#yes they still throw shade at each other at every conceivable opportunity

[grelleswife]

Imagine the fanon Claude Faustus vs Will or Ronald for how they treat Sebastian.. and cause their reapers too ig.

Claude, roasting his ex: You can barely manage your own staff, Michaelis, and yet you have the audacity to call yourself one hell of a butler? It’s laughable, really. 🤭

Claude when Ronald barges in talking trash and attempting to mow Seb down with his scythe, or William has the gall to treat the demon he once loved (and still does, if he’s being honest with himself) like vermin:

No one else is allowed to slander Michaelis; that’s his exclusive job as a divorcé. And heaven itself can’t help the fool, reaper or otherwise, who means Sebastian harm. They can expect a drawerful of Trancy butter knives through their vitals or slow death encased in a cocoon of demonic spider silk—whichever Claude’s in the mood for. 🕷🔪

[kellanved-ammanas]

Matching Chapter Three: Party

Made up from various things found in one of Spy’s disguise chests – the one that didn’t contain clothing from the enemy team – it was the perfect costume. The fancy mask with a decorative border that looked a like a dragon breathing fire would cover all of his face and most of his head, the high brimmed embroidered hat would cover the rest. Gloves were a given and full body jacket had fancy buttons to keep it closed and cool shoulder things. Other than the mask, which was predominantly white, it was various shades of red, the primary shade being dark and mysterious looking.

“See? I told you Spy probably had stuff like this in his closet,” Scout said. They’d scrounged up a similar costume for him too. At Pyro’s request he’d even gone with one of the two other complete face masks they’d found; it had a snake on it. “He goes to balls and carnivals and all sorts of fancy events all the time. And he’s too much of rich snob to ever borrow anything he needs for those kinds of events so he buys stuff, wears it once, and then throws in into his closet. It’ll be a bit big on us but who cares?”

“We have to ask him again first though, right?” Pyro had only been sort of paying attention to their conversation but he had heard that part. … As well as the uncomfortable exchange that had come before it.

“Yeah, but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it as long as we promise not to damage or stain it. And he’ll probably make you promise not to play with fire while wearing it because he doesn’t trust anybody ever not even me, his own son. Though, I guess he does kind of have a valid reason for that, I may have accidentally gotten a bit careless and broken or destroyed a few of his things in the past. But I’ve learned my lesson, I’m trustworthy now… right? Do you think I’m trustworthy?”

“Yes!” Pyro trusted him more than he’d ever trusted anyone before.

“Good! But uh… anyway, yeah, he’s probably going to want you to promise to not play with fire around his stuff. You can of course break that promise if you need to so…”

“It’s fine,” Pyro interrupted. “I don’t mind making that promise.” It’d be for the best. He’d started wearing the fireproof suit all the time – before he’d grown the illogical need for the protections it gave him from other things, like people’s eyes – so he’d stop burning himself every time he got careless when playing with fire. Which naturally only made him more careless, meaning there was a high chance he’d hurt himself and possibly other people if he played with fire while not in his suit. “I can go one night without fire.” Once upon a time that would’ve been difficult but he had friends now and Scout so it would be okay.

Scout gave him a surprised look that morphed into a proud smile. “All right, that’s cool then.”

 -

Just as Scout had predicted, Spy okayed their borrowing what they’d picked out after extracting promises not to stain it, burn it, or ruin it in any other conceivable fashion and to hold each other accountable for keeping those promises or they’d pay the worth of the costume in cash to Spy. Which was a lot of money. According to him anyway; it was just clothes, nice clothes sure but still just clothes. But regardless, they were all easy promises to make and keep. Which left them with nothing more to do than wait for Halloween.

Finally, the big day came. Warmth flooded Pyro’s chest as he looked at himself in the mirror in Scout’s room. The jacket and pants underneath were a bit baggy on him but not too bad. He looked fancy and cool, like someone who belonged in medieval times at a royal ball. And it was comfortable – compared to his fireproof suit anyway – soft and not heavy, while also covering his whole body. Maybe… there were other things he could wear that would have the same affect so he didn’t have to wear his suit all the time. … That was a thought to file away for later consideration.

“You look great,” Scout said, stepping into the mirror’s frame next to him. “We look great.” The clothes were a bit baggier on him but he didn’t seem to mind. “We look we could be going to one of those… mask party things with the weird name, you know the ones I mean. We look like we’re going to one of those together.”

“We do!” Pyro hugged him. “I like it.” And they were both completely covered and hidden. It was nice that Scout was doing that for him.

Scout chuckled, hugging him back. “Me too.”

“We’re going to be the coolest dudes a the party,” Scout said as they stepped back from each other a few seconds later. “Everyone’s going to be jealous.”

“Let’s go.” Pyro was excited to see what the others would think of their costumes, Spy should be the only one who knew what they were doing.

Holding Scout’s hand, Pyro led the way out and down the hall to the common room. They’d been in here a few hours ago, helping put up all the decorations: a Happy Halloween banner, some orange and black ribbons, fake cobwebs in the corners, a few fake spiders within them, and a whole skeleton that was donated by Medic - meaning it might be real – that hung from the ceiling. There was a table dedicated to Halloween themed snacks next the drink table, most of them alcoholic. Separate from them, on the other side of the room, was the table meant for games.

They arrived second after Spy who was always either the first one to arrive at a team event or the last one. His costume was fancy as always, made up of an extra fancy suit with a pretty pattern and a feathered mask covering the upper half of his face, underneath which was his usual ski mask.

Pyro skipped right up to him, bringing Scout along too. “Thank you again for letting us borrow stuff,” he said.

“Oh, Pyro?” Spy sounded almost taken aback. “I have never heard you speak without your gas mask on before. Your voice is… not what I expected.”

“Oh yeah, uh I didn’t even think of that,” Scout said. “Your voice is like easier to understand now. That okay? You don’t have to speak much if you’d rather…”

“It’s fine,” Pyro interrupted. Actually, it was more than fine, it was great. Being hard to understand was how he preferred it sometimes but he wasn’t in that kind of mood right now. He was with his friends, he wanted them to understand him. “I like it actually!”

“Well uh… okay, cool.”

“Yes,” Spy agreed. “You are very welcome by the way. Just remember no fire or anything else that might cause damage to my stuff.”

“Got it.” Pyro gave him a thumbs up. He was too excited to need fire right now anyway.

Miss Pauling was the next to show up. She was dressed as a witch. Pyro skipped right up to her to say, “Hello,” and wave with his free hand.

“Oh uh… who are you?” she asked. Was his voice really that changed by the gas mask?

“It’s Pyro,” Scout answered for him. “He doesn’t have to wear his gas mask because we found these super cool party masks instead as part of our super cool costumes. And we match, isn’t that awesome? We’ve got the best costumes this year for sure. If there was a competition we’d be all over first place.”

“Yes, I suppose they do look cool. But Pyro,” she looked at him again with a fond smile, “it’s nice to hear your voice unmuffled for once. I don’t think I ever have before. I… actually didn’t think you’d be okay with that kind of thing.”

“No, I like it.” It was wonderful to be understood without having to enunciate. “You guys are my friends so I don’t mind.” One day he wanted to show all his friends his face too but… he wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

It wasn’t long before everyone else started filing in. Pyro went up to each and every one of them as they entered to greet them. The realization that he could be understood easily through the party mask was too exciting to pass up the opportunity to make sure all his friends knew what his voice actually sounded like. Before this only Scout had known. They were all pleasantly surprised by it too, even Soldier who didn’t normally seem to care about that kind of thing.

And it meant he could participate in Miss Pauling’s Halloween DnD campaign this year without the usual hassle that came with being hard to understand. It also meant he could drink. Getting a straw up underneath the party mask without revealing anything was much easier than with the gas mask. Drinking alcoholic beverages through a straw was a bit weird but who cared? It was fun and he’d never gotten to actually drink with Scout or the rest of the team before.

 -

“Hey Py,” Scout slurred as he sagged into Pyro’s side. “I ever tell you that I looove you?”

Pyro leaned his head against Scout’s. He felt heavy and even while sitting at the drink table, dizzy.  He’d fall over for sure if he tried to stand. He nodded. “Love you too. Lots. More than fire.” He reached into pocket for his lighter, he had to show Scout how pretty it was. But... it wasn’t there. With not words to describe that disappointment, he let out a whining sound instead.

“I think you two have had enough to drink,” Demo cut in as he pulled the punch bowl across the table towards himself.

“No,” Scout said, hugging Pyro’s arm now. “We’re fine, we can keep going.”

“Yes, fine,” Pyro agreed, trying to give Demo a thumbs up but the world rocking as much as it was made it hard. It made him feel sick.

“Nah, that’s like the fourth time in the last half hour, you’ve checked your pocket for you lighter Pyro. Thankfully you don’t got it or we’d all be dead by now and thankfully Scout’s clinging to you like a barnacle or you’d’ve gotten up and gone looking for it until you found it and again we’d all be dead by fire. It’s making me nervous. And I feel like, I should probably cut you off before you do something you’re going to regret in the morning. I’ve already gotten an accidental peek of your part of your face because of how careless you’re being with adjusting your mask for the straw.”

That… was bad but Pyro couldn’t exactly remember why right now. He used his free hand to reach for his lighter again before being reminded it still wasn’t there. If Scout wasn’t leaning into him and holding onto his arm, he would’ve gotten up go looking for it even if it meant falling over a few times. Fire was good for burning away things he didn’t like.

“So,” Demo continued before rising his voice, “Spy get your ass over here and help your son and future son-in-law get off to bed before they drink themselves into a coma.”

“Wait, what?” Scout said, stiffening a bit. “Did you just suggest…” he trialed off. “Eh… I guess I ain’t against that idea.”

Pyro wasn’t sure what they were talking about, nor did he really care. He wanted a refill of his drink but… it was empty and Demo had pulled the punch bowl all the way to his side of the table. How was Pyro supposed to get to it over there without standing up? And his lighter still wasn’t in his pocket; he wanted to set something on fire, damnit.

“I should be cutting you off too.” Spy had snuck up behind them. It wasn’t the enemy Spy though so it was okay.

“Nah, I got a liver made of steel.” Demo took another large drink, finishing off what was in his cup. He slammed it down on the table before standing up, only swaying a little bit considering how much he’d had to drink, more than Pyro and Scout had had for sure. “But help me get these two off to bed before something bad happens. They’re making me nervous, ‘specially Pyro.”

“Very well then. Scout, Pyro, it is way past midnight and almost everyone else has headed off to bed so it is time for you to do so as well.”

“Nah, I don’t think…” Scout began before cutting off with surprise as Pyro stood up, bringing him up with him.

Right away the sway of the world increased tenfold. They would’ve both toppled over if Spy hadn’t caught them and steadied. Pyro closed his eyes and clung onto Scout, fighting the urge to vomit. He’d promise not to ruin his costume. Thankfully the urge passed after a few seconds.

“Let’s go,” Demo said, standing on one side of Pyro and Scout now. Spy was on the other. Together, they guided Pyro Scout out of the common and down the hall to Scout’s room, not letting them fall over or stray. Spy even unlocked it for them and guided them in and onto the bed.

“I will be expecting my clothing returned to me tomorrow, whenever you finally wake up and have worked through your hangovers enough to be at least halfway functional. Have a good night.” Spy backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. There was small click as it locked.

“Good night,” Pyro said with a little wave even though he was already gone.

Scout huffed before starting to undress, throwing everything onto the floor. Pyro followed suit. Normally he’d want to hang it up but… couldn’t right now. He felt a bit better once he was down to just a pair of boxers, the cool air on his bare skin had a slight sobering effect.

Scout flopped over onto his back with a contented sigh. Pyro lay down too, making sure to cuddle up close to him, not bothering with the blanket bunch down by their feet.

“Fun night,” Scout said with a yawn, snuggling into Pyro.

“Yes, best Halloween ever, thanks.”

“Yeah, it was, huh? Best ever, knew it would be. Love you, good…” he trailed off as he fell asleep.

“Love you too,” Pyro replied before letting himself drift off too.

Previous

[psychosistr]

The Language of Flowers

Jonawagon Week - Day 1: Summer/Spring

Summary: Jonathan and Speedwagon go for a stroll in the spring time and Jonathan gives Speedwagon a very meaningful gift.

Spring time had finally decided to grace the residents of England with some pleasant weather for the first time in what felt like months. Many were taking advantage of the temperate air and clear skies to engage in all manner of outdoor activities ranging from gardening to picnics to outdoor sports.

One such man deciding to take advantage of the fine weather was the young man Jonathan Joestar, local nobleman and, unknown to all but a handful of people, savior of the world for his brave fights against the harrowing forces of the undead. Today, though, he did not seek a fight or to protect anyone (not to say he wouldn’t should the opportunity present itself, of course- he would always rush to the aid of others)- no, he had far better plans for the day.

As Jonathan walked to the top of a grassy hill and finally gained a full view of the valley beneath, he spotted the person he’d come all this way to visit. “Speedwagon!” He called with a bright smile and a wave at the man in question.

Speedwagon, who had been seated comfortably beneath a shady tree so as to avoid the sunlight as he waited, looked up towards the hill when he heard the taller man calling his name. “Hm?” His face lit up as bright as the sun above them when he spotted Jonathan walking at a brisk pace down the hill towards him. “Ah, Jojo!” He stood and dusted himself off. “Glad y’ finally showed up- was beginnin’ t’ think I ‘ad the wrong place.”

“My apologies, Speedwagon.” Jonathan said when he finally reached the blonde, giving him an apologetic frown. “I do hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

Speedwagon chuckled and adjusted the bowler hat sitting atop his head. “Not at all, mate- I think I just showed up a bit early ‘s all.” He looked up at Jonathan with a warm smile. “Now then, what’s on the agenda for t’day, Master Joestar?” He chuckled when the moniker made the nobleman wince.

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that..” He mumbled as he walked, the blonde falling in step right beside him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Well, we have t’ keep up appearances, don’ we?” Speedwagon asked while casting his gaze off to the side.

Jonathan followed his line of sight to see groups of people in the distance taking advantage of the nice weather. Families engaging in picnics, couples out on dates (sort of like himself, Jonathan thought and fought not to blush), and children playing and tumbling about on the green grass. They were far enough away, for the most part, that they could not hear much of what the two men said, but they were still within sight.

“Ah. Yes. Quite right…” Jonathan lamented but tried not to let the sadness he felt manifest itself on his face.

Truth be told, Jonathan and Speedwagon had been…well…“seeing each other” for quite some time now.

Ever since his first defeat of Dio, and then again after he was finally defeated for good, Jonathan had allowed himself to think of what he wanted for his future. He was a man of simple desires and found that, above all else, he merely wanted to be surrounded by those he loved for the rest of his days. Of course this meant the lovely Erina, as well as any child they were to conceive (Erina currently being pregnant with their first child whom he already adored before even seeing its face), but he discovered that these feelings and desires for the future also extended to his closest, dearest friend- Robert E.O. Speedwagon.

After a discussion with Erina on the matter, as well as a blushing, nearly-tearful confession to Speedwagon himself, the three had come to an understanding on the matter. Sadly, due to public opinion and laws regarding same-gender relationships, Jonathan and Speedwagon could not be together publicly. To throw off any who would suspect the two, Jonathan and Erina were the ones to be happily married, but it was with the secret knowledge and understanding that Jonathan also be free to give the same love and devotion towards the other important blonde beauty in his life when away from the judgmental eyes of the public.

Jonathan knew that it was imperative no one find out about the true nature of his relationship with the former street-thug, but it still caused a fierce ache to bloom within his heart at the thought of never being able to do something as simple as hold hands in public for fear of persecution against both himself and his beloved.

“Jojo?” He heard Speedwagon calling his name softly and turned his gaze back down to the other, allowing him to see the concerned expression on that scarred face. “Everythin’ alright, love?” The other man spoke softly so as not to risk being overheard. “Y’ seem awful’ down.”

Jonathan looked into those lovely brown eyes and felt his earlier worries and tension fade away. “My apologies, Robert.” He said with a soft smile on his face. “I was lost in thought for a moment, but it was nothing of concern.” He returned his attention to the path ahead of them. “To answer your earlier query, I thought it would be nice to go for a stroll along the river through the woods.” The dark haired man answered while motioning with one hand to indicate the river ahead of them leading into the forest in the distance.

Speedwagon continued to gaze at him with concern for a moment longer before redirecting his gaze to the river. “I see. Sounds like a fine way t’ spend the afternoon.”

The two smiled at each other as they walked. It was a calm, understanding smile that spoke volumes between them- communicating in their own, silent way every “I love you” and “I treasure our time together” and “I love you more than life itself” that they could not voice aloud at the moment.

They engaged in frivolous small talk all the while. Jonathan informed Speedwagon of Erina’s health that morning, of how her pregnancy was still exhausting her but she had been able to eat a bit easier that day. Speedwagon, in turn, told him of the letter he’d received from Baron Zeppeli not long ago that said him and the other monks, as well as the young infant that Straights had adopted, were all doing quite well. They spoke of these things and any other small but pleasant topics that came to mind.

Before either had realized it, they’d walked so deep into the woods that the earlier chatter of the others in the field had all but vanished. Jonathan did, however, finally take notice of their location when he spotted a tree near the river bend that was still mostly green but for one branch that was blooming with flowers and pointing at an almost perfect right angle away from the river.

“Aha, so that’s where it was..” He muttered to himself before taking Speedwagon’s hand in his own and leading the smaller man in the direction the blooming branch pointed.

“Huh? Where’s what, Jojo?” Speedwagon’s cheeks had colored slightly when Jonathan grabbed for his hand, but he allowed himself to be pulled along nonetheless.

“Oh, just some place special I wanted to share with you, beloved.” The Joestar replied with an excited smile cast over his shoulder at his confused love. He felt safe enough to be more bold with his words, as well as his actions now that they were this far out- no one dared to venture this deep in the forest, he’d discovered this years ago and it had held true ever since.

He led the confused and curious blonde deeper into the woods, occasionally finding trees similar to the first- all still mostly green except for a single blooming branch that pointed the way to the next marker. Eventually, after a few minutes’ worth of walking, the secret lovers arrived at their destination.

Speedwagon was finally released from Jonathan’s grasp upon arrival and took in the scenery. It was indeed a lovely spot with a large tree covered in buds that had yet to bloom offering plenty of shade to the area below and plenty of large roots that were easily wide enough to sit upon, even for two men as large as themselves. There were also several small flowers and bushes dotting the space, allowing a soft but pleasant scent to greet them upon breaching their hideaway.

“Jojo..” Speedwagon began while taking in the sights and smells of the many colorful blooms around them. “This is somethin’ else. Thanks for showin’ it t’ me.”

Jonathan chuckled as he left Speedwagon’s side to walk up to the tree at the center of it all. “You’re quite welcome, dear, but I am not done just yet.”

At the curious look of his beloved, Jonathan simply grinned and winked at him before taking in a breath to charge his hamon. This was an exercise he did not do often as his need for learning the art had been defeated, but it still proved handy in moments such as this. Once the energy was charged, he channeled it into his hand and placed it upon the trunk of the tree. The crackling golden light flowed easily from the tips of his fingers into the wood and surged through it in a dazzling display of light.

The true spectacle, however, began once the light reached the branches of the trees and, more importantly, the still sleeping buds resting upon them.

Speedwagon gasped and stared in awe as the shimmering glow filled the buds and caused them all to bloom at once in a breathtaking display. Once they were open, the flowers were revealed to be magnolias- and not just any magnolias, but a rare, bizarre, beautiful color combination of deep purple at the base that bled into a golden yellow further up the petals, and then, finally, to a soft, almost whitish-yellow at the tips of each petal.

“Jojo..!” Speedwagon said while still staring at the vibrantly colored tree that had just blossomed to life right before his very eyes. “This is incredible!” He took a few steps closer so he could get a better look at the flowers. “Why, I’ve never seen ones like these before! Usually their only pink or white! ‘ow’d y’ come ‘cross one like this?”

Jonathan chuckled softly, overjoyed by his dearest Speedwagon’s reaction. “Completely by accident in my youth, as luck would have it.” He looked up at the beautiful flowers on the branches above with a soft smile. “I have seen many men in town giving flowers to those they love lately, and thought it only fair that I do the same. I have already given Erina a bouquet of fresh lilacs, as she prefers their scent to that of roses or lilies and because she was my first love as a boy, but I struggled to find a flower that would suit you.” He reached up and carefully pulled down one of the lower branches, bringing it down just enough that he could pluck the best looking flower he saw on the limb before gently releasing it back into its previous spot. “Then, I recalled these remarkable blossoms from many years ago and spent days trying to find the exact tree they’d come from.”

He looked back up at his partner and saw that he was staring at Jonathan with reddened cheeks and a hand clutched over his heart. “You…Y’ didn’t ‘ave t’ go t’ that much trouble for me, love. I’d ‘ve been fine with anythin’, long as it was from you.”

Jonathan smiled gently and walked up to his beloved Speedwagon with the flower in his hand. “For you, my love, it was no trouble at all. I would go to the ends of the Earth and scour every forest the planet has to offer, all to see that lovely smile upon your face.” When he reached the shorter man, Jonathan used his free hand to gently tuck his golden locks behind one reddened ear before slipping the stem of the plant in its proper place behind it. “There. Absolutely beautiful.” He said with a satisfied smile, gazing at the sight of his beloved adorned with the magnificent rare plant.

It complimented him perfectly- the gold and yellow matched his hair and the purple complimented the accents of his suit exquisitely.

The flower could also be seen as a symbol of both of them, if one knew them well enough: On a more literal note, the purple was a rather deep shade, almost blue, and could be seen as a mirror of Jonathan’s hair while the gold was Speedwagon’s own. More than that would be the color that Speedwagon often wore in his hat/weapon, the purple, coupled with Jonathan’s hamon, the shades of yellow. A more figurative take, however, would be how purple was considered the color of nobility and wealth, such as Jonathan, while yellow, depending on its shade, could also be worn by nobility or by those of a lower social class, such as Speedwagon himself. Finally, there was the emotional meanings of the colors with purple being indicative of mourning and yellow representing both greed as well as renewal and hope, alluding to how the two met when Speedwagon attempted to rob Jonathan on that one faithful night only to have his entire life changed with one hit from the nobleman before joining Jonathan at the Joestar mansion where he lost his father as well as his home but, through that tragedy, gained the two loves of his life.

Yes, to Jonathan, this flower was a perfect representation of his bond with the other man and he didn’t believe that God himself could have shown him a more perfect plant to give to his love.

He could tell that Speedwagon, despite his reddened face and flustered state, was about to say something else- likely a false comment about how he wasn’t beautiful at all or worthy of such a special gift. In order to stop the other’s self-deprecation before it even started, Jonathan cupped one reddened cheek with his palm while the other hand went to his beloved’s waist and pulled him into a tender, loving kiss to draw his mind away from such things.

The two stayed like that for a long time, becoming lost in one another’s presence and the love that flowed stronger between them than any hamon Jonathan had ever felt surging through his veins. Even after they’d finished kissing, they simply stayed beneath the tree and held onto each other, taking advantage of this small peace granted to them away from prying eyes that would do them harm.

For now, in this moment, all they needed to be happy was something as simple as standing beneath a blossoming magnolia tree while looking into each other’s eyes with smiles that very clearly said “I love you” and “I will always love you”.

[niennavalier]

Okay I wasn’t planning on doing a DS9 rant post but here it is, under the cut in case I get annoying about DS9 and romance and Julian in particular

Okay, so I swear, the writers went into the show with this idea that Julian Bashir was gonna be this fresh-out-of-med-school brilliant, attractive doctor with charm to spare and something like this ladies’ man kinda attitude. Maybe (hopefully) not that sleazy, but still. And then it didn’t really work in season 1 in regards to Jadzia, so they dropped that storyline (thank fuck).

But then it’s so weird when I think they’re trying to kinda keep it alive through the show, except it literally never really works quite right? Even though the DS9 writers are legitimately good with writing the other romances on the show?? Kira and Odo? Absolutely adorable, I would die for them. Jadzia and Worf? Who would’ve that that’d work? Not me! But I’d die for them too!

(Yes, all of these characters have other romantic interests at times, some good - like Lenara Kahn - and others less so - Bareil is really boring and Lwaxana Troi DID NOT need to be there - but they also get these fantastic long-term stories)

Meanwhile, for my favorite doctor? I might be missing some but here’s what I could think of whilst typing: Melora was...sorta forgettable (I forgot about the episode until I was just scrolling through all of them). Technically fine but...forgettable. Leeta...honestly I never understood this pairing. I legitimately don’t remember ever seeing them get together on screen; best I recall, they were just together one day and we were supposed to just accept it. Which...whatever, I’m not a fan, and this pairing did nothing for either of them. Serena, I actually liked; they were cute together in that one episode, but at the same time I’m torn because I truly believe the writers made the right choice in that she had to experience the world for herself. For all the cuteness, I much prefer her discovering her own self-worth and think that’s better for her as her own character.

And then. There’s Dax. The first couple seasons? Awkward as fuck. No thanks. But then him and Jadzia become like, best science buddies! And he painfully third-wheels for her date with Lenara in Rejoined! And it’s like “wow now that’s true friendship right there”. And I loved that relationship so much! We watched Julian grow up a lot since the pilot, and honestly, him becoming best friends with Jadzia matched that change really well. Going from this kinda juvenile crush and strange persistence to a much more mature friendship. I mean, there’s one episode (which I can’t place at the moment) where there’s some crisis on the station and they’re hiding somewhere, she’s hurt, and they’re both freezing. And he’s holding her, and she makes some comment on how past-him would’ve used this as an opportunity to try and spark something between them. But present-him isn’t like that anymore, and watching as the audience, there truly isn’t weird romantic tension between them. It’s intimacy and familiarity and comfort without the weight of romance. And it’s perfect.

But then all of a sudden, the back half of season 6 starts happening, and apparently he’s always loved her? And it’s like...where did this come from?? You were doing so well, writers, what happened?? It just...suddenly brought back all the awkwardness of season 1, except at least this time, he’s not acting on it. So instead it’s just weirdly angsty and 100% out of left field. (Also Quark loves her, which is random but less concerning to me cause at least it wasn’t reviving an abandoned plot point, like with Julian) (The Quark point isn’t relevant, but I just felt like saying it)

And that whole thing just put the biggest pit in my stomach, cause I knew about Ezri joining them in season 7 and I was just like “nooo pleeeease don’t get him together with Ezri”

Apparently I just live to be disappointed.

Full disclosure, I actually haven’t fully watched the scene where they get together, but my roommate did end up coming upon a scene of them together in bed, and I’m not that stupid. Bonus: I’m about 6 away from the end, and that in itself is kinda concerning, because now I’m double concerned that it’s gonna be rushed even worse than I thought it would. Because, as of now, she has had barely any contact with Julian, outside of just being part of the senior staff (aka being a main character). I can honestly only actively remember them having one conversation, which just existed for her to say that if Worf hadn’t shown up, then Jadzia would’ve chosen Julian. Which...okay...what now? Worf didn’t show up until season 5, wtf is this about? If Jadzia was actually in love with Julian, she would’ve done something about it. Jadzia Dax is NOT passive about what she wants, and it’s what makes her such a joy to watch. She’s even willing to act against her own culture out of her love for Lenara, despite hesitation because yeah, that’s a lot of risk. She’s willing to leave her friends to be with the dude she met in that weird world that blipped between universes. She acts with her heart and without fear, even in situations where there are barriers stopping her from doing what she wants. There was never such a barrier with her and Julian, so yeah, no, if she’d wanted him - truly wanted him - she would’ve gone for it.

The scene only exists for them to try and justify putting him together with Ezri, and it SUCKS on every conceivable level.

(Also yes, I know they have some other, normal conversations, but they’re never particularly interesting or impactful, so I don’t remember them, and that probably says something in and of itself)

For one, their lack of conversation and just...general shared screentime is so small that I can’t buy the idea that the two of them actually know each other that well. Even if they did bond off-screen, thus far, the show itself never actually gives any evidence of that while they ARE on screen. They have the same level of chemistry that Julian and Kira should have (although, strangely, the characters have much better chemistry than their screentime would seem to indicate but...well they were married IRL so...yeah). Friendly colleagues, but that’s really it. And yet, he’s gonna fall in love with her?

I don’t think so.

He’s in love with Jadzia (apparently. but that’s a different complaint, seen above). He’s in love with a past life of the Dax symbiont. That past life just happens to be contained now within Ezri, and it’s the only conceivable reason I have for why he’s interested in her at all. Realistically, had Ezri Tegan never become Ezri Dax, I doubt Julian would’ve had the same thoughts about her. Granted, people can meet by circumstance and fall in love - I’m not shitting on that idea - and I’m not implying that Julian is a dick by any means, but the show itself doesn’t give us any reason that he would fall for her. Like...what traits of Ezri does Julian find himself attracted to, aside from the fact she was once Jadzia? I don’t think the show ever actually gives any answer to that question. She may carry some shades of Jadzia’s habits and idiosyncrasies and such, because that’s how joined Trill work, but she’s also very much still Ezri. And, for the sake of her character, that should be really important? So, frankly, it’s actually just...really insulting to Ezri? That she’s not loved for who she is, but who the Dax host was. And that’s honestly just awful.

And I actually just thought of this while writing this post and complaining about that one conversation, but it also sucks for Julian a bit, too? Like, the way Ezri phrases that one line - “If Worf hadn’t come along, it would’ve been you” - it feels to me like he was very much the second choice. And...would that not feel awful to be told that? Basically that you were someone else’s back-up plan. I mean, I can’t speak from experience, but I can’t imagine that feels good. And plus, now he knows that Jadzia apparently had those feelings for him, which Ezri now carries with her. Which...wouldn’t something about that just feel wrong? These aren’t Ezri’s feelings exactly; she’s just stuck with them. And Julian is fundamentally a good person who has some idea of how the Trill work; wouldn’t this be a little like he’s...not quite using her, but allowing her to act on feelings that aren’t actually, truly hers? So the situation ends up being that she might not really love him, not as Ezri, and that would really suck for both of them.

Granted, that’s not to say she couldn’t decide that on her own; she totally could, but the show hasn’t laid the groundwork for that. And it’s also not to discredit feelings that linger from past hosts. Jadzia and Lenara are drawn to each other because of Torias and Neilani, but they also do legitimately fall in love with the people they are now and bond over their shared interests in their present forms. Honestly, the show even makes this distinction? When Ezri and Worf are stuck together, they definitely sleep together, but the show makes it fairly clear that it’s pent up tension from the two of them not talking, combined with the fact he and Jadzia were newly married. I’m pretty sure they decide it’s not really something to pursue; it was just what happened out of old instincts, not out of actual love between the two people actually involved.

Mostly, I take issue because of the first sentence of that last paragraph. The show just never sets it up. If it showed her and Julian having chemistry, I’d have far fewer complaints about this. (For fuck’s sake, I think she had a deeper conversation with JORAN. THE MURDERER. Than she really did with Julian. Now that’s a problem)

Long story short: they really shouldn’t have kept trying to shoe-horn romance in for Julian. All of his stories work better without, particularly in the long-term. The chemistry is just...never there with his long-term potential partners the writers throw at him. He really does have the best chemistry with Miles and Garak. That’s all fantastic.

(Which is to also say: I get that it was the 90s but I really wish we could’ve gotten our disaster bi doctor and his lizard spy boyfriend. Just saying)

[readbookywooks]

PART II "THE ASSAULT"

10 The scream begins in my lower back and works its way up through my body only to jam in my throat. I am Avox mute, choking on my grief. Even if I could release the muscles in my neck, let the sound tear into space, would anyone notice it? The room's in an uproar. Questions and demands ring out as they try to decipher Peeta's words. "And you...in Thirteen...dead by morning!" Yet no one is asking about the messenger whose blood has been replaced by static. A voice calls the others to attention. "Shut up!" Every pair of eyes falls on Haymitch. "It's not some big mystery! The boy's telling us we're about to be attacked. Here. In Thirteen." "How would he have that information?" "Why should we trust him?" "How do you know?" Haymitch gives a growl of frustration. "They're beating him bloody while we speak. What more do you need? Katniss, help me out here!" I have to give myself a shake to free my words. "Haymitch's right. I don't know where Peeta got the information. Or if it's true. But he believes it is. And they're - "  I can't say aloud what Snow's doing to him. "You don't know him," Haymitch says to Coin. "We do. Get your people ready." The president doesn't seem alarmed, only somewhat perplexed, by this turn in events. She mulls over the words, tapping one finger lightly on the rim of the control board in front of her. When she speaks, she addresses Haymitch in an even voice. "Of course, we have prepared for such a scenario. Although we have decades of support for the assumption that further direct attacks on Thirteen would be counterproductive to the Capitol's cause. Nuclear missiles would release radiation into the atmosphere, with incalculable environmental results. Even routine bombing could badly damage our military compound, which we know they hope to regain. And, of course, they invite a counterstrike. It is conceivable that, given our current alliance with the rebels, those would be viewed as acceptable risks." "You think so?" says Haymitch. It's a shade too sincere, but the subtleties of irony are often wasted in13. "I do. At any rate, we're overdue for a Level Five security drill," says Coin. "Let's proceed with the lockdown." She begins to type rapidly on her keyboard, authorizing her decision. The moment she raises her head, it begins. There have been two low-level drills since I arrived in 13. I don't remember much about the first. I was in intensive care in the hospital and I think the patients were exempted, as the complications of removing us for a practice drill outweighed the benefits. I was vaguely aware of a mechanical voice instructing people to congregate in yellow zones. During the second, a Level Two drill meant for minor crises - such as a temporary quarantine while citizens were tested for contagion during a flu outbreak - we were supposed to return to our living quarters. I stayed behind a pipe in the laundry room, ignored the pulsating beeps coming over the audio system, and watched a spider construct a web. Neither experience has prepared me for the wordless, eardrum-piercing, fear-inducing sirens that now permeate 13. There would be no disregarding this sound, which seems designed to throw the whole population into a frenzy. But this is 13 and that doesn't happen. Boggs guides Finnick and me out of Command, along the hall to a doorway, and onto a wide stairway. Streams of people are converging to form a river that flows only downward. No one shrieks or tries to push ahead. Even the children don't resist. We descend, flight after flight, speechless, because no word could be heard above this sound. I look for my mother and Prim, but it's impossible to see anyone but those immediately around me. They're both working in the hospital tonight, though, so there's no way they can miss the drill. My ears pop and my eyes feel heavy. We are coal-mine deep. The only plus is that the farther we retreat into the earth, the less shrill the sirens become. It's as if they were meant to physically drive us away from the surface, which I suppose they are. Groups of people begin to peel off into marked doorways and still Boggs directs me downward, until finally the stairs end at the edge of an enormous cavern. I start to walk straight in and Boggs stops me, shows me that I must wave my schedule in front of a scanner so that I'm accounted for. No doubt the information's going to some computer somewhere to make sure no one's gone astray. The place seems unable to decide if it's natural or man-made. Certain areas of the walls are stone, while steel beams and concrete heavily reinforce others. Sleeping bunks are hewn right into the rock walls. There's a kitchen, bathrooms, a first-aid station. This place was designed for an extended stay. White signs with letters or numbers are placed at intervals around the cavern. As Boggs tells Finnick and me to report to the area that matches our assigned quarters - in my case E for Compartment E - Plutarch strolls up. "Ah, here you are," he says. Recent events have had little effect on Plutarch's mood. He still has a happy glow from Beetee's success on the Airtime Assault. Eyes on the forest, not on the trees. Not on Peeta's punishment or 13's imminent blasting. "Katniss, obviously this is a bad moment for you, what with Peeta's setback, but you need to be aware that others will be watching you." "What?" I say. I can't believe he actually just downgraded Peeta's dire circumstances to a setback. "The other people in the bunker, they'll be taking their cue on how to react from you. If you're calm and brave, others will try to be as well. If you panic, it could spread like wildfire," explains Plutarch. I just stare at him. "Fire is catching, so to speak," he continues, as if I'm being slow on the uptake. "Why don't I just pretend I'm on camera, Plutarch?" I say. "Yes! Perfect. One is always much braver with an audience," he says. "Look at the courage Peeta just displayed!" It's all I can do not to slap him. "I've got to get back to Coin before lockdown. You keep up the good work!" he says, and then heads off. I cross to the big letter E posted on the wall. Our space consists of a twelve-by-twelve-foot square of stone floor delineated by painted lines. Carved into the wall are two bunks - one of us will be sleeping on the floor - and a ground-level cube space for storage. A piece of white paper, coated in clear plastic, reads BUNKERPROTOCOL . I stare fixedly at the little black specks on the sheet. For a while, they're obscured by the residual blood droplets that I can't seem to wipe from my vision. Slowly, the words come into focus. The first section is entitled "On Arrival." 1. Make sure all members of your Compartment are accounted for. My mother and Prim haven't arrived, but I was one of the first people to reach the bunker. Both of them are probably helping to relocate hospital patients. 2. Go to the Supply Station and secure one pack for each member of your Compartment. Ready your Living Area. Return pack(s). I scan the cavern until I locate the Supply Station, a deep room set off by a counter. People wait behind it, but there's not a lot of activity there yet. I walk over, give our compartment letter, and request three packs. A man checks a sheet, pulls the specified packs from shelving, and swings them up onto the counter. After sliding one on my back and getting a grip on the other two with my hands, I turn to find a group rapidly forming behind me. "Excuse me," I say as I carry my supplies through the others. Is it a matter of timing? Or is Plutarch right? Are these people modeling their behavior on mine? Back at our space, I open one of the packs to find a thin mattress, bedding, two sets of gray clothing, a toothbrush, a comb, and a flashlight. On examining the contents of the other packs, I find the only discernible difference is that they contain both gray and white outfits. The latter will be for my mother and Prim, in case they have medical duties. After I make up the beds, store the clothes, and return the backpacks, I've got nothing to do but observe the last rule. 3. Await further instructions. I sit cross-legged on the floor to await. A steady flow of people begins to fill the room, claiming spaces, collecting supplies. It won't take long until the place is full up. I wonder if my mother and Prim are going to stay the night at wherever the hospital patients have been taken. But, no, I don't think so. They were on the list here. I'm starting to get anxious, when my mother appears. I look behind her into a sea of strangers. "Where's Prim?" I ask. "Isn't she here?" she replies. "She was supposed to come straight down from the hospital. She left ten minutes before I did. Where is she? Where could she have gone?" I squeeze my lids shut tight for a moment, to track her as I would prey on a hunt. See her react to the sirens, rush to help the patients, nod as they gesture for her to descend to the bunker, and then hesitate with her on the stairs. Torn for a moment. But why? My eyes fly open. "The cat! She went back for him!" "Oh, no," my mother says. We both know I'm right. We're pushing against the incoming tide, trying to get out of the bunker. Up ahead, I can see them preparing to shut the thick metal doors. Slowly rotating the metal wheels on either side inward. Somehow I know that once they have been sealed, nothing in the world will convince the soldiers to open them. Perhaps it will even be beyond their control. I'm indiscriminately shoving people aside as I shout for them to wait. The space between the doors shrinks to a yard, a foot; there are only a few inches left when I jam my hand through the crack. "Open it! Let me out!" I cry. Consternation shows on the soldiers' faces as they reverse the wheels a bit. Not enough to let me pass, but enough to avoid crushing my fingers. I take the opportunity to wedge my shoulder into the opening. "Prim!" I holler up the stairs. My mother pleads with the guards as I try to wriggle my way out. "Prim!" Then I hear it. The faint sound of footsteps on the stairs. "We're coming!" I hear my sister call. "Hold the door!" That was Gale. "They're coming!" I tell the guards, and they slide the doors open about a foot. But I don't dare move - afraid they'll lock us all out - until Prim appears, her cheeks flushed with running, hauling Buttercup. I pull her inside and Gale follows, twisting an armload of baggage sideways to get it into the bunker. The doors are closed with a loud and final clank. "What were you thinking?" I give Prim an angry shake and then hug her, squashing Buttercup between us. Prim's explanation is already on her lips. "I couldn't leave him behind, Katniss. Not twice. You should have seen him pacing the room and howling. He'd come back to protect us." "Okay. Okay." I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. "I should've drowned you when I had the chance." His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt. In retaliation, he gives a helpless kitten mew that brings my sister immediately to his defense. "Oh, Katniss, don't tease him," she says, folding him back in her arms. "He's already so upset." The idea that I've wounded the brute's tiny cat feelings just invites further taunting. But Prim's genuinely distressed for him. So instead, I visualize Buttercup's fur lining a pair of gloves, an image that has helped me deal with him over the years. "Okay, sorry. We're under the bigE on the wall. Better get him settled in before he loses it." Prim hurries off, and I find myself face-to-face with Gale. He's holding the box of medical supplies from our kitchen in 12. Site of our last conversation, kiss, fallout, whatever. My game bag's slung across his shoulder. "If Peeta's right, these didn't stand a chance," he says. Peeta. Blood like raindrops on the window. Like wet mud on boots. "Thanks for...everything." I take our stuff. "What were you doing up in our rooms?" "Just double-checking," he says. "We're in Forty-Seven if you need me." Practically everyone withdrew to their spaces when the doors shut, so I get to cross to our new home with at least five hundred people watching me. I try to appear extra calm to make up for my frantic crashing through the crowd. Like that's fooling anyone. So much for setting an example. Oh, who cares? They all think I'm nuts anyway. One man, who I think I knocked to the floor, catches my eye and rubs his elbow resentfully. I almost hiss at him, too. Prim has Buttercup installed on the lower bunk, draped in a blanket so that only his face pokes out. This is how he likes to be when there's thunder, the one thing that actually frightens him. My mother puts her box carefully in the cube. I crouch, my back supported by the wall, to check what Gale managed to rescue in my hunting bag. The plant book, the hunting jacket, my parents' wedding photo, and the personal contents of my drawer. My mockingjay pin now lives with Cinna's outfit, but there's the gold locket and the silver parachute with the spile and Peeta's pearl. I knot the pearl into the corner of the parachute, bury it deep in the recesses of the bag, as if it's Peeta's life and no one can take it away as long as I guard it. The faint sound of the sirens cuts off sharply. Coin's voice comes over the district audio system, thanking us all for an exemplary evacuation of the upper levels. She stresses that this is not a drill, as Peeta Mellark, the District 12 victor, has possibly made a televised reference to an attack on 13 tonight. That's when the first bomb hits. There's an initial sense of impact followed by an explosion that resonates in my innermost parts, the lining of my intestines, the marrow of my bones, the roots of my teeth.We're all going to die, I think. My eyes turn upward, expecting to see giant cracks race across the ceiling, massive chunks of stone raining down on us, but the bunker itself gives only a slight shudder. The lights go out and I experience the disorientation of total darkness. Speechless human sounds - spontaneous shrieks, ragged breaths, baby whimpers, one musical bit of insane laughter - dance around in the charged air. Then there's a hum of a generator, and a dim wavering glow replaces the stark lighting that is the norm in 13. It's closer to what we had in our homes in 12, when the candles and fire burned low on a winter's night. I reach for Prim in the twilight, clamp my hand on her leg, and pull myself over to her. Her voice remains steady as she croons to Buttercup. "It's all right, baby, it's all right. We'll be okay down here." My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder. "That was nothing like the bombs in Eight," I say. "Probably a bunker missile," says Prim, keeping her voice soothing for the cat's sake. "We learned about them during the orientation for new citizens. They're designed to penetrate deep in the ground before they go off. Because there's no point in bombing Thirteen on the surface anymore." "Nuclear?" I ask, feeling a chill run through me. "Not necessarily," says Prim. "Some just have a lot of explosives in them. But...it could be either kind, I guess." The gloom makes it hard to see the heavy metal doors at the end of the bunker. Would they be any protection against a nuclear attack? And even if they were one hundred percent effective at sealing out the radiation, which is really unlikely, would we ever be able to leave this place? The thought of spending whatever remains of my life in this stone vault horrifies me. I want to run madly for the door and demand to be released into whatever lies above. It's pointless. They would never let me out, and I might start some kind of stampede. "We're so far down, I'm sure we're safe," says my mother wanly. Is she thinking of my father's being blown to nothingness in the mines? "It was a close call, though. Thank goodness Peeta had the wherewithal to warn us." The wherewithal. A general term that somehow includes everything that was needed for him to sound the alarm. The knowledge, the opportunity, the courage. And something else I can't define. Peeta seemed to have been waging a sort of battle in his mind, fighting to get the message out. Why? The ease with which he manipulates words is his greatest talent. Was his difficulty a result of his torture? Something more? Like madness? Coin's voice, perhaps a shade grimmer, fills the bunker, the volume level flickering with the lights. "Apparently, Peeta Mellark's information was sound and we owe him a great debt of gratitude. Sensors indicate the first missile was not nuclear, but very powerful. We expect more will follow. For the duration of the attack, citizens are to stay in their assigned areas unless otherwise notified." A soldier alerts my mother that she's needed in the first-aid station. She's reluctant to leave us, even though she'll only be thirty yards away. "We'll be fine, really," I tell her. "Do you think anything could get past him?" I point to Buttercup, who gives me such a halfhearted hiss, we all have to laugh a little. Even I feel sorry for him. After my mother goes, I suggest, "Why don't you climb in with him, Prim?" "I know it's silly...but I'm afraid the bunk might collapse on us during the attack," she says. If the bunks collapse, the whole bunker will have given way and buried us, but I decide this kind of logic won't actually be helpful. Instead, I clean out the storage cube and make Buttercup a bed inside. Then I pull a mattress in front of it for my sister and me to share. We're given clearance in small groups to use the bathroom and brush our teeth, although showering has been canceled for the day. I curl up with Prim on the mattress, double layering the blankets because the cavern emits a dank chill. Buttercup, miserable even with Prim's constant attention, huddles in the cube and exhales cat breath in my face. Despite the disagreeable conditions, I'm glad to have time with my sister. My extreme preoccupation since I came here - no, since the first Games, really - has left little attention for her. I haven't been watching over her the way I should, the way I used to. After all, it was Gale who checked our compartment, not me. Something to make up for. I realize I've never even bothered to ask her about how she's handling the shock of coming here. "So, how are you liking Thirteen, Prim?" I offer. "Right now?" she asks. We both laugh. "I miss home badly sometimes. But then I remember there's nothing left to miss anymore. I feel safer here. We don't have to worry about you. Well, not the same way." She pauses, and then a shy smile crosses her lips. "I think they're going to train me to be a doctor." It's the first I've heard of it. "Well, of course, they are. They'd be stupid not to." "They've been watching me when I help out in the hospital. I'm already taking the medic courses. It's just beginner's stuff. I know a lot of it from home. Still, there's plenty to learn," she tells me. "That's great," I say. Prim a doctor. She couldn't even dream of it in 12. Something small and quiet, like a match being struck, lights up the gloom inside me. This is the sort of future a rebellion could bring. "What about you, Katniss? How are you managing?" Her fingertip moves in short, gentle strokes between Buttercup's eyes. "And don't say you're fine." It's true. Whatever the opposite of fine is, that's what I am. So I go ahead and tell her about Peeta, his deterioration on-screen, and how I think they must be killing him at this very moment. Buttercup has to rely on himself for a while, because now Prim turns her attention to me. Pulling me closer, brushing the hair back behind my ears with her fingers. I've stopped talking because there's really nothing left to say and there's this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I'm even having a heart attack, but it doesn't seem worth mentioning. "Katniss, I don't think President Snow will kill Peeta," she says. Of course, she says this; it's what she thinks will calm me. But her next words come as a surprise. "If he does, he won't have anyone left you want. He won't have any way to hurt you." Suddenly, I am reminded of another girl, one who had seen all the evil the Capitol had to offer. Johanna Mason, the tribute from District 7, in the last arena. I was trying to prevent her from going into the jungle where the jabberjays mimicked the voices of loved ones being tortured, but she brushed me off, saying, "They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love." Then I know Prim is right, that Snow cannot afford to waste Peeta's life, especially now, while the Mockingjay causes so much havoc. He's killed Cinna already. Destroyed my home. My family, Gale, and even Haymitch are out of his reach. Peeta's all he has left. "So, what do you think they'll do to him?" I ask. Prim sounds about a thousand years old when she speaks. "Whatever it takes to break you."