#PLEASE i love when a character is powerful but has to fake normalcy and then fucking FAILS i LOVE IT
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I think Danny should get to be in more situations where he can’t use his ghost powers. I also think that suppressing this half of him ought to make more ghostly features appear on his human-self. Longer teeth, difficulty recording him on camera, tapetum lucidum and silent footsteps. He doesn't blink enough. He doesn't always breathe. If you sit too long in a room with him, you'll get a ringing in your ear.
Danny’s still a good kid! Kind and helpful and funny, there's just something about him that’s just a little too far to the left.
#he's sweet! he's just also So Unnerving like he can't help but be creepy#danny phantom#kipthought#PLEASE i love when a character is powerful but has to fake normalcy and then fucking FAILS i LOVE IT#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny fenton
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What do you think some of Paul Dano's characters kinks are?
ooh, good question... very good question!
Riddler/Edward Nashton
bondage, obviously. depending on the nature of the relationship, I could see him being against using the duct tape on you, though; that's for bad people, not you, you're his angel.
orgasm control, but not necessarily orgasm denial. he makes you wait until he says you can come, he loves hearing you beg, but he doesn't have the heart to outright deny you. he feels so powerful knowing he can make you come and he's not going to rob both of you of that joy.
housewife kink. he craves that normalcy and stability he never had, he wants to see you in the kitchen wearing a ring and greeting him when he gets home; he loves the idea of a sweet, submissive wife who just wants to make her husband happy.
Eli Sunday
(paul himself has said eli is his kinkiest character...)
which is why I think he'd be into breeding, even though he might not be in a position to admit the child is his. I've thought about writing a fic where Eli "cures" the reader's infertility by knocking her up and letting her sterile-and-in-denial husband believe it's his kid, but that's another story...
after all, he's not a Catholic or anything, he's allowed to marry (his own father is the previous pastor, after all, so clearly a wife and children are permitted... they just have to meet the standards of the community). and if the object of his affection isn't someone he should be with, I think he'd be into semi-public sex. the risk of getting caught isn't just about the thrill for him, it's about the power, knowing he's getting away with his double life.
obvious from the fic I already wrote, but Eli definitely has an innocence kink. he spends his days tricking well-meaning people into believing in his delusions, so he should spend his nights the same way, shouldn't he? telling you this is what good girls do, this is how you can dedicate your life to christ, promising riches in heaven in return for pleasing him. the act of fooling you is almost as good as fucking you.
Klitz
marking/hickies. he loves seeing you walk around campus (could be high school or college lol) the next day with proof that you two have been fooling around. normally he's pretty shy, but that makes his marks on you even better because he can have a little claim over you without having to say anything.
sexting and phone sex. something about the digital element, of just having your words or voice and no visuals or touch to stimulate him makes him even crazier when he finally gets to see you. this is one of those things he wouldn't realize he liked until it happened out of necessity; you called him while away on a trip, things got steamy, and soon enough it became your new favorite habit and you started doing it even when you were just a few blocks away and could just as easily meet up in person. sometimes Klitz gets self-conscious, and it's nice to be able to enjoy some fun with you without having to worry about being looked at, or embarrassing himself, or not making you come.
ironically, I think he might like making a sextape... even though he's the least interested in porn of any of his friends, he's still seen and enjoyed it. problem is, so much of it is fake and cringy and even sexist, that's not the kind of thing he's into; what he is into is making you feel good, and preserving those moments on tape is amazing. watching it and seeing how it's nothing like those fake pornos makes his heart swell (and his dick). just gotta be careful that his buddies don't get their hands on it...
Percy Dolarhyde
come play of basically any kind. he wants to see it dripping out of you, covering your face, filling your mouth... he'll even eat it out of you, he's not above that. it's his way of marking you, and he has a habit of filling you up and not letting you get very clean before you leave so he gets to imagine his come running down your legs for the rest of the day.
oral sex; it might not be a kink per se these days, but back then it was quite taboo and technically a bit dangerous... aka, exactly up Percy's alley. he loves your dedication to him shown in something just a bit degrading, in choosing to get on your knees for him and stick your tongue out to take his cock down your throat. you get good with practice, and he's happy to teach you.
finally, I think he'd like having a sugar baby, considering he's well off. keeping your attention with gifts, mostly candies and dresses but occasionally jewelry, makes him feel like he's got the upper hand; he loves the way you get shy when he gives you something expensive, polite and gracious, and he knows you feel indebted to him after getting something nice. you always say something about how you can't make it up to him or you feel guilty or you wish you could give him something that nice: he always tells you don't worry baby, you can... I'll show you what you can do for me.
(also he likes to spit in your mouth and probably be called 'daddy' but we don't even have time to get into that...)
Louis Ives
I can see them being into voyeurism, loving to watch you from afar... or rather, being too afraid to do much else. For a long time, the relationship between you two would exist entirely in Louis' imagination, a fantasy about holding hands and sharing picnics and cuddling in bed and reading quietly together in the living room... yes, it's pretty domestic, but it's sweet. and it has its raunchier moments, late at night, especially after catching a glimpse of you undressing in your apartment.
praise kink, massively so... Louis needs to be told how good they are, how pretty and sweet and smart and just so very good. they'll come in no time once you start letting the praise flow, and if you praise them for that too, they'll be ready to go again pretty quickly as well!
I also think Louis would really enjoy pet play, maybe being a good puppy or a sweet little bunny. regardless, they'd be so obedient if a bit impatient, and absolutely love wearing a collar and feeling owned. it's not meant to be degrading, it's about being loved and pampered and getting lots of petting and head scratches... submission without debasement, so to speak. a little mocking for how needy and horny they are all the time wouldn't be unwelcome, though.
(oh, also, pegging. duh.)
Brian Weathersby
this might seem random, but I think Brian likes degradation, as in he likes being degraded. not super aggressive, just being playfully teased for being naughty or perverted, for getting turned on too easily, for being totally whipped for you. ironically, he hates when his friends make fun of him for his relationship with you, but it's okay when you do it... mainly because you're doing it while you lick his cock all over and make him beg for more.
sensory deprivation in the form of a blindfold would be fun for either of you; on him, it makes everything a little more thrilling since he has no idea what you're going to do next. normally, you like to exploit that sense of anticipation and tease him, but you can't do that as well if he can't see what you're about to do. that said you still find ways to tease him with the blindfold on, like only putting the tip inside or kissing all around his thighs. meanwhile, when he puts the blindfold on you, he gets to really enjoy and explore your body with more control than he usually has. your stare can be intimidating, some days it's easier to just cover it until he's ready.
finally, somnophilia is interesting to him, specifically either of you waking the other up with sex (he wouldn't want you to stay asleep through the whole thing, that would make him a bit worried about how bad he was at it). maybe it's because he was forced to learn a lot about sleep for his job, but for some reason he thinks it's sexy to wake up to your mouth already on him. it's even better when he cuddles up behind you while you're dreaming and slips his cock inside you, waiting for the stimulation to finally wake you up until you moan and tell him to keep going, spread your legs a little wider... in the middle of the night, you're slightly less dominant and so it usually starts slow and sweet but it can end even more rough and aggressive than usual.
Jay (Okja)
cockwarming. he wants you in his lap, keeping him warm while he works on something or just reads a book; some days it's just to relax, others he's specifically trying to drive you crazy. really, he's just impressed at how wet you get from just a half hour of that, and when you finally get to actually fucking, neither of you takes very long at all.
he also likes overstimulation, specifically overstimulating you. you build a resilience over time, no longer needing to safeword after just one or two, and he always praises for how well you're doing. that said, he makes you keep count, and if you make a mistake or forget, he has to start from the beginning all over again...
free use, mutually; he loves the loyalty and dedication you have for each other, the one that lets him come in and, without saying a word, bend you over or pull you into his lap and know that he can do what he wishes with you. similarly, you're always free to drag him to bed and ride him until you're satisfied, and seeing you take control of your own pleasure is so sexy to him. you were probably shy about it at first, meaning he got to watch you become more and more comfortable with needing him, which made it even better.
#paul dano x reader#edward nashton x reader#jay okja x reader#brian weathersby x reader#klitz x reader#louis ives x reader#percy dolarhyde x reader#eli sunday x reader
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Ready for zombies, Zoro, and some hurt/comfort? Then take a swig of this potion for @quirkyseastone ‘s “Brew a Love Potion” event! (But please read the warnings first!)
Characters: Zoro x Reader; appearance by Bartholomew Kuma
Genre: Zombie/Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort (a bit light on the comfort though, woops)
TW/CW: Violence, guns and swords, blood, light gore, mentions of cannibalism, undead bodies
Inspiration: The concept for zombies in this fic is inspired by the novel Breathers by S.G. Browne (at least, what I remember from having read it over 10 years ago...)
Word Count: ~3.1k words
...
"Hold still, we're almost..." You apply the last bit of blush before appraising your handiwork. Not bad, if you said so yourself. At a glance, Zoro doesn't even look dead. "There. Want a mirror to see?"
"I trust you not to doll me up too bad." Roronoa Zoro yawns, even though the legendary zombie hunter no longer needs to sleep, having recently been turned into a zombie himself. Which, contrary to popular belief, is not in and of itself a death sentence. Most zombies act as they did in life, even if their bodies no longer recover the way a living human's does. The danger comes from the zombies who try to stop this decay by feasting on human brains...and sometimes more dangerous are the humans who've decided that every zombie is a ticking time bomb regardless of said zombie's intentions.
At least Zoro had never been that way, but now he's got to hide from the hunters who once considered him a legend. Sure, it wouldn't be hard for him to fight off hunters, even if you've had to stitch each limb back on at least twice (and you're still not sure where one of his eyes ended up). But you'd rather your newfound partner in protecting innocent zombies not cause a scene simply by walking through the market.
"Remember, don't rub your face. This makeup cost me a fortune. And try to fake breathing this time, okay?"
"Yeah yeah, I got it." He manages to take a breath that's believable but isn't so deep that it rattles the loose bones and organs in his slowly decaying chest.
Both of you get to your feet and finish the rest of your preparations for the outside world. Your clothing hides as much skin as possible, even with the warm temperatures outside. You spray Zoro down with cheap cologne so he smells less like roadkill and more like a teenager trying to cover up a bad case of B.O. And you slip on filtration masks in a vain attempt to avoid the ever-present smoke and dust beyond your walls.
No one's sure if the zombies came about because of the bombs, or if the bombs were secretly launched because the powers-that-be learned about the first nascent zombies and failed with their pre-emptive strike. But now much of the world is a wasteland, and bargaining for resources is bad enough without half the population lobbing accusations of cannibalism at the other half. You can't hold off this trip any longer, because you've ended up looking after a number of innocent zombies, and they need medical supplies before they fall apart any further.
You shoo Zoro away from the driver's spot on your motorbike. "Nuh uh buddy, we aren't getting lost today." You've heard a new band of hunters is coming to town, and the last thing you want is to run into them before you have a chance to secure your supplies.
"I don't get lost! They just keep changing where the market is." Zoro still reluctantly waits for you to take your place at the front before he sits behind you and firmly snakes his arms around your waist. You pretend you can feel his pulse when he holds you, even though you know the heart in his chest has long stopped beating.
Markets are supposed to be neutral ground. Everyone needs resources to survive after all, and one of the few things that bombs and zombie outbreaks couldn't kill is commerce. Stalls line the aisles of what was once a grocery store, faded advertisements promoting foods that no one's seen in years, and someone has fixed the speaker system to play the same old pop hits in a vain attempt at normalcy.
You hold tight to Zoro's hand, both to keep him from getting lost and so he stays close in case of danger. He obliges, and even holds bags for you as you pull him around. You might've called this romantic in the times before, back when your purchases would've been far more frivolous than bandages and shelf-stable rations, but you're unsure how close you and Zoro would've been without being thrown together by circumstance.
You pause by one stall, eyes wide. Zoro doesn't notice and keeps walking until he notices that you won't budge. He raises an eyebrow when he finally joins you. "What, some kinda' plastic plant?"
"Not plastic. It's real." You forgive him the mistake though, as the plant has sturdy, waxy leaves that almost look sculpted. It feels like so long since you've seen anything green (aside from Zoro's hair), much less an actual plant. But you note the name scribbled in tape on its battered plastic pot. It's nothing useful, not medicinal or edible in the slightest. Just a begonia that hasn't even bloomed yet.
The shopkeeper asks, "Gonna gawk, or you gonna' buy?"
You know you can't afford a plant, what with how rare they are. You might be able to bargain and beg if it were something more useful, but...
"We'll buy." Zoro slams something down on the table. "This'll be enough?"
You catch the glint of gold peeking from between his fingers. Jewelry isn't useful anymore, but human greed has a hard time giving up old habits. The shopkeeper smiles wide and practically shoves the begonia at you with one hand while snatching up Zoro's earring with the other. You thank him and depart the stall without another word, clutching the flower close to your chest.
"What was that about?" You hiss at Zoro.
"Looked like you wanted it," he says with a shrug. You squint up at his remaining earrings, only to realize that in his haste to remove the one he traded away, he tore the hole in his ear a little in the process. Probably didn't even notice that he'd done so, the stubborn fool...
Well, what's done is done. "Thank you. I'll make sure to take excellent care of it."
"Don't mention it." Which you know is Zoro-speak for "you're welcome". So you smile back at him without saying anything more on the subject, and continue the rest of your trek through the market.
You make the mistake of thinking this is a surprisingly nice day. But you don't realize that someone has noticed how Zoro isn't bleeding.
When Zoro pulls out one sword and tightens his grip around your midsection, you don't have to ask why. You're being followed.
You absently wonder what gave you away. Never removing your masks? A smudge in Zoro's makeup that revealed the deathly pallor underneath? It doesn't really matter, you think. Whoever is after you will chase you down until they can swing their weapons and play at being heroes, so all you can do is fight on your own terms. You avoid going home and swerve the bike toward the burned-out husk of an abandoned store that not even the most desperate zombies would hide in.
You glance at the tilted rearview mirror on your bike. The figures chasing you are hulking brutes, but nothing compared to their ringleader. He's built like a brick house with legs, and his imposing figure is thrown off by the pristine white hat topped with small bear ears. Instead of a holstered weapon, he has a bible strapped to his side. You've heard of this man. Judging by the look in Zoro's eyes, he does too. One of the most notorious zombie hunters in the country: Bartholomew Kuma.
What is he doing here, of all places?
Zoro says, "Soon as we touch down, hide. It's me they want."
"I can't just leave you. You know who that is back there?"
"Doesn't matter. I already died once. They can't do worse than that to me. But they could still hurt you plenty. 'Specially if you came back before they were done with you." In the rearview mirror, Zoro's eyes are sharp and cold as his blades.
You know how to handle a weapon in self-defense, but you're nowhere near the master that Zoro is. And he has a point. You're still human, you can bleed, you can hurt. And that might chew Zoro up worse than anything Kuma and crew could throw at him. You resign yourself to your fate and think of where in that burnt-out building you might be able to hide, preferably while still keeping an ear out for danger.
You speed on, trying to shake your pursuers, but soon the road runs out. The bones of burnt buildings jut out before you like oversized tombstones. You remember scouting here before, trying to usher out displaced zombies before the remnants of the building could collapse on them. Much of the ruins have fallen since you were last here, but there's still a concrete bunker that was once a stockroom, and it's mostly intact. You can lay low there until the fighting's over.
You relay this plan to Zoro, and you tell him, "I'll be safe there, don't worry about me. Once the fighting's done, I'll come back down and patch you up. So don't die on me again, alright?"
Zoro nods, even though he surely knows the claim is more for your comfort than anything. He's a zombie, after all, and they don't heal the way humans do unless they devour human brains. He won't bleed, but if he looses a limb, or even his head? There's nothing you can do to fix that. And to be honest, you're not sure if that'll do him in, or if he'd continue living in pieces. You don't want to find out.
You park. And you know you should hit the ground running, but your heart is hammering in your chest. You turn to Zoro as he pulls out his blades.
You quickly put your warm hands on his cold cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. You two never attached words to what's simmered under the surface for so long, but in case of the worst...you couldn't handle him not knowing how you truly felt. He blinks as you pull away, briefly stunned. You wonder if he'd blush if he could.
You run into the burnt-out husk of a building. The touch of your lips on Zoro's is replaced by a sword between his teeth.
In another lifetime, before people stopped dying right and the world went to hell over it, this building was a clothing store. You shopped here for outfits you haven't seen in years. Once, a friend who worked here snuck you into the back room, and you ate cheap takeout while surrounded by wall-to-ceiling racks of clothing and shoes. If you took time to wipe away the dust, you might still find graffiti left by the workers during their final shifts. You wonder if your friend left one.
You cannot look because you are huddled on a shelf and trying not to make a sound. The shelves are sturdy metal and easy to climb even without the rolling ladder. You're hidden high above the heads of anyone who might come in and pressed against a wall. No one should find you here.
For awhile, you heard sounds from outside. Speaking at first, though you couldn't make out what was being said. Then battle, swords colliding and guns firing. Screams. Then...nothing. You don't know if it's safe to come out. You'll find out soon. There are footsteps approaching.
A voice you do not recognize says your name.
"Roronoa Zoro is dead. Again. I am sorry that it had to happen." Heavy footfalls contrast a voice that is soft, almost even kind. "I understand why you might want to save him. You've built quite a reputation for that, you know. But I'm afraid it ends here. We cannot allow you to keep any more abominations alive. You understand that is what they are, don't you?"
You know he's trying to goad you into revealing yourself. It takes everything in your power to hold still and silent.
Metal crumples nearby with a shrill squeal, as if it could protest its false bones being broken.
"If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?"
The question throws you off guard, almost enough for sound to escape your lips.
"We do not have to kill you. All the government wants is to talk. If you cooperate, you'll be transported somewhere safe. Free of zombies, even." More metal crumples, and you wonder how Kuma is doing it. Does he have a weapon, or is he strong enough to break the storage shelves with his bare hands? "All you have to do is come willingly, and when we're done, you can go wherever you'd like, and you'll be kept safe."
But the only place you can think of is home. With Zoro. No matter what might come after you there.
The shelf under you shifts, and your body spasms as if you fell in a dream and awoke with your mind still lurching. You reach for anything to grab onto, but your fingers only touch air. (For the briefest instance, you spy graffiti drawn by a familiar hand upon the wall.)
You do not immediately recognize the feel of the arms, because they are warm and pulsing with life. You stare up at Zoro's face in disbelief. He's missing an eye and his face is smeared with blood, mouth drawn in a thin line.
"You survived," Kuma intones softly. "You ate them." And you wish you could refute him, but even before he spoke, you knew it to be true. Zoro's bloody fingers dig into your clothes to hold you tight. You hear his heartbeat for the first time, and it rarely skips a beat. Kuma says, "Let your friend down, Roronoa. You don't want to do this."
"Think I'm some mindless cannibal? Think again." Zoro sets you down and looks you dead in the eye. "Told you I wouldn't die. And neither will you. Now, get out of here." Half a second before returning his sword to his mouth, his tongue flickers over his blood-stained lips. "Hurry!"
You do as he asks and flee to the doorway of the building. You know you should run to the motorcycle and drive out of here, but there are two problems with that. One is how you don't want to leave Zoro again. The other is that even if you admit the truth to yourself, that he finally gave in and consumed the brains of his enemies like the zombies he used to put down...you don't want to turn around and see what he did to the corpses of Kuma's followers.
The fight is swift and brutal. You've seen Zoro fight before, but while he's normally a whirlwind with his blades, now he's a demonic torrent. Much as he tries to stick to his traditional fighting forms, they slip into more instinctual slashes when Kuma pushes back, and the only thing that keeps Zoro on top is sheer ferocity. He moves so fast, you swear he's slashing three times faster than a normal man, leaving the afterimages of a three-faced demon. (You've heard rumors of zombies growing entirely new parts when they've eaten too much mortal flesh, but surely those are only rumors, survivors not understanding what they're seeing...)
Kuma is far quicker than his size would suggest. But even he begins to buckle. He blocks one blade with a bible far sturdier than it appears, and then lunges forward in a final desperate attack. Zoro braces to parry an attack, but is taken aback as no blow comes. Something metal and blinking is clasped onto his wrist.
"We will not meet again."
And Kuma is gone. You blink in surprise. You swore you didn't see him leave through the other holes in the building, didn't feel anyone pass you, and yet...
The normally composed swordsman growls as he sheathes his swords and tries to pry the blinking metal bangle (a tracking device, what else could it be?) off his arm. You want to approach him, but are unsure if you should; all you can do is watch as he uselessly paws at the bangle. Until he stops suddenly. You catch a glimpse of fresh crimson.
Zoro freezes as the reality of what he's done, what he's become, finally settles in. He's a statue slowly dripping red, most of which isn't his own. His breath shudders, and that too takes him off-guard. He sways where he stands, almost falling to his knees but somehow staying upright.
Before you can stop yourself, your feet carry you toward him, and you reach out. Your fingers brush against his back. He growls, "Don't. I'm not..."
"It doesn't matter what you are. You're still Zoro."
Gentle pushes at his shoulders turn him around so he faces you. His face has more color than you've ever seen, blood red and flesh pink and mottled blues and violets of bruises. His closed eyelid twitches as the eye underneath regenerates. How long will it be until all the color's gone, and electrical impulses run short to leave his heart to hang heavy and empty in his chest, and how much longer than that until he gets a taste for life again regardless of the cost?
That doesn't matter right now. The future looms taller and more frightening than Kuma, but right now, you're two scared humans in a broken warehouse. You wrap your arms around Zoro and pull him close.
For the briefest moment, you feel his mouth open, hear the click in his jaw. His teeth brush against your ear. You close your eyes and refuse to think about it.
His chin rests on your shoulder. Mouth closed. Arms wrap around you right and your hearts beat together, lungs scramble for air together, blood and worry (and tears, you think, but you're not sure whose) intermingle and crawl to a slow stop until only a numb and temporary peace remains.
"You'd be forgiven for walking away." His voice is raw and tired with the weight of living again and all that took.
"Maybe. But someone has to keep you from getting lost." You give him one final squeeze before letting him go. "Come on. Let's go home and get you cleaned up."
When morning comes, you'll have to face what the future holds for a brain-eating swordsman and the one who looks out for him despite it all. But tonight, the both of you are miraculously alive and breathing, and there's a green new plant in the window ready to soak up all the sunlight tomorrow can offer.
#seas brew a love potion challenge#opfanfic#roronoa zoro#zoro x reader#zombie au#hurt/comfort#bedlam writes
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Keeping a Secret - Part 2
pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs
genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn
warnings: lots of swear words, tsukki being a a closet softie
wc: 6k (lol no chill as always)
[a/n]
Sorry for the delayed update. I added almost 1k words just to solidify the characters to give depth even more to the story. Feel free to reread. (It's totally not because I started a different series altogether.)
When I say this is slow burn, I meant sloooooooowww burn.
Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. :)
AO3
Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist
What were you even thinking? Actually, why weren’t you? Had you used at least two brain cells of yours, you wouldn’t have momentarily lost your mind and kissed Tsukishima. You could’ve justified your actions if you were drunk, but you ingested not even an ounce of alcohol that night.
History will remember yesterday as the day a a sober you and a very displeased Tsukishima who found yourselves smooching publicly in the middle of a club. You’re just glad that no other member of the team goes to the same university you both go to. Else, you'd run the risk of getting seen.
Were so touch-deprived that you couldn’t resist even Tsukishima? And what about him? Why did he get along with it? You don’t think he actually hates you. Hate is such a strong word. He just exceedingly dislikes you. So why would he make out with you? Maybe he thought of it as a way of finally standing up to you?
Ugh.
You’re thankful that you didn’t have training yesterday. You were a mess the whole day trying to make sense of what happened. Not that you’re any better today; you’re still baffled as fuck. But you’re glad you had that day off so you wouldn’t have to face him immediately.
For the first time ever, you’re dreading going to the gym. Even if you’re tired or you lack sleep, you’ve never felt distressed as the manager of the Sendai Frogs. All this because of Tsukishima. But can you really put the blame on him when it was you who initiated it?
“Good morning, y/n,” Eiji, the captain of the team greets you.
“Morning, Eiji,” you say back. Even though he’s older than you, you dropped the salutations already, same with everybody else.
“You okay?” he asks worriedly.
“Oh! Yeah, absolutely! When am I ever not okay?” You toughen it up and erase the troublesome kiss in your head. You are their ever shining manager, first and foremost. Anything outside of that has no place in this gym.
“Never. It’s almost scary actually,” he answers with jest.
“Right? ‘Cause I’m a freaking goddess.”
He gives you a noble bow. “Indeed, you are, my lady.”
You giggle softly. Your players really are the best on and off the court (except for Tsukishima). “Go do your drills instead of buttering me up, ‘captain.’” He gives you a mock salute then jogs off towards the net.
“Y/n!”
You saunter off to your coach after you were called. “Yes, Coach?”
“Can you help tape the blockers?” You nod willingly, quickly discarding unnecessary thoughts of Tsukishima.
“Tsukishima’s free. Go start with him.”
You almost flinch upon hearing his name.
‘Great,’ you groan internally as you get the wrap from your kit and drag your feet toward the source of your uneasiness. But what did you expect? Of course, you’d have to deal with him sooner or later.
“Morning, Tsukishima,” you greet him with forced normalcy, acting like nothing’s wrong. As you take his left hand and you’re instantly reminded of what happened the other night -- how this hand gripped your waist while his mouth moved against yours… how his skin felt against the palm of your hand as he towered over you, body against body in a dance so dangerous and so hypnotizing that you lost yourself in the moment.
You tried your best to calm down yesterday, but seeing him right now makes you want to smack yourself from your momentary insanity that led you to kiss him.
Instead, you give him the nicest, brightest smile to channel your frustrations as you start taping his fingers. You just hope and pray that he doesn’t bring it up.
“Morning, manager .” It was an indirect jab at you. Even when he says it with a dead tone, you know he’s taunting you by addressing you as manager - a tortuous reminder that what happened last Saturday night wasn’t forgotten.
Instead of yielding to the provocation, you respond with your own. You might have messed up, but you’re not letting him get the upper hand. “How was your weekend, Tsukki?”
“Horrible,” he quickly answers without even thinking.
“Ditto. What happened to yours?” you ask with fake curiosity, already knowing why. Even if you didn’t kiss him then, he was already acting up like an angsty teen forced by his mom to attend a children’s party within the neighborhood.
“Went to a disgusting party.”
You nod pretentiously. “Mine’s horrible too. I got g-”
“I didn’t ask,” he interrupts.
“Well, you’re still going to hear it,” you respond just as distastefully as he cut you off. “I got groped by some perv, but I kinda punched some good manners unto him.” You release his left hand and take his right one to tape it as well.
“And?” He asks.
You shrug your shoulders. “That’s it. After that, I just went home from how horrible the experience was.”
You look up to him, meeting his sardonic gaze paired with a raised eyebrow from what you just said. You know that he understood that you were referring to something else other than the perv incident as horrible.
“How about you? What happened to that disgusting party of yours?” you press on.
“I bumped into someone I didn’t really want to see.”
“And?”
“Do you really wanna know how horrible it was for me?” A smirk creeps up on the corner of his mouth as he asks. There were many times before that you’ve wanted a taste of Tsukishima’s vile sarcasm, just to know what he’d say to you. Today is not one of those times. You don’t want him using that reckless kiss against you.
“Actually, no. I don’t really care.” You let go of his hand you just finished working with and look around to look for anyone you could use as a distraction from Tsukishima’s attempt to retell the kiss from his perspective.
“Kogane!” you brightly call the setter as you bounce cheerfully towards him.
Even if you don’t show it, Tsukishima knows he’s gotten under your previously impenetrable thick skin. He detests what happened last Saturday. The more he remembers it, the more he abhors it. The only reason he’s not totally hating himself for getting swept along with your shit is because he knows you hated it too, probably more than he does since it was you who kissed him first.
His smug grin only spreads when you march to Kogane with that cutesy act you only show to players from opposing teams to unsettle them before matches. You take both Kogane’s hands and beam at him. “Do you want me to tape your fingers?”
“Y-you don’t have to, y/n. I can do it myself!” Kogane blurts out, panicking at your sudden closeness and physical touch.
“But I love taking care of you guys,” you pout at Kogane, which only makes the setter blush a shade almost close to red.
Tsukishima follows you to help his babbling, flustered teammate.
“You’re going to kill him, y/n,” he says as he passes by you and Kogane who now looks like he stopped functioning.
You blink at Kogane, realizing what you’re doing to the poor guy.
You must have been really bothered by Tsukishima and unknowingly projected it to someone else.
Tsukishima sneers as he sees you try to ease Kogane from his severe fluster but only make it worse by rubbing his shoulders.
A dash of pride and satisfaction swells on Tsukishima’s chest as he watches you get agitated with the situation you, yourself caused. Getting back at you feels even better than he imagined it would be.
--
Even though you and Tsukishima are in the same class, you don’t really notice his presence. Sometimes you’d even forget you’re classmates. Now, though, you are more aware of the fact that he’s actually there than you ever have.
“Alright, class. For your main project this semester, I’m going to have you partnered up. You need to come up with a comprehensive report on mating behavior of reptiles. I’ll randomly generate your assigned reptile.”
You groan. Another collaborative work in the same subject. You don’t like working with others because you don’t want to adapt to anyone’s schedule. You like to get things done ahead of time. You hate procrastinating because you don’t want your uni requirements getting mixed up with potential tasks from your managerial job, especially whenever tournament seasons come.
The last collaborative work you worked on is a group project where you did most of the work yourself. You wouldn’t have minded if you didn’t have fucking freeloaders as groupmates. The little shits made you do 90% of the project because you wanted it done early.
You just pray that this time, you get to be paired with someone responsible. You tap your pen on your desk while you wait for your name to be called.
“L/n and Tsukishima.”
You drop your pen at your professor’s announcement. It bounces twice on your desk before rolling to the floor, but you don’t move to pick it up. Your gaze immediately flies to where Tsukishima is seated and find him glaring at you already. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous this entire situation is.
Seriously? Were you a serial killer in your previous life or something? Did some higher power decide to punish you for your grave sins like this?
Whatever. You’re not having any of this shit.
You wait until the class is over and approach your professor. “Sir. I’d like to do this project alone.” Or at least with someone else.
He continues to type something on his laptop, not bothering to look up at you, as he asks, “Why is that?”
“I just feel more comfortable doing things on my own, Sir. Please.” You try to give him your nice student smile but his eyes don't leave his screen.
“Then what? Have you increase my workload?”
Shit. You forgot that this particular professor of yours is known to not budge to anyone. You scramble your brain for another excuse.
“Sir. Can I do this project alone?” you suddenly hear Tsukihima’s voice behind you.
Finally, your professor closes his laptop and eyes you two unenthusiastically. “My answer is no to miss Y/n, so my answer to you, Mr. Tsukishima, is also no. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, but you’re doing this together.”
You can’t help but scowl despite being right in front of your professor. If it wasn’t for that darn kiss, you would’ve loved working with Tsukishima. Even though you don’t have the same classes, his schedule won’t be that hard to match up with because you two have the same training days. Secondly, he’s smart. You won’t have to carry the whole weight of the project.
“You know what, I’ll reconsider.” A glimmer of hope lights up in your chest as you hear your professor’s words. “I’ll allow you two to work individually — but with an automatic ten point deduction for this project.”
“No,” you and Tsukishima respond at the same time.
“Great! You’re already getting along swimmingly.” Your professor picks up his stuff and stands up. “Enjoy,” he waves a dismissive goodbye and leaves.
You slowly turn around to face Tsukishima and find that you share the same lour that he has. You cross your arms and lean on your professor’s desk. “Guess we’re together, Tsukishima.”
--
You allowed yourself one week to compose yourself before you agreed to start the project with Tsukishima. You still saw him at training days, and even then, you tried to have the least amount of interaction with him so the ‘incident’ wouldn’t be brought up again. Meeting him for a project where it’s just you two is different and you needed time.
As much as you don’t want to be with him, you told yourself that it’ll be over soon. You just pushed the kiss in the back of your head and convinced yourself that it was just a stupid kiss. It didn’t mean anything. He probably just went along with it out of spite, so it’s best you think of it as a spur of the moment madness. That way, you won’t be bothered if he sordidly brings it up again. At least now, you can go back to your usual, cheeky self around him.
You’re about to text Tsukishima that you’ve arrived at the station you agreed to meet up at but you already see him there standing while he’s scrolling his phone with his usual white headphones on.
Unfortunately for you and him, the reptile assigned to you two are crocodiles. It’s the worst possible assignment you could get among the roster of reptiles assigned. You need to travel all the way to Wakabayashi for a legitimate crocodile farm to observe, compared to other reptiles which are easily accessible with nearby zoos in Miyagi. You just pray that you’ll only need this one trip to get all the data you need for your report.
You walk towards him and instantly regard how he looks. Despite being in the same university, you don’t see him around much. Even in your sole class together, you’re seated way too apart from each other to even look at each other’s direction. Not that being seated beside each other would’ve made a difference. You’re not friends. There’s no need to talk to him since everything that’s volleyball-related is relayed through line. To you, he’s just one of your players. As far as you’re concerned, the only Tsukishima you’re aware of is the one sweating his white shirt and training shorts during practice.
To have this much involvement with him outside the gym is throwing you out of your usual loop. You continue studying him at a distance. Today he’s wearing white plaid pants, black turtleneck (probably long sleeves) with a lighter shade of black coat on top, and a brown wool scarf. He also has a gray bonnet that makes his blonde locks frame his face nicely.
What the heck? Did he always dress like this even in class? How come you never noticed?
He finally notices you. He puts down his phone and removes his headphones. “How long have you been there?”
“Wow, Tsukishima. You look kinda hot,” you blurt out without thinking.
His eyes expand at your statement that came out of nowhere. “Huh?!”
“Oh, sorry. That must’ve been random. But you look really good though. I kinda feel like I’m meeting a date,” you say with objective candor as you continue to stare at him.
That catches him completely off guard. The other day you’re on the edge around him. You weren’t even paying much attention to him during training, but now you’re back to being a headache whose mouth knows no bounds as you faze him with your unfiltered thoughts. Now, it’s him who is uncomfortable again with your thorough eyes scanning him approvingly.
“As if I’d ever date you,” he snaps back at your remark to which you scoff at.
“I didn’t say you would. Maybe you’re forgetting, I’d never go out with a member of the team.”
“Right. But kissing one is totally fine, huh?” he retaliates in an instant with a condescending look. He waits for your reaction, eager to see you distraught and bothered by it. To his dissatisfaction, you don’t behave in such a way. Instead, you sigh defeatedly.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. I got a little crazy that night,” you say casually to a degree that you sounded like it was just a petty accident. “You kissed me back, so I’m sure you were too. Right?”
The last word is conniving, and he can tell why you phrased it that way. You’re leaving him no choice but to disregard what happened or else it’s going to seem like it meant something to him. The hell it does. It simply resurfaces back on his mind sometimes because of how unpleasant the memory is.
‘Devious woman,’ he snarls in his head.
It should be okay. Your reason for what you did can also be his excuse for how responded to it. What he didn’t like is that he hasn’t even managed to make the most out of that incident, while you immediately found a way to undo the grave you dug for him to bury you into.
Plus, the only advantage he sees out of partnering with you for this project is the possibility of being able to pester you the way you pester him during practice. Obviously, that’s already thrown off the window. Now, there’s nothing in it for him for the duration of the project. He is left with nothing but the fact that he has to endure your company. To think that he’s already so miserable when this afternoon has barely even started.
“Yeah,” he answers with contained resentment. “Can we go on the bus now?” He asks to deviate away from the topic already. He was hoping he could still use the incident to unnerve you, but it’s for naught now.
He enters the bus first and assumes you’ll follow him, which you do as you take your seat beside him. You get your shoulder bag and take out a notebook.
“Can you take a look at this outline I made for our report?” you ask while you hand him your notebook opened at a certain page.
“I can’t read while the bus is moving,” he says then waits for a lame comeback from you. But you don’t comment about it. Why must you keep on being such a wildcard?
“Ah, okay. I’ll just tell it to you then,” you smile at him. “This trip is going to take long. It’d be a waste of time to not make use of it, right?”
He groans internally. Why must you be right all the fucking time?
He also made an outline last night, but he didn’t tell you because he thought it’d be better if he just did the data-gathering himself and let you take the pictures the report should have. He forgot that you’re not as irresponsible and carefree as you present yourself to be.
He listens to you explain your outline, looking for flaws in it for the sake of his grade and also for his self-satisfaction. And he does find a few.
“You should have separate discussion points for mating characteristics for male and females. I’m sure they have distinct traits. Also, I think we should include more than just one species, preferably three if the farm has it.” He continues, “Maybe we can note certain unique behaviors per species. It would be inconclusive, but it would still be nice to include it as a commentary.”
He hopes to extract even just a tiny hint of embarrassment from you for he’s thought of it better than you did. But you just stare at him for a good few seconds before you break into a dazzled smile.
“Oh my God. Yeah, you’re absolutely right!”
You open your notebook and scribble the changes in your drafted outline. “Is there anything else?” You consult him genuinely. You accept his criticisms with an open mind, which vexes him even more.
“Nothing,” he grumbles.
“Alright. Let’s just revise it again once we see what’s on the farm.”
He doesn’t bother replying anymore since you’re once again right.
He puts on his headphones again to drown out whatever chatter you plan to have with him since you’re done discussing the project for now. Instead of bugging him, you take out a bunch of readings and focus on them intently, completely ignoring him.
With nothing to entertain him aside from the music on his ears, his peripheral keeps going back to you and how hard you’re concentrating with the papers in your one hand and a pen in the other.
He removes one muff of his headphone from his ear and asks you, “Don’t you get motion sickness?”
You really must be into what you’re studying because you flinch when he speaks, causing you to drop your pen.
He feels responsible for it so he leans down to pick it up, but you also do the same. As you both reach down to grab your pen, your temple collides with his.
“Ow,” your fingers go to massage the spot, failing to notice as he does that your faces are too close for comfort. He watches you wince for a quick while before looking at him, finally realizing that he’s within a proximity familiar to you both.
It’s reminiscent of that night except this time, the natural light affirms that it wasn’t just the ambiance of the club that made you attractive enough to pull him in and share that heinous kiss. With your well-lit features, he can see that you’re thinking about the same thing he is.
Your eyes fall on his lips and for some illogical reason, he does the same.
Like last time, you’re the first to act on it. The major difference is, instead of leaning in, you retreat. You sit up straight with your fingers still on the side of your head and smile graciously at him. “It’s fine, Tsukishima. I’ll get it,” you say, which he finds half-witted because he’s still bent down and he can already grasp the pen.
He sits back up and hands you your pen. You use the hand on your temple to get it.
“Oh, thanks.” You stare at the pen for a second, then tuck it in your pocket. “Anyways, yeah. I don’t have problems reading in a moving vehicle.”
You dive back to his question and disregard what just happened. It works for him. He’d rather not think about it as well.
“Have you not seen me scrambling paperwork on our bus rides to and from tournaments?”
“No.” He prefers not to pay attention to you. Hell, he pretends you don’t exist when he can. So naturally, he doesn’t know what it is you do when you’re not being your pestering self. It pains him to admit it, but you do get shit done -- efficiently, too. He should be glad because at least, you won’t be like his previous groupmates.
Still, just you being … you, ticks him off.
You laugh out of nowhere. “For someone who doesn’t speak much, you’re so fucking transparent.”
He frowns, not being able to grasp what you meant.
“Okay, look. I like pissing you off. I really do. And you, you don’t like me a lot. But for this project. Can we pretend that I’m not your annoying manager and you’re not the nasty Tsukishima I know?”
“How the fuck can I do that when we see each other almost everyday as such?”
You roll your eyes and smirk. “Right. What was I even thinking? Go ahead and be emo with your music over there while I study here, yeah?” You pat him on the shoulders twice with that patronizing grin you always give him before pulling your pen back from your pocket and focusing once more on your readings, completely paying no attention to him for the rest of the trip.
—
As soon as you reach the crocodile farm, Tsukishima suggests that you two roam the area separately to cover more ground. In reality, he just wanted to get rid of you even for just a few minutes. He needed a break from you.
He does so by taking his time strolling around the place, observing how the area is situated. It looks like a park with its vast lush green environment and man-made waters to habituate the crocodiles. There are four main areas: the museum, the hatchling house, the zoo, and the breeding pens. He first goes to the museum, looking at the skeletal structure of some crocodiles. It isn’t really significant to the project but he can’t help admire it.
When he realizes that he’s taking longer than he initially thought, he starts looking for you. He sends you a text, but you don’t reply. You had gone to the zoo’s direction so he assumes you’re somewhere around that area.
When he does find you, you’re not alone.
There you are near a crocodile pen, getting friendly with a guy he’s sure you just met.
It’s so familiar. The only difference is that you’re not wearing the Frogs’ jacket and you’re not in the Sendai gymnasium. He walks towards your direction, not caring if he’s going to cut off your little chat. You’re there for the project, not to snag some random bozo.
As he closes in behind you, he hears your conversation.
“Actually, birds are more closely related to dinosaurs than crocodiles. You couldn’t tell, right?” you explain with zeal.
Tsukishima stops in his tracks at the foreign feeling in his chest. Wait a minute. Is he actually impressed? Moreover, what the heck is he impressed for? You should know that. You are both in a higher herpetology class. Even though it hasn’t been discussed during lectures, it’s natural that you know that. However, the guy you’re talking with isn't as enthusiastic.
“Can’t blame you though. Crocs and dinos share the same sexy vibe with those chill eyes and scaly skin. Also, look at those smokin webbed feet. Fucking work of art, dude. You feel me?” you press on fanatically.
The stranger looks at you with a forced smile, obviously weirded out by your ‘passionate’ description of the reptile. “Yeah, sure. I have to go now. Bye,” the guy bows and storms away from you.
You turn your attention back to the lowered pen in front of you with a satisfied smile and shudder when you see Tsukishima already there beside you.
“Gah! You scared me. Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with your hand still on your chest.
“I didn’t want to interrupt you creeping out that stranger.”
You tither at his answer. “Glad you didn’t. It was fun seeing him all freaked out.”
He finds it weird. He thought you just had an aversion towards athletes. That’s why you keep driving away anyone who’d approach you during matches. Apparently, that’s not the case.
“He looked like he’d follow you back to Miyagi if you didn’t go all freaky nerdy on him.”
You jeer at his comment. “He could follow me to the ends of the Earth and I still wouldn’t give him my number. I’d rather date Mr. Crocodylus siamensis over here than boring dum dums blinded by how hot I am.”
“Then why do you entertain them?” he follows up.
“Caaaauuusse it’s fun to see them squirm,” you declare cheerfully as you veer your gaze at him. “Why the sudden interest with the way I handle men, Tsukishima?”
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your lips tugging up to form a playful smirk. “Don’t tell me you suddenly find me interesting?”
You really do know how to push the right buttons to provoke him. He grits his teeth from your audacity.
“I’m joking for fuck’s sake! My god. I already know that even if it’s just the two of us on this planet, and we’d have to procreate to restart the world population, you’d rather choose to doom humanity than have anything to do with me.”
Among all the correct things that came out of your mouth, that was the only thing he could verbally agree with. “Good you know,” he retorts.
You don’t seem to take offense though. You still keep your unwavering smile as you get your phone out and take a picture of the Borneo crocodile.
“Should we go see the breeding pens now?” you ask nonchalantly, dismissing the previous conversation like it was nothing.
--
You both decide to hire a designated tour guide to assist you while you observe the crocodiles, particularly the ones for breeding.
“Hi, Ms. l/n. I’m Sara and I will be your guide for today,” she introduced herself with a dedicated smile.
“I’m so thrilled that you and your boyfriend decided to learn more about crocodiles for your date,” she adds.
You and Tsukishima glance at each other before turning back to her.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
You both say simultaneously, except yours sounded like a friendly correction while his sounded like a dead announcement.
“We’re just classmates for a project,” you correct her.
She bows apologetically with embarrassment and worry. “I’m so sorry for assuming that.”
“No worries, Sara,” you reassure her before Tsukishima says something unnecessary. “Can you lead us on the breeding pens? We’d like to observe the whole thing.”
“Of course. Right this way.”
Aside from the mishap earlier, you find Sara competent at her job as she fills you in with details not included in the sign boards in the pens. She gives you information about the mating process that you didn’t find when you researched about the subject. You assume Tsukishima’s thinking the same because he doesn’t say anything out of the blue.
“By any chance, will we see a pair mating today?” he asks after a while.
“I’m not really sure, Mr. Tsukishima. It’s really up to the animals.”
You tug on Tsukishima’s sleeve when you catch sight of one crocodile latching himself on top of another.
“What?” he asks irritatedly, but follows your line of sight.
“Oh, lucky. There you go.” Sara announces with a pleasant smile.
You get your phone and your notes. You multitask listening to Sara, taking photos, and scribbling notes on your paper pad.
On the other hand, Tsukishima multitasks observing the crocodiles in action and observing you.
You’re asking important questions to the guide while juggling other tasks. Yes, he doesn’t like you and loathes being partnered with you. However, that doesn't mean he won’t cooperate with you. He won’t mind if you ask him for help, but you seem to have even forgotten that he’s there.
He grabs your phone from your hand, garnering a confused look from you.
“I’ll take the photos. You take down notes.”
You flash him an honest, grateful smile. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”
Then, you proceed with the things you’re doing more at ease.
He can’t tell who he’s more pissed at, you or himself. Something about that display of productivity and wit unnerves him. It’s as if it’s telling him that his chagrin over you is unreasonable because you’re actually reliable when it counts. What’s worse is you’re completely oblivious to it. In fact, you’re almost ignoring him.
Goddamn it. What’s he doing? He’s completely distracted now from the project and is solely focused on you. He quickly shakes it off and calms himself down. His attention should be on the reptiles, not you.
He turns his attention back to the crocodiles, but the mating act only lasted a few minutes. After that, you both barrage Sara with an array of questions that she looked too overwhelmed by the end of your tour.
You’ve covered almost everything for the day and it’s already around 6 in the evening when you get on a bus on the way back to Miyagi.
“That was fun!” you comment ardently with an abnormal shine on your face when you sit down on the bus on the way back. He wears his headphones on before you start a conversation he’s not willing to have. From his peripheral, he sees you turning to him and as he predicted, your mouth begins moving while you animatedly narrate words he could not hear.
He’s already acting as if he can’t hear nor see you, but you still don’t stop. Knowing you, you will not stop until you make sure he notices you. He wearily removes his headphones only to see you not saying anything and only mouthing words with hand gestures.
“Seriously?” He scowls at you. He’s already exhausted at having to deal with you even for just half a day, but you still have the energy to mess with him.
You cover your mouth with your hand as you snicker but it erupts into a hoot of laughter shortly. You gasp ridiculously after you ride out your stupid amusement from poking at his patience. “Tsukki, I swear to God. You make the best faces,” you say while wiping away your joyous tears.
“Were you even going to say something worth listening to?” he questions sourly.
You study him then shake your head. “I think you’re tired, so let’s just discuss what we gathered next time. You can go ignore me now,” you tell him with an understanding smile despite the slight banter.
You tilt your body in his direction and hoist yourself up a bit to put his headphones back yourself like it’s no big deal.
You settle back into your seat while he stills on his seat, stunned with what you just did while you get your readings again and shrink to your own bubble. You don’t seem to make anything of it, so he doesn’t as well. It was very you to mindlessly get on anyone’s — particularly his — personal space anyways.
He increases the volume of his headphones and tries to relax. Yet, his attention keeps swerving back at you every now and then. You’re really concentrating hard with your brows burrowed while you stare at your hand-outs. After a while, he notices you bobbing your head from the corners of his eyes.
He can tell you’re as tired as he is and trying hard to fight the sleep that’s taking over you. The bunch of papers you previously held are now clutched on your lap.
On the last bob of your head, you snap out of it. You blink repeatedly and return your eyes to your readings again. To no avail, you’re shutting down with your eyes fluttering when you try again. You look like you decided to give it a rest and put your papers back in your bag. You cross your arms and lean back to your seat.
He feels relieved that you finally yield to your physical exhaustion. He doesn’t need an additional bullet point to his list of why he can’t fully hate you. Also, you won’t run your mouth at him if you’re asleep.
He feels the soft thump of your head on his shoulder. You probably did too as you suddenly bolt up and tell him ‘sorry' which he only understands based on how you mouthed the word. You lean back again and try to settle back to sleep. But when you start dozing off, you sway to the other side of your seat which is the aisle of the bus.
He grabs your shoulder to prevent you from tumbling down to the aisle. Your disoriented self looks around, alarmed at his sudden touch.
“Just fucking lean on me,” he spits out, irked that he has to say it out loud. It’s not like he pushed you away. You could’ve just stayed as you were and he would’ve turned a blind eye at it out of recognition of the effort you put in today. He’d just consider it one of those times that you do something annoying and he just ignores you as a response.
You regard him with dazed eyes. You open your mouth as if you’re about to say something but decide against it as you shut your eyes again and you let your head rest on his shoulder. But even then, your head still falls forward from time to time. He puts a hand on your forehead to settle you back on his shoulder and slides a bit downward on his seat to accommodate you.
Jesus Christ, you can study in a moving vehicle but can’t even do a simple thing like sleep properly on it. Why does he even have to adjust for you?
He heaves furiously in contrast to your steady breathing, letting him know that you’re easing deeper to your sleep.
He distracts himself by looking at the window, witnessing the unmoving dark sky and the changing scenery below. He lets out a sigh.
Maybe he should’ve just accepted the ten point deduction.
Part 1 || Part 3 || masterlist
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#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu fluff#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima angst#tsukishima smut#haikyuu smut#haikyuu angst#tsukishima kei#for the love of kami-sama#pls let the tags work
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End of the F**king World
Pairing: Sephiroth/Reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: major character death, implications of stalker behavior, mentions of torture, mentions of insanity, portrayal of mental illness, end of the world, anxiety, depression, alludes to suicide
A/N: this wasn’t a request, however, this idea had been on my mind for quite awhile. with lots of motivation, i finally put it into words. please keep in mind that there are huge trigger warnings for this content, since it is probably the most angsty and intense thing i’ve written on this blog!! i hope you enjoy reading, feedback is greatly appreciated
Ao3 || Masterlist
After it all had fallen apart, there was nothing left to hope for.
Genesis was gone, Angeal was dead, Zack was dead, Sephiroth was... Dead? His body was found deep inside the destroyed Nibleheim reactor, so it was possible that Sephiroth was dead, right? But...
You aren’t supposed to see dead people.
So why was it that Sephiroth was constantly following you around? Why was he silently watching you at all times? No matter where you looked, he was there. It was chilling to see his cat-like mako eyes pierce into your skull. His twisted smirk made your stomach churn and want to run away as fast as you could, but there was no where to run. He was always with you. Whether you wanted him or not, it seemed like you didn’t have a choice.
What did you do to earn such a strange connection to the dead?
That’s right... In Nibleheim, you were there. You were one of the sole survivors that witnessed it all. The roaring flames, the deafening screams and cries of dying people, the sound of buildings collapsing and blades crashing against one another, you relived it every time you closed your eyes.
Sephiroth sought out to kill you, even though you were a simple bystander. But... That wasn’t the complete truth, was it? You were more important than anyone else at Nibleheim. That’s why he came after you, right? Think of it as... Young love, a childhood best friend, his only friend, that’s what you were. That is, until you mysteriously disappeared and left him all alone. You were taken far away from Shinra after being deemed as... “Intruding.” You and Sephiroth were just children, you didn’t understand the world. You always thought wishfully because even as a child, you knew that Sephiroth didn’t belong in a laboratory twenty-four-seven. You put all of these ideas of “running away” or “sneaking out” into his head. He became obsessed with the idea for the longest time. He wanted to run away, he wanted to experience this life that you mentioned so many times, he wanted to experience normalcy.
When Hojo caught wind of this... Disobedience, he sent you and your family far away. He sent you as far away as he could. Your father began to work at the Nibleheim Mansion as a book keeper as punishment for your indiscipline. Sephiroth felt betrayed by your disappearance. He blamed you for the punishments he received for wanting to escape. He blamed you for leaving him alone to deal with it. He never forgot about it, instead he bottled it up and chalked it up to some kind of cruel training he had to go to.
As he grew up, those thoughts bothered him less and less. He figured he would never have to see you again, therefore he would never have to face that trauma again. Instead of coping with it, he pushed it away to the deepest place he could and tried to forget about it. But as things around him began to crumble, all of his past traumas began to surface again. Genesis ended up leaving him, so did Angeal. His two friends, his only friends since you, ended up leaving him. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to snap. The moment he knew he was being sent to Nibleheim for a mission, dread began to build up inside of him. As if it were a sixth sense, he knew something was going to happen here. He made sure to keep his guard up as they arrived at Nibleheim, who knew what was going to happen?
What he didn’t expect, though, was that the threat he was dreading would end up being himself. Dealing with the loss of his two friends was enough, but he never expected having to face you after all those years. You looked exactly the same from when you were a child. Sephiroth knew who you were in an instance when he saw you in that village. He knew that he couldn’t stay. He had to run from you, he had to run, he had to. He avoided you like the plague, unwilling to unpack the bottled-up regret and anger he held for you. His mind couldn’t stop wandering to his childhood with you, he began to question everything. Why were you here in Nibleheim? Why did you leave him? Why was he punished because of you? Why did Genesis and Angeal have to leave, too? He felt sick, he felt weak and dizzy, nothing was making sense anymore.
That was just the tip of the iceberg, though.
The moment his eyes landed on those monsters in the reactor, he felt something inside of him shatter. He needed answers. He needed anything.
He needed something.
Something to grip onto.
He was losing his mind.
What was reality? What was real and what was fake?
He couldn’t hear himself over his own thoughts anymore. He was descending into madness. He couldn’t stop himself from wandering into that library. It was similar to a deep, primal instinct. It felt like he was hunting for prey. But there was no prey. He was hunting for... Nothing? It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense anymore. The voices of concern were drowned out by his mind screaming at him. His mind told him that he couldn’t eat or sleep until he had answers. Who was he? Who were his parents? Why did he want to escape? What are these voices in his head?
He paced back and forth until his legs were numb, his fingers frantically flipped through the pages of those books, his heart pounded in his chest to the point where it was deafening. He was terrified for the first time in his life. But it wasn’t because of some foe he had to face. No...
He was terrified of himself.
That’s when he stumbled upon the documents named ‘Project S.’ His fingers trembled as his eyes scanned the pages. His arms grew weak, he couldn’t stand anymore and ended up collapsing against the wall. He slid down the wall slowly as he took in every bit of information.
He was... A monster?
No.
He was an Ancient...
He was a God.
This was his world.
It all belonged to him.
He was betrayed by everyone. He was treated like an experiment on his own Earth. He was destroyed and numbed to the cruelties of this Earth, used by simple humans for their own bidding. He was dumbed down to a puppet. Everyone else had to have known, right? His mother was Jenova... The J.E.N.O.V.A.? They lied to him. How could they all keep this from him..? His own friends, his mentors and companions? Why did they... It didn’t make sense. Even Zack hid all of this from him... His last friend...
It all started with the books.
Sephiroth burned them all. He was caught up in a fit of rage. He was betrayed by everyone. Everyone he’s come to know has known what he is, but decided to hide it. His entire existence was a lie. It was all fabricated from birth. How many people knew besides the scientists? The people he laid down his life for ended up betraying him. He would never forgive the human race for what they’ve done.
Before he knew it, the entire village was in flames. Overcome with rage, Sephiroth decided he was personally going to rip the world apart. Everyone would suffer because of what they’ve done to him. There was no room for negotiation anymore, they lost that privilege many years ago.
During this fit of rage, Sephiroth’s eyes managed to land on you. This was where it all started, wasn’t it? You could have saved him, you could have told him the truth. You knew what he was, but you participated in treating him like... Like some lab rat. You lied, and you were just as guilty as everyone else.
He couldn’t stop himself from raising Masamune over his head. His vision was red with anger, he was no longer thinking for himself. His mind screamed at him. This is what they wanted, wasn’t it? A truly powerful being...
He’d show you what power really looks like.
It was all your fault.
How you managed to escape was a mystery to all. How Sephiroth was still alive was a mystery to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around it.
You remembered that day very clearly. You hadn’t even known Sephiroth was in Nibleheim. You didn’t know that he still remembered you. You didn’t know that you planted the seed for his inevitable mental break.
Now, you were cursed with a daily reminder. His eyes would never leave you for as long as you lived. You assumed the same fate followed you into the Lifestream.
The day of the Nibleheim Incident, you took off into hiding immediately. You couldn’t face the guilt that possessed you. You could still clearly hear the pain in Sephiroth’s cries as he stood over you. “You took everything from me!” It played in your mind on repeat. He died knowing that it was all your fault this happened. His last few words would be permanently ingrained into your brain. You slightly wished that he had just finished the job in Nibleheim... But you somewhat convinced yourself that that wasn’t his intention.
Now that he was staring you in the face, you couldn’t believe that he intended for you to die in Nibleheim. He fully intended on you living with your sins and carrying that burden until the end of your time.
It’s been months now since his first appearance. You remembered when you first saw him after Nibleheim many months ago. You were making your morning deliveries, casually walking around the Sector 5 slums. You approaching the small orphanage located at the top of the slums, ready to face the children when you suddenly stopped in your tracks. Your eyes had been focused on the ground as you walked, so when you saw black boots suddenly appear in your vision, a confused expression formed on your features. You slowly lifted your head to look up at the mysterious figure, only to let out a blood-curdling scream and fall back.
In front of you stood the silver-haired SOLDIER, he wore a twisted and sickening smirk, his eyes held a glint of... Desire. His left hand tightened around the hilt of his blade as he stared down at you. Fear consumed you as you prepared to finally die, your eyes squeezing tight as your hands came to cover your head.
When nothing happened, you slowly lifted your head again to see everyone around you staring at you in confusion. Sephiroth was gone as if he completely vanished into thin-air. The ladies working at the orphanage stared at you, fear evident in their eyes. They held the children back from approaching you, as if you were the one to be feared.
No one else had seen Sephiroth.
You were the only one.
You quickly got up, not bothering to dust yourself off or gather your things, before taking off to your small shack. Surely, it was part of your imagination. People have mentioned having hallucinations and stuff, maybe that’s what happened. You tried to think it through logically as you splashed cold water on your face. When you lifted your head again, you felt his presence in the back of the room.
“Why are you here?” You asked, your voice shaking as you turned towards him. He was leaning against the wall casually, his smirk still present. Instead of answering you, he simply looked in your direction before walking further into the house. His gaze sent chills down your spine. What kind of desire is he holding inside?
Life went on like that for months. Eventually, you were forced to grow used to his presence, no matter how oppressive it was. He would follow you anywhere, basically. He hardly said anything, if he did, it was probably something obscure and ominous. Eventually, you began to talk to him more, finding it unreasonably hard to cope with what life has become. You were never sure if he was listening or not, but deep down inside, you kind of hoped.
You were never sure what Sephiroth was intending to get out of spending all of his time with you. It kind of made you anxious, knowing that you had some... Purpose to him, something that made you special from everyone else. Even through the hard times like the fall of Sector 7, he hardly ever left your side.
There was one night where you felt particularly lonely. Sephiroth seemed to be gone, no where to be found. It was odd, even if you were his sworn enemy, you still found yourself concerned if he wasn’t around. That night, to somehow distract yourself, you wandered out into the Sector 5 slums, hoping to cope with the suffocating loneliness. That’s when you heard the news channel booming from the monitor at the center of the town. You approached the crowd quietly, feeling your heart drop at the announcements.
President Shinra was dead. They claimed it was from Avalanche, but you knew better than that. From behind you, you heard his chilling voice.
“You agree that he deserved it, don’t you?” Sephiroth asked, his voice low. It sounded like just a whisper in your ear. The question was odd... He wasn’t asking for your opinion, instead he was asking which side you were on.
President Shinra did deserve it, though, didn’t he? While you would never wish death upon someone, it was undeniable how terrible of a man the President was. You could only respond with a weak nod of your head, feeling too repulsed to give him anything more.
You moved to take off back to your home, only to feel the burning sensation of his gloved hand wrapped around your forearm. “The end is nigh... Who’s side will you be on?” He questioned. You forced yourself to look back at him.
“What end?” You asked, your voice shaking as you spoke. Sephiroth didn’t give you an answer, instead he let go and slowly backed into the shadows, leaving you alone once again.
What end was he talking about? ...End of the world? No, he doesn’t have that kind of power, does he? Honestly, you weren’t sure what Sephiroth was capable of in this form. He was powerful before he died, but what is he capable of now that he is dead?
You wouldn’t know his true power until it came to you in dreams. Since President Shinra’s death, and your odd conversation with Sephiroth that night, you had been having weird dreams. They weren’t the kind of weird that you forget in an instance of waking up, no... These dreams were visions. They were of what was to come. You saw visions of people you didn’t know dying, you saw a giant star in the sky slowly closing in on the Midgar tower, you saw visions of the Lifestream erupting from the ground... They had to have been connected, didn’t they?
Sephiroth was no longer around for you to question him. It’s like he suddenly vanished, like he never existed after Nibleheim. Had you imagined it all up? It was getting hard to tell. You couldn’t bring yourself to search for him. You didn’t want to see him anymore. Truthfully, you wished you had never seen him in the first place.
It seemed like months had passed since then. You were really keeping track of time anymore, honestly. Things began to change in the world around you, though. Above you, in the sky, a meteor pushed against the atmosphere of the world. Everyone else was terrified of it, but... You honestly couldn’t say that you were afraid of it anymore. After months of visions, you saw it coming.
This was the end that Sephiroth was talking about, wasn’t it?
The end of his torment.
The end of the human race.
The end of the fucking world.
You hated him for it. There was no one that could stop him... He knew that, everyone seemed to know it except for the innocent lives. You heard the daily questions from bystanders.
“Why is this happening?”
“Are we all going to die?”
“There is nothing we can do to stop it, is there?”
Humanity’s downfall rested in the palms of a revenge-stricken God, and there was nothing that could be done about it.
By now, you had already accepted death. It was inevitable at this point. The fates of everyone were completely compromised at this point, death stared everyone in the face. It was only a matter of time until the Meteor made contact with the Earth.
You remembered when the evacuation of Midgar began. Every single person was forced onto trains, cars, buses, whatever mode of transportation was available in poor attempts to escape fate. You watched from the window as the bus drove away, your eyes glued to the Meteor. Only a few days from then...
Those next few days were absolute torture. The entire world played a waiting game. There was really nothing to do to prepare for impact. Any preparations would be futile. In the end, there seemed to be a collective loss of morale.
This was the end.
Just a few hours before the Meteor struck, you remembered hearing that familiar unsettling voice. “What a beautiful creation.” Sephiroth commented, his eyes fixated on the star. You looked up at him, your burning gaze quickly turning into one of shock. He stood next to you, blood decorating his face and suit.
“What happened to you?” You asked softly, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for him.
He shook his head slowly. “I...” He hesitated, seeming to return to his old self for just a moment. He slowly turned towards you, regaining that twisted look. “Will never be a memory.” He hissed, before completely dissipating in front of you.
Below you, the ground began to shake. Your eyes shot up to the Meteor, expecting to see Midgar destroyed by now, but to your surprise, streams of green were fighting it off. There were screams coming from the people around you, they all cheered on the Lifestream. You couldn’t bring yourself to cheer though. This was fate, wasn’t it? You found yourself strangely conflicted.
In the end, the Meteor ended up being destroyed before it could even touch Midgar. You watched as the Meteor disintegrated into small rocks. The population around you cheered unendingly, thanking the Gods for survival. You found yourself unsure. You survived, but at what cost? This battle with Sephiroth isn’t over... You knew that deep down. A quiet sigh left your lips as you turned away from the celebrating crowds, finding it hard to relate.
This wasn’t the end, after all.
#sephiroth#sephiroth final fantasy#sephiroth ff#sephiroth ff7#angeal hewley#genesis rhapsodos#genesis#angeal#final fantasy#final fantasy 7#final fantasy vii#ff7#ffvii#ff7r#ffviir#final fantasy 7 remake#final fantasy vii remake#ffvii remake#final fantasy remake#ff7 remake#final fantasy x reader#self insert#zack fair
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here’s all my watt AUs from this quiz in case u wanted to read any of the results you didn’t get
cairo x reese: royal au
“royal balls are such a bore, aren’t they?”
Biting. Cold. Sharp. Cairo has no interest in being sold off to some conceited swaggering peacock for her family's benefit. But what happens when her parents withdraw her authority and make the decision for her? Her new marriage might get slightly more complicated when she runs into a vaguely familiar face by the stables...
tags: princess!cairo/stable girl!reese, prince!clark, stable girl!annleigh, background clark/annleigh, childhood friends reunited, arranged marriage, angst, pining, forbidden love
riley x reese: ceo au
“if you want to last a day here i suggest you keep your mouth shut.”
When the former CEO of Williams Inc. died under mysterious circumstances his younger sister Riley takes reign. When rumours fly around the office Reese keeps out of it. One late night at the office is all it takes to change that when she realises there's more to this company than meets the eye and her life is about to get a lot more dangerous...
tags: ceo!riley/employee!reese, slow burn, murder, organised crime ties, hurt/comfort, morally ambiguous characters, kidnapping
mattie x farrah: witch au
“i don’t cast curses, but i might change my mind if you keep testing me.”
The chimes by the doors sang every thirty minutes or so as stragglers came to pick up herbal remedies for whatever illness they had. Like clockwork, Mattie attended to the regulars placing whatever they needed: hollyhock, eucalyptus, sage. It was uncommon to see people in, what Mattie calls, the 'cryptic' secton but she can't help but be intrigued by the young girl she sees inspecting the bat baculum. Eye-contact was made and before Mattie could make her way to the girl the chimes tell her she left. She thinks nothing of it, perhaps she realised she was late for something, and finishes the last ten minutes of her shift. During her final sweep of the apothecary she notices an out-of-place book sat in the cryptic section. An unfamiliar language accompanied by diagrams of flora and fauna fills the pages; she can only make out a few words that she'd seen them around the store. How curious. There was no name but she concluded that it belonged to the girl from earlier. She never returned in the following days so Mattie decided to find the girl herself, however, she's left with more questions than answers.
tags: witch!farrah/mattie, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, violence, angst, minor character death, farrah does not know how to use her powers
farrah x kate: bodyguard au
"i’m not saying i like having you around or anything, but… thanks for not letting me die."
Up-and-coming actor Farrah gets fanmail like any other celebrity but one day she recieves a letter unlike any other. Much to her dismay, a bodyguard is placed by her side whilst she feigns normalcy but as the threats become more dangerous, Kate finds herself becoming more protective.
tags: celebrity!farrah/bodyguard!kate, enemies to lovers, fake friends, violence, hurt/comfort, slow burn, there was only one bed, near death experience
farrah x eva: doctor AU
"is that a copy of twilight? please don't tell me that's your research."
Farrah found herself in the ER so often that she'd befriended most of the staff. A majority of the staff was sick of her taking up a bed after yet another night of drinking. Eva, however, would patiently sit by her waiting for her to regain conciousness so she could take her vitals; she knew more about the girl than she intended after many drunk confessions and would spend every Saturday night waiting for the girl to stumble through the entrance with blood running down her face. What she didn't expect was to see her arrive already unconcious on a gurney getting paler by the minute. Being declared the Farrah-tamer, Eva brought her into a room attending to her as best as she could before she woke. A quick break later and she returned to Farrah sitting up right complaining about the bright lights, as she usually did. When re-checking her vitals she noticed that she had no pulse, no matter when she tried she couldn't find one, it was only when she tried her neck that she noticed two small puncture wounds below her jaw...
tags: doctor!eva/vampire!farrah, friends to lovers, angst, id imagine being a newly turned vampire is angsty and stressful, skeptical eva, in-denial farrah, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, there was only one bed
chess x riley: mutant AU
"i don’t want to hurt you. i’ve never wanted to hurt you. but it’s my job to bring people to justice.”
The world was changed... divided... mutated. Some people began exhibiting supernatural tendencies. Other people became threatened. Chess went into hiding. Riley started hunting. When the mutants start fighting back, what happens when an old acquaintance appears on her dead pool?
tags: hunter!riley/mutant!chess, mutant AU, enemies to lovers, violence, slow burn, nuclear apocalypse, angst, minor character death
annleigh x cairo: pirate AU
"not all treasure is found in silver and gold, mate."
Every night Annleigh would sneak out of the castle to watch the moon dances amongst the waves; she longed to escape from her noble duties to explore the world. When the docks become more crowded Annleigh walks into a girl who might just allow her to do that. Cairo had no reason to bring her aboard but there was something about the pendant that hung against her pale collar that compelled her to... a symbol she almost remembers. Annleigh is soon to find out that she has a deeper connection to the sea than she could ever know.
tags: noble!annleigh/pirate!cairo, strangers to friends to lovers, teasing, mutual pining, pirate violence, kidnapping, tragic past, possible mermaid!annleigh
cairo x kate: lawyer AU
"you know, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat."
There's not a single case that Cairo hasn't won and she's not ashamed to rub it in Kate's face. The tension between them is as just as evident in the courtroom than out of it. When a string of dead bodies appear around town the tension between the two doesn't cease. But what happens when Cairo is taken off the case as soon as her best friend becomes a suspect?
tags: prosecutor!kate/defense attorney!cairo, riley's here too, rivals to lovers, unresolved tension, bickering, murder, emotional hurt/comfort, confiding over alcohol
#we are the tigers#feel free to ask things/tell me how you think things would go idk#i dont have the entire stories planned out for any of them
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Reviewing time for MAG168!
- Yay for Oliver! From the announced title I had suspected The End and/or him because of his veins/roots/tendrils/not-tentacles, so that one wasn’t misleading!
Most of the episode was an audio pun on “Roots”/“Routes”: both the veins, and the reference to a Corpse Road. I’m… not sure about the double-meaning, though (since usually, titles refer both the core of the “statement” and something happening in the metaplot) – obviously, the “roots” were The End’s, they were almost a character by themselves (we could hear them creaking in the background alongside the whispers, a reminder that… they could grow. They could invade other domains when they would need); and the system presented by Oliver could (as he explained) come out of his domain to invade others’ in the search for more victims, which is how this universe could potentially end… but is there an additional meaning that could apply in Jon&Martin’s discussion, or in Jon’s decision to not go after Oliver?
(Regarding Martin: jealousy associated to “roots” makes me think of Corruption, though I don’t subscribe to the idea that Martin is being supernaturally OOC right now (I see how he could potentially be led towards bad choices, but I don’t feel like he’s under an influence right now outside of his own feelings). But I wonder if one of the meanings of “roots” will make sense in retrospect…)
- I was a bit sad to not hear Oliver himself but:
* Jonny, once again, did an amazing job at nailing the intonations and inflections of Oliver’s VA for the character; so, yes, it wasn’t directly Oliver, but we could hear when it was him directly addressing Jon, when it was the “statement” form, and when it was back to Jon.
(* Though I have a tiny sliver of doubt regarding the final “Report ends” afterwards: was it Oliver’s, making fun of Jon’s “statement ends” in the same way that Simon did after he got compelled to blurt out his life story after Martin prompted him? Interestingly, Oliver hadn’t joked about the “statement ends” in MAG121, though he already knew a lot about Jon and his dreams back then, and made it obvious in MAG168 that he knew more than us about Jon’s current state and how he functions (calling him The Eye’s “archive”, and pointing out that Jon can “only take”, which… yeah, feel like that will be relevant later). Or was it Jon saying the “Report ends.” to gain back a semblance of normalcy and making light fun of Oliver’s way of organising his “report” and/or trying to distance himself from what Oliver was saying, reminding himself that it was a subjective statement and that whatever Oliver says is to take with caution since he’s above all an agent of his own patron, however convinced and convincing he may sound? I feel like it was Jon saying that “Report ends.”, given how his voice sobered up, but both could make sense in their own ways…)
* Funnily, it makes sense for Oliver to give his “statement” in this fashion! Because, so far, he had never directly communicated with an Archivist in a situation that would allow reciprocity: he gave his statement to the Institute, while watching Gertrude in the next room (MAG011); he gave his statement to Jon while Jon was in a coma, so unable to answer him (MAG121); and now, he gave his “report” about his domain through Jon, addressing it both to The Eye and to Jon (… but is there a difference at this point?). In all cases, he was unreachable. So now, it feels even more significant that the only person he has ever interacted with on tape was End-touched Georgie, and that she managed to exchange words with him…
- Given how Oliver gave this “report” to Jon, that the “I” was clearly Oliver… What does it say about the narrator of previous statements? Were the “I”s in those the domains or the Fears themselves, talking through Jon?
… If that’s the case, what is exactly happening with the tape recorders, who are gorging themselves with these new forms of statements and apparently freeing Jon from the weight of them…?
(And who was the narrator in MAG167 then? The Eye itself?)
- Laughing so hard because Oliver’s background (MAG011: “I’ve lived in London for almost a decade now. I came here to do my undergraduate degree at the London School of Economics. I ended up taking a position with Barclays shortly after graduating and did well enough there.”) showed so much in the way he organised his ~report~ (not a “statement”, not a “terror”, but a “report”, Oliver wanted to be SPECIAL, uh…):
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “Report to prevent future deaths.
This report is being sent to: [STATIC FADES] The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself.
1 – Coroner
I am Oliver Banks, sometimes known as Antonio Blake, or doctor Thomas Pridchard. I serve The Coming End That Waits For All And Will Not Be Ignored.
2 – Coroner’s legal powers
[…] 3 – Investigation and inquest
[…] 4 – Circumstances of the death
[…] 5 – Coroner’s concerns
[…] The matters of concern are as follows.
a) […] b) […] c) […] d) […]
6 – Actions that should be taken
[…] 7 – Your response”
Organised, classified, taking an example to illustrate… and even: doing something else than the subject of his report. It wasn’t a report “to prevent future deaths”. It was a report “about” future deaths and how they couldn’t be prevented. Oliver, please.
- Handsome Man Of Many Aliases:
(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “First off, I should admit that I lied to get in here.”
[…] ARCHIVIST: I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. Unsurprisingly, he came up with nothing. Antonio Blake is a fake name and all of the contact details he provided were similarly fraudulent. It’s almost certainly a joke, a bit of hazing for the new boss, maybe? Best not to engage with it, I think.
(MAG121) OLIVER: So… My name is Oliver Banks. In my other statements, I used the name “Antonio Blake”, but I don’t really think either name has much meaning for me anymore. […] I’m Antonio.
GEORGIE: Sure.
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “1 – Coroner. I am Oliver Banks, sometimes known as Antonio Blake, or doctor Thomas Pridchard. I serve The Coming End That Waits For All And Will Not Be Ignored.”
… jumped on the Apocalypse occasion to get himself a fancy title, “Coroner”. With the interesting point that a coroner goes back through time to investigate someone’s death, backwards, while Oliver reads the death forwards, as in how it will happen.
- I find the way Oliver referred to Jon really interesting:
(MAG121) OLIVER: Hum… Hello, Jon. Do you… m–mind if I call you Jon? I… I mean. You don’t actually know me, it’s just… well. “Archivist”, it’s so… formal, isn’t it? And I do kind of know you…?
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: [STATIC FADES] The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Please, Jon, do not interpret this report as a ‘plea for mercy’ or a ‘call to action’.”
He used to go with “Archivist” (as a title) and Jon. The “Jon” was clearly a callback to the time he had visited Jon in the hospital (pushing towards casual sympathy? At the very least, reminding him of the last time Oliver had chosen to call him “Jon”, and why he had visited him in the first place), but calling him The Eye’s “Archive” is new on all levels: first time that Oliver calls him that way, and first time that anyone except Jonah called him that way.
(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Because the thing about the Archivist is that… well: it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named “the Archive”. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon – you are a record of fear. Both in mind, as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement; and in body, as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.”
So, as much as I had a few reservations about the content of what Oliver was seeing/predicting… it’s true that he knows a lot, about Jon and about how he functions, what he is right now in the grand scheme of things.
* Also: once again, The Eye’s Archive. Not Jonah’s. Jonah is irrelevant. “The Magnus(’) Archive” is not applying to this season so far.
* … Interesting that, although Oliver had directly mentioned that the “Spider” had pushed him to come visit Jon in MAG121, there was no mention at all of any Web activity in this one, as if it was also irrelevant/wouldn’t be able to do anything noteworthy to change the planned course?
- I really love how Oliver tried to sound professional and respectable and kind of… objective about everything?, and at the same time, absolutely went into “My Patron Is Better Than Yours” territory:
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “Report to prevent future deaths. This report is being sent to: [STATIC FADES] The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! […] I am Oliver Banks, sometimes known as Antonio Blake, or doctor Thomas Pridchard. I serve The Coming End That Waits For All And Will Not Be Ignored. […] I make this report under no “authority”, no “regulation” or act of law, save the hollow power and grim responsibility given me by the Termination Of All Life. […] a) When Danika Gelsthorpe reaches the end of her Corpse Root, she will die. This new world of Fear reviles death as a release, but the Coming End cannot exist without its reality. It is not a being of dangled promises and shifting torments; the certainty of death waits for all who travel the Corpse Roots, and that certainty… will be delivered on, without hesitation or consideration of any other factors. b) This place has a limit, on the fear that can be generated from them, as their pool is necessarily finite and ultimately, however slowly, it will be exhausted. To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting… “bad feeling” between those domains. […] However slowly, the domains of Death will be removing sufferers from a closed system. However many thousands of years may be experienced in the meantime… eventually, this world will be left barren and empty. […] Even if such a fate could be avoided, as it comes closer and the other Entities grow in their awareness of their own end, the grotesque ripples of their own impossible panic shall glut and feed my master, gorging it to the point where, perhaps, it will even surpass The Watcher in prominence. […] The End does not fear its own cessation, for it is the certainty and promise of all life, however strange, that it will one day finish, and that includes its own stark existence. It shall be the last and, when the universe is silent and still forever, it shall perhaps, in that impossible moment before it vanishes, finally be satisfied.”
* That condescending tone towards the other Fears, and the fact that they do not truly deliver death (as it would mean losing their victims), but My-Patron-Is-Better-And-A-True-One so The End has to deliver what it promises. (Does that confirm that, for example, Richard-the-human-worm respawned or was still “living” in a way after Sam went through him?)
* … My-Patron-Is-Better-Than-Other-Fears so it will go after the others to get access to their pools of victims, to find new ones.
* My-Patron-Is-Better-Than-Other-Fears so it will feed from them since The End will come after their victims and dry them out of victims, and they can do nothing about it.
* My-Patron-Is-Better-Than-Beholding so it could grow even stronger than it even though Beholding is the current ruler and had reality reshaped to have it on top of everything.
* My-Patron-Is-Better-Than-Everything so it will celebrate its own death, since Ending Itself after having ended everything means that it will have accomplished its true purpose.
(* Bonus “I-Am-My-Patron”, so Jon killing him would just be fine in the order of things, too.)
Like. WOW, Oliver, wow. Really fond of your patron, aren’t you, down to making it like a “challenge” to The Eye.
- Confirmation that The End’s domain lies both in the fear of death (since Danika had served it her entire life), but Oliver insisted pretty much that it also requires actual death to function/to work with its nature.
… So, I’m torn about what degree of credence to give Oliver. On the one side: it goes very well with the message Jonny keeps repeating (including in his gaming streams or in The Mechanisms universe) that “all things end”, that nothing can last forever – it’s what Oliver directly told Jon, it works. It could be the programmed annihilation of this world, whether we (the audience) get to witness it or not: I’m still thinking that The Extinction could come into play and wipe out everything, but if no other Change/cataclysm happens, it could go this way, with this world gradually, slowly dying, because at the core of it, it contained its own doom (the Fears have free reign and can never be truly satiated, so they’ll dry out the whole world without caring about creating a long-lasting “ecosystem”. They don’t know how to preserve, only to consume).
On the other hand, Oliver was extremely adamant about the fact that it would happen, but… has no proof that it will?
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “In exactly thirteen stretches of the root on which Danika travels – a stretch being measured in the waves of nauseating terror that flow out of her with such rhythmic regularity – she will finally arrive at her destination. […] I watch, as with each motion, each laboured, reluctant movement along her path, Danika Gelsthorpe is painfully, and inescapably aware of what it is that lies at the end of it. She tries to move backwards, off to the side, any direction other than that unstoppable, inescapable forwards. But her limbs seize up with the attempt. She tries to stay still, but can do so only with the most incredible of efforts. To eke out another few seconds of stasis sets every nerve in her body aflame with agony and effort, begging her to scream, despite her jaw being set in a frozen rictus of sombre mourning. I see her relive the coming moment of her inevitable demise. […] When Danika Gelsthorpe reaches the end of her Corpse Root, she will die. This new world of Fear reviles death as a release, but the Coming End cannot exist without its reality. It is not a being of dangled promises and shifting torments; the certainty of death waits for all who travel the Corpse Roots, and that certainty… will be delivered on, without hesitation or consideration of any other factors.”
The “thirteen stretches” sound like a clear references to the 13 Fears used in Jonah’s incantation (the fourteenth, The Eye, being supposed to rule over the others) and/or the fact that it requires 14 “points” to work (thirteen stretches meaning that there are fourteen points between the beginning and The End), but what I’m more interested is that… there are still thirteen stretches for Danika to travel. What if there is actually no way to travel a whole stretch, because it keeps stretching and getting longer, just because death has to be a horizon that is, by nature, forever elusive, even though Oliver is convinced that it must be a reachable goal since he believes in his patron? (Plus: how come The End will be able to touch other domains when necessary? Wouldn’t it just collapse on itself and disappear on its own, without first putting a dent into others?)
I’m not sure! On the one hand, it works well as a programmed ending, makes sense, and Oliver and The End have displayed time and time again that The End deals in certainty (and Oliver kept repeating that word); on the other hand… as he said, he’s absolutely loyal to his patron, now. Of course he would feel like The End makes the most sense in this world, that the cycle it functions in will keep going, that the same rules apply, that The End will even surpass The Eye. It all feels very subjective. So… we’ll see.
(But given that uncertainty: it feels to me like precisely, we won’t get that scenario, we won’t know for sure that it would have worked this way, because something else will happen. Something that won’t prevent all things from “ending”, but in different circumstances than the current ones…)
- What about Georgie, in the order described by Oliver, though? Given that the rules have changed, and if people are only able to die in The End’s domain by fearing their death, what would happen if the last human standing doesn’t “fear”?
- That puts to mind Peter’s explanation to Martin about why, according to him, The End had not attempted to carry its ritual, and how it was distinct from The Extinction:
(MAG134) PETER: There are two Powers that, to my knowledge, have never attempted to fully manifest, never had followers set them up for a ritual: Mother-of-Puppets, and Terminus. The Web, and The End. The Web, I’ve never really been sure about: if I were to guess, I would say it actually prefers the world as is, playing everyone against each other, and so on. The End, on the other hand… The End doesn’t really need one: it knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother. The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything.
MARTIN: … Including fear.
PETER: Exactly. It has no reason to truly attempt to enter our world, it’s… passive. But The Extinction… The Extinction is… different. It’s active. It will seek to create a lifeless world, in a way that none of the other Powers ever would. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new, that can then fear annihilation in turn. But I and those like me would rather that did not happen.
Not that passive given that Oliver mentioned that his domain would go after others’ to get a new supply of victims, when necessary (and that it would the one to upset the current equilibrium), and that Oliver was actually participating in spreading in patron’s fear by warning about the end to come, but!
- Interesting bit is that The End and Oliver have a relationship with time that seems to tie present and future close together (“The moment that you die will feel exactly the same as this one.”), with The End being the only and absolute future possible, while Beholding… doesn’t. It has access to past information, to events currently happening, but Jon pointed out that his powers couldn’t access the future:
(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted.
MARTIN: And will she?
ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.
Nice contrast, which makes sense, but also: Jon is special, even for an agent of Beholding, something that Oliver seemed to imply (“But know that, even you, will all your power, cannot keep the world alive forever.”). What can Jon do, in this new reality, besides turning predators into preys and being untouchable for the monsters…?
(I’m also squinting at Oliver’s words, because it could imply… that Jon is currently the only thing keeping the world “alive”, right now?)
- … If Oliver is right, though, laughing forever that Jonah, who feared death the most, would have BROUGHT IT ON HIMSELF:
(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I beg you, do not pursue this goal; if only a single lesson may be gleaned from my life of long study, and longer hardship, it is that the fear of Death is natural, and to flee from it will only bring greater misery. Repent of your sins, Jonah. Seek forgiveness. I am certain the Dread Powers cannot take a soul that keeps faith in the Resurrection.”
(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Why does a man seek to destroy the world? It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality, and power […]; to place yourself beyond pain, and death, and fear. It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all…! I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers, all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction, in that choice.
I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.
I believe there are far more people in this world who’d take that bargain than you would ever guess. And I have beaten all of them.”
… since his invocation also invited “[all that] dies”. He could have gone with “all that fears to die” or something like that, allowing for a loophole, but he specifically called for all that “dies”.
Jonah.
Jonah, you’re so effing stupid.
(- Re: Jonah, it’s delightful that… he has not been mentioned at all by other monsters/avatars (Annabelle, Helen, the Not!Them) so far. Oliver didn’t either. When it comes to establishing who caused the apocalypse, they’re fully crediting Jon and/or pointing out his relation to The Eye:
(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!
(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master!
(MAG166) HELEN: And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part. And he’s able to, shall we say… shift its focus.
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: [STATIC FADES] The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”
And yes, obviously, Jon was manipulated into doing it, didn’t willingly and knowingly cause it! But it’s hilarious that they’re all “Who?” about Jonah’s whole existence; he… seems absolutely irrelevant to the whole apocalypse deal although he tried to take credit for it. I wonder in which state we’ll meet him and/or if he will be able to express himself in any way – so far, I’m banking on him either being the Panopticon (having merged with the building) or being wrapped in cobwebs.)
- Interestingly, Oliver seemed to credit some level of sentience to the Fears themselves?
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting… ‘bad feeling’ between those domains. […] Even if such a fate could be avoided, as it comes closer and the other Entities grow in their awareness of their own end, the grotesque ripples of their own impossible panic shall glut and feed my master, gorging it to the point where, perhaps, it will even surpass The Watcher in prominence. The others may take what actions they wish; they may plot and plan and tear themselves apart in an attempt to separate from the fate that they know they cannot escape; but they will fail.”
I could expect the avatars/monsters to panic and try to sustain themselves, but the Fears/domains themselves…? (And once again: that phenomenon is very reminiscent of the way Peter described his own fear of The Extinction, as something that could eradicate him and other Fears/avatars…)
- AHAHHA about the image that when Danika would have travelled through the “thirteen stretches”, she would reach the end/The End and die… because that suuuuuure seemed reminiscent of Jon&Martin’s current travels, having to travel through (13) domains in order to reach The Panopticon, without knowing what would happen then.
Not ominous at all.
- I am… really interested in Oliver’s mention that Jon now “may only take”, combined with the fact that Oliver directly called him The Eye’s “Archive”. Specifically since, in MAG121, Oliver had highlighted Jon’s ability to extract statement:
(MAG121) OLIVER: Sorry to go on…! I’m… I don’t talk to many people these days. Putting my thoughts outside myself, it gets a bit… mm… clumsy. Be easier if you could talk back, right? Ask me questions and just have it tumble all out. But no. It’s… it’s just me. Wish there was a better way, but… Touching someone’s mind, it’s not… as simple as that, is it? Doesn’t always make things clearer, y’know? Still. I gave the old woman a statement so, maybe I owe you one as well. That’s… how it works, right? Give you a terror, give you a dream. ’s not like I don’t have them to spare.
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “I make this report under no ‘authority’, no ‘regulation’ or act of law, save the hollow power and grim responsibility given me by the Termination Of All Life. With it, I may see and spread the hidden veins of destiny that wrap us close and draw us through the empty, yearning parody of meaning that we call life, knowing at all stages that the last and final point of this journey is a blank and futile end. […] Please, Jon, do not interpret this report as a ‘plea for mercy’ or a ‘call to action’. I would have offered it willingly, of course, but to do so is no longer an option. You cannot ask; you may only take.”
The circumstances in season 5 have changed, we’ve seen that in the way Jon is managing the new “statements”: he has to let them out, he gets liberated from their weight once they have “poured out of [him] down into the tape”. He can only delay the moment he does it for a very short while, he has to do it when they reach a domain. The only exception has been in MAG167, when he gave a statement about Gertrude and her assistants, which was (at least partially) prompted by Martin’s questions.
So we see a difference between “Archive” and “Archivist” as of now with the statements. We’ve also seen Jon using his powers to “know”, prompted (Martin asking him questions in MAG164) and not (Jon knowing about Annabelle’s phone call in MAG167).Witht the exception of channelling The Eye’s powers to turn a predator into a prey, his abilities now seem mostly passive, but I wonder if it will mean something more, regarding his status as an “Archive” (and if Annabelle is planning to use that)…
(… Concrete question too: is Jon still able to compel, nowadays?)
- There are some bits of Martin’s words that made me go “!” because it implies that he had discussed with Jon about these matters beforehand:
(MAG168) MARTIN: Okay… [FOOTSTEPS] I mean… Well, I don’t like this place.
ARCHIVIST: Once again, Martin, that’s… [CHUCKLING] sort of the point…!
MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, I know, alright, I get it, it’s just… it’s more than that. This place, what did you call it, the… th– … the “Rotten Core”?
ARCHIVIST: The Corpse Roots.
MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, that. Well, it… It feels… [SIGH] I don’t know, it feels like it’s–
ARCHIVIST: Waiting.
MARTIN: Yeah! [CREAKING SOUND] Waiting. [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY THE WHISPERS] This is the one with the, em… the Death guy, isn’t it?
ARCHIVIST: This is Oliver Banks’s domain, yes.
MARTIN: … So it’s him who’s waiting. […] Alright, fine, yes, yes, I am jealous, alright? Yes, if you absolutely must know!
ARCHIVIST: Because he woke me up.
MARTIN: [SPLUTTERING] I was there weeks, and nothing. He talks to you for five minutes, and suddenly you’re back on your feet, and bouncing around like a, like a spring chicken!
ARCHIVIST: [NERVOUS CHUCKLING] I mean, that’s really not–
MARTIN: I mean, what’s so special about him, that you wake up for him and not me, hm? [CREAKING SOUND] Enlighten me.
* “Rotten Core” is MAG157’s title; it’s Adelard’s last message to Gertrude, that was put on Jon’s desk together with the tape of Martin&Peter’s conversation about going down in the tunnels, the association of the two prompting Jon to panic by realising that Martin was probably manipulated into something that didn’t actually have much to do with The Extinction. “Rotten Core” in itself never appeared in Adelard’s email (could have been the subject of it, though?) and, officially, we still don’t know who sent that statement to Jon (Jonah didn’t take credit for that one, neither did Martin or Peter, so… probably Annabelle). But Martin using the phrase seems to imply that he has been filled in about it – did Jon&Martin talk about The Extinction, since the end of MAG159?
* Martin already knew that the “Death Guy” had woken Jon up, so… Jon has explained what happened, too. Unless Martin heard the other tapes during season 4? (And Jon remembered about it and about the fact that it was specifically Oliver who woke him up: this is the first time he has acknowledged that.)
So! They have been exchanging information offscreen!
- I’m HOWLING at petty/jealous Martin.
I didn’t feel like it was toxic or dangerous or OOC at all – Martin [INORDINATELY PLEASED] Blackwood has… quite often been portrayed as incredibly petty and jealous when it came to Jon:
(MAG088) BASIRA: I just, I mean he was good company. Y’know, when he wasn’t being a paranoia machine. He was funny, you know?
MARTIN: What, Jon?
BASIRA: Yeah.
MARTIN: I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell a joke.
BASIRA: Maybe you weren’t listening.
MARTIN: Right. Well, I’m sure it’ll get sorted out when DAISY brings him in and you can probably talk to him then. Oh! Sorry, I forgot you’re not actually with the police any more, are you.
(MAG106) MELANIE: [CHUCKLE] Right, well… The jury’s still out on Elias. And anyway, Martin’s always been lovely to you.
BASIRA: Hm. I dunno, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist.
MELANIE: Aaah…! I got the exact same, when Jon was hiding out and came to me with his “source on the inside” stuff. Martin was not impressed.
BASIRA: Huff. That boy needs to relax.
MELANIE: Or at least find someone else to fuss over.
When MAG121’s case number had been revealed (not in Early-Access, but on the public release), there had been many laughs about the fact that Jon had woken up on February 15th, and how much would it suck for Martin to think that his tearful begging from the trailer migt have happened the day before, on Valentine’s Day, only for handsome mlm Death Prophet Oliver Banks to waltz in and get Jon to wake up instantly? So I’m laughing very hard that yes, Martin is INCREDIBLY and irrationally jealous about it, about not having been able to be the one to wake Jon up like in cheesy romance movies.
… the part that does worry me, however, is how lightly Martin seems to be taking the whole “Kill Bill” thing, and how much of it was being jealous over someone Jon had “needed” help from (not so long after Annabelle made a dig at Martin for the fact that he wasn’t feeling useful to Jon right now). I feel like most of the exchange had Martin caricaturing himself a bit, or at least being aware of how silly he sounded, though? And it felt to me like his insistence towards Jon explaining his reluctance to murder was for Jon to, well, explain what is bothering him about it (outside of an ethical question, there is also the fact that Jon… might feel like if he were to do that to avatars, then other avatars/people would be entitled to do the same to him. Which, honestly? Fair. Jon attacked and wrecked innocent people for his own benefit in season 4. If they decided that, even though he has stopped now, he still has hurt people, still is a monster and still needs to die, the same logic could apply.)
There is indeed an absolute disconnect between Martin’s solution (“smiting”) and the tone/enthusiasm/casualness with which he offers it, and it could be rooted in his own feeling of uselessness, the fact he wants to take revenge over those who hurt him and Jon… So I don’t feel like he’s being supernaturally manipulated, but I’m definitely worried that he could take risks and/or make a veryyyy bad decision while trying to prove that no, he can be “useful”…
- ! Jon sounded SO FOND and so amused at Martin’s jealousy! His insidious “Martin~?” and audible smiles! “My husband is a bitch and I love him” feeling, overall.
I like that the exchange seemed well-handled for both of them: Jon naturally standing his ground and pointing out that Martin’s logic was absolutely childish (“Look, Martin: I am sorry you feel that way, but I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous.”), without sounding accusing either; and Martin ultimately relenting (“Fine. I suppose that’s… reasonable.”). They were two idiots in love, Martin being a bigger idiot this time around, but! Idiots.
- Really curious about how Martin will react if they cross paths with Simon or Daisy. Would he encourage Jon to “smite” them too? Or would he be more ambivalent, a bit torn about it? Why has he reacted differently towards Helen – is it strategical, and he just wants to try to use her as long as he can? Is it because he identifies her as the woman he had seen in the corridors, and still feels guilty about not trying to help her then?
… I’m terrified of how he will react if they cross paths with Jared or Jude, however. Jared terrorised him and caused him to accept Peter’s offer, and Jude hurt Jon deeply, something Jon has a very obvious mark to show for. (Same with Jonah: I think that for Martin, it’s clear in his mind that they’ll “smite” Jonah once they reach the Panopticon. I’m not convinced that, after what happened with the Not!Them, Jon would want to do that anymore: if some monsters and avatars didn’t really have a “choice”, then what about Jonah? At which point did he go rotten, irredeemable? What’s the difference between him and Oliver, who’s currently diversifying the way he’s torturing his victims in his domain “for variety”? Is it only Jon’s personal feelings about whether someone helped him a little bit or ensured his personal misery?)
(- ;; Now that Martin has a connection to Oliver through his jealousy… What if Martin’s ending is to lose Jon and then join Oliver’s domain to at least get an exit and cease to be…?)
- I’m a bit more concerned about what is happening in Jon’s head. First off, the way he presented Oliver, as someone who had “helped” him… versus the way he used to describe his “choice” to wake up:
(MAG121) OLIVER: The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice. You’ve put it off a long time; but it’s trapping you here. You are not quite human enough to die, but – still too human to survive. You’re… balanced on an edge, where The End can’t touch you, but you can’t escape Him. I made a choice. We all made choices. Now, you have to– […] Make your choice, Jon.
(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing.
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I don’t know, Martin. [FOOTSTEPS] I just, I don’t think he’s… [SIGH] I don’t know, I don’t think he’s evil.
[CREAKING SOUND]
MARTIN: Oh, yeah, sure, he’s probably a really kind, benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison…!
ARCHIVIST: It’s just… He helped me. Wh–when I was… He woke me up.
MARTIN: Wow. What a hero.
Back in MAG136, Jon wasn’t sure he had made a good decision; it was put into perspective when we learned a few episodes later that, at this point, Jon had already attacked three people to feed, without letting the others know. Trolley problem: was it right, for Jon not to die, if it meant sacrificing three people (soon-to-be five) to sustain himself? Was it a “good” choice?
This episode, Jon unnaturally presented it as Oliver having “helped” him by waking him up, which, mMMM. Seems like he has made his peace with that choice – which, on the one hand, good because less self-deprecating (it’s normal to want to survive), but on the other hand, there would be reasons to still feel guilty for making it, given the consequences?
I’m not really surprised about Jon expressing a degree of sympathy towards Oliver, or at least pointing out that their degree of “choice” in their transformations bears similarities, given that Oliver’s story, his first dreams, the power inflicted on him, came with a gradual desensitisation and acceptance. Chronologically, Oliver’s story is that of someone who gradually stopped fighting fate and came to embrace his Fear-patron (a turning point being when he lost someone precious to him).
(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “It was there, sleeping on my friend Anahita’s sofa, in the depths of my misery, that I first started to have the dreams. […] These dreams have been a regular part of my sleeping for about eight years now. Even as life improved and I found a new job and place to live – believe it or not I now work selling crystals and tarot cards in a “magic” shop – they continued to crop up a few times each month.
(MAG032, Jane Prentiss) “How many months has it been like this? Was there a time before? There must have been. I remember a life that was not itching, not fear, not nectar-sweet song. I had a job. I sold crystals. They were clean, and sharp and bright and they did not sing to me, though I sometimes said they did. We would sell the stones to smiling young couples with colour in their hair. I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear.”
(MAG121) OLIVER: And about two years before I came to your Institute, something happened – something I didn’t want to talk about. Didn’t even want to think about. I… [SIGH] I started to see them when I was awake.
(MAG042, Jennifer Ling) “The sign above didn’t have an obvious name, simply reading ‘Crystals. Books. Tarot’. He was tall, black and careworn, deep lines of worry etched into an otherwise handsome face. When he saw me looking at him, he began to walk up to me, still with that intense look. I took a couple of steps back, and asked if I could help him. He shook his head as if unsure what to say, then asked me what I was listening to. A chill ran over me as I realised he was staring at my ears. I said I wasn’t listening to anything, as I wasn’t wearing headphones, and asked him what he wanted. He shook his head again, and mumbled something about protecting my hearing. He turned away then, and started walking back into the shop.”
(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “This worked fine until I saw my father in the dream, walking down Oxford Street, the pulsing veins climbing up his leg and into his chest. I tried to warn him of course – asked leading questions on his health and how he was feeling, whether he’d been tired recently. I even went so far as to book him a doctor’s appointment, much to his annoyance. It did no good, though – ten days later the heart attack came for him and, despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. He died on New Year’s Eve, and as 2014 ended, so did any hope I had of my dreams doing good in the world.”
(MAG121) OLIVER: Wish I… knew why I came here. I s’pose there’s only so long you can dream about someone, and not at least try to find them. That was it with the old woman too. That was different, though. Way I figure it? She stuck her nose in just about everywhere it wasn’t wanted and stirred up hornets. ‘Till all the precautions in the world couldn’t stop Death from finally catching her. If I’d’ve known more back then, I’m… not sure I would’ve bothered trying to warn her. Still. You live and learn, don’t you?
(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “I’m well aware that I don’t even know your name, and I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway, but after what I saw I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try. I did as much research into your Institute as possible, and arranged an appointment to provide a statement about some spurious supernatural encounter. Even then I was told that the Archivist only reviews the written statements once they have been taken, so here I am, pouring out my lunatic story on paper in the hopes that you might eventually read it. If you do see this in time and read this far, then to be honest I don’t know what else to tell you. Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least you should look into appointing a successor. Good luck.”
(MAG121) OLIVER: Mmm… Let me tell you about how I tried to escape. […] It’s been almost ten years since I first started dreaming about the deaths of others, seeing those… awful veins crawling into them. Into… wounds not yet open, or… skulls not yet split. People who were about to die. Every night, I’d watch as they’d… sneak up and into folks about to choke on blood, or urging into hearts about to convulse. I’ve… come to terms with it. [DRY LAUGHTER] I’ve learned to live with it! […] And the worst part was that somewhere in me, I… I liked it! Underneath all that awful fear, it felt… like… home. […] I wanted to escape. I… needed to. […] At that moment, a sudden calm came over me. I understood it all. I could follow the line of the huge veins that encased the ship down into the water, leading off to a point almost a mile from the South-East. There. That was it. That was our fate. Where we would always be. Because I was going to take us there. Running was pointless. To try and to escape from my task would only serve to fulfil another. I finally understood what I needed to do.
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “With it, I may see and spread the hidden veins of destiny that wrap us close and draw us through the empty, yearning parody of meaning that we call life, knowing at all stages that the last and final point of this journey is a blank and futile end. I have no power to stop it, and even if I did… I would not do so; for to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming. […] And I shall help, ushering on this final, blank emptiness. Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned. But I am too much of my patron now and my feelings cannot help but reflect the shadows of… anticipation that lurk within the grave. […] And so the scope of my domain is yours…! Enter it and destroy me if you wish. I fear the annihilation you would gift me as little as I desire it. I am now, as the thing I feed, a fixed point, that has neither the longing nor the ability to change its state of existence. […] All – things – end, and every step you take, whatever direction you may choose… only brings you closer to it.”
[Dates-wise: Jennifer Ling left her statement in November 2013 and events were about the previous month; given Oliver’s reaction, he was already seeing the veins when awake back then. Jane Prentiss left her statement in February 2014, so she had met Oliver before he lost his father. “Antonio” left his statement in March 2015; Oliver visited Jon on February 15th 2018.]
It has been around eleven years, by the date of the apocalypse, for Oliver to reach this current state in which he describes himself as “The End that laces through every fibre of my soul” and “too much of my patron”. It only took Jon three years.
Though, overall, I was back at the feeling of the MAG140s episodes with the words/thoughts Jon has for victims and avatars:
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: A lot to think about. I… I feel… [FOOTSTEPS] No. I don’t want to destroy Oliver Banks. It wouldn’t do any good. I know that, and he never asked for this any more than I did. I feel badly for those that exist in his domain, o–of course, I do, but… At least, their suffering will be over, eventually. I can’t destroy everyone I cross paths with, it… [SIGH] No. If Oliver will not seek me out, then… I will leave him be. [TINY CHUCKLES] The avatar of Death… shall live. Martin’s going to be thrilled…! [SIGH]
* Stfu about deciding what is “better” for victims, Jon. (As a personal choice, yes, I would probably prefer the prospect of dying over eternal torment; HOWEVER, it’s not Jon’s place to establish what’s better for others, so Jon trying to rationalise his decision to go after Oliver? Nop, I don’t care, own up to your feelings, don’t scramble for excuses by saying you think it might be more ~charitable~ :<)
* Oliver who “never asked for this any more than I did” also explained very casually that:
(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “Sometimes, for some small variety, I will allow Danika to brush against another root: the final fate of someone she loves. […] And with each one, she knows her steps forward bring closer not only her own end, but all of theirs. Time walks forward with her, but she has not the strength to stop it. Her fate draws ever-nearer, filling me with the joy of watchful fear, but also my own concerns.”
He’s not a passive jailor. Oliver is actively enjoying tormenting his victims in different ways “for some small variety”.
I thiiiiink more and more that Jon might now be targeting the whole Fear-system, and not (anymore) the individual avatars/monsters who were pushed and twisted by the Fears to become their servants, as he had begun to think about in the second half of season 4 (“I was so sure I’d find something up there. But instead, it was just another broken person trying to come to terms with the wreckage of their life.” about Manuela, lamenting over Jane, etc.) But that brings us back to that awkward stage where it feels to me like Jon is almost more humanising avatars/monsters currently hurting their victims, than the victims themselves who are just… there, and not extremely relevant.
(I’m reaaaally really really curious about how Jon will behave towards Jonah.)
- … I’m also a bit concerned that Jon deciding that Oliver’s victims at least get to die implies something bigger: that Jon is… giving up on the idea to reverse/undo this apocalypse. If these people die, they die, it’s over. Which means that, right now, Jon doesn’t think he has a better alternative to offer them. He had hopes at the end of MAG162, he got a few hints in MAG164 about how to banish the Fears; he… might already be giving hope of fixing things, without officially voicing it?
MAG169’s title screams Desolation to me (+ bonus Agnes, with the way she got anchored to Gertrude and/or her death), and that could mean Jude (… which would be extremely interesting right now, given Martin “Kill Bill” Blackwood’s willingness to harm monsters/avatars; what could go possibly wrong with making him meet someone who physically hurt Jon, leaving a mark to show for it on one of his hands? So much). There is also a potential connection to the Distortion, and in way that could mean bad stuff (and Jon and/or Martin having to go through the door). Potentially Jon’s lighter being put to use, or Jon&Martin getting a clue about why Jon was gifted it?
Alternatively, if the meaning is more oblique and meant to subvert expectations: Vast stuff?
#1#2#3#4#5#the magnus archives#tma season 5#tma liveblog#mag168#long post/#tma spoilers/#i'm lucky there is a delay with EA this week! :D
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Hey I'm sorry to bother you, but I was putting together a post about david harbour's cryptic instagram posts and one in specific where it is explained how rainbows work and then randomly "a pale stuffed yellow lion" is mentioned and I remember you had a post where you mention the lion symbolism in stranger things. I know we shouldn't put too much faith in what actors say about there shows, just wondering what your thoughts were
@helloitisiamazing messages/questions are never a bother, so don’t worry about it :)
I don’t have instagram, so I didn’t know about this …
But i think this relates to my DiD theory (about Will).Please read theory first to avoid confusion.
The prequel novel established Psychics hallucinate rainbows when they use their powers.
In the prequel novel “Suspicious Minds” Both Alice and Terry when using their powers had hallucinations of a rainbow, Kali also formed a visual-allusion of sunflowers and a rainbow (implying all 3 have seen this rainbow, as well, when using their powers). And when Will was very young- he drew that ‘rainbow ship’-implying he has powers .
-Terry: “Spots bloomed behind her eyelids. Every color … as the sunlight turned to rainbows” ( p44-45), “The rainbow stayed with Terry for a long while, but eventually it faded and in its place: darkness. A pit.”(p. 48). “streaks of rainbow appeared (p47)”, “Wavy rainbows seemed to radiate from her hand even once she stilled it. (p. 88). “Her eyelids drifted shut, rainbows and sparks flying behind them. (p. 89).
-Alice: (who sees visions of the future) : “Snarling, snapping monsters, rainbow lights playing in the air around them (p. 121).
-Kali using her powers: “field of yellow sunflowers grew up around them. A rainbow arcing over the golden tops.” (p. 139). “He noticed she’d (Kali) drawn up there, a rainbow with her colored pencils.” Maybe he’d suggest that for the playroom” (the rainbow room we see in s2) (p. 298)
In the show, Terry also saw sunflowers and would chant “sunflower, rainbow” over and over -and in s2 Will had a sunflower book. And we were told Will drew a rainbow ship.
As far as Lions:
Will in s1 had a stuffed female lion and El had a male lion.
“Chinese guardian lions-are lion statues that are common guardians of villages (*Hawkins) and even private homes (*Castle Byers and El’s bed room). These lions can be a sign of protection of an individual or family. These lions are always depicted in pairs consisting of a male and a female, the female representing yin and the male yang. The ever-changing relationship between them is responsible for the constant flux of the universe. When, there is too great an imbalance between Yin and Yang, catastrophes can occur.”
I think this explains a very significant aspect of the show. When El was in great distress, she opened the gate- causing the disasters that later occurred in Hawkins. And after Will disappears, El appears to the audience for the first time. Hopper even tries to track down El, assuming it was Will who’s hair was shaved- because a witness said the kid with the buzzcut “could of been the Byers boy”. Mike even says “Do you really think it’s a coincidence we found her in the same place Will disappeared?”
The answer being ‘no’, it wasn’t a coincidence. We see as the show goes on, El who has never had a normal life, slowly gain normalcy in it. However, Will, at the same time, who was born into a relatively normal circumstances, has had his life become stranger and more entrenched in the supernatural. And as of the first 3 seasons, they’ve barely interacted (let alone bonded/are in balance)!They are imbalanced and because of this (symbolically)… catastrophe after catastrophe continue to occur!
When either Yin or Yang falls out of balance, they affect each other. That means they change their proportion and relationship to one another to achieve a new balance. There is normally a harmonious balance of Yin and Yang. However, they weaken — or consume — one another when they fall out of balance.”
“As an increase in one brings a corresponding decrease in the other, a correct balance between the two poles must be reached in order to achieve harmony”. “yin-yang represents the coherent fabric of nature and the mind (control of their psychic powers/ Will’s did & alters), and the interactions between the waxing and waning of the cosmic and human realms, and its harmonization (the real world vs the upside down/innerworlds)”
- Also…“Yin represents femininity, and water. While Yang represents masculinity and fire.”
The water and fire analogy is a consistent theme in the show. Will is always referenced with fire in both the comic and show . He drew his wizard character shooting fireballs in s1 and in the first ep he rolled the dice and yelled “fireball”, he had the ‘shadow monster ‘ exorcised out of him with fire, and in the comic he shoots a demogorgan and yells “fireball”. El’s element or ‘substance would be the opposite of fire, “water” - the sensory deprivation tanks are filled with water, the void floor is covered in water, she escaped the lab through a drainage pipe, was found by the gang in rain, looked at a reflection of herself in a puddle and cased ripples in it using her powers, in s3 is shown sinking in water /using goggles.
*When Hopper saw Will’s lion plushie in the upsidedown he had a flashback of sarah with her tiger plushie.
Will even has a tiger poster (shown in s1 &2) which is associated with both Sara Hopper & Kali.
Kali’s fav animal in the prequel novels is tigers. And Sara has a stuffed tiger (similar to El & Will’s stuffed felines).
In chinese mythology/culture: “The tiger is personified by the constellation Orion (interesting given Sara’s interest in space/blackholes). The tiger represents protection over human life (hmm?). Tiger charms were used to keep away evil and disease (that’s awful ironic if she died in the manner she did). In Buddhism, wearing tiger skins during meditations was believed to bring protection from spiritual interference and potential harm while exploring astral dimensions.”
Kali in ‘Suspicious Minds’ says…
“I was named after a goddess. She wore a tiger skin and was fierce in battle.”
Then Kali says to Alice (a women who can see future visions): “I love you, Alice. We can be tigers together.”
This parallel (in relation to Alice) is fascinating because Kali actually uses her powers to fake Alice’s death- and to trick Dr. Brenner, and allow Alice to escape. The allusion was so realistic, that Terry could even touch the ‘dead’ Alice.
So the tiger symbolism could be a HUGE hint- that Sarah’s death was simulated and she’ll come back and travel the innerworlds/alternate dimensions of Will’s mind (as Hopper’s guide). Hopper about sarah “galaxies the universe-she always understood that stuff.”
* so yes… Sara will come back. Since alters can have simulated ‘deaths’ and then resurrect later.
Also… a little of topic, but there’s a lot of animal symbolism in the series
- the fox, the owl, and the bear. We see this in El’s room (in Terry’s house) and castle Byers/ the byers house (in s1).Will has a bear and fox illustration in castle byers and a stuffed teddy bear in his room (in s1) and a stuffed owl (in s2). While El has multiple stuffed bear plushies (in s2-3) . And Terry (in El’s room, in s1-2) had fox and owl drawings on El’s bedroom wall.
Foxes, bears, and owls are all associated with wisdom - aka ‘Will the wise’.
*El’s room at Terry’s house also has bunnies (a ref to how Lonnie made Jonathan-and prob Will kill bunnies on hunting trips). The white rabbit is also a ‘alice and wonderland ‘ ref (when El was at Benny’s an alice and wonderland song played called -white rabbit).
* Also the first time we see butterflies (associated with kali) is actually in s1e1 cause there’s a butterfly painting above the phone Will electrocuted.
blue butterflies usually represents many things- love, change or rebirth, passage of time, or a malicious or vindictive spirit. These examples are prob the most applicable. Given that Kali is a goddess paradoxically associated with motherly love and violence ,giving freedom to children, and only killing demons in folklore.cough like those working at the Hawkins lab.
I Updated/revised this old post because i think it’s another solid did hint I wanted to talk about. David is (probably) showing us how his character is an alter of Will’s similar to Kali, El, Terry,and Sarah.Why he brings up the sunflowers/rainbows which are both connected to Will and the others I mentioned. I think it’s very possible sarah comes back -and Hopper while exploring the various ‘innerworlds’ of Will’s minds (like the Russian one, the memory scapes , etc ) reunites/ finds Sarah .And Sarah helps him . look at some of the season 4 movies: In ‘what dreams may come” a guy with his dead kid explore a heaven like world influenced by a painter’s emotions.We also have the movie ‘inside out’ -which involves “memory islands” (distinct worlds based on a child’s memories) which are influenced negatively by the kid being depressed since she moved to California. The characters traveling to these memory islands are constructs of kid’s mind -and 1 of them also has a guide helping them explore the ‘memory islands’.in Inception a guy says he’s a construct of a guy’s mind and needs to help/protect him escape the many different Ievels of the dream world.Hopper about sarah says “galaxies the universe-she always understood that stuff.” And sarah being associated with ‘tigers which are supposed to be used for protection while exploring astral dimensions (could foreshadow this).” I kind of assume movies like inception, matrix, Truman show, total recall, the cell, enter the void, wizard of oz, Peter Pan , hellraiser 2, dreamwarriors, bill & ted’s bogus journey, and welcome to marwen , also allude to this: because they involve entering simulated abstract worlds usually created from happy& traumatic memories / fears . And bladerunner 2044/total recall has the theme of false implanted memories… relating to hopper realizing he’s an alter and not in “actual Russia.” Before seeing the other segments of the innerworlds. Like in total recall- the bad ass spy is told all his memories:his wife/ years of marriage ,even his name, are just implanted memories. And she says “you’re life is a dream.” . And she says “you’re life is a dream.” Meanwhile (in assasain’s creed) an evil psychiatrist tells a character trapped at the facility -who can explore memories of another person (and who’s dad killed their mom-aka sort of like papa/terry ) that the reason she can go into a person’s memories is cause it’s her past life (aka El’s an alter). So I think that will play out in s4-5 somehow.
This hint also reminds me of when David played d&d and made his character a fireweilding wizard (who’s powers appeared at 14), has a ‘special connection’ to fin’s paladin, and doesn’t know who his dad is.
#stranger things#will byers#el hopper#kali prasad#sara hopper#jim hopper#stranger things theory#did theory
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My thoughts after ep 9.09
My thoughts on season 9 of #Suits ahead of the series finale:
So today I saw 9.09 and I think now is the right time to write a little piece about my thoughts and wishes and expectations. Why now? During the past 2 or 3 episode I have realized that I have very mixed feelings about this season. Before I start I’d like to remind you that this is how I feel about this seasons. There may be things you you agree with, other’S you don’t. I’d like to hear about them, but please be polite - it’s just an opinion. Also: While many things might sound negative, I still took the time to think and write about them. That’ how invested I am in this show. I wouldn’t bother doing that for a show I don’t enjoy watching. The thing is: The more I like a character, the harder I judge how they are developed. No hard feelings.
First, I have to admit that I had very high expectations after 8.16. I did not particularly like season 8, not because Mike and Rachel left and not because of the introduction of Alex and Samantha (who I think were both very refreshing additions to the cast), but because I felt that Harvey and Donna in particular seemed to be stuck in some kind of limbo in regards to character development for the first 14 episodes. The Kessler romance that somewhat triggered the “Darvey” romance felt rushed in the end of season 8, even though I had wanted for this to happen for so long.
9.01 started so promising and I really enjoyed the introduction of Faye. I loved the fun moments with Louis being Louis, just the way they happened in the early seasons. All in all, Louis is the one character I am most pleased with in regards to character and storyline. Everything seems seamlessly consistent with him.
Harvey I also really can’t complain about. His character development has stretched over the entirety of nine seasons and it is natural that now things are slowly winding down.
The character development I am most unhappy about is Donna. It seems to me that all season her sole purpose was to serve Harvey coffee. There were some sweet moments with Louis and some confrontations with Faye and the other partners, but let’s face it: The only storyline that she really had next to being Harvey’s sidekick was her Dad and Faye being unhappy about her relationship with Harvey, which was one of the subplots of “Cairo”. It reminded me a little of the early seasons when Donna barely had any other purpose than being Harvey’s know-it-all secretary, but not in a good way. It felt like Alex, Katrina and even Esther had more significant plots this season, though they were similar in their length regarding screen time.
However this isn’t the first time I am unhappy with Donna’s character development. Despite Donna being my favorite Suits character -hands down- I’m still super irked about her unrealistic leap from secretary to COO. As a woman in a business where most my co-workers are men I hate to see when TV gets women’s hopes up in how this could happen. To me, it feels like Donna slept her way to her position without actually sleeping with her boss. The circumstances are -in my eyes- the same, which is why I hate it. This isn’t gender equality, because no secretary, be it male or female does get promoted to COO without taking a few more steps in between. This only happens in fairytales. Donna has no qualification to be COO at all and I would have felt much differently about the situation if the plot would have been Donna taking her seed money to go to business school. Or some twist in the story with Donna revealing her MBA certificate saying “Actually, those Pilates classes I allegedly take every Friday afternoon were college courses. Here’s my degree. Promote me.” And the worst of it all: Donna changed. The way she spoke to people changed, the way she dressed changed and in the end she was a Jessica/Donna hybrid I could hardy recognize as the quirky secretary she used to be. For me part of her charm was the amount of power she had by just “working from Harvey’s desk”. But I’m rambling- this ship sailed long ago.
Back to season 9. I had hope, now that she was in a relationship with Harvey, we would get a more domestic side of her, get a glimpse of her private life. What’s with that reveal of an older sister that was neither here or there or in any way relevant to the plot? I don’t know about you, but Donna always gave me this ‘only-child’ vibe. Which is probably why her sister was explained away as “much older”. However, why did they cast a woman who is only 11 years older than Sarah Rafferty as her mom? While I think season 9 Donna is probably several years younger than Sarah because the seasons only appear to be spanning around 6 months or so (considering how long Sheila was pregnant, the time it took Rachel to get her postgraduate degree and so on) and one could argue that Donna’s mom is therefore some years older than the actress who portrays her it would still be the case that Donna’s mom had her in her early twenties at the latest. When would she have had a much older sister? At 16? Unnecessary plot hole/irregularity. Kudos however for explaining away how Donna’s parents seemed to be married when Harvey let them stay at his condo once, then were seemingly separated during the “god-awful dinner party” (some people argue it must have been Donna’s “loser” boyfriend, but why would have Harvey been there in that case?). Clarification finally came: They were separated but got back together. Brownie points for plot consistency.
Some casual outfits made an appearance, which was an important first step, but they still felt a little forced. I mean, what’s the thing in American TV shows to have the woman wearing PJs with perfectly coiffed hair, fake lashes and full make-up? In the season 2 scenes where Harvey and Mike visited Donna after she was fired she was not only dressed casually, her face and hair were noticeably dressed down as well. I would have liked that a lot to make it more realistic. And the jammies disappeared after episode 1. There are several morning scenes with Harvey and Donna were both are already fully dressed for work (apart from Donna being barefoot at some times (jeez, if I wore those heels I’d be barefoot the second I’d enter the apartment). I think it made those scenes more sterile and less domestic despite the sweet dialogues. I think I would have liked it better, if there was a little more slouching, touching, maybe a TV running, or one of them sitting on the crumpled bed. Less superhero, more normal, that’s what I would have liked. And what’s with the no-touching anyways? I would have understood if it was only the office scenes, because I do believe neither of the character’s to be big on PDA, especially at work. But at home? Politely sitting next to each other, no leaning in, no touching, no hugging. Just talking. Like old times. I would have liked to see more of them being a couple. Sure, there were some pretty intense romantic scenes like in Mike’s apartment and with Lily and the painting, but the small moments that surrounded those big Darvey scenes were pretty underwhelming. Well, at least Harvey’s bathrobe made an appearance in 9.09 so there is still hopes for some normalcy in 9.10. It’s not an issue of screen time. Even as a Darvey shipper I was aware s9 would not turn into the “Darvey show”, it’s the content of some of the small scenes that disappointed me. Okay, no more Donna or Darvey bashing. Did I mention I’m actually a Darvey shipper?
One more thing: Why is everyone in this show dying of heart attacks. I understand why Lily had to die in terms of the storyline. But a heart attack? What are the odds of both slim and fit parents dying untimely of a heart attack? Could the writers not think of other sudden causes of deaths? She could have an aneurysm, get hit by a car, been diagnosed with a fatal cancer without Harvey knowing and so on and so on. Also: In the very same episode Sutter also died: Cause: Heart attack! If that’s where the writer’s creativity is heading it’s probably best we are nearing the end. If this unfortunate accumulation of heart attack was created on purpose, I do not get the reason why.
Another hope I had for s9: A Jessica cameo. My hope was for a small storyline that would be addressed in both Pearson and Suits in order to gain more attraction for the new show. Plus I love Jessica. With so many loose ends to tie up in 9.10 I doubt there will be time for a proper Jessica Pearson appearance other than being a guest to Louis wedding, if she appears at all. Can we please talk about the wedding? Why does Louis get a baby AND a wedding in one season? He was engaged twice before. Even Mike and Rachel technically had two wedding scenes (one in s5 and one in 7). At least it looks like we still get a Darvey proposal. While I agree with Sarah Rafferty that a big white wedding shouldn’t be the conclusion of her character, I had –albeit a small- hope that there would be unconventional quick nuptials somewhere around episode 6 or 7 instead of that almost proposal. Taking Harvey’s character development into context I would find that Harvey creating a family on his own more important than a Darvey wedding. We already know those two are endgame. And while I think another pregnancy would be cheesy and far too rushed in this short span of episodes I still hold out a little hope that there will be a moment shared between Harvey and Donna that alludes to the idea that they’ll go into the baby-making business soon. Maybe when Sheila goes into labour? Not sure that will als still happen in 9.10.
In order not to have to finish this little article on a negative note: There are things I really really liked. Samantha’s storylines, Mike’s cameo in 9.09 (though he was such a douche in 9.05), the phone calls with Lily, the mock trial and Sheila’s change of heart about her career. Been glad we did not spend more than one ep on the Katrina/Brian romance. Thank you.
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Congratulations SAMWELL! You’ve been accepted as TITANIA.
Sam, your app blew me away! I really got a sense for who Kiara is, through a bio that gripped me and made me feel for her. The idea of how fear, especially fear of the unknown, can have someone turn so quickly on a loved one is heartbreaking, and really made me understand Kiara’s motivations. Honestly, one of the lines that made me get exactly who you saw Titania as was from the headcanons: Kiara, while quiet, is not soft-spoken. She certainly made a loud impact on me, that’s for sure!
Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.
Out Of Character Information
NAME/ALIAS: Samwell/Sami/Sam
PRONOUNS: He/him
AGE: 20
TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST and I will say a solid 5? I’ll try and reply to any response within a week.
In Character Information
DESIRED ROLE: Kiara Mandal (Titania)
GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis-female, she/her
DETAILS & ANALYSIS:
Kiara to me, is someone who lives and breathes violence, but chooses not to let it consume her. Constantly, she is fighting a battle within herself, challenging her powers, making sure to demand just enough, but never more. Even if she knows she could give more, she forces herself to give just enough.
The kind of power she has is something she could let consume her, but it’s through her experiences that she finds the inner strength to do only what must be done, and nothing more than that. She is a bruiser because she is good at it, not because it is something she loves to do.
Kiara is the kind of person to find as much strength in a well placed punch as in a sturdy block. In fact, I think she is more of a defensive fighter. She could physically crush what was in her way, but instead chooses to redirect it. Push it to the side.
Pain is all that she has known, whether it is what she’s felt, or what she’s dealt. There is a sick sort of comfort in that that she allows herself to have. She finds confidence in knowing that nothing has broken her this far, and it is unlikely to change.
BIO:
Tw: violence, explicit child abuse, explicit domestic abuse, gore, death during pregnancy, suffocation, implied sexual assult
The first thing Kiara could remember was pain. The sharp slap of a hand too big on the back of her skull, knocking her down. In that moment, she screamed in pain and confusion, a cry for her mother or father to come to her aid.
She would learn to remain quiet when hit quickly.
For the beginning of her life, Kiara knew of little else but fear and pain. At least, that’s how the nights were. Daytime was for kisses and watching as her mother patiently tried to coax her to speak and read and learn. But even at four years old, Kiara knew that sound was dangerous, and even more serious, that her mother was weak. There was no protection to be sought in her arms. None offered until her father was gone the next morning.
And then it was, oh, my darling Kiara, my princess, my light. Four years old, and she was cynical and numb as her mother gripped her arms too tight, always too tight, and begged her for forgiveness Kiara didn’t know how to give.
It made sense, in a way, when her mother passed away giving birth to her little sister. She wasn’t strong enough. Amara, one of the last things her mother said. Kiara was the first to hold her new sister, her father too drunk to care that his wife had died and his new daughter was born. Amara. Eternal. She was seven and smooth talking the nurses into ignoring her dozing father. She had learned young how to do that.
“I fell.”
“So clumsy at this age, right Kiara?”
Seven and staring into her sister’s eyes, grabbing onto even the hint of a purpose where she had previously had none. Or at least, no purpose beyond something to satiate her father’s anger. And Kiara was a good sister. She cleaned her, and fed her to the best of her abilities. She did what she could remember her mother doing for her, and then what her mother never could, for when the porch lights flickered on and the door handled bashed the wall for the umpteenth time, Kiara was hiding her sister away and willingly stepping into the maw of a beast. In this way, she could be stronger than her mother, for this was all she knew.
When she is nine years old, her father gets to Amara first. She watches her father pick up her two year old sister with a grip too tight, tight enough that she screamed. Amara was too little to understand that screaming just made him angry. Made him careless.
Well, that evening, Kiara discovered that anger made her careless as well.
All she could see was red, all she could hear was her pulse. All she could feel was the way her father’s metacarpals crumbled in her tiny hand, her fingers barely flexing around them. He screamed, and her sister screamed, but Kiara felt steady, centered for a nine year old who should be too young to understand pain.
She held her sister close as her father spit curses, violent even while clutching his hand to his chest. His voice was grating, it always was, but instead of smothering the irritation out of fear, she stoked it, her eyes burning as she stared her father down.
When she got close again, he stilled out of fear, and Kiara had her first taste of vengeance. Of visceral satisfaction so sweet, that she took her time patting the top of her father’s head with too much force, enough that his teeth clicked together.
“You won’t touch us again, will you Father?” she asked as sweetly as she could, which wasn’t much. Kiara didn’t understand what sweet was outside of the sugary taste of fake cherry from the cough syrup used to cure everything. When he didn’t answer, too drunk to give up his pride, she gripped his jaw tightly in her hand, and squeezed until there was a sickening pop under her fingers, and he wailed, nodding frantically. A cowardly man, something even someone as young as Kiara could see. She hated him.
Later as they sat in the emergency room while they attempted to uncrumple his hand and set his jaw, it was Kiara’s turn to bounce her sister on her knee and tell the doctors placidly, “He just fell. My Father can be clumsy.”
Kiara kept her father in line after that. Less demanding things of him, and more requiring that he stay away from both she and Amara. It meant Kiara had taken up mothering Amara, but she didn’t mind it. Her sister deserved it.
That did mean, however, that money became an issue quickly. Their father barely had enough money to feed himself after indulging in drink, and once Kiara made it clear they stayed for the shelter and he allowed them to for tax cuts, she knew that she needed to do more than just provide food for her sister. No. Her sister deserved someone approaching normalcy.
She realized how much someone would pay for protection on accident. She was eleven years old, ripping a bully off of some trembling kid. The bully flew through the air. Hit his head. She didn’t blink at the blood that dripped from his head, but only because he shook it off so quickly. He looked at her with something almost like respect, which made her bare her teeth. Cowardly, just like her father. But he wouldn’t tell, as he ran away with his tail between his legs. No. He would never let the others know he had been beaten by a girl.
The kid thrusted money at her. It wasn’t much; five dollars for lunch. She wouldn’t threaten it from him, but he seemed adamant, as if to make sure she really didn’t try and throw a punch at him. She took it, and kept it for food for Amara.
Her morality was a strange thing. From age eleven, she played the hidden bodyguard. Word got around that she was not someone to be messed with. People paid her to walk them home, or to show up to a fight to just stand there and look. It only took a couple of people showing up with misshapen faces for her to make her brand known, and it was one she didn’t mind having.
That being said, she did not find pride in her strength. In fact, it was something she felt like she couldn’t control. It was why she preferred her presence to do her work. Sooner or later, someone would snitch, and she would be up shits creek without a paddle. The older she got, the more aware of the fact that her strength was not normal, the more aware that she could be taken away from Amara, who would be left to fend for herself.
Kiara upgraded from a schoolyard bodyguard to a dirtier one when she was sixteen, accompanying drug runs for seniors dipping their hands into a more profitable business. She didn’t have to watch her fists as much. No one would tattle on a busted skull from a bad run in with a drug deal.
Kiara didn’t think it was possible for her to grow more powerful. She thought she knew the limits of her powers after using them for so long. But on her sister’s eighteenth birthday, that was proven wrong.
Kiara was twenty-five, covering for her sister in an apartment she rented using the money she got protecting her clients. Because that’s what they were at that point. Clients. Disgusting greedy pigs, but who paid up when the deal was done. Kiara licked blood off her upper lip as she pushed the door to the apartment open that fateful evening, and was met with a horrible scream.
Heart in her throat, Kiara had rushed to her sister’s aid, breaking the door off of her sister’s hinges and storming into the room, her blood boiling, alive. It happened in a blur; she plucked the man plastered over her sister up by his neck and simply squeezed. His throat and neck crumpled like a bendy straw. There was no moment to beg for forgiveness. There was no moment to explain. Kiara saw and Kiara killed.
It wasn’t the first time; she had heard of the injuries she caused putting men in the hospital only for them to die later. But she felt almost removed from them; they deserved it for raising their hand to her. But this? This was unexpected. This was intimate; Kiara could feel the exact breath she stole as she sealed his windpipe forever.
Amara’s scream was bloodcurdling. “What did you do? Oh my god is he dead? He’s dead oh my god Kiara you killed him, what did you do, what did you do?!” she moaned and begged, her eyes covered by her hands, and for the first time in a long time, Kiara’s own began to tremble.
“Amara-,” she had tried, still numb, still muting the gurgling sounds coming from the floor out of her mind. Compartmentalize. What comes first, always: Amara. But Amara flinched back from her hands, screaming.
“Freak! You’re a goddamn freak you just- you just killed him!” Amara was hyperventilating, trembling, sobbing, and all Kiara wanted to do was fix fix fix, but there was nothing that she could do. All she knew how to do was break, but never to put back together.
“I always knew there was something wrong with you- you’re a mutt, aren’t you? Is this what you do?! Have you been housing me with blood money?” she shouted, demanding answers. Fierce and fiery and bright. Bold, like Kiara hoped she would be, just not like this.
“I’m calling the police,” Amara finally said, stumbling for the phone, and Kiara moved without thinking, reaching out and snatching her wrist from where it was stretched out for her phone.
Snap.
A pause for a hush of horror.
“You broke my wrist! What the fuck, Kiara-” but Amara’s shrill cries felt like they were being heard from underwater. Gurging, gurling, like the man on the floor. Her hands were red, Amara’s eyes were red, everything was red, red red.
Amara was on the phone.
So Kiara ran. And she never, ever looked back.
EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:
Gerrard: What Gerrard thought was strength pissed Kiara off. Fighting and winning in combat was not strength. There was no glory to be found in that. The fact that she would be the perfect pet cage fighter made her blood boil. When she looks at Gerrard, she sees greed and a weak heart. He has no values in her eyes, which makes him pointless. A fight for the sake of a fight wasn’t worth participating in, and so she will never give him the satisfaction. It was not strong to show off. No- true strength came with self-discipline, something Gerrard never seemed to have.
EXTRA:
Kiara loves to draw. She loves to create. In a way, it creates a balance between the inherent violence of her grip, and what she chooses to do with it.
Kiara, while quiet, is not soft-spoken, but she isn’t a hard-ass either. She values her words, and the words of others, so she usually picks hers deliberately. Don’t be fooled though; she’s just as likely to cite a haiku as she is to quote a meme if the mood is right.
Kiara doesn’t think of herself as kind, even though others might see her that way. She likes to think of herself as just, maybe, but not kind. Kind implies you don’t inherently deserve the respect she is willing to treat you with.
Pinboard!: https://www.pinterest.com/nenapie0890/kiara-mandal/more_ideas/?ideas_referrer=1
ANYTHING ELSE:
I ADORE YALL
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Hi steph. Do you have a fic rec list of novel- long fics? Ta
AHHHH Nonny you’re in luck! As I’ve been sorting, I’ve been separating them into word length too, LOL. And seeing as it’s National Novel Writing Month, I think this is a great time to give our fandom writers love and appreciation for their novel-length works!
So I Googled how long a basic novel is, and according to this site, it’s between 40k and 90k. Hmm, well, I have them sorted in 25K chunks, so I’ll start at 50K to 100K, since it works seeing as NaNo’s writing goal is 50K :D).
I really hope you enjoy! :D Love all you authors so very much, and I look forward to this year’s submissions!
NOVEL LENGTH FICS (50 - 100 K WORDS)
Triage by scullyseviltwin (E, 51,612 w. || Character Injury, Introspection) – Sherlock’s mind goes exceedingly, devastatingly quiet and gray-blank. When he speaks it’s through a thick haze, it’s through molasses, he’s so disconnected from the words that it may as well be the unconscious shooter speaking.
In the Dark Hours by hubblegleeflower (E, 51,639 w. || Friends to Lovers, Unreliable Narrator, Closeted Bi John, Angst, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, First Time, John’s Blog / Epistolary) – John, wounded and silent, drifts back to Baker Street for healing...and then goes home again. He visits, gets more upbeat, chattier, smiles, jokes... and still goes home again. Sherlock wants him to move back in - it just makes sense - but John shows no signs of doing so. This is the story of how John and Sherlock learn to say what needs to be said when they're both so very, very rubbish at talking.
The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues, Cuddling) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.
Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family's private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it's time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.
Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU, First Time/Kiss, BAMF John, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Case Fic) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”
Lost Without My Blogger by starrysummernights (E, 52,155 w. || Rev. Reich, PTSD, Hurt / Comfort, Fluff / Angst, Psychological Torture, Reunion Fic, Friends to Lovers) – John is abducted and declared dead. How will Sherlock cope without his blogger? How will he react when John comes back from the "dead?" Drama and angst with a healthy dose of romance. Part 1 of I'd Be Lost Without My Blogger
John Watson's Twelve Days of Christmas by earlgreytea68 (M, 53,464 w. || Christmas, Holmes Family, Fake Relationship, Alternate First Meeting, Falling in Love, Fluff and Angst, Hardcore Pining) – It's the holiday season. John Watson needs money. Sherlock Holmes needs something else.
Fan Mail by scullyseviltwin (E, 53,942 w. || Stalking, Obsessive Fans, Angst) – “WatsonChick143 has been rather maniacal in her commenting as of late... she’s left comments on everything you’ve posted John, something so obvious can’t have escaped even your attention."
Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (E, 54,437 w. || Post S3 || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world ... and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.
Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w. || Drumsticks, First Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.
Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w. || Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.
The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w. || First Time/Kiss, Experiments / Sexual Experimentations, Multi Pairings) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.
Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror (E, 58,887 w. || Post S4, Couple For a Case, Bed-Sharing, First Times, Confessions, Awkwardness, Sex Trafficking) – Sherlock and John go undercover at Ravine Valley, a therapy centre for same-sex male couples in an investigation into a possible human trafficking ring. As they pose as a couple and fake their way through the therapy sessions for the sake of the case, it quickly becomes difficult to avoid discussing their very real issues. Set roughly six nine months after series 4.
The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it's all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia
Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,493 w. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.
The Progress of Sherlock Holmes by ivyblossom (E, 62,006 w || Sherlock POV, Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Infidelity, Sherlock Learns About Himself, Happy Ending) – Sherlock struggles with his feelings for John, makes a mistake, and learns just how important he and John are to each other. Non-BBC Mary / John, but it’s a *complicated* relationship.
An Experiment in Empathy by belovedmuerto (T, 62,397 w. across 13 stories || Empath AU || Psychic John, Psychic-by-Proxy Sherlock, Empathy, Psychic Bond, Romance / Bromance) – In which John is an empath, Sherlock is Sherlock, and an epic bromance happens. In the aftermath of The Great Game, John creates an unexpected bond between himself and Sherlock. Now they have to learn how to deal with it. John is better at this than Sherlock is.
Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w. || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe
Bedtime Universe by Liketheriver (M, 65,173 w. across 2 stories || Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Angst, Humour, Case Fic) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more.
Watches 'Verse by bendingsignpost (E, 66,905 w. across 2 works || Magical Realism, Reality Distortion, Angst, Partial MCD, BAMF John) – First, he is shot in Afghanistan. Second, he wakes to a phone call in Chelmsford, Essex. Third is pain, fourth is normalcy, fifth is agony and sixth is confusion. By the eighth, he's lost track. (John-centric AU) Part 1 of Watches 'Verse
You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) – John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.
Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (E, 67,718 w. || First Time / Kiss, Seizures, Headaches) – "If Sherlock's brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse." Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.
The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w. || Casefic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...
Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse... Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes
The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary's betrayal and Sherlock's deceptions.
A Cure For Boredom by emmagrant01 (E, 81,665 w. || Dirty Talk, Threesomes, Light Dom/Sub, Sex Club, Experiments, Anal, Mildly Dubious Consent) – They'd never talked about sex in the year they'd known each other. Well, that wasn't quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.
Secrets and Revelations by Hisstah (E, 83,535 w. || Sentinel / Guides AU, Omegaverse, Aventure, Violence, Anal / Oral, Omega!John / Alpha!Sherlock, Case Fic, Politics, Mild DubCon) – Dr John Watson has some major secrets that he's kept from his flatmate, Alpha Sentinel Sherlock Holmes. Now the Sentinel Tower is after him. Can John stay out of their hands until he can reveal his secrets to Sherlock? Part 1 of Secrets and Revelations
Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.
Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.
Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, H/C, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.
A Case of Identity by jkay1980 (T, 91,009 w. || Fake Relationship, Post-TRF, Case Fic) – John and Sherlock have succeeded in rebuilding their friendship after Sherlock’s fake suicide, but an unusual case puts their relationship to the test. They pretend to be engaged and attend a marriage counseling workshop. Under the pretext of the case, Sherlock turns out to be a master of seduction, and John finally learns he might like Sherlock more than he thought. Slowly, John discovers that he loves Sherlock not only in a friendly, brotherly way, but both men have to fight their own demons before they can think of taking their relationship to a new level… [[I love this fic. It’s a really great long-fic!]]
The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?"
#steph replies#johnlock fic recs#my fic recs#novel length fics#long fics#Anonymous#50 to 100k#long post#nanowrimo
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Till Death: Chapter 3
Co-authored by @holyfuckabear
Summary: A canon rewrite fic. Seventeen-year-old Ichigo Kurosaki has become a superhero overnight. This entails a lot more oversight than he was lead to believe there would be. Is this his life now? Being stalked by some tiny woman, hell-bent on bossing him around? (For the record: yes.)
He was five years old when his mother moved the family to Karakura, so he has very few memories of the time before.
His life changed swiftly. His new preschool was, in a word, monochromatic. There were at least a couple other mixed kids at the other one, but he was the only one here. His mom was happier, that was good. Yuzu wasn’t sick as often, Mom said that being out of the city smog helped. One day he suddenly had a father.
Or maybe that’s just the blur of young memories.
.
.
It’s been a really long week. He hasn’t been sleeping much, what with his new Soul Reaper duties. Weirdly, Mizuiro’s been getting on his nerves, but he has no idea why. And he’s not really getting this section in Maths, so he’s going to have to do some extra legwork to figure it out. Plus Tatsuki’s been going through something so it’s not like he can ask her, like he usually would.
Also, he lives with a raging maniac.
Well… another raging maniac, but this one lives in his closet, not down the hall, so it’s twice as annoying and he gets zero respite.
It’s only Wednesday and he feels like he’s counting down the seconds until the weekend. All he wants is some quiet time to himself. He wants to sleep, finish his homework and maybe read something for fun instead of class for a change.
Ichigo’s already reached his threshold for social interactions and he has two days to go.
He’s not going to survive this week.
.
.
One moment she’s sweetly feigning interest in Keigo’s prattle, the next she’s shouting for Ichigo to pull himself together after having his arm nearly ripped from its socket.
Such is the duality of Rukia.
The former freaks him out more than the latter.
Ichigo gets used to her. Rukia’s around all the time, she is inconveniently, loudly present. She doesn’t have to say anything. Her existence is loud. He was studying on his bed instead of his desk the other day. She appropriated his desk chair, wheeled it close to the bed and used his spine as a footrest as she blew through his collection of manga. When he complained, she actually shushed him. “I’m at a really good part and you’re distracting!”
“...!”
He’s used to the real her; the pushy, stubborn drill sergeant. He acts on her say-so. It’s the sparkly, girly princess that freaks him out. He has no idea what to do with that. Every day it’s like stepping into the twilight zone and how has nobody noticed how fake it all sounds? He’s the only guy who’s made it out of Plato’s cave. He wants to physically shake his classmates and shout “Don’t you realize it’s all just bullshit shadows on the wall?!”
He doesn’t, but he really feels like it.
This is what his life has come to.
Normalcy is running around the city in the dead of night, searching for monsters to slay. Normalcy has become acting on orders delivered by text-message and bunny-shaped shadows.
.
.
Normally Rukia wouldn’t fraternize with the humans, but Orihime makes it very hard to keep her distance. She invites her into the inner sanctum of high school girl-dom, a complex set of social systems that Rukia has zero experience with. It’s surprisingly lovely.
She can be completely genuine with exactly none of them, but it’s still nice.
They eat lunches on the roof, tangential to the boys. They stand at each other’s desks between classes. They escort each other on routine errands, simply for the pleasure of each other’s company.
????
It’s baffling, but fascinating (she’ll never admit it, but it makes her feel warm inside). And mimicking the girls does wonders for the authenticity of her acting.
Orihime looks at her askance every once in awhile, but she seems to understand the principle. She never addresses it in private anyway.
The boys and girls occasionally drift together. This is in part due to Tatsuki and Ichigo’s friendship and in part due to the conventional social mores of the human world that dictate that genders must interact, but never fully integrate.
She likes Chad, he’s sweet and quiet, clearly very intelligent and has a sparse way with words that she finds refreshing. Keigo is a massive idiot, but there are worse things to be. Mizuiro seems very sweet, but he’s always asking her to help him with schoolwork and tends to sit very close as she badly explains grammar structure.
Ichigo is Ichigo.
“Rukia, I made cookies for everyone!” Orihime jolts her from her contemplations to remind her that there are worse casts of characters to be among.
Then she takes a bite and valiantly tries not to spit out the edamame chip cookie.
.
.
Chad’s a very large young man. He’s also Mexican. He tends to stand out in crowds, particularly in a population like Japan. He’s quiet, so people tend to forget he’s even around. They’ll say things in front of him, thinking he’s not listening. Or worse, they think he’s too stupid to understand what they’re saying.
He speaks three languages, but whatever.
So when Ichigo and Rukia run off together for the third time in a week and the guys immediately turn to gossiping hens, he figures no one’s expecting a response from him. He sighs. People should really learn to mind their own business… then again he’s a hypocrite, he’s just not asking his questions out loud.
Whatever.
Maybe his mind’s just under occupied these days, but he’s been contemplating the mysterious case of the delinquent and the new girl. Specifically, with respect to the ghost problem that Ichigo’s been dealing with for as long as he’s known him. It’s not that he’s seen them do anything suspicious, but the Kurosaki clinic was destroyed and the next day Rukia Kuchiki shows up at school? A prissy, perky, pretty girl appears and suddenly Ichigo’s asking her how high he should jump? Chad sees her for what she is, because they’re the same. She’s quiet because she is always listening, her attention is eerily laser focused.
After school he goes to his part-time job at the library. Today is Wednesday so it’s Reading Circle for the daycare kids whose parents work late. Chad has been slowly making his way through Howl’s Moving Castle, chapter by chapter. It’s taking him twice as long because he reads the chapters in Japanese, then English, but he thinks it’s worth it. He likes Sophie, she’s very sensible. That is a girl for whom words have weight and meaning.
After that he meets up with some of the guys he’s played a couple gigs with.
“Give him to Chad,” says one, of a supposedly cursed Cockatiel.
Chad sighs, “what’s your name?” he is awfully cute.
“Yuichi Shibata, what’s your name mister?” And then a metal beam falls on his head.
He’s nothing if not polite though, so he introduces himself.
“Pleased to meet you, I’m Sado Yasutora.”
.
.
Rukia is always flexing. She’s always testing her limbs and joints, stretching and pulling at them, trying to find their limits. She feels too big for her skin, too strong for her fragile bird bones. This body is not real but it’s her reality.
The human boy took her powers. She’d only meant to give him a little, just enough to end the fight. Turns out, she miscalculated. And now she’s living on dwindled reserves and the foreseeable future looks like a long, winding wait for her powers to return.
But they will return. Little by little.
At first, she could feel herself getting stronger by the day. She has recovered enough that she can do the most basic kidou: mild restraints and minimal healing. It’ll probably be months until she’s recovered! Months in the human world, with a boy left to do her work.
So she flexes, she tests the limits of her strength and gains micrometers where she can.
In the meantime, at least she’s learning leadership skills.
.
.
There’s an adjustment period. They aren’t quite working like a well oiled machine yet. That’s the thing with new partnerships, they have to learn their roles. They’re treading new ground together and some growing pains are to be expected. And then there are some details that turn into unexpected issues.
.
.
The can rattles as she shakes it in her hand, the sound makes her heart race. Tatsuki bites her lip, planning her first stroke. The side of the bare building is a blank canvas, her canvas. She wears gloves while she does it. Intent on keeping the evidence off her fingers. A bright splash of orange against white stucco.
Her mother thought painting classes would be a good enough creative outlet. Don’t get her wrong, it did give her the skills to pull this off.
A big, orange asterisk. The start of a dandelion. She shakes her can of yellow, setting the orange down. It tips onto its side and rolls deeper into the alley.
“Shit.” Tatsuki mutters, following the can.
It stops against the sole of a shoe. Tatsuki’s eyes trail up from the shoe to some legs, then a torso. Her mouth goes dry and she chokes when she sees the face.
Ichigo, slumped against a dumpster. His eyes are open and glassy. She doesn’t see his chest moving.
She stands there for who knows how long before her brain gets her body to react. She presses her thumb to his pulse, but all she can feel is her own heart hammering against her thumb.
“Ichigo.” She quavers, grabbing him by the arms and shaking him. He’s warm, but not very.
“Ichigo!” Tatsuki slaps him across the face. His head flops, limp.
She covers her mouth with her hand, swallowing the whimper that lets loose her tears.
He’s dead. Oh god, he’s dead just like Masaki.
She was supposed to protect him.
Her hands shake as she reaches for her cellphone. There’s a splash of orange paint on her glove and she stares at it for longer than she should.
She dials, but before it can ring, she hears approaching footsteps.
“Come on and get in there then.” The voice sounds familiar but Tatsuki’s ears are still ringing.
“Hello, what is your emergency?”
Tatsuki opens her mouth to speak when she hears Ichigo groan.
“Ugh, why does my face sting?”
“Ichigo!” She scrambles to check his eyes and throat.
“Get off me, wouldja.” He pushes her off.
“You were collapsed! I thought you were dead!”
“Ma’am, are you still on the line?”
“Thanks, we’re good. Bye.” Tatsuki hangs up. Her gaze skips between Ichigo, who is sitting slumped against the alley wall, and Rukia, who is standing off to his right. “Rukia, when did you get here?”
Rukia swallows, “Oh, I was just passing by!”
If Tatsuki had less adrenaline coursing through her system she might have questioned the validity of Rukia walking around alone at night and just happening to stumble upon them.
“I heard you yelling and I came running!”
“See, that’s a good samaritan,” Ichigo means for this to sound sincere but it comes off sarcastic. Which is actually how he means it.
“Why don’t I help you bring him home to the clinic,” Rukia suggests, an ounce too chipper.
Tatsuki nods numbly and each of them grab one of his arms to sling over their shoulders. They make a comical trio, lumbering along the Karakura streets. Ichigo is utterly fine and has never felt more emasculated.
He tries to protest, but Rukia shuts him down. “Oh dear, you shouldn’t strain yourself Kurosaki! I’m not very strong, but Tatsuki is. We’ll help you get home safe!”
When he gets home and his father starts gushing over his non-existent injuries, Ichigo honestly contemplates quitting. Being a superhero isn’t worth this.
.
.
From there, things go from annoying to maddening.
Everyone seems to have something to say about the ‘hot new transfer student’ and the ginger thug who always seems to be hanging around her.
Keigo is very proud.
Mizuiro is overly solicitous with his promises that he’s not flirting with her, that he’s into older women.
For Ichigo’s part, he’s sure that Rukia is way older than even Mizuiro’d prefer but would happily step aside in favor of their future bliss.
.
.
On Thursday Chad brings his new pet to school. None of his teachers bother him about it and at lunch, his friends clamor over the strange bird with the expansive vocabulary.
Everyone, that is, except for Ichigo and Rukia.
“Chad,” asks Ichigo, tentatively, “where’d you get the bird.”
“A guy…”
This seems like a perfectly reasonable response to Chad, but Keigo is unsatisfied. “Why are you always too lazy to tell the actual story?! Some guy?! What guy? Where? Does it have to do with the car that hit you yesterday? Come on!”
And so it goes.
Ichigo continues to stare at the bird through lunch.
“Do you need some help with that?” Mizuiro asks, startling Ichigo out of his revery. But he wasn’t addressing him.
“It’s this infernal juice box!” Rukia exclaims, sounding uncomfortably too like her demanding self.
Ichigo sighs and takes it from her, pokes a hole with the straw and never lets his eyes stray from the bird.
Mizuiro throws up his hands in mock defensiveness and shoots Ichigo a sly look before turning back to the one-sided conversation Keigo and Chad are still having.
“You’re right you know,” Rukia says around the straw. “There is something odd about that bird, but it’s not evil. It’s just lonely.”
Rukia knows how it feels. Lately she’s been feeling homesick for the 13th Division.
“We’ll take care of it tonight.”
“Awesome, I didn’t need to study anyway.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“No ma’am,” he replies, sarcastically.
“Your friend… is he like you?”
“What do you mean? Mixed?”
“No, you idiot. Can he see spirits?”
“Not… that I know of.”
“Do you know him well?”
“Sure,” Ichigo scratches his nose and contemplates Chad, “Back in middle school I was already attracting a lot of… negative attention ‘cause of my hair. One day I ran into these guys who really meant business. They were gonna mess me up. Then Chad showed up. Ever since, we’ve watched each other’s backs.”
Rukia turns to look at the giant too.
“He never fights back, just stands there, puts himself between bad guys and whoever they’re trying to hurt. So-”
“So you fight for him,” Rukia finishes.
Ichigo glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah.”
“You’re a good friend, Ichigo.”
“Yeah, I come in handy.” He wouldn’t admit it, but her esteem feeds something inside him. It feels suspiciously like pride.
.
.
“What can I do?”
“Assume the fetal position and stay out of the way!”
And so it goes. Everyone in the Kurosaki household has a role to play. Ichigo gets the shit kicked out of him, Karin and Yuzu get first aid certified and help dad out in the clinic. One of these things may or may not be more useful than the other.
Chad comes into the clinic clutching Yuichi’s cage in a tight fist and slumping against Karin and Yuzu’s shorter statures.
There’s a bruise like a clawed footprint spanning Chad’s entire back, but Karin is staring at the bird.
.
.
Friday morning, Karin’s not at the breakfast table. Yuzu says she’s sick, but Karin’s never been ill a day in her life. There’s a sick feeling that makes him short on breath and nauseated. Worry and suspicion cloud his thoughts.
He knocks on her bedroom door and enters.
Karin is curled up on her side, sweating and clutching the blankets.
“Karin?”
“ICHIGO!” Isshin shouts from downstairs. “Chad is missing!”
Torn, Ichigo glances from Karin to the door and back again.
“Go,” she grits. “Go.”
He does.
He sprints out of the house and soon finds Rukia at his side.
“Any idea where he would go?”
“Not yet.”
“Ichigo.”
“Yeah?”
“Listen to your heart.”
“What?!”
“Like we practiced, feel for the bird’s soul.”
“...Right.”
He tries, he really does. He’s not so good with the sensing yet. He knows something’s wrong when he grasps at a thread, only to find himself running in circles. And then, across the way he spots Karin, slumped against the fence, struggling to remain upright. “Karin, what are you-?”
“Ichigo, I need- I need to tell you something.”
“Karin, you should go back to bed.”
He’s so afraid for her. Something is very very wrong. But one crisis at a time please.
And Rukia’s looking at his sister in that contemplative way that frightens him, like she’s a specimen for study, a code she can crack. He cannot let her dig too deep here, or else-
“Ichigo, take her back now,” Rukia commands. “I’ll go on and find Chad myself.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re in no condition to fight a hollow on your own. I can’t just leave you!”
Rukia purses her lips and says very seriously, “Worry about your sister for now, I can handle everything until you get there. Go, go on, the faster you get her home, the faster you can come help.” She’s about to take off before he stops her.
“Wait. Don’t risk yourself for my sake.”
She smiles at him, “A veteran soul reaper never takes unnecessary chances.”
This would be more reassuring if she hadn’t nearly died saving his life on the day they met.
.
.
Karin is living someone else’s nightmare. She keeps seeing things in flashes. Blood, murder, screams of terror. A red stain soaking the brightness of the morning and dripping in streaks like sunlight. There’s a little boy, a lot like her, trapped in the body of a bird. He doesn’t want to be free either.
He just wants his mom.
“You have to tell him,” she rasps, clutching her brother’s shirt. “Tell him that if he crosses over he can be with her again. His mom. Don’t let him be alone anymore.”
Loneliness so crushing, it stretches out into infinity and throws dust covers over every possibility.
.
.
Whatever senses Rukia has are dulled either by the gigai or her weakened state, so parsing out the soul ribbon belonging to Yuichi is difficult, but eventually she finds the thread.
She ends up on an empty side street when she feels a cold lick of fear slide up the back of her neck. A hollow.
“Mmm, I ordered chicken and I get a steak as well. How fortunate for me. Hello little Shinigami.”
Rukia leaps out of the way just in time to avoid the hands that strike out to trap her.
Well, now or never.
She dodges again and lands on top of it. Mustering every ounce of power she has, she fires a kidou cannon at it’s hunched back.
It works!
Giddy and triumphant she whoops. And ducks out of the way again. He misses her by a hair. She fires another cannon.
Suddenly, the surges of blue light emanating from her palms are joined by fists. And the roars and blasting noises joined by a chorus of cries.
Chad punches the hollow square in the mask and Yuichi screams for him to run away. Can he see it? She wonders, before he breaks out a combo aimed at thin air. That’s a no... He shouldn’t be fighting anyway.
The hollow sets it’s sights on Chad. Rukia acts fast, running at him full tilt and body-checking the young man out of the way of the oncoming attack.
“Thanks,” Chad grunts.
The hollow flails in pain. She took out huge chunks of its hide with her spells, but it soon regains its faculties.
It laughs, “Try as much as you want, you can’t save the boy. He makes pretty good bait, don’t you think?”
Rukia assesses the situation. She’s weaker than she’s ever been, her only allies are a bird in a cage and a blind human who does not want to fight. She doesn’t know his reasons but she can understand that. She just needs to get behind it again, it’ll be vulnerable from the back. She also needs to get some high ground so its mask will be in her sights.
“Chad!” she calls, “Give me a boost!” She doesn’t give him a chance to process or respond before getting a running start at him. Fortunately, he’s a smart young man. She plants her feet in his cupped hands, “2 o’clock!” and vaults into the air.
Rukia sails above the hollow’s head in an arc. She twists in mid-air and at the precise angle where she can see the base of it’s skull she fires the strongest cannon she can muster.
.
.
Ichigo’s arms curl under Karin’s knees and shoulders, he presses her nose into his collarbone so hard she thinks it’ll bend. She sweats and swears. Over his shoulder, like a pin of light in the encroaching darkness, she sees a woman in white. She presses a pale finger to her lips and fixes her in a steely gaze.
There is a ghost that Ichigo cannot see, lurking behind him.
Karin is no longer afraid.
She’s terrified.
.
.
The hollow twists at the last second but it’s a critical hit. It staggers forward and drops to its knees, giving Rukia and Chad time to regroup.
Rukia’s breath is ragged from exertion. She doesn’t have the energy reserves necessary to end this fight, but she can stall long enough for Ichigo to arrive.
They make a good team, Chad and Rukia, it takes very little verbal communication to effectively coordinate their attacks. He tosses, she twists, they deal blow after blow. She wonders if it will be enough.
The trapped spirit cries in his cage. He pleads with the hollow, even as they have him on the ropes. His fear has solidified into an unyielding thing. It grips at him, drags him down, prevents him from making a single move.
All the while the hollow takes advantage. This one likes to talk. He brags about the night they all died. He croons that Yuichi’s mother looked so beautiful with scarlet in her hair. He tells them that in her final moments she did not beg for her son, but for him to stop. He’d known many women like her, but nothing tastes as good as your last meal.
Chad’s stomach roils at the implications. He burns to shut him up.
So Chad throws all of himself into one final punch. The white mask cracks.
.
.
Karin does not know why it’s this spirit with whom she feels this strong a kinship. She doesn’t know why the last vestiges of her denial are being ripped away from her and shredded before her eyes.
What she knows is this:
Her life is wrong.
How did she get here?
.
.
Ichigo considers his begging sister.
They’re almost home.
He turns around.
.
.
The hollow shatters into pieces, flying apart and dissolving into nothing.
Chad has become fixated on his fist. He can’t look away. He is both intoxicated and frightened of his own strength. He just slayed a dragon. He just conquered an army. He summited a mountain. He has done the impossible with just this hand. Once, he swore to his Abuelo that he would never raise it.
He wonders if Abuelo would consider this his own defense.
Never raise a hand until you have extended it.
But a monster cannot reach back.
He’s made the right decision, but it does not feel like a victory.
“Are you alright?” he asks both Yuichi and Rukia. The latter stares at him in shock, then calculation.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says with her eyes. He nods.
Moments later, Ichigo arrives on the scene with Karin still in his arms. He sets her on her feet and looks around, searching for impending danger.
“It’s over,” Karin assures him breathily.
He looks to Rukia for confirmation, she nods too.
Karin approaches Yuichi and Ichigo follows close behind, at the ready in case of a fall. She kneels in front of the bird and Ichigo falls over himself trying to keep her upright.
“I’m fine,” improbably, Karin laughs and pushes his hands away. “Hi,” she greets the bird, more politely and patiently than she’s ever greeted a living human.
“Hello,” perhaps Yuichi senses their kinship too.
“My brother is going to take care of you now, okay?”
“Can I… Can I stay with Chad? He’s nice.”
Karin agrees, “if you want to stay, you can.” Rukia opens her mouth to argue, but at Ichigo’s quelling look, she silences herself. “I understand, I’d want to stay too. But if you move on, you can see your mom again. And there’s a whole other world waiting for you. You won’t have to be a bird anymore.”
“I don’t mind being a bird…”
“I know you’re scared,” Chad joins Karin on the curb. They make a strange picture: a giant and a tiny tomboy kneeling and conversing with a cockatiel on the side of the road, flanked by two schoolkids with grim expressions. “But everything will be okay.”
“And I’ll get to see her again?”
“Yeah,” Karin smiles and thinks of Masaki. “I’m sure she’s been waiting for you all this time.”
“Okay,” Yuichi agrees, “I’m ready then.”
Rukia pulls on her glove. Ichigo braces himself for a blow that doesn’t come. Instead, she places her hand above his heart and gives him a gentle push.
Ichigo falls out of his body gracefully. Chad catches him before he falls.
“Yo.”
“Hi.”
“...Hey.” Karin says breathlessly, looking not at his body, but at his soul. For the very first time.
Ichigo has five konsos under his belt, but each time is just as brilliant as the last. He gently presses the hilt of his sword to Yuuichi’s forehead (or whatever a bird has?). Aquamarine light guilds the cage and the next moment Yuuichi is gone. The bird is just a bird.
.
.
It’s Friday night and Ichigo just wants to sleep.
But he’s got homework.
He’s mentally exhausted, he’s hit his threshold, he just wants to be alone. Monday looms out in front of him like a spectre. It’s so far away but he knows he’ll blink and the reset button will be hit.
He taps his pencil against his notebook as he fixates on the next problem. Three more and then he can get back to the half-read novel lying cover-side down on the corner of his desk.
Rukia is sitting on his bed, reading Volume 2 of Super Kaiju Maids (“Maids who transform into giant monsters to fight EVIL!”), her back against the wall, feet peeking over the edge. Her head tilts sideways and eyes widen at a particularly suspenseful part. She squeaks and gasps with the twists of the plot.
Ichigo sighs, he’ll finish tomorrow.
He grabs his novel and rolls his desk chair closer to the bed. He leans back and puts his feet up, his left ankle, brushing Rukia’s thigh.
They read side by side well into the night.
#Ichiruki#deathberry#ichigo x rukia#ichiruki fanfiction#ichigorukia#bleach#my fic#till death#till death verse#chapter 3
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In 2017, Jenna Maroney Is 30 Rock's Most Relevant Character
Ali Goldstein
News that the cult favorite 30 Rock left Netflix this month sparked a series of frantic reactions on certain corners of the internet. 30 Rock Is Leaving Netflix and People Are Furious wrote the Daily Beast. The New York Times offered 5 Things to Cook While Watching 30 Rock Before It Leaves Netflix. Last week's subsequent announcement that it was moving to Hulu mitigated the loss, although the switch in streaming platform also changes how effortless it is to watch a show usually experienced on a loop. Created by Tina Fey, 30 Rock, which aired on NBC from 2006 to 2013, revolved around an SNL-like variety show. With its mile-a-minute joke delivery and irreverent takes on pop culture, it became a critical hit, rejuvenated Alec Baldwin's and Tracy Morgan's careers, and marked Fey's ascent to comedy A-lister.
Netflix does not offer viewer statistics on its shows, but between all the elegiac write-ups and the sad texts from my friends that say they will have to talk to some food about this, I gather that constantly streaming 30 Rock is a common experience. I know I'm not alone in saying that I have forged more than one friendship based on a shared language of deep cuts like the old leather pumpkin or very wool. For me, the threat of losing the constant company of 30 Rock means not getting to spend time with the character that makes me feel like it's okay to be a human woman. I'm talking about Jenna Maroney. Though ever-exasperated eyeroll master Liz Lemon (Fey) has been the source of many viewers' it me moments, the histrionic train wreck Jenna Maroney (Jane Krakowski) is the character who resonates most with me. In the hyperbolic Trump era, it is Jenna's outlandish reactions that feel appropriate. And after a decade of thinking about Liz's self-interested feminism, it is Jenna's relationship to feminist concerns like misogynistic violence and discrimination against gender nonconformity that are most salient today.
Giphy
Liz and Jenna are old friends on the show, each serving as a foil to the other's deeply ingrained hang-ups. Liz is a frowning brunette killjoy; Jenna is all blonde ambition and horse glue. The two are more negative images of each other than opposites, with Jenna's self-aware fakeness cutting through Liz's tone-deaf self-righteousness. Throughout the show's run, Liz's feminism was subject to rigorous debate. Ten years after the show's premiere, essays are still being penned about Liz's feminism and whether it sufficiently registered on the subjective barometer of what a feminist should be. Why Liz Lemon Was The Flawed Feminist We Needed 10 Years Ago & Still Need Today, claimed Bustle in an article from last year. On the Huffington Post, Zeba Blay wrote that 30 Rock, while myopic and dated in its white feminist worldview, also made apparent the need for women who aren't white, straight, and middle-class in comedy.
Watching the show in 2017 is to be frequently confronted with a liberal feminism that considers success to be personal and professional contentment - having it all to yourself. Liz Lemon is the kind of individualist feminist who likes to stick it to the man while playing it safe, who knows that being a woman is the worst because of society, but does not seem concerned with making that society better for anyone else. Liz leaned in - and was rewarded with the G.E. Followship Award. I would have been a Nazi, she muses about her willingness to collaborate with her CEO boss Jack's machinations in spite of her nominal objection to them. In critic Sady Doyle's blog post from 2010, she correctly identified this strain of Liz Lemonism as privileged semi-feminism. Emily Nussbaum, TV writer for the New Yorker, aptly characterizes Liz as a George Costanza more than a Mary Tyler Moore, pushing back against the idea that she should be considered a role model of any sort. But in this post-sheet cake moment, it is harder for me to sit with this shallow feminism.
It's clear that Liz's concerns were meant to be relatable whereas Jenna's were ridiculous. But what about those of us whose lives have taken an odder turn than Liz's has, who are not baby-crazy, who cannot afford to buy our own apartments, and who do not even have the option of settling, even if we wanted to? And those of us for whom feminism helps queer our lives, rather than serving as a belief set that reconciles us toward marriage, motherhood, and the workplace?
Giphy
Early in the series, Jenna's problems are more typical. A struggling actress upstaged on her own show, she deals with a pathological need for attention along with more universal female complaints such as weight gain and ageist beauty standards. Her issues, however, become less normative as the show continues. Instead of revolving around the tragedy of an old crone yearning for the spotlight, her storylines in later seasons consider how to pair love with kink, and the need for attention with the desire to please. Whereas Liz gets to have it all by the end of the show, giving the audience that relates to her the happy ending they ostensibly want, Jenna's life takes a turn for the weird and wonderful. Jenna is so dramatic, she is radically unrelatable; it is difficult to identify with someone who exclaims, Stop being dramatic. That's my thing. And if you steal it from me, I will kill myself, and then you. It is a given on the show that Jenna is unlikeable and not to be taken seriously. Even in Doyle's nuanced critique of Liz, Jenna is written off as a shallow, unstable narcissist. But in 2017, I find Jenna's issues more resonant, her outlandishness a better balm against the outrageous misogynist currently in power.
Jenna spends her adult life dodging death at the hands of dangerous boyfriends, most famously, Mickey Rourke. While Liz's worst (but funniest) ex, Dennis Duffy, constantly threatens into come back in her life with his promise, You'll be back, Jenna's exes are considerably darker. On 30 Rock, when trauma resurfaces, it is always treated as a moment of wild comedy. Other main characters on the show have moments of unearthing repressed trauma and are somewhat better off after talking it out. Jenna, however, never has her breakthrough on the couch, not because she is too shallow to bury anything deep, but perhaps because she does not repress that much. Her asides about her own traumas have the horrifying buoyancy of a woman who walks away with a stride of pride. You should have killed me when you had the chance, she sneers about Rourke. Violent exes are her specialty, including but not limited to O.J. Simpson, a mob boss, and a sniper who would never shoot her because he was afraid of his own mother - there is perhaps no greater kiss-off for an ex. It is fitting that the rom-com Jenna was supposed to star in, Take My Hand, gets turned into a torture-porn flick. Jenna is a final girl in her own right. And that's why it is all the more satisfying when she finds The One.
Will Forte (left) and Jane Krakowski as Paul L'astnam and Jenna Maroney
Courtesy of NBC
In the end, Jenna's secret weapon - her sexuality - allows her to become a more self-actualized person by the end of the series. When she finally finds love, it is with someone who shares her profession, the female impersonator and performer Paul L'astnam, played by Will Forte, a both decent and perverse person (#RelationshipGoals). The campiness with which Jenna always approached gender is perfectly complemented by Paul's drag performance of her.
On the surface, her relationship with Paul exists merely to make two obvious points: Jenna is a narcissist, and gender is absurd. This reminds me of a remark of Fey's during her sheet cake manifesto: You know what a drag queen still is? A 6'4 black man. Drag laughs in the face of the idea that who you really are exists under the makeup and clothes. I've struggled with whether or not Paul as a character hints at suspicion toward nonbinary identity. Am I laughing at the small-mindedness of those who would mock Paul? Or is his character a wink of acknowledgment at those who think, Oh brother, people sure do take this stuff too far? Even if I can't shake the feeling that this line was written with an eyeroll at such a nonconforming identity, it is to Forte's credit that the character is played with such earnest compassion, joyful in his expression of how he identifies as gender dysmorphic bi-genitalia pansexual (pronounced sex-u-AL). As someone who regards gender both as a category that tries to exclude me from normalcy and, paradoxically, a playground with no rules, Jenna and Paul's relationship might be the most relatable on the show.
Sexuality, let alone complicated sexuality, so seldom gets an open-hearted and curious treatment in any rom-com plotline. Together, Jenna and Paul figure out not only how to make it work, but how to make it weird and keep it that way. Though they initially struggle to define what their normal might look like, they settle on a deliciously campy parody of heterosexual couples getting surprise married and going to Bed Bath & Beyond. Eventually, she has a coming-out of sorts and stands in her own truth in front of the Wool Council to let them know that her relationship with Paul is also based on love and warmth. And chafed skin.
As the series progresses, Jenna learns not only how to feel but also how to express her emotions. For a woman who was taught to identify sadness through flash cards, she makes incredible strides by the end of the series. She accepts Paul's need to dress as another woman (Cher) and even turns down his televised marriage proposal - her dream - to compromise with his needs for intimacy. But she's still our girl. Don't interrupt, she says to Liz during a reconciliation. The pill that lets me feel emotion is gonna wear off soon. The moment is again played for laughs, but as someone who takes pills like that, I can relate.
We have a clear enough picture of what Liz Lemon feminism looks like. The Liz Lemon of today wears a Nasty Woman T-shirt; Jenna sells them on her website, Jennas-Side.com, profits going to benefit a scholarship in her name at the Royal Tampa Academy of Dramatic Tricks. Liz Lemon keeps her maiden name and would point out the sexism behind the term maiden. When Jenna and Paul marry, he takes her first and last name - good praxis! If there could be such a thing as Jenna Maroney feminism, it would be queer, unruly, and untraditional, and it would not define itself in relation to normative benchmarks of adult life like marriage or children. But I don't want to reclaim Jenna as a feminist antihero. She is a hero for those of us who are fatigued with the question of whether a pop culture figure is a feminist.
Whereas Liz sees the patriarchy as her personal stumbling block, Jenna, who truly suffers at the hands of men, seems blithely unaware that she exists within it. It's not so much that Jenna is a feminist figure; it's more that she becomes proudly anti-heteronormative. She is at turns both delusional and self-aware enough to know that prettiness is a facade, and that portion control and exercise won't heal a broken heart. 30 Rock excels when it treats gender as a performance of the absurd, and perhaps I watch it again and again for this absurdity. I am not a Jenna Maroney, because no one but Jenna can be a Jenna. But I do see myself in her. Not so much, however, that I would steal her thunder. You cannot steal her thunder. Her whole life is thunder.
Natalie Adler has a PhD in Comparative Literature and works in disability advocacy. She is currently writing a novel on obsessive thinking and feminist disillusionment.
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