have done it. There’s always too much collateral damage when it comes to fights like these. Hurting him is the last thing I wanted to do.” Jongho pauses, lips stuttering and remaining parted for quite some time before he speaks again. “The worst part about being a Berserker isn’t the – the rage or the violent tendencies I feel. It’s t-the pain. When I hurt someone I care about, I feel that pain so strongly, and I – sometimes I wish I could be like Mingi instead, not have the ability to feel bad when that pain comes or not be able to understand it because understanding is worse. This just… it has to work out.”

“It will,” you murmur. Your eyes trace the edges of Jongho’s features – his knitted brows and downcast gaze – and you are in the midst of reaching out to grab his arm when he halts all of a sudden. You forgot how short the walk would be; you’re already standing outside Yeosang’s door, the metal nameplate on the wall reading his name in small letters. Jongho knocks hard at the door with the back of his hand.

“Yeosang, you in there?”

A high-pitched yelp resounds, followed by a hefty thud that sounds something like a body hitting the floor, then Wooyoung’s squealing tone apologizing, and you and Jongho exchange confused glances. Whatever hit the floor – most like Yeosang from the sounds of it – groans and pulls itself up before coming to the door and heaving a deep sigh. The metal panel slides open to reveal a disheveled Yeosang, hair a mess but overall collected. Wooyoung seems to be in a much more scrambled state with his shirt haphazard and untucked, eyes bloodshot – no doubt from crying – and lips a bit swollen and redder than usual. 

“Oh, yikes, did we interrupt something?” Jongho asks, taking a step away from the door.

“Oh, shut up!” Wooyoung huffs as he shoves his way past Yeosang to tackle Jongho with a tight hug. “You’re a dick,” he mumbles into Jongho’s shoulder, and the Berserker laughs at the snarky remark.

“You got me there, I’ll admit it.”

“Why are you here?” Yeosang cuts through the intimate moment to question you, eyes glaring holes into your skull as you linger outside the room. 

“I – We need to talk about the mission,” you explain. Yeosang arches a brow at you and continues to stare without making a sound, then he draws his arms up to fold over his chest. “It’s important, Yeosang.”

“Hm, must be for you to actually call me by name. Come in.” He waves you into the room, eyeing Wooyoung as the man continues to cling to Jongho for dear life. You step in and wait for the door to snap shut before beginning to speak again. 

“Tomorrow, you and San are going into the military alone. I’ll be with Jongho at a different location guiding you over comms. Seonghwa is going to be listening in and helping where he needs to, as well as keeping Hongjoong from figuring out what’s going on. We’ll ne–”

“And what exactly is going on?” Yeosang interjects. His gaze grows colder by the second, hitting you with such intensity that you feel a chill rush through your body. 

“Keeping Hongjoong from getting the serum,” you counter. You’re pushing as much assertiveness as you can into your tone, yet Yeosang still seems unfazed. “We have to keep him from wiping Mingi’s mind!”

“And why is that?”

“Why is that? Are you being fucking serious? Why the hell wouldn’t you be okay with this?” Your tone practically burns your throat as you hiss the words out. You dare to take a step in his direction, but that quickly turns out to be a horrid mistake. 

Yeosang sneers, upper lip curling upwards, then suddenly his fist connects with your stomach. You double over at the impact, and Wooyoung is calling out Yeosang’s name, but the blond is already hellbent on giving you a piece of his mind. Lithe fingers curl around the base of your neck and push you back until you slam against the wall. There’s a striking sense of familiarity to this position – one that takes you back to the dusty desert of Medra where Yeosang left you with a thinly veiled threat concerning your intentions on the ship and crew. 

“You are on thin fucking ice as it is, Y/N. I only maintain civilities with you for Wooyoung’s sake, but honestly, I would have no qualms ending your life where you stand now if not for him. You had best take into consideration that you are not one of us. You haven’t been on this crew nearly long enough to be making such demands, and you haven’t earned an ounce of respect from me. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare to test my patience any more than you already have.”

“Yeosang, stop!” 

Wooyoung pulls away from Jongho and starts to move towards where Yeosang has you pinned. The fingers around your throat tighten to a dangerous degree. Black fills the edges of your vision. 

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung slips through the small gap between you and Yeosang, hands sliding up to cup Yeosang’s cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t relent in his grip. He stares past Wooyoung’s head in favor of glaring at you and doesn’t budge an inch as Wooyoung tries to push him back. “Stop it. Let her go. She’s right about this, and you know it. Are you really okay with forcing Mingi into this? All the progress we’ve made over the years would go down the drain, and for what? Absolutely nothing. Do you really think this is right?”

Yeosang’s grip wavers against your throat, but he still refuses to budge. Wooyoung pushes his head, the grip on his jaw tightening as he forces Yeosang to look at him.

“Look at me, Yeo. Look at me, please.”

“I’m an Elitist, Wooyoung, not some easily swayed Normie with a moral compass. It is in my nature to choose the most logical option. Getting on Hongjoong’s bad side isn’t logical. That won’t protect you in the long run. Taking away the most dangerous part of Mingi, taking away his aggression and hypersensitive trigger happy nature – that protects you.” Wooyoung snorts, head turning to the side as he laughs at Yeosang’s logic.

“Then tell me, Yeo, was shooting the chains of a prisoner and pushing him into an airlock the logical decision?” Yeosang’s eyes flash with barely contained rage. “Or was it the right thing to do?” 

Wooyoung drops his hands away from Yeosang’s face and tugs at the bindings over his injured hand. Yeosang doesn’t seem to process what he’s doing fast enough, and neither do you or Jongho because next thing you know, Wooyoung has his sleeve pulled up and is ripping at the barely closed wound. By the time Yeosang snaps into action, hand wrenching off your throat to stretch towards Wooyoung’s arm, blood already drips down the length of his forearm. Wooyoung smacks Yeosang’s desperate hand away from him and steps out of his reach.

“You can protect me from all sorts of things in the universe, Yeo, but you can’t protect me from myself. The logical thing to do would be to keep me from hurting myself, not allowing it, locking me up in chains and a straight-jacket. Put me in a room with padded walls and no sharp object where I can’t hurt myself. But you can’t do the logical thing, can you?” Wooyoung curls his fingers into a fist and extends his index finger towards Yeosang’s chest. Blood drips to the floor with the motion, and when Wooyoung jabs his finger into Yeosang’s torso, the Elitist lurches as though punched. “There’s a difference between a logical thing and a good thing. It’s time to do the right thing. If not for Mingi, then for me. Because I’m asking you to.”

Yeosang blinks down at the finger pressed to his chest without saying anything for what feels like an eternity. When he next looks up, his expression has lost every ounce of hostility. He matches Wooyoung’s stare with a considerably gentler one, and something akin to pride shines in his dark eyes before he shifts to face you once more.

“I’m on board for now. At least until it’s not the right thing to do anymore.” 

✧✧✧ a/n: hi guys wow this was longer than i anticipated??? i didn’t mean for it to be so long whoopsie bUT!!! big chapter kinda a filler chapter i was gonna make it longer but i decided to save that for the next chapter, so this one is more of an intimate in depth look at things 👀 how do we feel!!!

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[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 21 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/SKYBOUND

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The months after the blizzard were full of bliss, but now the reader needs to get back to work. What happens when Judith finds a mask belonging to one of Alpha’s people? What does this mean to the survivors? How is the relationship going with Negan?

Word Count: 5512

Warning: Swearing, Fighting

Song I Wrote To: “Battlecry” by Jordan Mackampa

Note: So yes, there is the time jump in this! However, throughout the next chapters, I will reference some flashbacks from both Negan and the MC’s POVs. Remember from now until the end, we are changing a bit from season 10, but there will be some of the bigger moments present. With the new episodes coming up, I just want to make it clear that this story will finish with “Certain Doom” I have no plans to continue the plot into Season 10C or Season 11. ALL ASL IN ITALICS

————

Winter wasn't easy.

Food stores were low and with the Kingdom out of commission and the forests barren, it was a harsh few months. The snow came in waves, blanketing the ground with fresh white powder only to be turned to slush and ice with the rain the next day.

At least there was one good thing to come out of it.

Negan was out of his cell when it got to be too much on certain nights.

Whenever a particularly cold front came through, he was granted permission to stay at your place for the night as long as you returned him to his jail in the morning. Provided that extra blankets and warm food were supplied, you agreed to the terms.

Those cold nights became the very thing that held you together. Negan has been right, body heat was incredibly beneficial. Every waking moment of the day, Negan was on your mind. His hands, his body, that damn smile of his too. However, while you enjoyed the sex and the feeling of him asleep beside you, you were in love with the conversation just as much.

You also began to learn more about his life before the Apocalypse. His life as a gym teacher, his love of vintage t-shirts, and even some things about Lucille as well. Never did you bring her up on your own, but you also never shot him down when he did either. Just as he never told you to not talk about Sasha.

Sasha became a regular topic when you began talking about the past. You missed her so much and all you wanted was to keep her memory alive. Talking about her to Negan helped with that. He would then tell you about his time with the Saviors and how he actually liked a lot of the people who he worked with.

Simon was an asshole, but Negan admitted that he was one of the smartest men he had ever met. Dwight was a nightmare at times, but still, Negan oddly admired his heart.

You weren’t surprised to learn some of this, but you were shocked to learn just how protective and jealous he could be when he wanted to.

Daryl had finally moved back into Alexandria with Lydia, Daryl moving into the Grimes’ basement, and Lydia into your guestroom. You would spend as much time with Daryl as possible whether it was for personal reasons or because you were still on edge about the Whisperers.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Negan who was starting to get suspicious. He even asked you if you and Daryl had once been involved.

“You’re joking, right?” you asked when he had brought up the subject one day as he was helping with repairs to one of the walls.

“Is that such an odd question to ask?”

“Kind of,” you said. “Negan, Daryl is like a brother to me. We’ve never...absolutely not.”

“I just find it hard to believe that you never found yourself being with anyone since this whole shit show started.”

“Didn’t have much of a chance,” you had said. “As I have said before, I’m better off alone.”

“Yeah, well don’t expect me to leave you alone any time soon, alright?” Negan had said as he finished his job. You had nodded, but something was telling you that he couldn’t keep that promise, nobody could keep promises anymore.

Your injury had fully healed just as Negan said it would, but it left an angry scar that still stung on the colder days. It wasn’t pretty, but none of your scars were, they were just part of the new world and you had to get used to them.

You were trying to stay positive as the months went by. Rosita eventually had her daughter, Judith became a stronger fighter, and you were starting to get nervous.

Everything was too calm.

It seemed that the Whisperers had gone underground for the harsher months of winter. However, like all predatory species. They would soon be returning to their hunting grounds, you were sure of it.

Domestic life was starting to be too much. Your nightmares were getting worse and on the nights that Negan lay beside you, he would wake you with a hard shake in order to be able to snap you out of sleep. You would never tell him what plagued your dreams and he never asked, but you knew he wanted to.

You also knew that he wanted to move forward with you and start thinking about a future together. However, you also knew that if that were to happen, you would need to leave Alexandria. Nobody, no matter what he did, would accept Negan as part of the family and you didn’t blame them.

Still, you wanted to be able to hold his hand as you walked through the streets and kiss him in the rain, but he was still Negan and while you got to play normal on certain nights, the cell was still his home.

It was months after the blizzard that you began planning. You began to stash bags in your house. They were filled with canteens, extra clothes, extra gauze, and when you were able to get it, non-perishables. After so many years of feeling as if you had put down roots, you were slipping back into survival mode because if you had to, you were ready to leave with him.

You loved your family, but you couldn’t live without Negan. Not anymore and not after Alpha had taken so much away from everyone. You thought back to what you had told Daryl that night when he came to visit you in the infirmary after the blizzard. You had told him that you would fight for your family even if it meant betraying Negan.

Now, you knew that wasn’t true. Negan was your life now and nothing was going to make you stop fighting for him.

And while you wanted to spend every moment with Negan, everyone knew war was imminent. Even though Alpha, Beta, and their people had gone quiet, you and everyone else knew they were still out there and so, you began to prepare.

Coco, Rosita’s daughter was just a few months old when Daryl interrupted your babysitting duties to tell you that he had spoken to Cyndie and Rachel. It was time to get ready to fight their enemies.

When Daryl announced that he would be taking people to Oceanside to prepare and learn to fight in formations with new weapons and with new strategies, there were immediate volunteers. Siddiq, Eugene, and Ro were going to be staying behind with Gabriel, but Judith and RJ would be going with their mother just as Aaron would be going as well.

You didn’t get much of a choice. You had to go as you were second in command when it came to security. You were also going because Michonne wanted time to continue the training you had been doing with her, honing your skills with your sword.

Negan wasn’t thrilled when he found out you would be leaving, but you promised him that it wouldn’t be for long and that it was necessary. You spent the night before leaving in the cell with him, curled into his side as he lulled you to sleep. You told him you would be coming back soon and asked if he could look out for Lydia when he could.

You immediately pulled Lydia under your wing. You trained her, using the new staff Alden had made for her. It was much like the one Henry once used. You taught her how to hunt and track while she helped you move around the Dead as if you were invisible. Being able to learn from one another solidified your bond quickly.

Lydia was a naturally curious young woman who wanted to hear stories about everything. You told her everything from the farm to meeting Jadis’ people for the first time. When she asked how you met Negan, you had told her one night in the quiet of your living room. Lydia had been patient the entire time as she listened.

When you were finished, she had exhaled deeply and then reached over and took your hand in hers. “I guess we both care about people capable of horrific things,” she had said and that line had stuck with you. It replayed in your head even now as you stood behind a barricade on a white sand beach, prepared to fight.

—————

Every inch of your body was coiled to a spring as your sword weighed heavily in your hand.

Aaron led the charge, he and Alden using the metal shields to stay in formation as they moved towards the old boat. Judith struck a waterlogged Walker that tried to drag itself up onto the shore. Returning to her position between you and Michonne, her wakizashi poised for battle.

Ezekiel and Jerry pulled open the door of the ship and the Dead spilled from the rusted wreckage. Walkers weren’t as sophisticated as Whisperers, but they did act as great decoys and practice for fighting the enemy.

Daryl walked along the edges of the main battle, observing and making adjustments when needed. The archers were behind, ready to fire when ordered and then, there was your group. You, Michonne, Judith, Ezekiel, Magna, and others kept your weapons raised, ready to strike.

For months, you and Michonne practiced whenever you could. She taught you different ways to hold your blade, how to use it to block, and most importantly, how to kill. Walkers were easy, but you had yet to fight an actual armed enemy.

While you wouldn’t give him a weapon, you were practicing your fight skills with Negan whenever he was in your home at night. This was more for his benefit than yours, but the two of you would take turns in practicing hand-to-hand.

Lydia would watch on with curiosity as you and Negan exchanged punches and holds. Negan would then give her tips on how to move with her weapon, how to keep balanced, and even where to strike on both Living and Dead threats.

That training came in handy now as you and Michonne moved forward, swinging your swords. The sun glinted off the metal as you fought back to back, taking the Walkers down by removing their heads from their shoulders.

Daryl joined the fight as soon as the Walkers began to overwhelm the fighters. His dual knives cut through the Walkers easily. You were so used to seeing Daryl fight long-distance with his bow just as you once excelled at with your rifle, but this was a whole new Daryl.

There was zero hesitation in his strikes and you had to keep focused on your task so you didn’t get too distracted. Moving to cover Michonne, you slashed out at a pair of Walkers who were moving in on Kelly. With a single strike, their rotting heads rolled from their bodies.

A sharp sound came from behind you as Daryl shoved a knife into a Walker’s head that tried to grab you. You didn’t have time to thank him before Alden’s spear soared over your head and you ducked. The weapon found its target and you kept moving.

Taking out the remainder of the Walkers took some time, but between every fighter on that beach, you dispatched them cleanly and without incident. The final Walker that stumbled on the beach approached you and with a hard swing, you cut its head into two, your blade sliding right down the center of its skull.

With a hard pull, you removed the sword with a huff. As the body fell to the ground, you rested your blood-soaked blade on your shoulder, trying to relieve the fatigue that plagued your biceps.

Daryl, who was standing just a few feet away, watched as your weapon lay against your shoulder and it was oddly familiar. He watched as you dropped it back down to your side, but he saw it. It was hard not to. It was as if you were holding Lucille and not Jesus’ sword.

There were still a few left inside so you jogged up to help Ezekiel clear them out as Aaron began calling out orders. Once you finished working through the remaining Dead, Ezekiel let out a tired breath.

“Nicely done,” he said and then offered his hand for a high five. You obliged and tapped your palm to his.

“You too,” you said as you scraped the blood off your sword. You then noticed that he was looking at you with a tilted head. “What? Do I have Walker blood on my face?” you asked, worried.

“No, I just noticed something,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You seem happy,” Ezekiel said.

“I am,” you said. “I didn’t think I would be able to feel this way after what happened at the fair, but all I feel is this underlying aura of happiness.”

“Are you worried that that is a bad thing?”

“I feel almost guilty to feel happiness after everything that happened. It almost feels inappropriate to feel any sense of joy, you know?”

“I do know,” he said sadly and then you immediately felt horrible.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” you trailed off when he raised his hand.

“One, you don’t need to address me with that title,” he said. “And two, it’s okay. I miss him every day, but I can also understand that he would want me to smile on occasion.”

“Henry was a good boy,” you said, reaching out to grip his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing back. “I also know that many people aren’t happy with whom you’ve chosen to love.”

“Ezekiel…” you began, but he was already speaking.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I do not care who he is. I have just missed your smile. If Negan is who it takes for you to get that light back in your eyes, so be it. I think we have all missed that even if you haven’t realized it. I know what he’s done, but I know that you also know as well.”

“I do, but I can’t help but love him.”

“And that’s okay. It’s...unorthodox, but it’s okay. The heart wants what the heart wants, (Y/N).” You didn’t hesitate to reach out and hug the man before you. If that was the way that he thought then perhaps there would be more hope for those who disagreed with your new connection with the former enemy. However, there was also the realization that many would begin to shun you just because of your relationship with Negan.

In that rust-filled ship hold, you smiled at the king who had just lost his kingdom and realized that perhaps he understood at least that part of Negan’s past. As Negan once said, he knew what it felt like to lose a kingdom.

————

On your way back to the main area of Oceanside, you ran into Luke.

“Call on line two,” he joked as he handed you the radio. You immediately knew what he meant and with a roll of your eyes, you took the walkie from him and began walking away from the masses.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

“I have to admit,” Negan said on the other line, “I feel like a teenager sneaking into the basement to call his secret love.”

“Some things never change then,” you said with a laugh as you found a boulder to sit on as you watched the waves crash against the shore.

“No, they do not,” he said and you could tell he was smiling. That thought sent a jolt into your chest.

“What did you do to get this privilege?”

“I may have paid off this kid, Brandon,” Negan said.

“With what? Tomatoes?” you asked, amused.

“Nope, just a little life advice and maybe some instructions on how to make moonshine,” he said smugly.

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned.

“You love it,” he teased.

“Mmhmm,” you said.

“Tell me about your day,” Negan said.

“We’ve been working on battle formations,” you said. “Daryl thinks that we need a stronger defense.”

“What do you think?” Negan asked.

“I think that someone needs to find me a gun so I can take Alpha out,” you admitted.

“Easy, Darlin’,” Negan said.

“Why? Why can’t I want the bitch dead?”

“Oh, you definitely can. I just think that perhaps you may wanna think it through before going all Terminator.”

“In order to do that, I’d need a gun and we are out of bullets,” you said and then your hand found its way around your neck where the old shell casing Daryl had given you hung on a chain.

“I wish I could help,” he said and then you sighed, leaning back on the boulder.

“You are helping,” you said. “You’re keeping me sane.”

“That’s a first. Especially cause I specifically remember you telling me that I drive you crazy. I think you were on top that time.”

“Wow, you are such a romantic,” you said, but you were smiling nonetheless.

“I am the best at romance, trust me.”

“Always do,” you said without hesitation.

“God, I fucking miss you,” he said.

“I miss you, too,” you said as you watched Aaron take down another water-logged Walker.

“What else is going on?” Negan asked.

“Carol is comin’ back today,” you said, turning your gaze to the horizon.

“I’m sure Daryl is thrilled about that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ah, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed those two? I clocked it the first time I saw them together.”

“There’s nothing going on between Daryl and Carol,” you said with a dismissive scoff.

“Right, and I’m the damn Pope,” Negan said.

“No, you’re not. The hat wouldn’t look good on you,” you argued.

“Uh, I look good in everything, (Y/N). Don’t lie to yourself.”

“This is true,” you agreed, trying not to smile.

“Speaking of,” Negan said. “What are you wearing?”

“And we are changing the subject now,” you said.

“Buzzkill,” he countered.

“Perv,” you shot back.

“Oh, shut up, you know you love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Knew it,” he said. You smiled, but then turned the conversation onto something else.

“How’s Lydia?” you asked, worried about the teen.

“She seems okay,” Negan said. “I talked to her this morning. She misses you,” he said.

“Yeah, I miss her, too,” you said. “I’ll be home soon, though. Is anyone messin’ with her?” you asked, concerned she was going to be met with the negativity that should only be reserved for her mother and her former family.

“Just the odd dirty look behind her back so far,” Negan assured you. “Nothin’ she can’t handle.”

“You don’t know that,” you said. “She hasn’t had to be around people beside Whisperers. Let alone people her own age.”

“Well, she’s got you now, so I know she’s gonna be okay,” Negan said gently and you let out a breath, letting his words soothe you.

“Just please keep an eye on her when you can please,” you asked him.

“Don’t worry, I got her,” he promised. You were relishing in the sound of his voice when you realized that you needed to get going. You were then wishing for a time machine to go back to when unlimited minutes were available on cell phones. “What are you thinkin’?” he asked.

“That I should get goin’,” you said with a sigh. “I know Luke wanted me to help him set up dinner with Jules.”

“Who’s Luke again?” he asked.

“Uh, the violin guy. New group,” you explained.

“Right…” Negan trailed off.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’, just… Is he keepin’ his hands to himself?” Negan asked and you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. So, instead of calming his nerves, you decided to have some fun.

“Nope, he is definitely not,” you said nonchalantly. “In fact, we’ve already had a steamy make-out session and Cyndie has agreed to marry us at sunset. Daryl is giving me away and Jude is gonna be the flower girl. I think it will be a wonderful ceremony. I’ll send you a piece of cake.”

Negan was quiet for a moment and you figured he was either rolling his eyes or staring off in the distance as he sighed deeply. Eventually, he pressed the talk button and said, “You really need to work on your sense of humor.”

“And you need to get back to work before Brandon realizes that you don't actually know how to make moonshine,” you said.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“See you soon.”

“I love you,” he said softer and you leaned your head against the radio.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, and then, static returned to the channel.

You let the radio rest in your hand for a moment as you thought of him. Being together for all those months without any break was almost like living a different life and now it felt alien to be away from him.

Hopping off the boulder, you began to head back to find Luke. “Who was that?” Jumping at the voice, you turned to see Connie and Kelly behind you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you swore, signing as you did. Connie snorted. 

“Nope, just me,” Connie signed and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Well, who was that?” Kelly asked. 

“Nobody,” you said with a shrug, but after knowing the sisters for a while now, you knew they saw right through your bullshit. 

“Right,” signed Connie. With a sigh you relented.

“It was my boyfriend,” you explained. Connie and Kelly both raised their brows at that. 

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t a positive reaction?” Kelly signed to her sister. 

“Because,” Connie began, “they are with Negan.”

“Who’s Negan?” Kelly asked you and then you told your story. Connie had to remind you of a few signs such as “baseball bat” and “murderous widow”. You managed to finish without straying from the main train of thought and when you did, Kelly whistled low. “Shit,” she said. 

“Tell me about it,” you said. 

--------

After helping Luke and Jules set up the fire pit, you went in search of Aaron, but you found Daryl and Carol first. 

“Look who’s back,” you said as you approached Carol. She reached out to hug you tightly.

“Good to see you,” Carol said. 

“You too,” you said with a smile and then tapped your fist against Daryl’s. It was then that Negan’s comment came back to you. You couldn’t help but try to see what he was seeing when he looked at the duo. Perhaps he was right after all. 

“What?” Daryl asked

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but he was still looking at you with narrowed eyes through his messy hair. 

“Right,” he said. “We were just talkin’ about Maggie.”

“Anyone heard from her lately?” you asked as you began to walk beside them. 

“Not yet,” Daryl said. “She has been checking in less and less lately.”

“Are you worried?” you asked and then turned to Carol, “Is he worried?”

“He’s Daryl,” Carol said, causing the man on her left to roll his eyes. 

“I hate when the two of you are together,” he muttered and Carol hooked her arm in his, playful leaning her head on his shoulder.

He let her of course and you could just hear Negan saying, “I told you so, Teach,” in your mind. You hated when he was right. 

“You worried about her findin’ out about Negan?” Carol asked and you shot Daryl a look. 

“Yeah, I told her,” Daryl said. “You ain’t really making it a secret.” 

“Guess not,” you sighed. “I don’t know, Carol. I don’t really want to imagine what her reaction would be. The woman scares me enough.” 

“Ya weren’t that close,” Daryl said. 

“Close enough,” you said.

You and Maggie had an odd relationship. While you were close with both Glenn and Beth, you and Maggie were never particularly close enough to be considered good friends. You had each other’s backs and you cared for her, but you never really knew what she was thinking. 

“I think she’d hit you,” Carol said casually. 

“Thank you, Carol. Your support is incredible,” you quipped and she just gave you a wink. 

“Come on, we have bigger things to worry about, right?” Carol asked. 

“You got that right,” Michonne said as she jogged up to you three. She carried something in her hand and when she raised it, Carol froze at Daryl’s side. It was one of the Whisperer’s masks. “We need to talk.”

--------

“It washed downstream,” Rachel said as she looked at the mask on the table. You and the leaders were standing around one of the tables in the main meeting room trying to figure out what to do next. “It could have been from months ago.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” said Michonne. 

“Thoughts?” Carol asked, looking at her friend. 

“It could be something, but it could be nothing.” 

“We’ve agreed to her damn borders,” Daryl said from his spot next to Cyndie. 

“Which we shouldn’t have done,” you added. 

“I agree,” said Carol. 

“And then what? She kills more of us?” Michonne said. “It’s not that simple and you know it.” Carol was quiet then, stewing in her own thoughts about the woman who murdered her son. 

“We need to tell Hilltop and Alexandria,” Enid pointed out. She and Alden had taken on roles of leadership along with Ezekiel at Hilltop. 

“I’ll go call Gabriel,” Daryl said as he grabbed the radio and left the room to contact Alexandria. You were staring at the mask before you and you remembered a moment from a few months ago...

It was the middle of the night and you were out walking the streets of Alexandria, trying to shake off your nightmares. The weather was better so Negan was back in his cell. You had begun to walk to him, only to be sidetracked by the sound of the windmill. You stood there in the dark, staring up at the moving blades and a feeling crept up your spine.

It was almost as if someone was watching you. Scanning the darkness, you only saw shapes that were slightly illuminated by the moonlight. Still, that feeling followed you as you continued to pace around the community. Eventually, you found yourself at the stables, stroking the horses to calm yourself. You had been able to not think about the Whisperers for moments at a time, but in the dark of night, you could only think about the way they moved and the way they whispered to one another. 

Looking down at that mask with its hollow eyes now made you feel sick. It was as if it was a message from Beta, telling you that he always knew where you were, where Lydia was. While Alpha scared you, Beta was who your nightmares were about. Alpha was smart, cunning, and ruthless, but Beta was her sword and Beta was going to be the one that struck first, you were sure of it. 

“(Y/N)?” Enid said, snapping you out of your memory. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, not looking at her. “Excuse me,” you said before following Daryl out of the room and back into the fresh air of Oceanside. 

You didn’t look back as you kept moving towards the water, taking in deep breaths of the salty air. You tried to focus on the waves and how they crashed into one another on the shore, but it was hard to think of anything that didn’t send your heart into a panic.

Your hand gripped your sword at your side and you felt as if your fingers were about to break, but you tried to steady yourself.

It was just a mask.

Except, it wasn’t.

You felt a nudge at your back and turned to see Dog standing behind you. Connie was walking up behind him, giving you a friendly smile. You smiled back, scratching Dog behind his ears. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“Fine,” you said. 

“I did not mean to call your boyfriend out like that earlier,” she said with a frown. You waved her off. 

“It’s okay, Connie,” you said. “He’s not a secret, at least I’m trying not to make him that.”

“He is lucky to have someone who cares for him that deep,” she signed. 

“Thanks,” you said, turning your eyes to the setting sun. Connie got your attention again as she began signing. 

“Are you going home?” she asked.

“I might have too,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t like Lydia being there alone.” 

“She is a good kid,” Connie said. “I can see that you care about her.” You nodded, agreeing with Connie’s statement. You also knew that Connie had a soft spot for the teenager as well. She had been with Daryl when they rescued Lydia and Henry from the Whisperer camp and brought them back to Alexandria and then the fair. You also knew that Connie felt guilty for what happened to Henry, you all did. 

“I’m not sure how that happened,” you said. “We just connected.”

“You know,” she continued, “you would be a great parent.”

“Easy there, Connie,” you said with raised brows. 

“Just saying,” she said with a shrug. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it before, becoming a parent. You knew that your friends had done it. Maggie, Rosita, Aaron, and of course Carol, but you never saw yourself in that light. At least not until you found Alexandria and began to take care of Judith when Rick was still around. He trusted you with both of his kids and then Aaron did as well with Gracie.

As a teacher, you loved teaching and taking care of kids, but after Elliot’s death, you shied away from the possibility of ever taking care of one of your own. However, now, with Negan in the picture, perhaps taking care of one wouldn't be that bad. Especially if it was Lydia. 

“Does he love you?” Connie asked after a moment. 

“He does,” you answered easily. “But it’s complicated.” Connie shook her head then. 

“There is a reason that the past stays behind us, (Y/N),” Connie said. 

“Not after what he did,” you said with a meaningful look. 

“Nobody is a saint. That was taken from all of us as soon as the first Dead began to walk.” Connie then reached out and took your hand, squeezing it tightly in her own. 

“You’re wise,” you said and Connie scoffed and then let go so she could use her hands again. 

“No, I just know how to see people in a different light,” she explained. 

“How?”

“I try to see them as people who make mistakes, and not mistakes masked as people,” she said and you smiled at that. 

“Thanks, Connie,” you said and you really meant it. 

“Anytime.”

-------

You were heading back towards the cabin that you were sharing with Daryl and his dog when you ran into Judith.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, concerned.

“Tomorrow,” you said, already having decided that you would ride for Alexandria the following morning. Judith frowned then, her attention on her boots. “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m worried about Negan,” she admitted.

“Why?” you asked, kneeling down so you could see her better.

“People are angry,” she said with a sigh. Her hat was low as she tried to avoid your eyes. You reached out and pushed it off her head, taking her shoulders in your hands. She looked at you with those eyes that reminded you so much of Shane. Regardless of what that man did, he helped make an incredible kid and you saw him in her eyes every time.

“They’re mad at Alpha, not Negan,” you assured her, trying to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t think that matters,” she said, kicking at a loose seashell.

“I know,” you said, brushing a piece of hair off her shoulder. “It’ll be okay. I know you care about him.” Judith nodded and then moved forward to wrap her arms around your neck, resting her head against the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” you asked, squeezing her back as she held you

“I like that you see him as a human being,” she said and you nearly cried at her words. You just held the little Grimes back.

“I always will,” you promised.

“No matter what?” she asked.

“Yeah, kid. No Matter what.”

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[lizacstuff]

Sen Çal Kapımı ep 48 asks

THE EPISODE WHERE THEY FINALLY GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!

SERKAN AND EDA ARE MARRIED!!

FINALLY!

YES!!!!!!!!!

Okay, now that I got that out of my system, asks under the read more.

andhewonherheart asked: @andhewonherheart I love that Bolat is Aydan’s last name, not Alptekin’s. I know it’s a little of a retcon, but this way we don’t need to worry about Serkan and his family carrying that man’s name. And Aydan would be a woman that strongarms her husband into taking her last name.

I LOVED THIS!  I sat up straight when Kemal made the comment about Alptekin taking her name and cheered. Seriously. What a great turn of events. Serkan is so attached to his name, it’s nice that he didn’t have to have an identity crisis over that on top of everything else. And now it’s not weird for Eda and Kiraz to take his name after finding out Kemal is actually his father, which I wanted for them. I wanted them all to be tied together with a name, to have that feeling of belonging. Plus, as you say, it’s nice they don’t have the name of that man. 

I will say one thing, though... is it really a retcon?  Did they ever say Bolat was Alptekin’s given last name? I don’t think they did (but who knows with the iffy translations we all rely on). I do remember Aydan bragging on the lineage of the Bolats in a very early episode (maybe 2?) and at the time I thought it was odd that she was so proud of the lineage when she just married into it, especially because if memory serves she was sort of heckling Eda, who was marrying a Bolat.  Perhaps this was always intended, and we only feel like it’s a retcon because we’re programmed by a patriarchal society to assume a woman always take a man’s last name?

Anonymous asked: I don’t really like the idea of Serkan giving up Art Life. I understand the symbolism of him giving up his work for his family, but I would’ve preferred that he finds a balance, like he did with bringing Kiraz to work. I feel like that would’ve been a more rounded way of approaching his character, instead of swinging him in the other direction, now instead of having only work, he only has his family. When he could have both.

He will have both. Eventually. He’ll figure it out and get back to where he was. He is Serkan Bolat after all. You don’t expect him to sit idle for any length of time, do you?

As much as part of me was just torn up at him selling his stake in the company, I thought it was really beautiful.  Sure, balance is good, but this is a man who has ripped out Eda’s heart twice by telling her that work is more important than she is to him. This is a man who left ON HIS WEDDING DAY, who put work first ON HIS WEDDING DAY, who got on a plane ON HIS WEDDING DAY because he tried to balance (do both, go to Italy and get married in one day) and it ended up putting them both through hell and almost ruining both of their lives.

Picture how you would feel if the person you were marrying decided to fly to another country on your wedding day? 

So I disagree with you. I’m more than fine with Serkan Bolat unequivocally putting Eda first over his career and company. After everything they’ve been though, and her insecurities in that area, it was incredibly important and now she will never, ever doubt where his heart lies. It’s with her. She (and their family) is his top priority.

Besides, the show started with Serkan having destroyed Eda’s dream of studying to become a landscape architect in Italy, it’s quite poetic that he gave up something substantial so that she could realize a dream of working as a landscape architect on her dream project in Italy.

I’m pretty sure she’ll be more than happy to help rebuild their company. Together. 

Anonymous asked: i know you said in your previous ask round-up that as far as the actual proposal goes, nothing would top that speech in 27.. i was wondering how you felt about his speech this episode. sure, it wasn't actually the proposal, more like a "reception" toast, but for me i think it was my favorite speech, or at least top 3, serkan has said to/about eda.. just pure love about their journey together and a huge full circle moment with that video from the pilot episode.

YEEEEEESSSSSS. I so agree with this, and actually thought exactly this while watching.  It was a marvelous speech and while, as you say, it was presented as more of a toast, it was really more of a wedding vow.  

I loved it. And I’ve rewatched it multiple times and I plan to watch it many times more. As always Kerem and Hande were excellent in the scene. Eda and Serkan were in front of their friends and family, but they were so focused in on one another they might as well have been alone. The emotion was palpable. 

She is love. Dang, Serkan!  He’s mentioned love at first sight a couple of times, it was nice that in this moment he gave another nod to that.

Loved the call back to the video from the first episode, it worked really well, especially to remind us of how it all started and how she felt like he destroyed her dream. That segued into him mentioned them destroying each other’s dreams. As I said above, quite poetic, especially since he then put his money where his mouth was by the end of the episode and destroyed his dream to preserve hers. 

Well done, show. 

Anonymous asked: i have loved the tone of this season so much. none of the drama we have is super heavy, outside of the kiraz reveal which was given the angst and importance it should have bc of how it important it was. otherwise, we've had happy (now married!) edser coming back together and now facing trouble and issues as a couple! this was basically all i wanted for them since 28!

Yes, me too. I really enjoy the tone this season. As you say, it’s not super heavy, the melodrama is at a minimum, most things are light and fluffy and even heavy issues are played with a light hand. 

For me, I’ve really enjoyed this season and I’m super glad we got it.  I think COVID did us one favor by shutting down production when it did and forcing them to reevaluate what they were doing.  If they hadn’t I’m guessing the show would have continued in a very messy and directionless manner, with lots of melodrama and storylines that would have been traumatic to watch. 

Season 2 has direction and purpose and a plan and once we got past the horrified shock of the time jump and the secret daughter (which I grant you was no small feat) it’s pretty much been trauma free. 

Anonymous asked: After watching the episode, I'm lowkey disappointed. we did get Pretty Woman SCK-style. I was promised Serkan as a gigilo and Eda encouraging it!!!!! LOL, jokes aside, I'll never forget the outrage over that fragman over "harassment" or "prostitution" of all things when the actual dinner scene lasted 3 minutes, Eda was being at the hotel the whole time, and the scene where people thought she was encouraging him was about her project. Almost 50 eps and you would ppl would learn how fragmans work.

The fragman was insanely misleading, but lots of them are, so you would think they would have figured it out by now, but nope! A large swath of people really embarrassed themselves with their complete over reaction to something that turned out to be nothing like they thought. 

Thankfully Serkan was entirely in the dark about how dire the situation was and why Eda was pushing him to make nice with Deniz, and only humored Deniz very unwillingly and then completely cut ties with her.  I think the best part was the least shocking twist ever... that the Serkan staying in her room line was an actual joke on the show. Come on, kids, it was pretty obvious to anyone with a brain that Serkan would never actually consider staying with her, and certainly not just days after he got married. Preposterous!   

Having said that, I do agree with people who think that Deniz being obsessed with him to that degree is dumb. There is a thread of misogyny and internalized misogyny (depending on which writers) running through the writing of these female guest characters who come in and absolutely shed all dignity, sanity and common sense when it comes to Serkan. Selin, Balca, the actress and Deniz.  Good grief. However, I just don’t care enough to get pissy. If that’s what they’ve come up with to fuel the jealousy trope that apparently is a must for Turkish dizis without having Serkan ever have eyes for anyone but Eda, then so be it.  

The formula is more than obvious by now, so I’m not sure why some folks made asses of themselves jumping to other conclusions. 

[emilyplaysotome]

Queen's Choice - Part 5

This is the fifth chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys.

Catch up:

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

He’s up before I am, but I’m not surprised. I wake to the smell of coffee and breakfast, and my stomach lets out a growl. I usually do without or pick something up on the way to the office, but I can’t pass up his cooking.

I’m surprised at how sore I am from the previous night’s activities and my cheeks burn as I think about everything that transpired.

I think about what it felt like to be under him and on top of him and how despite what we did I still want more.

I wonder when I got so greedy and I also realize I only have a week of having my cake and eating it too before I have to start making hard decisions, so I do my best to push down the unpleasant thoughts and focus on the man in my kitchen.

As I’m getting ready, my phone lights up with a notification from Kiro.

“It's just that I'm...back in town! You doing anything tonight?”

I can still smell Victor on me and it feels almost wrong to reply, but I do.

“Nada! Want to hang?”

“Something like that 😈 - I have a concert tonight and got you a VIP pass. I want you in the front row”

“…And I have a surprise for you before.”

“Oooh! A surprise. Like candy?” I type back with a grin.

“Something a bit spicier…”

With that he sends me the address with a time and I open the door to see Victor enjoying coffee and a plate of eggs with toast waiting for me.

“Good morning sleeping dummy. I thought I’d be off on my work trip before you even woke up. So glad you could join me.”

He’s laying it on thick, but we kiss good morning as if we’ve been together for years. It’s just a peck on the lips but it makes this all feel very domestic and I take my seat next to him before digging in.

The food is amazing, which isn’t a surprise.

Victor smiles as he watches me eat with gusto and even though we’ve done this kind of thing before, having followed what we did last night it feels more intimate. There’s a moment where I look at him and smile and realize that the pendulum to my clock has stopped moving and I realize that he’s frozen us in this moment.

“I need to leave,” he explains, gently wiping some crumbs from my mouth. “But I don’t want to quite yet.”

It’s romantic and sweeter than I’m used to him being.

I feel myself swooning a bit and I take a gulp of the juice next the coffee he’s made and kiss him. A real kiss where I hope I taste like OJ and everything sweet instead of the savory breakfast he’s made for me. I can feel it starting to escalate but he gently pushes me away and says, “I need to go.”

“When do I get to see you again?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“I’ll be away on business. I’ll write when I’m back.”

I nod but am reminded of how important Victor is.

How unavailable he is at times.

He must see this and he kisses me gently again and says, ”I trust you’ll keep yourself occupied so you won’t miss me too much, yes?”

I nod, guiltily thinking about the fact I’ve already made myself plans with another man and that after signing the contract I thought about how I could see the others before time ran out for one of them. I don’t know if he sees through me, but he kisses my forehead and tells me to be a good girl while he’s away before putting on his jacket.

When he’s at the door he looks at me with a naughty smirk and says, “When I’m back we can live out your fantasy in my office. Until then I look forward to hearing what you dream up next in your bed about me.”

I feel myself go bright red and yell, “Have a good trip!” and hear the sound of his low laughter and the click of the door before I’m left alone with my breakfast and thoughts.

I think about how easy it’s been to float between four men and how they all come and go in a way that makes me question if any of them could be present in the way I want.

In the way my perfect one would be.

—

I forget about my worries and get lost in work, planning our next episode of Miracle Finder with Anna. We budget and make phone calls and laugh about challenging production experiences and before I know it the day is gone and it’s time to hit the gym.

I change into my clothes and I catch a small mark on my breast. I question who it’s from and why I don’t feel more satiated.

I had thought that by being with each of them, I would have some clarity but if anything I feel it has muddied things. I wonder if I need to try again. Or until Victor’s contract forces my hand.

It’s then that I shower him off of me and I feel a pang of melancholy.

I’m surprised by the fact that I liked having him on me but I’m about to meet Kiro and that feels like a personal line I don’t want to cross.

—

The security at the venue is insane and I question if I’ll be able to make it back to the green room where Kiro instructed me to meet him. It’s only by chance that I run into Savin by the entrance and he escorts me through the labyrinth-like backstage, dropping me at the door before running off to take care of something else.

I knock and hear a cheerful voice inviting me in. I open it and enter, seeing Kiro in all his pop star glory, styled to the max but reclining on the couch, Nintendo switch in hand.

“Miss Chips you made it!”

“I did.”

He throws the switch aside and jumps up to greet me, giving me a deep kiss before evaluating my appearance.

“So cute. I don’t know how I’m going to stay focused on the concert with you up front looking like this…not to mention what I’ve planned for us.”

“For us?”

I can’t help but giggle as he gives me a little twirl before running off to get the surprise he’d mentioned but that I’d already forgotten about. It’s a box that gives few clues about its contents, and I open it and discover what looks like a sexy underwear set.

“Put it on.”

“Now? But…”

“Now. It’s locked, no one will come in.”

There’s an impish look I haven’t seen before and I obey, surprised that he runs over and turns his attention to his laptop instead of on my naked form. I can feel that there’s something…in this underwear, pressed up against my most sensitive spot and I don’t quite understand until I’m in it and he’s looking at me with a smile.

“I made this just for you,” he says with a smile.

“Made it?”

“Programmed it for your pleasure tonight…”

He starts to sing a soft melody that I recognize as his song “Key to your Heart” and the moment his voice hits the word “Key” I feel a vibration that’s subtle enough to go unnoticed by someone next to me but present enough to trigger a moan out of me.

His eyes are glued to me and he gets up and reaches out to gently touch my face before running his hand down lower to play with my breast the way he did when we were in the shower.

“Clever isn’t it?”

I realize that the word “Key” activates the mechanism, and knowing that I alone know his secret alter ego, I desperately try to regain my composure and say, “It’s a nice touch. How do I stop it?”

“I love you Kiro.”

“What?”

“Say it.”

I pause and he smirks and sings, “The KEY to your love…” and the intensity of the vibration increases.

I moan, “I love you Kiro” louder than I expect and the vibration stops.

He laughs and kisses me.

“Anyone else will think you’re just a fan, but I’ll know what’s happening.”

“I didn’t realize you played dirty.”

“I play to win…always.”

I can tell he’s serious and his gaze has an intensity it usually lacks. He doesn’t feel like the jovial, playful boy that I spent the past couple years with. He suddenly feels more mature and I find myself wanting his touch before the concert, but Savin’s knock interrupts us.

“Be right there!” He yells back, switching into his sweetheart persona.

“5 minutes,” Savin says from behind the closed door.

“Got it. I’ll see you backstage.”

Savin grunts in reply and it feels like my heart is the only one that’s racing.

“We’ll finish what we’ve started after the concert,” Kiro says, slipping a VIP lanyard around my neck. “See you here after the encore.”

He doesn’t touch me, even though I’m riled up and I have no choice but to find my place in the crowd for his concert. When it starts I realize he’s only a few feet above me and while he does his typical amazing performance, I can feel him watching me through most of it.

He insists on saying the secret phrase more than usual, and I do my best to keep my composure in the crowd, too embarrassed to shout “I love you Kiro” as often as he says “Key”. The girls around me all squeal when he looks our way, which is often, and I struggle not to let his toy get the better of me.

I can tell he’s getting riled up too, watching me from the stage, because his eyes turn gold and he lets everyone know that the encore is coming early tonight. None of them care, especially not me, and within 20 minutes of the last song I’m back in the green room being bent over a couch that has seen years of this kind of behavior.

My clothes are still on but the underwear he gifted me is down around my ankles and he makes lewd comments as to how his toy has made it easy to have me. I’m almost embarrassed by my own wetness but he continues to moan filthy commentary as he fucks me which is far filthier than I ever expected him capable.

I realize that neither one of us were as sweet as we pretended to be with the other.

He flips me over and lifts me in a princess carry for a moment before laying me down on the couch. He spreads my legs in a way where I'm half laying, half sitting, exposed on the very edge to him and he enters me again. He nips at my neck, and lightly pinches my breast, toying with me, teasing me like he did all night and once again there’s a knock from Savin.

“Kiro - you’ve got a meet and greet in 15.”

He smirks but doesn’t stop.

“But I’ve got 15?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all the time I need. Thanks Savin.”

I cover my mouth as to not alert his manager to what’s actually happening behind the door as he ups the intensity of his movement. He has full control over me and my pleasure and much to my excitement (as well as my disappointment), Kiro keeps his promise to Savin.

—

We say goodbye a few minutes before the meet and greet, drenched in our own sweat and fluids but riding some endorphin high from the night.

He doesn’t mince his words this time.

“You know I’m in love with you right?”

“I…”

“And you know I play to win, right?”

I nod.

“Then I’ll be seeing you soon."

I watch him pause at the door before he looks back and adds, "Sooner than anyone else if I have to.”

“But what about your world tour?”

Savin knocks from beyond the door, but doesn’t want to leave this time.

“Kiro come on. Chop chop. I promised my wife I’d be home to put the kids to bed tonight, let’s go.”

I don’t know why, but I hide when he exits so it seems as if Kiro was in the green room alone before I compose myself to head home. I pass girls wearing t-shirts with Kiro’s face plastered all over them and I think about what we just did.

I think about how he’s off to meet fans, covered in me just as I am covered in him.

I think about what he said and how they all basically said it.

How I keep being asked to choose.

I still don’t want to choose.

It feels like a helpless situation, being pulled in all directions. I approach an intersection and looking at the traffic light, a lightbulb goes off in my head. I stop where I am on the sidewalk to send the exact same text to all four of them.

“Can I see you on Saturday?”

I have no idea what it is that they'll say, but on the small chance that this goes the way I think it might, I might have found a catch. I smile to myself, no longer feeling as conflicted and walk to pick up some dessert to enjoy when I'm home.

Cake perhaps.

It seems fitting for an occasion where having cake and eating it too applies to more than just sweet nothings...

--

Part 6

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[firelxdykatara]

um not to start anything “zuko had everything handed to him by the end of the show even though it took him until nearly the very end to realize he’s wrong: a country, a crown, his girlfriend that HE left behind, the love of his uncle that zuko spent most of the show yelling at and being a dick to, and that’s why he just doesn’t deserve ANYWAY I’M JOKING but this is how y’all be talking about aang” who even talks about aang this why????

It sounds to me like some Aang stans grossly misunderstand criticisms surrounding the writing of Aang’s arc in book 3, in particular during the finale.

This is actually a pattern I’ve noticed with distressing frequency, particularly of late: any criticism of Aang at all--of his actions, the narrative scaffolding surrounding them (never having to apologize for kissing Katara without her consent, for example), or of the failings in the way his narrative was handled (in book 3 especially)--is written off as hate and derided by stans who I can only assume believe that the writing of his character arc was perfect and he never did anything wrong that deserves fair criticism ever in his life.

To this, I can only state my firm disagreement.

The thing is, they don’t really have any counter arguments to refute the points that actually get made (which isn’t to say there aren’t bad faith criticisms of his character just like everyone else, but unlike most of the cast, ppl seem far more inclined to act like there are no valid criticisms of his character or his writing), which is likely why they just write it all off as unfounded hatred of their precious bean fave and ignore it accordingly. But that doesn’t, like, make the issues with his writing, or with book 3 as a whole, go away, and the fact that they refuse to engage with good faith criticism (and, in fact, often refuse to engage with criticism at all by pretending there’s no foundation for any of it--I’ve actually seen people try to justify Aang’s actions in, for example, Bato of the Water Tribe by insisting that Sokka and Katara were actually worse and that Aang lying to them shouldn’t be held against him because they were Mean About It which.... yeah I could go off for days about that alone) says more about their lack of actual engagement with the text of the show than it does about the people who are criticizing his character.

The things that we say were handed to Aang--the deus ex lionturtle (which gave him energybending), the Rock of Destiny (aka the thing that gave him back the Avatar State without having to even attempt to do the work to unblock his chakras again himself), and Katara, presented to him as the prize he’d won at the very end of the show--are things that he did not do the work to actually earn.

Which will probably get some peoples’ backs up, so let me rephrase--the narrative did not put in the work to show how he actually earned these things, preferring to waste time with pointless filler in the front half of the season and then only bring up problems and then solve them within the four episode finale because they left no more room for these very plot critical points earlier in the show. Take Aang’s unwillingness to kill Ozai, for example--this is something that absolutely should have come up far earlier in the season (prior to the invasion at least), and the fact that it didn’t says two things: one, that because the writers knew Aang wasn’t actually going to face Ozai during the eclipse, they didn’t think it mattered to follow through on what Aang planned to do if the invasion had been successful; and two, his sudden clinging to his people’s pacifism seems directly at odds with where the entire narrative of the show had been headed to that point. Why is he suddenly insisting he’s the consummate pacifist when we’ve seen evidence in the show of not only Aang reacting in violence and vengeance (towards the sandbenders, and that wasp he killed), but also evidence that Air Nomads were not the sort of pacifists who would roll over and just let someone commit genocide (the fire nation corpses surrounding Monk Gyatso, clear evidence [which Aang never seems to so much as consider at any point during the series, despite the fact that it could have been a point of much-needed growth and maturation, or at least examining his own people’s beliefs and realizing that, at twelve, he had a flawed and incomplete understanding of his own culture] that even Aang’s mentor was willing to kill in order to protect his home and his people)? Why, if he’s so damn pacifistic, did he never seem to consider with guilt any of the lives he took while in the Avatar state and fused with the Ocean Spirit?

And no, by the way, I’m not saying he’s to blame for the deaths Koizilla caused, but I am saying that it doesn’t make sense that he feels no remorse over all of that blood. Particularly since we see that he considers actions taken while in the Avatar State to be his own--he feels guilty when he goes into the AS and scares his friends, and he very specifically removes himself from the AS to avoid killing Ozai, which tells me that he does consider the AS’ actions to be his own. And if all life is sacred to him to the point where he won’t even eat meat (although Air Nomad vegetarianism makes no sense, but that’s another rant entirely) why doesn’t he so much as mourn for the lives lost during the attack?

These are all questions which the narrative itself never considered, and it’s frustrating because many of them are questions which should have been asked--and answered, or at least attempted--in the course of the final act of Aang’s character arc. He had a great set up going into the third book, with Monk Gyatso’s teachings filling in some of the blanks in Aang’s (again, flawed and incomplete--I challenge anyone to try telling me that if they were completely removed from their culture at age twelve, and it was subsequently wiped completely from the face of the earth, that they’d have anything close to a deep and nuanced understanding of it; twelve-year-olds don’t have a deep and nuanced understanding of anything, nevermind an entire culture and worldview, which is why Aang kept parroting soundbytes from the monks without actually understanding them) understanding of Air Nomad beliefs, but this thread was completely dropped in favor of... I’m still not sure, honestly.

Was Aang running away from his problems and effectively lying to his friends (does he ever actually come clean about being completely unable to access the Avatar State of his own volition?) more important than going back to the Guru, or at least his teachings, and coming to understand his own culture? Where was his arc of regaining the Avatar State because he worked for it, because he tried to re-open his chakras and, for example, came to understand what letting go of his attachment to Katara really means? (That’s actually one of the most frustrating bits, because a) he gets to have his possessive and unhealthy attachment to Katara and get the Avatar State back, despite paying lipservice to letting her go at the end of book 2; and b) he never seems to get what ‘attachment’ the Guru was actually referring to--letting go of Katara doesn’t mean he had to stop caring about or even loving her, but it does mean he was supposed to give up his selfish and possessive attachment to her, which means no nodding when some actor in a play calls fake!Katara ‘the Avatar’s girl’ and no assuming they were supposed to be in a romantic relationship despite never actually asking about her feelings and no kissing her without her consent just because he wanted her to feel the same way about him and didn’t care whether or not she actually did [otherwise he would have asked, and he never once even tried].)

Instead, rather than having a season-long arc of re-navigating his chakras, opening them, and regaining the Avatar State under his own power, he gets thrown against a well-placed rock which does all the work for him at the very last second. Energybending, which wasn’t even thought of as a possibility earlier in the season, rather than being a concept he comes to discover on his own as he navigates his chakras for a second time and comes to understand the how the energy flows between each one, is likewise just given to him by a third party, with no work necessary on his part. And as for Katara, well, I’ve ranted at length about that in the past, but their last one-on-one interaction before the epilogue is when Aang kisses her without her consent, and she gets pissed off about it and storms off. There is nothing to bridge the gap between that and make-out city, nothing at any point indicating Katara’s feelings (because, as far as Kataang was concerned, her feelings never mattered) and how they were changing, no apology from Aang for violating her boundaries, no understanding of what he did wrong and why it was wrong. Nothing. Not a single conversation.

That is why we say that Katara was handed to him like a trophy. Because she was. Kataang was endgame not because it made any sense for Katara, but because Aang was the hero, and he saved the day, and he deserved to get his forever girl on top of it. There was never any real attempt to broach Katara’s feelings on the matter--she’s never shown reflecting on their pre-invasion kiss (in fact, by all appearances she completely forgot it even happened), and she is never once asked what her feelings are, not by Aang or the narrative--because, at the end of the day, they didn’t matter. Aang was getting the girl he wanted, and that was that.

We say that Aang was handed these things without working for them because the entire narrative of book three seemed particularly engineered to making sure he didn’t have to. Zuko, meanwhile, had to work for everything he achieved--the gaang’s trust, Katara’s in particular, his crown and his kingdom. (No, he didn’t particularly work to get Mai back, but that’s a whole other discussion, and he would’ve been much better off if she never showed up again after TBR.) He didn’t get to take any shortcuts. Aang’s arc is all shortcuts, at least in book 3, and that’s when they attempted to show how he got from point a to point b at all.

Anyway, the situations couldn’t possibly be any more different, and idk who said that but whomever it is clearly does not understand where the criticisms about Aang and his hamstringed book 3 arc are coming from.

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 3

The Case of the Curious Clues

Before we start, a quick plea to Grant O’Brien: Please stop finding clues. I can only take notes so fast. You’re killing me Grant. Moving on...

We start off this episode with yet another flashback, this time to the final confrontation of Sly and his supposedly dead arch nemesis Fletcher Cottonbottom at Reichenbunny Falls (...Brennan please). Fletcher was using a local castle as a storage center for munitions but Sly tipped off the cops before they could be moved. They do some repartee back and forth before Fletcher, the madman, handcuffs them together and jumps off the edge. They hit the water but Sly is able to lockpick himself out and escape while Fletcher disappears beneath the waves. 

You know what I got from that story? No body.

Anyway, we jump back to the present where there *is* a body, Squire Badger’s specifically. Everyone in the room who isn’t a PC thinks that this must either be the work of ghosts or Mrs. M who was the only person in the room when it happened (allegedly). 

This is a crucial time for clue gathering and Brennan keeps everyone in initiative for investigative purposes. Now, *so much* stuff happens here that I’m not going to recap every single detail--just the major clues and the things that seem relevant. I’m serious, this is like the volume of info we usually get in the once per season later game lore dump ep but it’s episode THREE.

Daisy tries to find a secret door but critically fails. She clocks Gangie, a fellow criminal, and in the moment Rekha and Katie decide that they prob have worked together in the past even though they are very different kinds of criminals. 

Buck, who is outside listening to what’s going on in the room notices that his ankle knife is missing which is Concerning considering a man was just knifed to death. 

Sly has Lars guard the door (he opens it and Buck is discovered, whoops) and then rolls a NATURAL 20 plus NINE to investigate so Brennan just has to tell him literally everything. RIP to him and me. Anyway, here’s the rundown (along with some of the stuff other ppl got):

Mrs. M’s hands are covered in blood but she couldn’t have done it. Based on her personality for one and for other reasons we’ll get to.

The wound is much messier than it would be if a person stabbed themselves typically.

There is a note in Squire Badger’s handwriting that says “Sylvester Cross I am afraid” No indication of if that was the whole message or if he got interrupted (maybe Buck could figure it out with his handwriting checking skills). Daisy from across the room clocks that Sly’s name is written on the paper but can’t read the rest.

The knife is a hunting knife with a pronghorn handle--an animal not common in England but very common in Texas (and Buck is sweating obv).

There is a slight layer of charcoal type dust on everything on the big resolute desk in the room (which makes sense, ash from the fireplace) but there is parchment type dust on the bust of Barkus Aurelius (OK, that one’s good) on the table and that’s the only place that dust is. Ian later notices that the date on the bust is wrong. 

Speaking of, the desk (which we learn later was put in and taken out of storage once Loan Hall was modernized) is bolted to the ground and a lot of stuff has been thrown off it as if by a powerful force but Sly notices that it’s just the metal stuff like things made of silver or with screws. Stone things like the bust and other non-metal things have stayed put. Plus he smells ozone. This was the work of magnets, not ghosts, he concludes. And, for the record, Grant figured this out himself!

Mrs. M’s eyes are rapidly dilating. She is questioned about what happened and she says that she was told she was fired and would receive a small pension. 

(Not a part of Sly’s clue dump but Buck rolls a 24 with disadvantage to persuade everyone he didn’t do it but then 2 nat 1s in a row to see if Harding--who said he was standing outside the door--is suspect. Buck thinks he’s at most a stooge but he did roll a nat 1 so who knows?)

Anyway, back to Mrs. M. Gangie fully believes Mrs. M is innocent and scared. She doesn’t quite remember what happened for a couple of seconds in there and it’s clear this is not the first time she’s had missing time. Sly calls Longfoot (the bunny photographer) over to take a picture of Mrs. M which everyone is a little appalled at until they realize he’s making a point. When the flash goes off, she bugs out like she did in episode 1 and forgets that the picture was ever taken. Sly then has Dr. Magpie list the symptoms of epilepsy. It seems that Mrs. M had an episode triggered by the flash she mentioned seeing and then lost time. It’s possible that what she thought she saw after that she didn’t actually see.

[While Sly is monologuing this Rekha texts Brennan and gets a 17 to swipe the “I am afraid” note. Sly doesn’t notice.]

So if it wasn’t her, then who was it? There’s only one door into the study and anyone who walked in would have to have walked past Mr. Harding, Shellcrest, Calliope, and Tabitha (who is having a marvelous time being in the midst of so much drama). Ah, but who said there was only one door? Sly has Harding pull a sconce and a SECRET DOOR OPENS! Woo! Finally! It’s a classic bookshelf one that opens into the hallway and there is some extremely fine crushed glass under the door. Hmm.

Sly clocks that there is something under the desk but we don’t know what it is because Brennan texts it to him and it’s redacted. There are actually a couple of redacted texts that go around this ep so we are def missing information. 

OK, that’s more or less everything. 

Sly notices that the page is missing and Grant gasps while Rekha does an excellent job of pretending like she doesn’t even remember what paper is being talked about. Constance asks if it’s possible that Mrs. M totally made up the memory because of her epilepsy and between Dr. Magpie and Sly they determine that that’s uncommon but possible. Dr. Magpie says that everyone should leave so he and Sly can examine the body and Sly says that someone should watch Gangie at all times. 

At this point, Harding and Gilfoyle (the butler) say they should establish where everyone was at the time of the murder. A lot of the staff and guests have solid alibis cause they were in big groups/cleaning up together. But the PCs were off alone (or with each other) and had reasons to want to guy dead so they’re prime suspects. Sly even admits that he’s one too. Also everyone dogpiles Ian because Raph makes it so fun. 

Harding mentions the letter that was given to Buck (the one selling his shares in BB and giving voting writes to his rival Josiah) and asks him to read it. Buck reads it and gives a streamlined version of the truth, saying everything except for the part with the proxy vote. With a 26 he is able to allay everyone’s suspicions for now, but now he’s purposefully hidden the truth in a way that can be readily called out if anyone sees the letter or the contract which he resolves to find. 

Buster distracts the group so Daisy can “check the body for a pulse” aka: check the body for the contract. She doesn’t find a it but does find a key attached to a piece of red silk--something that would be weird for him to be carrying around instead of his valet. She figures this must open whatever locked drawer the contract is in and swipes it but Sly clocks her stealing it (his perception ties her sleathiness but an earlier Bless from Ian tips him over the edge--poetic).  

Calliope says that everyone is kinds suspect, including Sly, but *someone* has to solve this and Sly’s their best bet so everyone should just stay put and they can guard the exits. The butler says that, besides the front door, there are some towers that poke up above ground and a servant's exit/entrance by the elevator in the kitchen wing but they can lock down both and have someone guard the front doors. 

The butler is like, lmao yeah Sly I know you didn’t do it and I’m not gonna stand guard here but you know, everyone is keeping an eye on y’all. And then he leaves the PCs, Mrs. M, Constance, and Dr. Magpie in the room with the body. 

Lars is about to go watch the kitchen staff but, before he goes, Sly says to him that he saw Cottonbottom and is obviously quite scared. Gangie, who used to work for the guy, overhears and asks what’s going on. Sly assumes Gangie is playing coy but rolls high enough to know that he isn’t. He saw a starkly white Cottonbottom and one of his known conspirators doesn’t know he’s back? Perhaps it was a ghost after all. 

Case Notes

My 2 fave bits of this episode were “bad to bad bad bad” (and the further riffing) and Daisy throwing increasingly bigger books at Sly.

Even with a Nat 1, Sly gets a 16 on Investigation. Wild. 

I don’t think Rekha got enough props for her “Cross examination” line so I’m mentioning it here.

Brennan said the ozone question was still open--but I assumed it was like the electricity smell from an electromagnet. That would make sense, right? Maybe he meant they hadn’t found the source of it specifically yet?

Brennan says Buck’s knife is a pronghorn knife. I assume they’re made from the animal’s horns? Even if they’re the kind that fall off every season, is that weird? Or is it just like human hair wigs? Also, does this world have leather?

I love that the dice keep supporting the narrative that Daisy simply cannot get her shit together when she’s with Sly because he distracts her too much. Delicious. Their whole relationship is delicious. 

OK, I am a tiny bit suspicious of Calliope. It’s partially the way she took control of the situation near the end and partially the fact that she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be involved in this which would make her heel turn delicious. No hard evidence and obv she couldn’t be the person who actually stabbed a guy but idk. Just spitballing. I’m very curious about whether we’ve met everyone we’re going to meet more or less or if there are still outside people/hidden inside people. Because, in real life, a murderer could be literally anyone but in a story, you can’t just introduce a new villain all of a sudden at the end. Bad storytelling. Weak payoff. We’ll see how things start to pan out. 

[crashdevlin]

Another Second Chance 1- Black Hole

Another Second Chance Masterlist,  Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: It's been five years since Jensen broke Y/n's heart and she's avoided him completely, but avoidance only lasts so long.

Pairing: past Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2302

Story Warnings: past cheating, little bit of background angst, mostly no warnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things change. Either gradually or in catastrophic leaps, things change. Fact of life, unfortunately. Songs have been sung, books have been penned, movies have been made, all centered around that single inarguable fact.

When I was a younger woman, I thought that nothing really ever changed, that the facts of my life were that I was weak and stupid and I was always going to be in love with people who didn’t want me and were too good for me, that I was going to be miserable and alone forever. I was certain that I was the same person at 26 that I was at 16 and that’s just how things were always going to be.

I can honestly say, at 34 years old, I’m a different woman than I was at 16 or 26 or 30...and I may be alone, but I am not miserable.

I’m successful. I’m happy. I have friends and I have fans. I am well-rounded and, despite a hundred things working against me, well-adjusted. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be dating someone to be happy. In fact, without all the drama surrounding me whenever I do date someone, I’m happier. I have my children and I have my friends and I am happy. 2025 is shaping up to be one of my best years yet and I am ecstatic to see where it leads.

I’m sitting at my computer when my phone goes off. I don’t recognize the number so I Google it. King Woods Private School, the school Jensen wants to send Mav to. Weird that they’d call me when Jensen has primary custody. I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n? Maverick Ackles’ mother?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hi, Ma’am. I’m Caroline Smith, Dean of Admissions for King Woods Private School. Your son’s father applied to our institution for the Fall semester for Kindergarten.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me. Said his father is very excited to get him in there.”

“His father didn’t tell you?”

“Mav’s nanny mentioned it, too, but...Jensen and I-”

“Had a very public falling out a few years ago, we’ve done our research,” she interrupts me. “But the thing is, King Woods is a very family-oriented institute and we need both parents to participate in all activities like monthly PTAs and volunteer nights. We need to make sure that both active parents can work together amicably. On that note, we have an admissions interview with little Maverick on Friday and we require your presence. Can you make it? 10:30 am.”

“Ten-thirty on Friday? Y-yeah. I can...I can totally do that. I will...see you then, Mrs. Smith.”

“See you then, ma’am. I’m looking forward to meeting you and your son. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I set my phone to the side of my laptop and take a deep breath. Jensen and I haven’t been in the same room since NolaCon 2020. We’ve emailed a few times, but haven’t even spoken on the phone...in several years...and that’s better. It’s better for everyone if we don’t talk because then we don’t argue and we don’t fall into patterns that leave us in bad shape.

But for Maverick’s future, for Maverick’s good, I will have to do it.

I call Misha. He encourages me and tells me it’ll be okay. He supports me. He’s an amazing friend, has been for years, one of the few I got in the breakup. Most of our friends specifically didn’t take sides. Kim and Briana and Misha, they sided with me...the girls a little more vocally than Meesh, but it ended up a small rift between Misha and Jensen. I put an end to J2M and it hurts a bit when I think about it. They still talk sometimes but nothing like they used to.

Jared still talks to me every once in a while, but he sided with Jensen. Of course he did. Jensen’s his brother. But Jared tries to keep me involved in his life, he tries to stay a friend...but he’s Jensen’s first, always has been.

“It’s gonna suck,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yeah. But still. You gotta do it, right?” Misha says and I chuckle. To the point with Mr. Collins.

“Yeah. I gotta do it. It’s just...I haven’t seen him in years. I mean...except pictures on Instagram. It’s gonna be weird.”

“You know what I say about weird, right?”

“Yeah. But this isn’t the GISH and Random Acts kinda weird, this is...a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball and a fear of reversion to the person I was in the past kinda weird.”

“You’ve grown too much to revert and that bowling ball will go away when you get comfortable again.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. What happens if I get comfortable with him again, Misha?” I’m scared of it. “He’s like this black hole that sucks me in every time and the only way I’ve been able to stave off the destruction of my universe these last five years is to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do when I’m in close proximity to the black hole.”

“You can do this, Y/n. You won’t have any problems...and maybe Jensen’s grown over the last five years, too.”

“Well, you’ve talked to him more than I have. You’d know how much growing he’d done.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re spending all our time together anymore.”

I nod. “So...hope for the best, that he’s grown and things will be okay, and keep my distance from the dark vortex.”

“Exactly.” Misha smiles and looks directly at the camera. “You got this.”

Yeah, I do. I got this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wear an embroidered black silk Joanna Mastroianni dress to the interview. Not a lot of makeup, but enough to accentuate my features. I keep my hair out of my face and I wear sensible, cute shoes. I look good, but not like I’m trying to look good. I look like I’m trying to look presentable and classy for the people in charge of my son’s education.

I make it to the school first and I sit in a plush chair in the waiting room and wait with my legs crossed neatly to the side. I pull out my phone and start playing a game of Solitaire.

“Mommy!” Maverick’s voice pulls my attention away from the Seven of Hearts that is stuck behind the Six of Diamonds that is arresting my forward momentum in the game. I smile as he runs at me, full-speed, and I slip my phone in my purse as he throws his arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mav!” I exclaim. I lean back and look into the beautiful green eyes he inherited from his father. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“Yes! All the time!” Mav says.

He turns his head to look at the door to the lobby as Jensen walks in. Holy shit. He let his hair grow out a bit...little longer than when he was playing a demon. It's multi toned, what would be called 'Salt and Pepper' in any other man, but it looks more like 'Walnut and light Roux' on him. He's rocking his ginger beard and it has some actual salt in the color. He's wearing a blue suit...a masterpiece tailored to take away your breath. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He's still gorgeous...and I’m still stuck on him. Fuck.

I stand and take Mav’s hand as Jensen steps closer. I focus on his forehead. I can’t look at those eyes. I can’t look at those lips or those freckles on his cheeks. Forehead is safe. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and licks his lips. “Hi,” I greet him, and my voice sounds awkward, too high-pitched.

“Hey,” he responds and oh, God, that voice.

Breathe. Stay away from the singularity, avoid being pulled into the black hole. “You doin’ good?”

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Just fine.” Dying, being sucked into a vortex in space.

He opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else when a tall brunette woman in a smart pantsuit walks out of the office. “Mr. Ackles? Miss Y/l/n?” We nod as she drops to kneel in front of Mav and me. “And this must be little Maverick.”

Mav turns and hides his face in my skirt. “Sorry. He’s a little shy around new people. He’ll warm up to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s natural.” She stands and extends her hand to me and then Jensen, shaking our hands. “Good to see you both here. So, we’re going to take Maverick in and watch him play a bit, get a sense of his social and developmental placement and if he’s a good fit for King Woods, then we will make that happen.”

Jensen and I nod, then I gently pull Mav away from my legs. “You’re gonna go with the nice lady and play with some toys, answer some questions, okay? You can rock that, right, buddy?” Mav nods and smiles at me and Jensen.

“And you two will be just fine out here together, right?” Mrs. Smith says. She’s making sure we won’t freak out on each other. Freaking out on each other is not the problem.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answers. “We’re gonna park ourselves right here in these chairs and wait for you to tell us how brilliant our boy is.” He winks at the woman and she swoons a bit...I have to stop myself from doing the same as I step back toward the chair I was sitting in before. She offers Maverick her hand and he looks back at me before he takes it and follows her as she leads him away toward a playroom. I play with the hem of my dress for a few moments as Jensen takes the seat next to me, his bowlegs stretching out in front of him a bit. “So...listened to that cover album you did...with, uh, Rob, Rich, and Mark. It came out real good. ‘A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega’ was perfect.”

I look down and my cheeks heat up. “Thanks. Uh...you and Steve are working on Volume Four, right? How’s that comin’?”

“Pretty good. Not bad at all, actually.” There’s a moment of silence and I sneak a look at him. He’s biting his bottom lip. Black hole, black hole, black hole. “Oh, and how’s that Shakespeare thing goin’?”

My eyes light up and I look over at him. “Midsummer! Yes. My pet project! It’s coming. Rich has signed on to direct a few episodes and Matt signed up to be my Puck. I’m really excited to see what we can do with that universe. Fairies are so my jam!”

“Are you just producing and writing it, or are you gonna be acting in it?” he asks, leaning forward, showing interest, active listening.

“I’m Hermia, actually. It’s coming along very well.”

“That’s really good. I’m...happy for you.” He smiles and I bite my tongue. God. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I look away from him. “So, uh, I heard that you RSVP’d to Padalecki’s July Fourth barbecue, but you never showed up.”

I shake my head and sigh. Of course Jared told him I flaked on Independence Day. “Yeah. I was, uh...I was gonna go but-”

“But then you heard my shoot in Georgia got rescheduled and I wasn’t gonna be in Atlanta like I planned so you decided not to risk runnin’ into me?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod and look over at him. “It was fine. I ended up watching fireworks with Nova over Skype.”

“You know...it’s been years. You don’t have to avoid me. We can be adults. Jared misses you.”

I lick my lips and nod. “It’s just hard for me to be around you. I miss Jared too, but I can’t be around you. It’s too hard.”

“This is hard?” he asks. I open my mouth to respond ‘Unbelievably’, but he keeps talking. “Because it’s not hard for me. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, settling back in the chair to lean away from him. “This is why it’s hard.” I open my eyes and pull my phone out to finish that game of Solitaire.

He doesn’t say anything else until Mrs. Smith walks out with Maverick fifteen minutes later. “They had a lot of toys in there!” Maverick shouts.

“Indoor voice, Mav,” I say as I stand up. I focus on Mrs. Smith. “So?”

She smiles brightly. “He’s a brilliant child. We would absolutely love to have him here at King Woods.”

“That’s great news!” Jensen exclaims.

“Indoor voice, Jay,” I joke before it hits me that I just called him ‘Jay’ and teased him. Slippery slope. Don’t get comfortable. “Uh, a-anyway. That is great news.”

“We’ll send you the information for tuition and supplies. It was wonderful to meet you both,” Mrs. Smith says.

I bend down and give Mav a hug as she walks away. “You’re awesome, kiddo. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

He runs to his dad and I pick up my purse, stepping toward the door. Jensen puts his hand out as he picks Maverick up to hold him on the other side. He pulls me into a half hug and I go stiff as his hand lands on the small of my back. God, he smells so good...and his hand is so big and…

I pull away and lick my lips. “You and Daddy have fun, Mav!” I almost run out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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