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#and i find that really quite notable. because i watched it for the first time and went 'oh my g0d. our brains work in the same way'
erospandemos · 4 months
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Winter's mission
Aespa Winter x Reader
Winter finds your secret diary and most importantly, your secret bucket list. Upon the discovery, she decides to fulfil every possible desire. The problem, however, is that every aspiration revolves around Winter herself.
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Minjeong and you agreed to do a marathon to watch the whole drama you had both been saving up to watch. Your friend came to your house right before lunch so you could start eating with the first episode. It was just like the other times: she promised she wouldn’t get too invested and after two episodes she’d start screaming from frustration when the main leads were this close to kissing but backed away. You’d be laughing and she’d be yelling at you because it was a serious matter.
In the late afternoon, Minjeong got hungry. She begged you to get her favorite snack, the pepero sticks. You bought them two weeks ago and put them somewhere in your kitchen but didn’t remember at all. Still, your friend wanted one thing and one thing only. You tried to refuse but when she showed you her googly eyes and puffed her cheeks, you gave in. She was just too cute.
So you stood up and reluctantly made your way to the kitchen.
However, you made a big mistake by leaving the room without checking the stuff on your table, most notably your diary. Minjeong saw it clearly, the weathered journal peeking out from under a pile of books on the bedside table. She knew it wasn’t a notebook because she’d been your friend long enough to have memorized all your preferences and you were too cheap to buy such a nice diary.
Curiosity piqued, she hesitated for a moment to think if she should do it or not. She chewed her lower lip, with a light sense of guilt. You were gone to find some hidden and forgotten snack, so it should have been long enough—she had enough time. The more she waited, the more dangerous it was. 
Minjeong made up her mind. She lifted the books and took out the notebook. She sat cross-legged on your bed, ready to reveal your secrets. As she contemplated opening it, a rush of adrenaline hit her veins, causing her heart to quicken and her muscles to tense up. She hasn’t even read a single letter yet but sweat was already dripping down her back.
“I probably shouldn't be doing this, but... what's the harm?” she whispered to herself, sighing deeply. “Okay, just a peek. It won’t hurt anyone.”
Minjeong took one last deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she started to open the diary. The creak of the leather seemed to echo in the room, she was alone. She started reading the entries, a mix of doodles, random thoughts, and personal reflections. 
Some of the pages only had silly ramblings like how you noticed a game’s sale too late and had to pay 5 dollars more. Minejong giggled lightly but the adrenaline was still there. Her breathing became shallow, her gaze scanning the words on the page. As she flipped through the pages, she stumbled upon an entry that caught her off guard.
She raised her eyebrow as she started reading it: 
SATURDAY 21 OCTOBER, 2023 I’m pretty sure Minjeong is playing with my heart. She’s been acting a lot more touchy lately. She was hugging my arm, hugging me and constantly touching me. She hugged me before as well since we’re friends but it just feels different these days. It’s probably because I’m a boy and she’s a girl. Even if we’ve been friends for a long time, she’s too cute for me to ignore. I think I like her. My heart beats faster when she’s around. I get nervous and fidgety. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s quite weird.
Winter's cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and excitement. Her curiosity took over her, she had to know. She had to know more. 
TUESDAY 7 NOVEMBER, 2023 I almost had a heart attack when I saw Minjeong with someone else. They were acting so friendly and I just felt my heart shrink. I’m not attractive compared to them. Maybe I should go to the gym. But that wouldn’t change my face, would it? Dear Diary, I really really like her.
“Wait, this is all about me?” Minjeong whispered to herself. She skimmed through the stupid entries and found even more pages about herself. She covered her mouth, blushing madly. “Oh my… I had no idea.” She couldn’t help but smile and continue flipping through the pages.
TUESDAY 14 NOVEMBER, 2023 Minjeong is back at it again. I’ve met her eyes a couple of times today and it was simply enchanting. The way her face lit up when our eyes connected mate my heart skipped a beat. She looks honest. Happy and amazing. I wish I could see her eyes every day, see every feeling in her pupils, knowing she wouldn’t be afraid to hide anything from me. Of course, I’d do the same. Minjeong is already a great friend, she’d be a great girlfriend as well. I thought about confessing for the first time. It was really a stupid thought. There is no way someone like her would accept me. I’m just a bum. I don’t even like myself, why would she? Eventually, someone will come and take her away, I just have to accept it. I love you, Minjeong.
WEDNESDAY 22 NOVEMBER, 2023 Am I a pervert for looking at Minjeong’s legs? My eyes were glued to her thighs. Maybe for a couple of minutes. Yeah, that’s definitely too much.
Minjeong glanced down at her shorts and bear legs and suddenly she felt too exposed. She regretted wearing such revealing clothes.
MONDAY 27 NOVEMBER, 2023 I want to love Minjeong properly. She’s such a perfect girl. I want her to feel loved. I’d cuddle and hug her a lot if she was my girlfriend. I daydreamed in class instead of listening to the literature lesson and this thought came to me: Minjeong backhugging me. That’s it. That’s the thought. It was enough to make me a blushing mess. Dear Diary, I have a problem.
Minjeong didn’t feel exposed anymore, she just felt warm and flustered. “You silly…” Minjeong said. She glanced around, making sure no one was watching, then hugged the diary close to her chest. “I never knew you felt this way…”
Fearing that you might be coming back, Minjeong thought that she had read enough and it was time to put it away. She just stood up and was about to put the diary back on the desk when a piece of paper fell out. It looked like it was sandwiched between the hardcover and the last page. She picked it up from the ground and read it.
BUCKET LIST Go on a date with Minjeong (skating?) Watch the starry sky Touch Minjeong’s cheeks Top marks Try skiing Confess Kiss MinHold Minjeong’s hand
Minjeong didn’t have the time to put it away when she heard your steps. She just stuffed the diary under the books and kept the paper in her pocket.
Minejong quickly recollected herself. She straightened out the few messy strands and the wrinkled clothes. She took a deep breath and shook off the agitation, anything could have been suspicious in your eyes. You weren’t dumb—although you weren’t exactly smart either—so Minjeong had to be extra careful. That said, she had to think of a way to put the little paper back in place because surely you would have noticed the next time you were going to write about how fantastic the latest wrestling match you watched was.
“Here you go,” you said, throwing Minjeong the box of pepero. “You had me looking everywhere for those… fortunately they were still good.”
Minjeong smiled, picking up the box from her lap, a natural grin on her small lips. “Thank you, you’re amazing.”
You had no words to reply but only another smile. You exhaled, letting your body drop lifeless on the bed, beside your friend. The episode was still at the 26:56 mark, and you were recollecting what happened previous to the still frame.
“Oh, by the way, I also got a bag of chocolates,” you said. You took the plastic bag you left on the corner of the folded covers. It was full of those little bite-sized chocolates you’d buy to decorate your tables in the living room when someone was coming over during the winter; or for a bunch of kids. But you got the smaller version, which also cost a couple of bucks more because it was of “fine quality”.
“No way!” she said, letting go of the pepero, forgotten like it never meant anything to her. You looked at the Oreo-looking box and blinked a few times. Why did it feel so relatable?
“You know I love chocolate!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s exactly why I bought it,” you said. 
When you pressed the space bar on your laptop and the episode restarted, the room fell into a comfortable silence. You could only hear the dialogues coming from the speakers and Minjeong cutely munching on her peperos. You were grinning widely, having more fun staring at the hamster beside you than the scenes on the screen themselves.
Minjeong on the other hand, wasn’t exactly happy. Sure, the joy from her discovery was still lingering in her mind but so was the shock. The crunchy sticks of chocolate and biscuit took the roles of her nails, on which she nervously munched without stop, box after box. She would steal glances at you from time to time, and seeing you smile so happily, laughing and passionately talking to her, made her feel things she had never felt before.
She wasn’t sure if it was indigestion or butterflies in her stomach, but the thing was, Minjeong couldn’t focus on the screen at all. Her mind was still processing the revelations from the secret diary, she tried to act nonchalant, and fortunately, you couldn’t see her well, but her cheeks were betraying a faint blush.
“The cat is so round, it looks like a bag of potatoes, don’t you think?” you laughed.
“Y-yeah,” she whispered. Winter cleared her throat, “So, what do you think will happen next in the drama?”
“What do you mean? They’re like—they’re gonna kiss. Look at the romantic tension. I bet it’s gonna be a cliffhanger.”
“Right, right…” Minjeong continued to stare at the screen. Didn’t the protagonists kinda look like you and her…? She swore they were very similar at that moment. Somehow she could see herself in the shoes of the girl, while you could have been the protagonist, with that manly shoulders and features—ehem—you had the same eyes. Yes, that’s exactly what Minjeong was thinking, or at least, that’s what she wanted to think.
The protagonists, Ji-hoon and Soo-mi, stood close, their eyes filled with emotions, concealed, to the point of overflowing. Just like her and you.  Ji-hoon tenderly reached out, cupping Soo-mi's face in his hands. With a soft smile, he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, his touch lingering. His fingers looked very gentle, you always have been gentle too, maybe if it was you doing, it would feel… 
“Minjeong.”
“What?!” The girl squirmed lightly, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly self-aware. The romantic scene felt really closer than usual and her facade was slowly falling.
“I think it’s about to happen,” you said, still keeping your eyes attached to the screen. “They’re gonna kiss, I feel it.”
“Uh,” Minjeong started, terribly awkward. “These romantic scenes are always so... uh, intense, right?
“What do you…” you turned around and saw her heated cheeks. You looked at her and raised an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth twitched. “You're blushing, Minjeong. Are you sure you're okay?”
“Me? Blushing?” she fumbled. “No, I'm perfectly fine. It's just... you know, the drama.”
On the screen, the air crackled with tension as Ji-hoon kept cupping Soo-mi's face, his eyes searching hers for consent. Without words, their lips finally met in a tender yet passionate kiss. Time seemed to stand still as the world faded away, leaving only the sweet symphony of their hearts and the intoxicating warmth of the embrace.
Minjeong was watching everything but the kiss. 
“You're not usually this flustered,” you observed. Minjeong’s behavior was really weird. You looked back at the screen and it all looked normal. They were in their slowed-down shot with the ballad in the background.
“Yeah, well, it's just a really good episode,” she said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You tried to look at her by bending down and tilting your head but likewise, she turned around to avoid you. It looked strange but you just continued to watch the drama, accepting her answer.
As the episode concluded, Minjeong heaved a silent sigh of relief. She attempted to divert attention by reaching for more snacks, hoping to distract both herself and you from the lingering awkwardness.
You continue to the next episode. 
You turned around and tried to get one of the snacks that were on her side. As you stretched, your hand brushed against Minjeong’s thigh. At the touch, she jolted with a loud gasp. It was like you sent a shock through her body.
“Oops, sorry about that,” you said apologetically, retrieving the box to your side.
“N-no problem at all,” she stammered.
You continued to watch without thinking much of it but Minjeong was completely on the edge. When you shifted and adjusted yourself, your leg would accidentally brush against hers. Or when you wanted to take the water bottle and you’d hug her shoulder by mistake. The blush on her cheeks continued to grow and she started to want to get out of there.
Your touches continued, all the ones that you were both accustomed to before, now sent a ripple of flustered nerves through Minjeong. 
Eventually, the episodes ended and you came to the end of the drama. Minjeong’s nerves finally relaxed. You helped her gather her things and after chatting for a while, you bid her goodbye. You insisted on bringing her home, especially since it was quite late but she didn’t want to hear any of it and ran outside.
Minjeong slept well that night. She had all sorts of dreams and fantasies—was someone in the hallway, they’d think an actress was rehearsing for her future role. When she woke up, however, it was another story. Thanks to the newly found clarity of mind, the realization hit her harder than ever.
You liked her.
You! You.
You liked her.
Minjeong sighed and sat up on the bed.
She liked you.
Yes, she.
She liked you.
Now she had two options: either ignore it, act like nothing happened, which was both the easiest and hardest choice she could take; or deal with it. Minjeong didn’t like the idea of ignoring what she found. It would be like playing with your feelings. Really, you confessed indirectly, she has read all of your honest words, letter by letter, and now knew all of your feelings. You confessed to her. 
But she also didn’t want to talk to you about it. Because, well, it was embarrassing. 
What if you didn’t feel ready for a relationship? Maybe your journal was an outlet for your stress where you poured out all of your feelings knowing full well you couldn’t be with her.
Maybe it wasn’t a journal, maybe it was a fictional diary that you were writing. Like some sort of diary of a wimpy kid but for lovers.
Maybe you were writing about another girl. You knew that someone could have found your diary, just like Minjeong did, so you used another name. You could have been in some sort of Romeo and Juliet type of affair and the repercussions could have been deadly.
Minjeong was just making stuff up at this point. Let’s face it, you were just a normal person and what she read were real journal entries. 
She sighed heavily. “Why?! Why did I…” she yelled. Minjeong closed her eyes and remembered your words—how sweet they were, how honest and meaningful—then shook her head. “It’s better this way.”
The piece of paper was still on the desk, crumbled and waiting. She got up and held it in her hand, skimming through your bucket list again.
BUCKET LIST Go on a date with Minjeong (skating?) Watch the starry sky Touch Minjeong’s cheeks Try skiing Top marks Confess Kiss MinHold Minjeong’s hand
She just ignored your last desire—the crossed-out line was still pretty readable but it was too embarrassing right now. You have helped her a lot until now, making most of the dreams from her bucket list come true. Yet, she has never had the chance to pay you back. Minjeong thought carefully and realized that this was the perfect occasion. She liked you so she would have liked it too and if you didn’t want to get into a relationship with her, at least she could fulfill a couple of your desires.
Minjeong clutched the paper with determinatione; it was her mission.
Objective 1: Secure the date
When Minjeong made up her mind and got up, two steps from the door of the room, she realized one thing: she had never been on a date. Such a pretty girl like Minjeong should have been asked out at least ten times by now. Especially since she wasn’t exactly shy or intimidating. And truly she had been asked out, but she never accepted. She’d say she had to focus on her studies, or that she wasn’t ready, or that it wasn’t the age for that kind of thing.
Minjeong turned while holding her chin, her eyebrow furrowed in deep thought. She had a location—the skating ring—that was a starter. But now, what do you do on a date? Minjeong tried to recall all the dramas she had watched: maybe she’d get some sort of idea. She has watched plenty of shows, surely there was something useful.
Characters would usually kiss each other ‘accidentally’ for example. Minjeong tried to imagine the scene: you and her walking in the frozen streets, her tripping and falling in your arms… some kids bumping into you, your lips brushing against her in a split second. Minejong started to blush terribly. “No, no, no, that’s not good,” she shook her head to get the thought out of her mind.
She was definitely overthinking this. You probably didn’t know any better than her and couples don’t really prepare that much before a date—it had to be natural. Minjeong decided to call you. There was a skating ring opened in the city during that period so that was the right occasion. 
She gripped her phone, inhaled and exhaled. “Just hanging out,” she pointed out. “That’s right, don’t stress Minjeong, it’s just a hangout between friends.” 
After Minjeong decided what to say and prepared all the possible dialogue options, which took about half an hour, she dialed your number and called. She couldn’t even calm her mind that you already picked up.
“Hello?” you asked.
“Hey,” Minjeong answered.
“Oh, Minjeong, how are you? Why are you calling me?”
“Well, I’ve got an idea for you.”
“Shoot.”
Minjeong swallowed her saliva. “How about we go skating at the ice rink? They opened it in the city center, I think it would be fun.”
“Skating, huh? Uhm… well, I’ve been thinking about it,” you said, you’ve been really thinking about it. It was such a weird coincidence that Minjeong asked you about it. However, “I haven’t done that in ages. Are you sure I won’t end up flat on my back?” You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of your crush.
Minjeong laughed jokingly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back… or, well, I’ve got your back if you do fall. But trust me, you’ll learn pretty quick.”
“Sounds tempting, but I’m not really convinced.”
“Come on, we’ll have fun. They also sell hot chocolate and crepes. I’ll buy it for you if you come!”
“Free food? Okay, you’ve convinced me. When do you wanna see each other?”
“How about Saturday? We should both be free.”
“Sounds good. Alright, thanks, see ya.”
“Goodbye.”
As soon as she hung up, Minjeong started jumping around like a maniac. She felt like she was a kid again, so excited and happy. She just forgot to tell you at what time to come. Whatever. She could have texted the time later. Plans were just going as planned.
The plans did not go as planned.
Objective 2: Find a replacement
Minjeong spent her whole morning preparing for the date. She looked at all the possible cafés and restaurants and food places you two could go to in case you got hungry. Then she looked at all the possible outfits she had in her wardrobe. She called her friend, Karina to help her decide the clothes. They ended up giggling and talking for about 5 hours about Minjeong’s story with you and Karina’s love interest. 
In the end, they decided to go for the simplest sweater and pants they could find. It was to “not hide Minjeong’s natural beauty” as Karina put it. Whatever that meant.
You met right at the entrance of the city. You were already waiting there. 
You found it hard to recognize Minjeong. She was bundled up in a big cozy scarf, a huge hat, and big gloves. The jacket was also quite thick, making her look like a snowman. You knew Karina didn’t let her go out of the house before dressing her up properly. You smiled, she looked very cute.
The both of you made your way to the ice ring talking about uni, friends, work, and so on. Being with Minjeong was always a pleasure as you could confide in each other about whatever problem or worry you had.
Hand in hand, you scrolled through the city, the subtle crunch of snow beneath your feet providing a serene soundtrack. There were a lot of people on the street. You came early but the sky was already starting to darken. 
When you reached the ice rink, you gulped. Minjeong instead, was extremely excited. You paid for the skate shoes, slipped them in, and stepped on the ice. 
The ice beneath your skates glistened brightly, it felt like ice, ready to crack, ready to swallow you in case you fell and gave in to the demons of the cold. Minjeong was still excited. She was already laughing while looking at the small kids tumble down the ice like bowling pins. 
Wrapped in the warmth of your scarf and being alongside Minjeong, provided you enough confidence and comfort to aid your attempt. You stepped slowly, your legs shaking. Your friend held your hand and guided you through the edge of the ring until you found the right rhythm to continue on your own.
Your confidence grew, maybe too much, and you tried to make a tight turn and slipped. Your heart skipped a beat and your life flashed before your eyes. Fortunately Minjeong, with lighting reflexes, reached out and grabbed you. 
“Oh my god, thank you Minjeong, you saved my life.”
“Be more careful!” she laughed.
After the incident, you started to be more careful and continued skating. 
At one point, tiny snowflakes began to fall down the sky, soft and gentle. Both you and Minjeong started smiling brightly, thinking it looked like a scene from a romance movie. It really looked like what you’ve always dreamt of, skating with Minjeong under the snow.
The snowfall intensified, turning the ice rink into a snowy spectacle. It added a layer of magic to their already enchanting evening, and you continued to skate with carefree joy, leaving behind a trail of swirling snowflakes. However, as the snowfall grew heavier, the twinkling lights began to fade, and a voice over the speakers announced the temporary closure of the rink for safety reasons.
Minjeong panicked. She couldn’t end the date this way. 
“Isn’t that a shame?” you said, walking away from the ice ring. “Well, I still had fun nonetheless, thank you for today, Minjeong.”
“Wait, wait,” she interrupted you. “Uhm, it’s still pretty early, wanna go back to my place?”
“Heh? Well, why not? Wanna order out?”
“Yeah, that’s fine by me.”
“Then let’s go.” Good job, Minjeong.
Objective 3: Look at the sky
You entered the pitch-black living room and turned on the lights. The room was well-lighted but still felt small and comfy, it probably was the darkness from outside the window. You glanced at Minjeong as she folded a blanket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. The air held a chill, a reminder that winter had firmly settled outside the confines of your makeshift refuge. 
She nonchalantly dropped a stack of DVDs onto the coffee table, the worn covers hinting at countless movie nights spent in this room. Minjeong leaned over the desk, planting her hands on the edge. Minjeong's gaze shifted to you, What do you feel like watching?"
I shrugged, my gaze scanning the room as if the answer lay hidden in the faded wallpaper. "Anything. Surprise me." She picked a random DVD, its label scratched and worn. She put the disc into the blueray reader and grabbed the remote. The sofa creaked as Minjeong plopped down, patting the cushion next to her. "Grab a blanket. It's gonna get colder."
You complied, dragging a fuzzy throw from the back of a nearby chair. You two draped yourselves in layers of warmth, settling into the groove of the well-worn sofa cushions. The silence enveloped you, a familiar companion that required no words.
Halfway through the movie, however, Minjeong looked at the sky: it stopped snowing. It was like the snow had purged all the previous filth between the clouds and smog and left it a pure black, only decorated by the glowing stars. Minjeong kept slapping at your leg and pointing at the sky until you turned around and the view stunned you.
Objective 4: Hold that hand
“Wow…” your friend whispered.
“Yep,” you said back. The two of you continued to watch the sky, while Kung Fu Panda 2 was becoming noise in the background and your conversation shifted to the sight. You raised an arm, pointing at the bright dots.
“You know, the color of a star indicates its temperature,” you said. “Hotter stars appear blue or white, while cooler ones look red.”
“How is it red if it’s colder?” Minjeong said, puzzled.
“It’s about the waves of light emitted. To put it simply, cooler stars emit less blue light so they look red.”
Minjeong smiled, “That's interesting, but you know, in astrology, stars, and their positions also play a significant role. I'm a Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, and it says a lot about my personality.”
As soon as you heard the word ‘astrology’ you sighed heavily and rolled your eyes, sliding down the sofa. Minjeong has already filled your head with that stuff to the brim. Whenever she had time or whenever she bought a magazine from the news kiosk, she’d start reading the entire thing of the signs, you don’t even remember what it was called.
“Astrology, Minjeong? Seriously?”
Your friend furrowed her eyebrows from annoyance and spoke defensively, “What? It's fascinating! Capricorns are disciplined, ambitious, and practical. I mean, doesn't that sound like me?”
“Disciplined? Sure. But practical?” you laughed. “You're the one who believes in star signs.”
“Well, you're just a typical Capricorn skeptic. But I bet you secretly find it intriguing.”
You chuckled and shook your head. You two laughed it off and the silence resumed. After a brief moment, where your breaths signed the passing of time, you noticed Minjeong’s glow in the dark. Your heart fluttered as you watched her profile against the moonlight. Sometimes you forget your true feelings for your friend, but they always come back. 
You sighed while turning back to the sky. “It's such a beautiful night, isn't it?” you whispered, masking the true meaning of your words because you weren’t really talking about the night. Both of you talked in codes, not on purpose but none of you could be honest. You were too scared of her possible answer and Minjeong was too scared to lose you.
“Yeah, it is,” she said softly. As you continued stargazing in comfortable silence, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions. The recent revelations from your secret diary still lingered in her thoughts, and her unspoken feelings were twisting and turning inside her. 
Her hand slowly crept up near you, a subconscious action maybe, a planned incident perhaps; but it was the perfect occasion. You felt her touch and didn’t think twice to hold her hand. The initial contact, when your fingers intertwine, sends a wave of warmth through you. The touch is surprisingly intimate, it felt like a bridge between Minjeong and you. In a way, her feelings were coursing through you.
Objective 5: Spill it out
“Today was perfect,” you say. Minjeong silently watches you with a soft smile. “You know, I’ve always been dreaming of this moment. To watch the stars with you…” your air suddenly blocked in your throat, “Well, I—” “I already know.”
“What?”
“I already knew it. That you wanted to watch the stars—and that you wanted to go skating… with me.”
You opened your mouth to ask her how but Minjeong was faster and pulled out the crumbled piece of paper, the title ‘BUCKET LIST’ was still visible. You panicked, your eyes flicking between her stupidly satisfied smile and your embarrassing, horribly written list of desires.
You gulped and started talking, stuttering, mumbling every word, “S-so did you see the di-diary?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my god… I wanna die.”
“No, wait—”
“Forget everything Minjeong, no, well, you obviously can’t,” you blurted out, you didn’t know what to say anymore. “I’m sorry you had to read that. It was gross. I’m going to move out of the country, buy tickets, pack things, you’ll forget about me and I’ll start my new life—”
“I like you too!”
“What did you just say?” you stopped and looked at her with wide eyes.
Minjeong's admission hung in the air, and for a moment, the only sound between you two was the soft rustling of the crumpled bucket list paper in her hands. Your eyes widened, locked onto hers, searching for any sign of jest or misdirection, but all you found was true sincerity. Her pupils stared at you, eagerly waiting for your answer.
"You... you like me too?" you stammered, hesitant and scared that you might have heard the wrong words.
Minjeong nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Yes. I like you. I read your list, and it wasn't gross. It was... endearing. Honestly, it made my heart race a little."
A nervous laugh escaped your lips, a mixture of relief and newfound anxiety. "I thought I'd scared you away with that stuff."
Minjeong chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not at all. It made me realize we share the same dreams, the same desires. I've been wanting to do those things too, you know?"
The weight of uncertainty lifted, replaced by a warmth that settled deep within. You felt a connection, a shared vulnerability that made the revelation less daunting. "So... what does this mean?" you asked, your voice soft.
She leaned in, her gaze unwavering. "It means we don't have to dream about those things anymore. We can make them happen together."
A grin broke across your face, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. "Yeah, together."
Minjeong's hand found yours, and this time, it wasn't just for a casual touch but a deliberate, reassuring connection. The stars above seemed to twinkle in approval as you both sat there, hand in hand, in the quiet realization that your shared dreams weren't just fantasies on a crumpled piece of paper anymore—they were possibilities waiting to unfold.
“There’s still a last wish on that list I can fulfill…” Minjeong whispered. She took a deep breath and went for it. 
She kissed you.
Minjeong's eyes, soft and inviting, met yours, and at that moment, the world outside faded into insignificance. 
"I've been wanting to do this," Minjeong whispered, her voice a delicate murmur that hung in the space between you. Her fingers grazed the side of your face, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine. The proximity between you became charged, the magnetic pull undeniable.
You didn't need words. The unspoken agreement lingered in the air, and with a gentle tilt of her head, Minjeong closed the distance. The first brush of her lips against yours felt like the tentative caress of a butterfly's wings, a delicate exploration that spoke volumes. It was a moment of hesitancy and boldness, a dance between vulnerability and longing.
You didn’t say anything else, the look in your and her eyes understood each other perfectly and you kissed again. The first one was a quick peck, a mix of fear and sudden braveness. The second one was the overflow of your feelings, a long and deep kiss, a slow fusion of warmth and connection. 
The world outside might have continued its relentless pace, but within the embrace of that kiss, time became elastic, bending to the rhythm of your shared heartbeat. It was a stolen moment, a stolen kiss, and yet, it felt like something long overdue, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring your lips together in this tender collision.
When the kiss finally broke, your lips naturally curled into a large smile while she hid under the blanket from the embarrassment. Minjeong emerged only a moment later, red and flustered. “Uhm, I wasn’t too bad, right? That was my first kiss…”
“It was my first too, and no, it wasn’t bad. It was amazing,” you said honestly. “I just like how I dreamed.”
Minjeong and you laughed together. This was just the start of the many more desires you two would fulfil together.
Mission completed
THE END
Written, 03 December 2023 - 14 December 2023
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when-pigsfly · 2 months
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WITCHING HOUR, CH. 1/3 — [18+]
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(18+) - MARKED FOR EVENTUAL SMUT, MINORS DNI!
fem!reader x arthur morgan
summary: most people in the area had issues with coyotes. yours wore a cowboy hat, but you let him in anyways. tags: marked 18+ for smut in later chapters, reader has a backstory kinda (but also not kinda), referred to as lady/ma’am/etc, arthur doesn’t know how chickens work, i really don’t know my farm lore
word count: 5.5k
a/n: setting this pre-chapter 2 ish and post chapter 1, except it’s winter for realsies, Because I Can. and please no questions about chicken logistics or I Will Cry.
you can find a link to the playlist here!
The fictitious “stranger,” by all accounts, was possessed. 
Possessed by an air so overwhelming, so sure, that it incited perversity in even the most upright.
He was an outlaw, by the cut of the whispers. The story went that he’d rolled in like a heavy fog, altogether quiet and unassuming, though still carrying the foreboding quality that preceded the raising of hackles. Mothers kept watchful eyes over their daughters, and more notably, the fathers brandished their guns. 
And yet—that maddening yet—the mothers seemed to care little for their own warnings, and even the fathers were envious of a man dripping with exploits they didn’t have the luxury of entertaining.
Luxuries and lack thereof aside, the fickleness of those who spoke of him had not gone entirely unnoticed; it lent no plausibility, no substance to the dream-like tales they’d crafted in their drunken stupors. The most substance you’d seen had been spewed into the shadowy corners of Valentine, pissed into not-quite pristine patches of snow, foul stench leaking out onto already foul streets before it followed you back to the farm.
It stunk. 
It stunk, and it loitered, and it’d been stealing from you.
Which is exactly why—when he shows up on your rickety porch just as winter has begun to bleed out into spring—you take up the mantle of digging your loaded barrel right into his sternum. 
The front door tremors behind you.
The stranger shifts on his feet. 
You shift with him, and gloved hands inch toward the stars in surrender not long after. 
Amorphous mass comes to your mind first, rather than man. You can only discern the more essential points of his appearance: the gloves, the satchel, the rifle slung over his back. Knives are stashed somewhere you can’t see—if he’s worth his salt—but everything else blends into the dark line of trees behind him. You swallow a rather painful yawn.
His hat, evidently beaten to hell and back several times over, sits low enough on his forehead to cast shadows over his features—though not low enough to completely obscure the faint outline of a face from your view. The rest of him only falls into place once you crane your head to find his eyes. 
As is customary in situations concerning your immediate safety, your throat constricts, and the second yawn you feel crawling up your throat nearly succeeds in asphyxiating you. 
Petty crimes would have granted him a slighter frame, but no petty crime you can think of could have afforded him the sturdy chest, the buckling of the air around him, the crooked line of his nose, clearly less cared for than his battered clothing. He’s still a little blurred—largely from a lack of sleep on your end, and the protection of his hat on his. Even so, the hard set of his gaze offers nothing other than the tale of cruelty lived and the promise of cruelty to come. 
There was no doubt. This had to be him.
(You might think him handsome, if not for the fact that it’s a quarter past three in the morning.)
The first breach in his stony composure that you catch is paper thin. Fleeting. And he’s quick to recover; any indication of surprise is sequestered with a blink. The second is an awkward shifting of his stubble-shrouded jaw, and you note with a squint that his bandana still hangs feebly off the jut of his chin. 
He admits defeat after a few clumsy seconds. Cracks a wicked smile, bright as the moon peeking out from behind the crown of his hat. But it falls away quickly. Somewhere in the distance a tree branch creaks, tiny shards of ice scattering to the ground and tinkling like bells.
He was calm. Entirely too calm, considering where he stood. His hands haven’t budged, and nothing in his stance hints at an intent to attack. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks more annoyed by your presence than you are by his. 
You try not to think about his eyes. There’s something else in there, too. Apart from the agitation that radiates from them, that is. It lurks deep beneath the blue and wades through the slight dilation of his pupils; it urges him closer—or, is it you?—like the distance between the two of you isn’t sustained by the twitchy arms of a jittery woman holding a rifle.
But there’s an abrupt wind that fiddles with the cotton threads of your chemise, and you’re suddenly struck with the realization that no, your hunting rifle isn’t loaded, and in your haste to confront him you’d forgotten your boots and shawl. 
The nighttime chill, ever the tyrant, lodges itself where the wooden boards scratch eagerly at your bare feet. You were cold, so cold that it ached, and you were tired. But it’d do you no good to show your hand this early. So like the hiss of a rattlesnake, you keep your voice low, and you keep it lethal. 
The stranger is named by the venom falling from your tongue.
“You’ve got ten seconds to convince me not to unload this lead into your chest, Morgan.” You track the added prod of the gun to ground yourself, eyelids still heavy with sleep.
It doesn’t do much, as far as threats go. Morgan’s ever steady breathing still accents the now stagnant winter wind, a stark contrast to the throb of your heart striking your ribs. But a small scar, carved into the flesh of his right cheek, has made an almost imperceptible shift. The rest of his features take far more liberties with their movement—
—and he’s scowling.
Your heart strikes louder.
God, the shit you would shovel to be able to read minds. Animals have always been more your speed; people were a hassle—far too unpredictable, and they tended to reap fewer rewards. 
In your mind's eye, Arthur lies silently amongst the fallen snow, red unfurling behind him like wings. You’d hate to have to kill him, you really would. But there was nothing more dangerous than indecisiveness: it killed, and often relentlessly.
Only, you’ve been staring too long. It’s long enough to rouse Morgan from whatever state he’d been in before you’d spoken. He’s smart enough to keep his palms facing you, and he dips his head with the same mildness that one might use to soothe a startled mare. The scowl is tamped down, smile returning to him like water running through a scraggly creek. 
“Evenin’, Miss.” He drawls.
And it works. You hate that it works. There’s a dull heat that seizes your lungs at the low timbre of his voice, something akin to fire. 
No. No, nothing like it. It was more like the cheap whiskey you’d downed that first night working as a farmhand, all those months ago. It’d numbed your tongue, tumbled down your throat like sun-warmed stone, and simmered in your stomach. You hadn’t dared take another swig after that. Too dangerous. But it’s easy enough, passing your shudder off as a trick of the cold and cocking your head incredulously. 
“Showing up uninvited, and you can’t do me the courtesy of knowing my name?” One push of the rifle sends him back with surprising ease—away from the cabin, and away from that damned moonlight. “Ma’am will do you just fine,” you spit.
His smile fractures. Not enough to truly frighten, but enough to make your fingers clench. “You talk to all your guests like that, Ma’am?” 
You steel yourself. “Only the sneaks.”
At this, Morgan stills. Shuts his eyes. 
Did he really think you wouldn’t notice?
The farm had more issues with coyotes than crooks; that’s what you’d been hired to take care of, more or less. Your employers—the Campbells—were getting on in their years, and were in desperate need of someone to help keep watch during the nights. So imagine the surprise when you’d found not a coyote, but a wanted man sliding through the shadows. 
It’d angered you, that first time he’d gotten away. You’d only recognized him long after he’d left. But after that night, you’d made a show of firing off rounds into the nearby woods and roaming the perimeter of the grounds under the guise of a late-night hunt. 
From what you knew, he hadn’t come back to steal, but you knew you’d seen him lingering. Felt him watching. Waiting for something—but you’d made sure that every pop of your rifle drove him further and further from whatever it was that he’d been aiming for. And now Arthur Morgan is here.
He furrows his eyebrows, purses his lips, and they disappear for a moment when he goes to wet them before he speaks again, a little less amused. “Now you know I mean no offense—”
“No offense? Well, I’d kill to see what you and your ilk consider offensive.” 
The wind slams the front door shut. 
“My ilk?”
You wonder if it’d been your goal all along, trying to rile him up like this. Accusations slide out of your mouth and into the night air far too easily for it not to be. But the thought of anything other than catching him red-handed occupying your head unnerves you, sending you another two steps forward and into the powdery snow.
“Jesus, woman! Alright, alright.” Morgan’s eyes finally leave you, darting between where your feet dig into the cold ground and the muzzle of the gun pressed to his chest. He slumps his shoulders and looks up to the sky, still an ugly grey-black from the thin dusting of snow the night before. 
“Look,” he starts, hands fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I don’t mean no harm. I swear it. I’m—just give me a minute to explain, will you? One minute, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
There’s a please somewhere in there, left unsaid yet still ever so loud. You think it might have left him in the puff of breath that still hangs above your heads; hot and heavy in his mouth, but turned to nothing but vapors once it misses its chance to solidify.
You eye him warily. This could be over and done with in a matter of seconds, and you might be able to knock that godawful mustache clean off of Sheriff Malloy’s face. You kill him—or turn him in so long as he didn’t bleed out, whichever came first—and get whatever bounty was nailed to his head. Use the money to get out. Get your freedom. Stop biding your time, and get revenge. 
And yet.
And yet.
“…You lying to me, Morgan?”
His shoulders straighten out, suddenly very tense. “‘Course not. You think me the lyin’ sort?”
Your voice flattens. “I figured that much was obvious.”
“Ouch, lady. Not willing to pull your punches for little old me?”
“You’d rather the lady use the gun?”
“Neither, thank you. And, speaking of which–” His chest deflates a bit, putting space between the two of you without having to step back. “—quit swingin’ that thing around. You’ll take someone’s eye out.”
Exhaustion mounting, you lower your rifle slowly. You keep your eyes trained on a pebble that’s escaped the snowfall relatively unscathed, not trusting yourself to look anywhere else. Conceding with a sniff, you toss your head toward the front door. It’s quiet, now. 
“Get in, before I change my mind—and no funny business, neither. Guns, knives, whatever else you’re hiding, drop ‘em. Right here.”
Too groggy to note the stalling of movement, you wait for the clinking of metal to stop. His boots retreat from your peripheral far more reluctantly than you expect. There’s a telltale groaning of wood, and you turn to find Morgan gazing down at you with an outstretched hand from where he’s hopped onto the porch. He murmurs with a reverence that you’re sure is misplaced, so quiet that you have to watch his lips to catch even a smidgen of what he says. 
“Yes, ma’am.”
This was a game to him. You knew games. And so when you go to place your hand in his it’s to eye him down, back him into whatever corner would hold him and keep him there till you knew why he’d spent the last month haunting your lodgings like a ghost.
Calloused fingers wrap around your hand like a vice, and when he’s guiding you and your icy feet up the stairs it strikes you that maybe—just maybe—your assessment of your situation had been far too impetuous. Arthur’s touch is surprisingly clinical, but even through the leather of his gloves, it was warm. Too warm. 
Ghosts weren’t warm. Or, at least you didn’t think they were. And Morgan, looking like the very paragon of the West, all bright eyes and honeyed words, had given you a glimpse of something far too beguiling not to investigate. It’s when he presses the back of his free hand to your wind-bitten cheeks that you wonder what your father might think.
“Chilled, right to the bone.” It isn’t so much a mutter as it is a rumble, reverberating somewhere deep in his throat and traveling up to where the two of you have made contact. You’re avoiding his eyes again, but you’re close enough now to be able to see his muscles working his neck. 
His smell overtakes you much like the cold has. The freshness of the pine needles still stuck to his coat makes up most of what you’re able to distinguish. A little bit of horse, too—he’d ridden here. Where exactly he’d hitched his horse was a mystery. But with the proximity of his sleeve to your nose, you can make out the faintest hints of a potent musk. It’s everywhere: in your nose, your mouth, under your skin. Every inhale turns your muscles into piteous liquid. There’s no hiding your shudder, this time.
Morgan suddenly yanks his hand back as if scorched, and schools whatever expression he’d been wearing prior into one of indifference. He hums. Frowns. 
“Let’s…uh, get you inside.”
You offer a tight nod and turn away, but Morgan is quick to the draw; he whispers a quick “pardon me,” and goes to retrieve the weapons he’d dropped in your stead. 
Oh. You’d forgotten. It seems he’d forgotten too, brushing the mixture of dirt and snow away and mumbling something about keeping his guns warm. You’re left standing dazed on the porch, skin still blistering from where his fingers had met your skin.
Morgan has the decency to look at least a little troubled when he returns. He places what he’s collected into your arms before opening the front door, and gestures for you to enter. You offer one last look to the moon before following him inside.
__
Your judgment on Morgan—Arthur, now—was still up for debate. But your punishment for rushing to catch him had been doled out almost immediately. 
For your feet, a numbness that the fireplace had been bullied into chipping away at. Your hands are still tight from the cold, and they sit tucked underneath your thighs with the added protection of a few blankets that’d been placed over your shoulders. Your eyes flick over from the fire to Arthur, and your chest tightens. 
He’s found his seat across from you: coat and satchel on the back of a chair he’s pulled from the dining table, big hands tapping away absentmindedly at his knees. With the coat set aside, there’s nothing to hide the first few buttons of his shirt that hang open, pitch black and rolled up to his forearms to account for the warmth of the fireplace. His hat remains, hair still tucked away and settled at the nape of his neck.
You’d both been sitting in silence for the last half hour, despite Arthur’s insistence on “one minute,” letting the cold of the outdoors thaw out before saying anything that might get the rifle pulled again. You did gain a bit of satisfaction at the slight tinge of red in Arthur’s ears; it seemed the cold had gotten to him, too.
You watch as his eyes wander over the furnishings of your cabin. Thankfully, the door to your bedroom is only slightly ajar, and the knot in your chest lessens. It wasn’t often (or ever) that you had visitors over, which meant that most of your things were tucked haphazardly into corners or set on kitchen counters.
The Campbells—generous as they already were—had insisted you take up residence in a cabin on their property that once belonged to a daughter of theirs. She’d long since moved out, but the light in their eyes at the thought of it being occupied again was undeniable. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. And Arthur was seeing all of it.  
“Don’t get too comfy.” You frown. “…Arthur.” He beams, and suddenly there’s something incredibly interesting lingering right by your foot. 
His name still feels foreign when it leaves you. At first, you’d taken it as a show of good faith; he’d sworn to keep his mud-caked boots off of your rug in exchange for keeping his feet from becoming bullet-ridden by the time the sun came up. Arthur, feeling like he’d gotten the shitty end of the stick, had joked that you may as well call him by his first name. The last person with the guts to threaten him with a shotgun had, so what was one more?
It was a weak threat, if one at all. You knew, and he knew, that you were just about the only person this side of the Grizzlies who was vaguely aware of who he was. You’d seen it in his face when you’d called him by name. It’d be an insult to call it fear; an expectation of an inconvenience would be more accurate.
Luckily for him, you didn’t care. Not right now, at least. Imposing as he was, you refused to be cowed into going along with whatever it was that he'd planned. 
Your heel messes with the leg of your chair. “Don’t you go forgetting why I brought you here in the first place.”
“Not quite sure if I’d use that wording—“
“Can it, Morgan.”
His jaw clicks shut this time, but he’s still got that goofy grin smeared onto his face when you chance a peek at him. You’ll let it slide, for now. You’ve stalled long enough.
“So. My eggs. You gonna tell me, or do I need to start pulling teeth?”
“No need,” Arthur assures, “shouldn’t be stickin’ your pretty little fingers in just anybody’s mouth, Ma’am.”
An outlaw and a flirt, to boot. Wonderful. You’re wondering how long it might take to chuck the nearest inanimate object at him when he pipes up again.
“You piss in somebody’s cigarette box, lady?”
“Did I piss—Morgan, quit it!”
This seems to reign him in a bit, and his smile dips.
“I’ll be frank, since you asked so kindly.” Arthur leans back in his chair, flexes his palms. “You had people tailin’ you.” 
You quirk a brow. Ah, that’s right. He didn’t know, couldn’t have. But just as you attempt to explain, Arthur holds out a hand to stop you and shakes his head.
“Killers.”
The hand fussing with the material of your blanket falters.
“...I beg your pardon?”
“Hired guns, Ma’am. Out for you. You’re real…fortunate, I’d been passing by when I was.” A rueful look clouds his face. “Not much to hire once I was through with ‘em, though.”
The quiet that follows isn’t entirely unfamiliar. He’s an outlaw, you muse. Things like this are to be expected. But it doesn’t occur to you to ask who they were, what they looked like, what they wanted. Because Arthur didn’t know, didn’t need to know, and you aren’t sure if you want him here when you wrap your mind around the sobering fact that your long-held suspicions now bear fruit. So, you settle for the obvious.
“You kill ‘em?”
His jaw twitches. “Nothin’ gets past you, Ma’am.”
“...‘Suppose I should be thanking you, then.”
“Got my thanks when I checked their pockets.”
“But—”
Arthur gives a grunt of protest. 
Jackass.
Though your concerns about theft were long gone, it doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about this any more than you do, so you do your best to set the conversation back on track.
“Well, uh…the eggs, then?”
The tension in his jaw lessens. Arthur unfurls a long leg, digs the heel of his boot out in front of him, and rocks his foot back and forth.
“You know these winters. I can tell you do—despite all the…” he trails off, nods the brim of his hat toward your newly cultivated relationship with the fireplace, and you flush. “So, I uh, started out sneaking a few off, along with some other things for my people back at camp. Snagged some extra rations. Kept an eye on you. Two birds, one stone.” 
“So it wasn’t just the eggs you’d been stealing, then?”
“It’d behoove me to tell the truth and shame the devil, Ma’am. Not that he and I are unacquainted.”
So that was a yes. 
The part about “keeping an eye” on you is tacked on rather reluctantly, but at the mention of camp, your brows raise. It was true, then. The tales you’d heard during your trips to Valentine, the new faces you’d noticed in corners and back alleys, they were all real.
There was a time when you thought you might be able to find your place sleeping under the stars, free to do as you wished and go where you pleased, so long as the law kept their greasy mitts to themselves. But circumstances had seen to it that your dream went unfulfilled. 
You muster up what you hope is a sympathetic smile, and Arthur takes it stiffly.
Even so, something else with his phrasing catches your attention.
“Hold on now, you said ‘started.’ There something else you’re not telling me?”
A hand, previously settled on his knee, finds its way to the back of his neck and rubs. 
“Uh, y’see,” he starts, looking damn near ready to wring his own neck, and you have to laugh, because what on God’s green earth could have Arthur Morgan this bothered? But instead of finishing his sentence, he turns his gaze toward the small sliver of moonlight coming in through the curtains and poses a question:
“You know anything about chickens?”
You blink.
“Arthur Morgan,” your eyes shut, and your mouth hangs open. “I work on a farm.“
“That you do.”
“And you’re asking me if I know about chickens?”
“That I am.”
He’s looking mighty sheepish; his hands return to their places on his knees and begin to tap again, with the added scrunch of a nose. You stifle a snort and oblige him.
“Yes, I’m well versed in chickens. Now tell me what the hell is up.”
And tell he did. Turns out, one of the eggs he’d snatched had somehow been fertilized, and hatched. Arthur, of all people, had been far too mortified to go and ask one of his own for help, so he’d spent the last two months slinking around to find out if his luck might earn him another to keep the one he already had some company. 
He’d named it and everything, so eating it (Marlene, he corrects gruffly) was completely off the table. By the time he’s finished his story, you’ve spent an exorbitant amount of energy fighting off several fits of laughter, and you’re fighting off your ninth when Arthur interrupts.
He leans forward, as if to confirm something, then settles himself back into his chair once he finds what he’s looking for. “You ain’t from around here, are you.” It’s a statement when it leaves Arthur’s mouth, not a question.
Observant. Observant, and deflective.
Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you pocket the uneasy feeling in your chest for later.
“Long story,” you offer. And a difficult one, at that. It wasn’t one you liked to revisit.
Arthur replies almost instantly. “Shoot.” For a moment his face pinches, like he’s dropped his last cent down a splinter-ridden nook he can’t reach. He deliberates, for a bit. But the money is long gone now. “Got a full audience right here,” he continues, a tad slower. “I’ve got…time. Why the hell not?”
There’s no smile, but there’s a genuine curiosity that creeps into his voice. It wafts over the crackling of the fire, blows fresh wind underneath wings long forgotten. 
This wasn’t good. Not one bit.
You cast a skeptical glance toward the bottle of whiskey on the table. It’d been set out on instinct when you’d let him in, a habit formed from a time long gone. Would Arthur want some, maybe? He seemed like the type. And you weren’t too pissed about the eggs now, anyways. So you wrap a blanket around yourself, stand, and turn to the cupboards to find a glass. But something stops you from making it over, and you instead choose to wrap a hand around the bottle and offer it to him.
If Arthur is as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it. He mutters a word of thanks as he takes the proffered bottle. But you don’t miss the way his eyes rake over your bare legs like hot coals. Or the slight twitch of his fingers—now free of their gloves—at the light brushing of your hand over his as you pass the bottle to him. 
You follow the bobbing of his throat for what feels like a lifetime as he takes down gulp after gulp. Amber liquid slips from the corner of his mouth; it catches the firelight on its trek down, and steals your air along with it when Arthur moves to wipe it away with the back of his hand.
It startles you, how quickly you’ve become accustomed to cataloging his movements. You’ve met him before, you’re almost certain of it now. If not in the fields here, then maybe somewhere in Valentine, or the woods. But somewhere. He felt too familiar to be new, too invigorating. A part of you wants to pinch yourself for giving in so easily. Maybe…maybe the folks in town had been right? Maybe Arthur Morgan was possessed? It was either that, or you were an idiot. You sincerely hoped it was the former.
The sound of the glass bottle hitting the table is what snaps you out of your trance. Blinking rapidly, you chance a peek at his eyes again, only to find them peeking right back. You do your best not to turn away. That thing you’d seen lurking out on the front porch is still there, submerged in the depths of his pupils. Still waiting.
You pull the top off of the bottle, take a quick swig, and return to your chair with an inhale and newfound resolve in tow.
Blabbering seems to come unfortunately easy with Arthur. He sits, silent and attentive throughout the entire retelling—save for the occasional grunt of approval, disapproval, whichever was appropriate. You tell him of your mother, young and hungry, and how she’d made herself available to the highest bidder—your father. Some wealthy businessman from God knows where. Twenty years your mother’s senior, it’d been no secret what exactly he’d gotten out of their short-lived union: a wild young thing to look after his progeny and keep his bed warm.
He was nice enough, for a time. Or at least nice enough for your mother to be able to tolerate. But something had sent her fleeing from that big, big house. She’d kept you in her arms and her heart till you’d found somewhat of a safe haven in the Grizzly Mountains.
“Safe” had been a bit of a stretch, though. Anyone with half a brain knew exactly what the Grizzlies were like. Arthur agreed. But your mother had been raised there, just as you would be, if only for a little while. You’re only able to remember a short split of time—just before your mother passed, and before your father had come to take you away from her. 
By then your mother had already taught you most of what you’d needed to survive: reading, writing, hunting, flattery, the works. The only thing she’d left out was how to survive without her. 
Your father had come to find you only a few days after, bearing news of his intentions to turn you into a “proper lady.” He made no mention of your mother or where she’d been buried. 
Polite society hadn’t taken too kindly to a daughter hailing from unsavory origins, and it was safe to say that you hadn’t taken too kindly to polite society either. So, you’d spent the last decade or so making your father’s life a living hell and warding off any potential suitors.
But it became clear stunt after outrageous stunt that he had no intention of cutting ties. Rather than cutting you off, he’d settled for the next best thing: manual labor. Your father was old friends (though “friends” was a bit dubious) with the Campbells, and deemed it an appropriate enough punishment for your wrongdoings. He’d relied on your aptitude for hunting to pawn you off on them, and with the help of some expertly feigned resistance, you’d gotten him to plant you exactly where you’d wanted to be. 
Away, and alone.
“Threw a wrench in my plans, but…life here has been peaceful, I reckon.” You pick at the beds of your fingernails, head bowed. 
Peaceful. 
Peaceful and quiet, save for the occasional moo. 
Though, now that you thought about it, you’d have to tally it up to several wrenches if you counted the hitmen. But you could open that barrel of horse shit later.
The creaking of wood alerts you to a shift in Arthur’s positioning, and his voice barrels down at you from the ceiling; he must be looking up. 
“You don’t seem all too ‘at peace,’ if you ask me.”
“I ain’t ask you.”
“Tuh.”
The two of you fall into yet another bubble of silence. It’s comfortable enough, though still laced with the slightest bit of awkwardness. 
You couldn’t get a read on Arthur. Just about every decision he’d made tonight—or told you he’d made—had been a contradiction. It didn’t make a lick of sense. But now that you’ve had more time to ruminate, it didn’t seem like it made much sense to him, either. His body language divulges as much. 
The quiet agitates you, now. Itches. You need to know more. Understand more. But you can’t do that without retracting your fangs and reigning in your apprehension. Finger beds picked raw, you test the waters.
“Not at peace, hm?” You mutter. “…How you figure?”
You hear him shrug. “Dunno.”
Silence.
You wait for him to continue, but it’s not until you look up at him that you realize he’s been waiting for you to look back. Arthur’s voice cuts through the silence once you can meet his eyes without squirming.
“Met enough people to know who’s livin’, and who ain’t.” He crosses an ankle over his knee, and gives an exhale when he puts his hands behind his head. “I’m in no place to be dealing out life advice, but you seem awfully dead, Miss.” 
“Ma’am,” you correct. 
Arthur makes a face, and you bark out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Some stranger he was, telling you off like this.
Your eyes crinkle, smile working its way from the inside out. “Takes one to know one, I assume?”
He blinks at you. “Yeah. Yeah, somethin’ like that, I suppose.”
More silence. 
“Do you think—”
“I ought to be heading out, now.” The dream is cut short. Arthur is standing suddenly, intercepting before you have the chance to say something incredibly, incredibly stupid. He tugs on his coat, fingers closing the buttons with frightening efficiency before he gathers up his gun and whatever else he’s brought with him and heads for the door.  
You're scrambling up out of your chair before your brain has a chance to process.“Arthur,” you say, half to him and half to the floor, “Arthur, wait a damn minute!” 
The spurs on his boots cease in their clinking. He’s got one hand wrapped around the doorknob, squeaky and now half-turned.
“…Got business to take care of.”
“At three in the morning?”
He glances at the small pocket watch you’d left open on the table. “Half past four, actually.”
“Didn’t realize you could tell time.”
He hums.
And Arthur stares at you for a moment, unabashedly. It’s unreadable at first. But then scars are shifting, and he’s leveling you with a look so bitter that it nearly has you reaching for your rifle again.
“Goodbye, Ma’am.” Arthur waves a noncommittal hand at your feet as he turns the knob. “And…go and see about those feet of yours, will you?”
He sweeps out the door.
He’s left it open.
It’s only after the faint sound of hoofbeats is nothing more than a whisper that you realize he isn’t in the cabin anymore. But somewhere between the shutting of the door and the hanging of your rifle, the faint impression of his parting words is pressed into your palm.
You look down, a bright sting and the sight of red specks on the floorboards making themselves known rather insistently. 
“Oh.”
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teethcritter · 1 year
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Huge analysis about Princess Bubblegum’s morality
I think about this so much, and I need to finally get all my thoughts out. 
So it’s absolutely no secret that PB isn’t a good person to anyone who’s watched even a few episodes of the show. But how far does that go?? 
I do think it’s incredibly interesting that Adventure Time dives into the reality of, if immortals do exist -especially in a post apocalyptic setting like Ooo- that it would be extremely hard for them to be good. Just pure lawful good. Another thing i find interesting is that lawful good doesn’t quite exist in Adventure Time? Even Finn can’t fit in that category which is a conversation for another post. 
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I adore the conflict between Phoebe and Bonnie, because it really does show the differences between the two characters. Phoebe is the flame king, who’s symbol is to be evil. The flame kingdom is evil. But she’s not. The candy kingdom is the direct opposite, being sweet and bubbly on the outside, but on the inside...
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In The Cooler, Bonnie directly admits to this. “I’m PB. I spy on everybody. No big D.” She knows she’s not the perfect princess on a high pedestal that she put herself on. She is a deeply, deeply, fucked up person.
My good friend pointed something out to me a few months back when we were watching her title episode. Even as a child, she’s very... well...
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The use of the word “pliable” stuck out to us because... yeah... what? 
I don’t think Bonnie is evil. I don’t even think she’s a bad person. Adventure Time is very good at depicting evil and showing that evil. The Lich, for example, is the living embodiment of evil. In The Comet, the Catalyst Comet says it embodies all that is good and evil, showing The Lich on screen for that segment, but nothing for the “good” segment which I’ve always found notable. 
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This image used for Gumball’s ambitions is also something I don’t think should be brushed under the rug. I know Gumball and Bonnie are very different characters since F&C is opposite not just genderswapped, but I still think it’s of note. 
We see PB grow a lot over the course of the show, but we also see the people around her change their perception of her. Finn is a major example. In the first few seasons, he sees her as this untouchable goddess, but you can see his opinion of her change, especially in seasons 9 and 10. And keep in mind, that it was NOT Finn who stopped PB from going to war. It was Shoko. 
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We also see that Marceline has to really keep her in check at times; reminding her to have like... basic empathy 
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We know that she isn’t proud of her past, and yet continues to make the same mistakes she made hundreds of years earlier. I love her, she’s probably my favorite character. Not just in Adventure Time, but across like... all media. She’s so interesting and well written and there is SO much to dissect.
 There’s a lot to say about a character who grew up in a nuclear wasteland, literally creating life because she was so lonely. Do morals really have a place in a world so broken and lost to time that humanity does not exist in the same way it did before fallout? Humans exist, sure, but are they human? At the core, are they human? 
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davidmariottecomics · 3 months
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Goodbye IDW! Hello Something New!
Hi there! 
After seven years and some change, today, 12/22/2023, is my last day at IDW Publishing. It's for good reasons. Things just timed out that my last day could be the last work day of the year for IDW and in the new year, I'll be starting a new job elsewhere. I'll still be in comics and once I can talk about the new gig, I'm really stoked to be letting you all know. So, today, I want to say my goodbye to IDW. 
But first, before I get to that, I did have something else notable happen this week. I sent my last tweet!  I'm officially shutting down my Twitter at the end of the year and if you see a Twitter account claiming to be me after January 1st, it's an imposter. If you'd like to keep up with me, however, I've got good news! There are lots of other ways to find me still. Here are a few! 
Check out and bookmark my website! Get access to my blog, plus lots of behind the scenes stuff and new projects at my Patreon!  Subscribe to a newsletter version of my blog for free at Buttondown!  Follow my blog on Tumblr!  Keep up with my main socials: Bluesky and Instagram (I'm @davidmariotte at both)! 
Okay, with that out of the way, let's talk about it. This is not my first time saying goodbye. In fact, almost exactly a year ago, I said my farewells to Transformers, one of the hallmarks of my IDW run. I don't want to revisit that too much, so if you want to read about my early days at IDW or that part of my career or a big list of thank yous to my collaborators, you can! And while I've had significant runs with other books, most notably Sonic the Hedgehog which with January's Sonic: Fang the Hunter #1 will mark 100 issues of Sonic at IDW under my editorial eye, or my personally exciting, if shorter runs on stuff like Godzilla, Samurai Jack, the Hasbro Action books, Canto, Scarenthood, The Kill Lock, The October Faction, Wynonna Earp, Brynmore, Atomic Robo, or literally so many other books, I don't want this to just be a retrospective on the work. In fact, I'm largely not interested in talking about the past when I say goodbye this time. 
IDW has afforded me a lot. They've helped me find my place in the industry. They let me do some writing. They let me do a lot of editing. I learned various other skills both through directly on the course of the job and through my own interest because of what I was doing and seeing there. I have made true lifelong friendships. And I have made comics. So leaving feels weird. I'm very bummed to be leaving a place that really has been my home (and for the past couple of years, has quite literally been mostly at my home) for so long. But I am even more excited about what's to come. On my side, I can't announce it just yet, but watch this space for some big news soon (after a couple weeks of much needed vacation). 
Talking about the future I actually can say a little more about, I wanna tell you how excited I am for IDW. Yes, I'm leaving, but IDW remains home to so many people--both at the company and our freelance creators--and so many projects that are close to my heart. Next year is their 25th anniversary. That is an impressive feat in not just the world of comics, but any industry. For the milestone, they've got a lot of cool stuff planned. 
I'm not going to blow up IDW's spot and say anything about what's coming up too early. Just to talk about the things that are already public knowledge, you've got things like the new TMNT: The Last Ronin sequel! The TMNT ongoing on it's road to issue #150! There are cool new originals like Golgotha Motor Mountain! There's the launch of the aforementioned Fang the Hunter which is IDW's first Classic Sonic mini-series and sees 100 unique issues of Sonic at IDW and is just laugh-out-loud funny and full of such good action! And I'll tease this, when the Sonic ongoing is back with issue #69 in May, you'll be in for an absolute treat as that series runs up to #75! 
I know some readers of this blog don't read a ton of American direct market comics. You aren't "Wednesday Warriors" who go to the comic shop every week. You like the comics you like and I've been graced to be a person working on those comics. If you aren't as familiar with how these comics work, let me assure you of a couple things. The books I was editing and many unannounced projects that I set up will still be happening. Because of the timelines of comic production, you'll still see my name in IDW books for a few more months and, at the same time, you'll see new credits creeping in. And if we've done everything right, that'll be about the only thing you'll notice is different, at least at first. As the editors really take the reins and take over, we'll both be in for the treat of the unknown! I'll be reading them with a good sense of professional jealousy. 
Now, there's one other book that has been announced for next year and I wanted to do a special call out for. Godzilla: Valentine's Day Special went to press this week. It's the last IDW book I saw all the way from inception to completion. And, in many ways, it's kind of a really good analogy of a comics editorial career. I think, genuinely, this may be the book that went from conception to reality the fastest in my career. I think it took... less than a week from a half-joking suggestion of doing a Godzilla Valentine's Day book to getting Zoe Tunnell's pitch in and approved by Toho and getting it on the publishing schedule. Usually these things take a bit--people are working on other projects, licensors need time to review things, whatever other bumps happen along the way--but this was like lightning. Everyone just got it instantly. And then Zoe turned in the script and it was great! Things continued, as they do, and then... we got a curveball or two. I won't go into too much detail, but major thanks to Sebastian Piriz and Rebecca Nalty for getting it done and having a book that we were all so proud of that I could send to press this week. And it struck me on that final press day that despite the curveballs we had been thrown, when it came to actually getting it approved, everything was so easy, straightforward, and smooth. When you read it in February, if I've done my job right, maybe you'll remember seeing somewhere that there were some curveballs. But mostly, you'll just have a really good book in your hands. (BTW, you did JUST MISS the final order cutoff on that, so do check in with your shop about still trying to get you a copy!) 
Most of the time, after a book like that goes to press, an editor gets ready to do it again--maybe in a few minutes or days or the next week. For the first time in a long time, I won't be getting ready to do it again at IDW. That's a complicated feeling, but I'm so excited for the future. 
The best metaphor I've been able to come up with for what is happening is it's like I've been working in a one room office constantly for the past seven years. It's got that dull office lighting, you know the kind. Each day, projects come and go across my desk, and as they otherwise disappear into the world, I put up one of those glow-in-the-dark stars as a memory of it. And each day, I work with so many people--my coworkers at IDW who've helped foster my growth, my collaborators as both a writer and editor who have made so many stories with me, all the folks where things never quite lined up but we kept trying, and the readers who are an inherent part of the ecosystem, the reason we make what we do. And so, for each of those people, I put up a little glow in the dark toy. 
Now, for the first time, I'm going to get up and leave the office. As I flick the switch behind me, everything in there that has been soaking up light for years now glows. Some of the glows are slight. Some are so fantastically bright, it feels like they're drawing attention through the walls of the room. Together, they make the room brighter than it was when I left. Now, sometimes, I might sneak in to borrow a toy--make a copy of it for the new office I'm doing the same thing in. Other people will certainly do the same and make they've got their Evan Stanley figure on their shelf. If I ever return for a longer time, I'll be so glad to flick the light back on and let them all absorb even more light to glow an even longer time. If I don't, I rest happy that the glow goes on and forever people will be able to come back and discover some part of it. And I'll start working on a new office soon. 
If I keep going,  I'm a little afraid that I won't be able to stop. So, for now, I'll just say again, thank you. The future is about to be very exciting. Next year is for the creators you love or don't know you love yet, the books that are going to light you up that you've come to expect and the ones that will catch you by total surprise. While there are a lot of things I'm going to miss deeply and books that I'm going to wish I had gotten to do more on, I also have the really exciting experience of getting to see this stuff as a fan of IDW, just like you. And, hey, I hope you'll be a fan of the stuff I do next too! 
As for next steps, like I've said, I'm not going far. I'll still be in comics. I'll share the news when I can.
Before that, I'm getting a little break. Not too long, just a few weeks, and obviously the holidays are part of those, but in my time between my jobs, I'm going to be working on some personal projects. I put together a little tracking list recently and I have something like 40 projects in various stages of gestation right now. Obviously, I'm not going to be working on all of those at once, and chances are, some of them will never see the light of day, but I'm going to be working on trying to bring a couple of them to you in the new year (and beyond). If you're an artist that I've had the pleasure of working with in the past and you think you might be interested in peeping the list and seeing what we could do together, let me know. You can reach me on my website contact page, through my email, or through Discord (feel free to ask if you don't have it!). 
And if you read this blog, you'll see me hyping my last IDW projects up until we run out of what I left behind. Simultaneously, once I've got stuff to start hyping up for my personal projects and for the new gig, you'll see those start to pop up here too! I'll also keep talking about making comics and my thoughts on the state of the world and whatever else it is I blog about here on a regular basis! 
Thanks for reading. Bye-DW! Next week, I'll be doing a little Best of 2023. But for now, onto our regular features. 
What I enjoyed this week: Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), Reverse 1999 (Video Game), Nancy (Comic), Lego Masters (TV show), Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (Short story collection), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video Game), Cunk on Earth (TV show), I'm a Virgo (TV show), The Boy and the Heron (Movie), an easy last week at IDW, all the well-wishes that've already poured in, leaving today to celebrate Christmas with my family and then have some downtime to work on my stuff, signing the paperwork for the new job, not being on Twitter anymore, getting all of our mail out in a timely fashion for the holidays, Chainsaw Man (Manga), I picked up Superman and Hawkgirl, so excited to get caught up on those, and knowing that in leaving this job, there are certain folks I just get to deepen my relationships with as friends, instead of co-workers. 
New Releases this week (12/20/2023): Godzilla: The War for Humanity #3 (Editor) Godzilla Rivals: Jet Jaguar vs. Megalon (Editor)
Announcements: The Cartoonist Cooperative is still doing E-Sim cards for Gaza. You can donate a digital sim card so that residents can get access to the internet and have more functional phones and, in exchange, get some comics or a drawing or whatever else is available from the many participating artists. Additionally, the CC is hosting their mini-comic awards! It's a cool way to maybe get your mini-comic recognized and make some scratch!
You can also give more directly. If you don't have money, and I get it, you can call or fax or email or show up at the offices of your representatives. Keep your eyes open for actions too, whether they're another general strike or demonstrations and marches in your area. Given the nature of the things, they often come together fairly quickly, so do exercise your due diligence. Also, of course, being informed and just giving your time to Palestinian journalists and writers is incredibly valuable. 
While Becca has got some things brewing for next year (and now on a schedule), you should reach out if you'd like to work on comics with them! You can find their gallery on their website and also, y'know, maybe pick up a few things for belated gifts while you're there!
Finally, I called out my Patreon earlier. You can support me (and boy, that would be cool during the time between paychecks because vacation is nice, but living is still expensive) and get not just this blog, but a lot of cool special features like extra posts, comics, infographics, and more! At the $10+ levels, you can also access stuff like a holiday gift guide I made, a podcast pilot for a spicy show with Becca, and a ton more! 
Pic of the Week: Happy holidays from Becca and me! If you wanna full card in your inbox, lemme know! 
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nucifraga · 3 months
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So, how old are the grandpas of the apocalypse really? Ft. - Jonah Magnus - Simon Fairchild - Peter Lukas - Maxwell Rayner
I MADE A PART 2 OF MY CHARACTER AGES RESEARCH (part 1 incl. og archives crew, 3 avatars + gerry here) after a few days of really wanting to detective the ages of this lot, i finally caved and decided to dig out the magnifying glass! same disclaimers apply! including an extra disclaimer to say that I've changed the formatting for this a lil because there was a Lot More Research done compared to part 1. Necessitated bc these mfs are OLD. (except for peter lukas. peter lukas is surprisingly young??)
(All ages are as of S1 / 2016 & the highlights are in bold if you don't feel like reading my essays)
Jonah Magnus
Age: ~216 Birth Year: ~1800
There are a few landmarks we can use, but because of how shady most are (old-ass letters) I also can’t pin down any solid dates because all the characters involved are fictional ._. Basically the only clues I got were: The Magnus Institute was established in 1818, but Jonah was old enough to travel alone to Germany and exchange letters with a friend (Albrecht von Closen) by 1816. So birthdate around ~1800? 1790?
I tried to find an ‘upper limit’ by using the life expectancy of the time since he also was able to live a ‘natural’ life until the (failed) Watcher’s Crown was carried out ‘at some point closely after February 13th, 1867’, BUT the average life expectancy of men was at most 41 years. So there was some Fairchild-esque shit going on there.
Simon Fairchild
Age: 439 - 488 Birth Year: 1528 - 1577
SPEAKING OF FAIRCHILD - sky grandpa! love him, he’s such a bastard. Anyway, in his own words, he’s had ‘an absurdly long life’. In MAG151 he says he was apprenticed to the Italian artist Tintoretto. Apprenticeships in the Renaissance started at approximately 11-14 years old & lasted for 1-8 years, and I’m assuming this was the same for the 1500s. Hopefully.
Given that Tintoretto became a renowned artist in ~1542, my estimate of the oldest Simon could be would be 14 in 1542. On the other end of the scale, Wikipedia says that his last notable work was Il Paradiso, finished from 1588–1594. I can’t find any mention of works post-1588 so this puts the absolute youngest Simon could be at 11 years old in 1588. From those two estimates, it was just a matter of mathing it out :)
Note 1: Simon mentions that his Becoming was while painting a church, likely a ceiling or high wall since he ‘should have broken his neck’, which should narrow it down – except it doesn’t, because Tintoretto painted a lot of churches x_x Note 2: I’ve just spent half an hour researching an Italian painter & art conventions in the 16th Century, which is of no relevance at all to my STEM degree in the 21st century. Simon’s age doesn’t even particularly matter because it was so long ago that the centuries quite literally blur together. This rabbit hole is incredibly fascinating, but this feels so ironically pointless, which is really, really fitting. Note 3: Simon definitely deserved to get ripped apart by the mob. His time has long, long passed lmao
Peter Lukas
Age: ~49-61 (at the very youngest; 36) Birth Year: late 1950s - late 1960s
Peter appears to be the youngest of these four – surprisingly so! – which makes it a lot simpler to pin down his age. He first meets JamesWright!Jonah between 1973 and 1996 & also he was old enough to have the option of watching TV when he was a child. TV became common in UK homes in the 1960s, so his birthdate at the earliest may be in the late 1950s/1960s.
However, he’s known Jonah as ‘Elias’ for most of their acquaintance by late 2018, meaning that they met at the earliest 1975 (21 years before 1996), but was probably more like 1980ish or later. I don’t think he would have met him too long after becoming an avatar some time after he became ‘old enough to run away’, which I’m assuming means he became aware of the Lonely when teenager-ish.
But spending some time on the Tundra before meeting other avatars makes sense for the Lonely, and so my vague estimate of his birth year would be late 1950s - late 1960s. I don’t think that his birthdate was anywhere later, though it is possible that it could have been as late as 1980 (if he began running away when very young & was introduced to ‘James Wright’ very early into avatar-hood), if incredibly unlikely.
Note: My ‘very youngest’ estimate for Peter Lukas is… younger than my estimate for Mike Crew’s age. I find this inordinately funny.
Maxwell Rayner
Age: 357 Birth Date: 8 November 1658
I have excellent news for Rayner! Good ol’ Jonny has made his original body Edmond Halley. A very famous person with a wikipedia page of his own that conveniently states his date of birth :)
Thanks, Jonny.
Rayner died in February 2017 at the age of 358 years 3 months 2 days, though he did spend a decent amount of time host-less. Unlike Gerard Keay, I’m unsure of how ‘alive’ he was during this time, so I’m just going to count it as ‘alive’-time because it means I get precise numbers for the first time since I started researching character ages!
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guzhufuren · 1 year
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Favourite VegasPete Fics pt.2 (pt.1) (in alphabetical order)
1. Black Velvet by @kerrikins https://archiveofourown.org/series/3158706
Vegas notices Pete watching him during the torture scene. Intrigued and more tempted than he expected to be, he stalks Pete and succeeds in taunting him into coming with Vegas so they can fuck.
It starts off as a cat and mouse game for sex, but when the two of them are finally forced to reckon with the fact that they're on opposite sides, they both find themselves more conflicted and drawn to each other than ever.
2. cause and effect by @sapphicblight https://archiveofourown.org/series/3234285
“Don’t you have better things to do with your time? Other virgins for example,” Pete asks him one time over a guerrilla warfare style lunch date. “Not until next semester,” Vegas laments. “I’ve already exhausted our current student body.” Pete doesn’t even know where to begin unpacking everything wrong with that statement.
Or: the college au in which Vegas is a manwhore with a weird innocence kink and Pete is an inexperienced painslut.
3. Drowning, and other Metaphors https://archiveofourown.org/works/44171761
Vegas has never experienced an afterglow that burns like an oil fire, a sudden and dangerous thing that he can’t quite remember how best to put out past the panic. It doesn’t help that Pete’s smile is like a torrent of cool water on his feverish skin, making the flames jump higher. It makes Vegas want to do something dangerous that he’s never really been good at before – it makes him want to take care of Pete. Problem is, he doesn’t really know how.
4. Holy Palmer's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/41273907
"By the way," says Vegas in English. "Interesting scars you’ve got on your chest." Pete doesn’t tense – he doesn’t – but the leveled manner his gaze slides back up must be enough of a tell because Vegas… "What ? Don’t tell me you thought it wouldn’t come up."
The begining of episode 11 but Vegas zeroes in on Pete's top surgery scars instead of his hip tattoo.
5. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck by @dage-mingjue & @stratumgermanitivum https://archiveofourown.org/series/3352987
Pete picks up the chain leash and offers it to Vegas. “So, you never did tell me what you were getting this for.” Vegas takes the chain from Pete’s hands and fixes a dark and sultry look on him. “This? Oh, it’s for bad boys who misbehave.” And with that he gives one last smirk before walking out the front door, leaving Pete an absolute mess behind the counter. *** “Pete,” Porsche says, in a very slow voice, like Pete is a particularly small child. “He was hitting on you.” Pete blinks. “He what now?” — Or; Vegas adopts a puppy.
6. Sharing Different Heartbeats by @raelle-writing https://archiveofourown.org/works/40549581
Of course Vegas noticed Pete. But not with much weight. Sure, Pete was hot. But so were all of the rest of Kinn’s bodyguards. That wasn’t notable. It wasn’t worth more than a passing once-over, or an absent glance at the man’s ass in those suits they insisted on wearing. He had a nice ass, but it didn’t stick in Vegas’ mind. It was passing lust, nothing more. And he certainly wasn’t hotter than the other bodyguards– not Porsche, for example. The only thing notable about Pete was that he had a surprisingly soft, cute face, and a sunny, disarming smile. He looked far too soft for his job. But he was Tankhun’s head bodyguard, and one of the men that Kinn often tapped for important missions. Which meant that the cute, soft face was hiding real talent and skill. So yes, Vegas noticed Pete. But it didn’t mean anything.
OR: a retelling of the story from Vegas' POV, from first impressions until after the hospital.
7. The King Must Die https://archiveofourown.org/works/41144892
“It’s fine,” Macau assures Vegas, whose very soul feels plunged into turmoil. Tear-bright eyes, a faint handprint on his sheltered face, and Macau tries to comfort Vegas. “It’s fine, I promise.” Vegas would kill for his brother, indiscriminately. He’s just now realising quite what that means.
(The queer experience of having an ill-advised one night stand with your cousin's head bodyguard and then ending up in hiding with him while you plot to kill your father.)
8. The Last Thing Left to Break by @blackwatervial https://archiveofourown.org/works/41053809
Hatred ran deep between the Theerapanyakul and the Saengtham family. It was common knowledge that the two leaders, Khun Vegas and Khun Pete, despised each other and used every small excuse to initiate yet another bloody conflict. Only that no one was really aware what happened behind closed doors…
9. the mortifying ordeal of falling in love by @dage-mingjue https://archiveofourown.org/works/41659146
“If I had to rate you?” Pete pauses and tilts his head with a low hum, considering. “I dunno, a six out of ten? I thought you were a sadist, but you didn’t really give that impression. Are you actually kinky? That didn’t feel kinky. It didn’t do it for me.” Vegas looks like someone punched him. Hard. His cock is still out and his hair is rumpled and he looks devastatingly disheveled, like Pete was the one who just took Vegas apart and not the other way around. “I’d worry that it was just a fluke,” Pete continues, ignoring Vegas’s flabbergasted sputters, “but I also don’t think I’d give you a second time to prove me wrong.” Pete shrugs and fixes his shirt, petting back his hair. “Anyway, see you around.” — Or a fic in which Vegas fucks through all of Kinn’s bodyguards and lands on Pete, but Pete uno reverses it on Vegas leaving Vegas wanting so much more. Vegas gets humiliated and has to work for it.
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the-scarecrowlover · 6 months
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So I was rewatching S2 Ep 5 and I noticed something I didn't catch on my first watch.
When Ed is recounting his memories with Fang about chasing him around the ship -- thinking it was a fun game -- and Fang tells him he was actually terrified, Ed says "Oh fuck I didn't know that, I'm sorry". It's really natural and genuine. This is the first time we hear him apologize with the words "I'm sorry".
It's very notable that when he was facing the crew and giving his "YouTuber apology' he doesn't say "sorry" once, and it's something even Lucius notices.
I guess I find it super interesting because I don't quite understand why he was unable to say sorry to the crew but it comes so automatic for him to say sorry to Fang in the moment when he's unscripted.
I don't really have the brain power to understand the psychology behind this but if someone has an ideas I would love to hear it.
I feel like it has something to do with the fact that it wasn't planned. It was natural and automatic. He wasn't really "thinking" when he says sorry in that moment. He says it from the gut; from the heart. It may also have something to do with the fact that he was in a more private setting. Was it pride? Was it something deeper?
But yeah I dunno, what do you all think?
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bloody-bee-tea · 7 days
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IntiMarch 2024 Day 22 - What I want in my life
The prompt for this was "Let's stay here for a while"
Summer is fast approaching and with it, Suguru’s irritable mood makes a return. They’ve spent enough years together by now for Satoru to know that it has to do with Suguru’s visit at home, but he’s never quite gotten the details of why Suguru hates the thought of going home so much but he thinks that this year he’ll not let him deflect and evade the questions again.
This year, he’s going to find out what’s going on in the Geto household and he’ll fix it as best as he can.
And if he has to sit on Suguru to stop him from leaving, then he’ll damn well do that, too.
“You’re getting antsy again,” Satoru says one day over dinner, when Suguru has fiddled with his chopsticks more than he used them for eating and all Satoru gets for his trouble is a sharp glare.
“Fuck off,” Suguru grumbles out, right before he stuffs his mouth with food and even though that’s not at all what Satoru intended it’s at least a start.
He decides to drop it for this evening, but Suguru stays tense and angry for the rest of the week and when Satoru passes their shared calendar in the kitchen on Sunday he finally sees the big, fat, red X he had been looking for.
Suguru will depart for his home town in two weeks.
It’s about what Satoru expected, from the way Suguru’s mood declines but it also doesn’t give him much time to figure out what to do about it.
“Hey, Suguru, you want to order in?” Satoru asks, on the first Tuesday into his two week deadline and he raises an eyebrow when Suguru almost throws his controller at the TV.
“Do I look as if I fucking care?” he snaps out and then murders someone one screen so beautifully violently that Satoru almost feels impressed.
He’s not impressed with Suguru’s tone though.
“Hey, watch it,” he says, putting a little bit of bite into his voice and for a split second he thinks Suguru is going to argue, because he breathes in and opens his mouth, but before a sound comes out he completely deflates.
“Sorry. Satoru, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he whispers out, lowering the controller and Satoru walks over to him, sitting down next to Suguru and leaning into his side.
“I know. Don’t appreciate that it happened, though. Now. Food. Ordering in?”
Suguru leans more firmly into Satoru’s side as well before he nods.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“Great. And if it happens again, you snapping at me like that, we’ll have a real long talk, just so you know,” Satoru threatens, and even though he softens his words with a smile and a little ruffle of Suguru’s hair, he definitely means it.
If Suguru is being like that towards him, then Satoru will absolutely not give it a rest. It’s hard enough seeing Suguru tense all day every day lately but Satoru draws the line and bearing the brunt of his anger.
“Okay,” Suguru agrees, and he very notably doesn’t promise that it won’t happen.
Which makes Satoru think.
Maybe—and this might be far-fetched as hell—but maybe Suguru finally wants to talk to him about whatever shit-show is happening when he goes back home.
“Okay,” Satoru whispers out when Suguru doesn’t offer any more and then orders their favourite dinner.
Suguru barely eats and Satoru glances over at the calendar. Twelve more days. He’ll figure it out before then.
~*~*~
On Friday, Suguru comes home drunk.
It’s surprising enough that Satoru freezes where he is in the living-room, silently watching Suguru stumble towards his room and vanishing inside. Satoru is still standing in the exact same spot when Suguru rushes out again, this time barrelling towards the bathroom and not a second later Satoru hears him throwing up.
Wonderful, Satoru thinks, but he joins Suguru in the bathroom and holds his hair back for him. He reeks of alcohol and deep-frying fat and Satoru makes a face at that.
“You really need a shower,” he says when Suguru stops heaving for a moment, and Satoru carefully moves with him when he moves from his knees to his butt, so his hair doesn’t get pulled on.
“You have no idea what I need,” Suguru slurs out, clearly still very drunk and Satoru rolls his eyes.
“No, because you moron won’t talk to me. You know I’m here for you, right?” he can’t help but to ask, because he thinks it should be a no-brainer that he’s always there for Suguru but maybe that knowledge got lost somewhere.
“I know,” Suguru finally quietly agrees and lists towards Satoru, who manages to catch him before he faceplants into the ground.
“I wish you would talk to me,” Satoru mutters, pressing his face into Suguru’s disgusting hair and even like this, he would never want to be anywhere else.
“’m sorry,” Suguru mumbles into Satoru’s shoulder and he even sounds like it.
“Yeah, well,” Satoru breathes out because what else is there to say.
Suguru doesn’t bring the evening up the next morning and Satoru doesn’t know if it’s because he forgot all about it or if he’s wilfully choosing to ignore it.
He just knows that he’s not going to get an answer out of Suguru like this. He really needs to change his tactics.
~*~*~
When Satoru has to spent an entire evening talking to himself on Sunday, even though Suguru is right there he decides to fuck it.
“Why are you even going there?” he outright asks, because half of the remaining time is already passed and he still hasn’t gotten a single answer out of Suguru.
“What do you mean?” Suguru demands to know and he already seems to be gearing up for a fight.
Well, if he wants one, then he can have one.
“Just don’t go. Look at what it does to you, even knowing you have to go there in a week. And don’t even get me started on how you are when you come back. It’s as if you’re barely a shell of yourself anymore, every time you return from your parents place.”
It’s the truth, too; Suguru is always a depressed mess when he gets back and it takes Satoru weeks to build him up again.
He really doesn’t understand why Suguru even goes through this at all.
Satoru broke with his family long ago; fed up with how they tried to control him, how they berated him, how nothing he ever did was good enough for them.
Satoru had that in his life all throughout his childhood; he really doesn’t need it in his adulthood, too.
“Of course you would say that,” Suguru bites out. “You wouldn’t understand; you were so happy to break with your parent back then.”
His tone is so condescending and mocking that it takes Satoru a moment to think past the pain they cause.
“Fuck you,” he finally says, getting up from the table and fleeing to his own room, letting Suguru sit there by himself.
Suguru has seen how his family fucked Satoru up; has witnessed the aftermath more than once and even helped him find a therapist for it a few years back. To have him say this now—
“Satoru, I’m sorry.” Suguru’s voice is muffled through the door and Satoru quickly hides under the blanket, pressing the fabric over his ears so he doesn’t have to hear him.
He can’t believe that Suguru would snap at him like this, that he would say stuff like that and right now Satoru is so hurt that he doesn’t even know if it’s all worth it.
Suguru was supportive when Satoru had trouble with his parents and Satoru was grateful for it. But now that Suguru has his own trouble with his parents Satoru doesn’t even get to be supportive, because he doesn’t know what’s going on, because Suguru won’t talk to him and instead does everything to push him away.
It’s unfair and it hurts and Satoru wants nothing to do with it anymore, at least not for today.
He stays in bed until he falls asleep and Monday comes around.
~*~*~
Avoiding Suguru is not that hard. They have lived together for long enough that Satoru knows his schedule by heart; he knows all his routines and quirks and knows when not to be home and when to stay in his room.
It’s almost too easy, Satoru thinks, but he can’t be bothered to give it more thought than that. He’s going to stay out of Suguru’s way until he has to leave on Monday morning next week and then he’ll care for Suguru and put him back together like he always did before, because when Suguru comes back he’ll be suffering and Satoru cannot stand to see that.
Satoru forces himself to not think too hard about why Suguru won’t trust him with this, why he won’t tell Satoru what’s going on, but the doubt is eating away at Satoru every day.
Suguru doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust him enough to tell him about this and it’s such a blow to what Satoru thought was an unshakable friendship that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
His only option is to ignore Suguru.
He manages until Thursday. Satoru expected to easily make it to Monday, because Suguru clearly doesn’t want to talk so why should he ever come seek Satoru out, but Satoru hears him come home late in the afternoon and before Satoru can drown out every sound in the apartment with music, his bedroom door opens.
Satoru freezes on the bed, too surprised to do anything and he jolts in surprise when Suguru comes into the room.
He must be standing directly next to the bed, Satoru thinks, but he doesn’t dare to look, doesn’t even so much as breathe. He isn’t sure if it’s out of fear of sending Suguru running again or if he’s scared Suguru will say something.
The choice is taken out of his hands when Suguru lets out an audible sigh and then slides into bed with Satoru. He lifts the blanket, letting in cold air for a moment, before he presses himself close to Satoru’s back, slinging his arms around his middle and resting his forehead at the base of Satoru’s neck.
“Let’s stay here for a while,” Suguru mumbles and it’s so fucking ridiculous that it makes Satoru huff out a bitter laugh.
“You’re such an asshole,” he hisses out but he can’t quite bring himself to wiggle out of Suguru’s arms.
“I know. I know, Satoru, and I’m sorry. What I said was uncalled for and mean and I should never have said it. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been sorry a whole lot lately,” Satoru bitterly says. “Maybe I’m fucking tired of hearing it.”
“And you should be,” Suguru agrees and immediately takes all the wind out of Satoru’s sails.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Satoru asks after a moment. “Why are you like this when a visit to your parents comes up?”
He doesn’t expect Suguru to answer, not really. Satoru is prepared for Suguru to move away and pretend they never spoke and Suguru does stay quiet.
He doesn’t move away though.
It’s not much, Satoru thinks, but it’s at least a start. And it might have to be enough, he realises, because it’s not as if he can force Suguru to talk.
“My parents—” Suguru surprisingly starts and Satoru forces himself to lay real still, in case he startles Suguru and makes him run off again. “They are—they are trying to be good people, I think.”
That is not a very promising start, Satoru thinks but instead of blurting that out he bites his lips. He can’t run his mouth now, not when Suguru is finally talking to him.
“They are not—abusive or anything, it’s just.” Suguru heaves out a deep sigh. “They have expectations of me. Expectations I can pretend don’t exist when I’m here, with you, in the city, but when I go back there, it feels as if they are crushing me.”
Satoru still doesn’t say anything, but he reaches for Suguru’s hand on his stomach, carefully threading their fingers together and he feels a little lighter when Suguru squeezes his hand.
“They want me to move back, find myself a nice girl and marry, have a handful of kids and live the same life they had.”
“But you’re—” Satoru can’t help but to say and Suguru chuckles, though it sounds very resigned to Satoru.
“They know I’m gay. I’ve told them repeatedly, but they don’t want to hear it. You see, there are no gay people in our village.”
“That’s such bullshit,” Satoru mutters and can’t stay still any longer, so he turns around in Suguru’s arms, so their faces are only inches apart.
“It’s not—they are not really doing anything, it’s just. I know that my entire life is wrong in their eyes and they will give me these well-meaning comments and give me unwarranted advice for my entire stay there and it’s so. It’s exhausting, Satoru. It’s exhausting and I am dreading every second I have to spend there, and I very much do not want to go, but it’s not as if they are doing anything, you know.” Suguru closes his eyes before he leans in closer, resting their foreheads together. “I’m really sorry, I’m always taking out on you.”
“That’s why you’re always so down when you come back,” Satoru whispers, and shuffles closer to press the entire lengths of their bodies together.
“I know they are wrong and that I can live my life however I want to but it’s wearing me down. Not in a I’m going to give in and do what they say kind of way, but it’s as if they are methodically whittling away on my dreams and wishes and what I want out of my life. They are taking away all of my joy, because no matter what I do, I know they’ll never be happy with it, as long as I don’t do it exactly like they want.”
“That sucks really bad,” Satoru whispers because what else is there to say really and it does make Suguru smile, however brief it might have been.
“It does.”
“What do you want out of your life?” Satoru asks, because maybe it will help when Suguru remembers what he’s working for, what he wants.
It seems to have been the wrong thing to ask though, because Suguru goes deathly quiet.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Satoru backtracks when minutes passed without Suguru speaking and he hopes that it’s not audible how rejected he feels by Suguru’s silence.
“You,” Suguru finally says, his eyes closed and body tense as if he’s bracing for a hit. “I want you.”
“Suguru—” Satoru’s voice breaks, his heart beating way too fast in his chest, because surely Suguru can’t mean it the way Satoru wants him to mean that.
“And I don’t mean as friends, Satoru,” Suguru goes on, opening his eyes and immediately locking gazes with Satoru. “Though, of course I always want you in my life, but. I’m in love with you, Satoru. That’s the way I want you in my life.”
“In the gay way?” Satoru blurts out because he’s an idiot and this is a whole lot to take and Suguru stares at him with wide eyes before he bursts out laughing.
“Yes, Satoru, in the gay way,” he agrees and Satoru feels so happy he could melt into the mattress.
“I want you in the gay way, too,” Satoru says and Suguru laughs again.
It’s such a nice sound, Satoru wants to bury himself in it.
“That’s your way of telling me you love me, too?”
“I do, Suguru, I’m in love with you, too,” Satoru is quick to say, in case there could be any doubt about it, but he knows there was no danger of that when Suguru’s face goes all soft and mushy.
“Good,” he whispers and leans in to brush their lips together. “Come with me, then.”
“Huh?” Satoru blurts out, his brain not firing on all cylinders, because the only thing he can currently think of are Suguru’s lips on his.
“To my parents. Come with me. It’s going to suck, if you’re there or not, but at least if you’re there then I have someone I can turn to.”
“Of course,” Satoru immediately agrees, because how could he ever say no.
If he can have Suguru’s back then he will, no matter when or where. “Of course I’ll come with you. Will they give you a hard time for bringing your boyfriend?”
“They won’t acknowledge that you’re my boyfriend. They’ll pretend we’re really close friends and shove some girls at me. You could kiss me right in front of them and they would still refuse to accept it.”
“That’s just so shitty,” Satoru complaints and tries to kiss it better.
It doesn’t quite work, not yet, but Satoru thinks he’ll get time to practice.
“It kinda is,” Suguru agrees. “But it will be less shitty with you around.”
“I’m there,” Satoru promise him and Suguru burrows his face into Satoru’s neck.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his lips grazing the sensitive skin at the base of Satoru’s neck and a shudder runs through him.
“Always,” he gives back and hugs Suguru close.
Now that he knows just what it is that’s upsetting him like that, he’ll do his best to mitigate the damage his parents do. He’ll interrupt and he’ll be obnoxious and he’ll direct the conversations elsewhere, if only so that Suguru can have two at least okay-ish weeks.
And what he can’t stop by being his usual annoying self, he’ll simply have to kiss better in the evening.
Suguru surely won’t complain about that, Satoru is certain of that. Because Suguru loves him, just like Satoru loves Suguru. Just like it should be.
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mulberriesandtea · 8 months
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A VERY DISORGANIZED AND WEIRD MESS OF THOUGHTS THAT ARE ALL RELATED TO THE SODA EGO SOMEHOW
So wellcheer's story is like, this employee getting drugged and taken aboard a ship, and eventually coming to enjoy his work there, finding it better than working in the city. In general this reads to me as the escapist fantasy of the employees, wanting something that's more fulfilling, more satisfying, hoping for a change. While I think Hong Lu having it is somewhat self explanatory, I think we need to consider Ryoushuu as well, since both can provide context for one another. I will also bring up the fact that someone pointed out they could correlate to the types of work that give grape wellcheers, those being attachment(being kind and friendly) and repression(denying the abnormality in some way)- which I didn't quite agree with at first, but I think I understand better now that yes, it's likely. With that out of the way~! Let's talk about Hong Lu, since he's the one we understand the most about! These are not clean sections by the way. They're ramblings of a mad man.
"Tadaa~ Transformation complete! Hah, we've a boatload!" 
- Hong Lu Awakening
I think Hong Lu's is specifically meant to represent denial as his form of escapism. He denies anything that happens to him, and instead focuses on other things. We can note that Hong Lu seems to enjoy film in some way, and often mentions boredom and 'entertainment.' Not to mention Land of Illusion(I stare at the 5 gloom cost good fucking lord). Yah. Anyways, his magical girl transformation is an obvious reference to well, magical girl shows. Y'know, the kind of shows you watch and go 'man I'd love to be just like her" at least according to people. Understanding that, as well as pointing out that in both his Dimension Shredder and his Roseate Desire he seems a lot more overtaken by the abnormality than Yi Sang and Ishmael respectively in their awakenings(Yi Sang at least has both arms and Ishmael seems really not to be having a fun time), I think I can safely say that I think Hong Lu being on the boat is quite literally him fully accepting the fantasy of it. Have any of you method acted before? I have done it before, but not correctly, and I'm easily swayed by the emotions and thoughts of the characters I overtake, it's incredibly hard to maintain a divide between 'yourself' and 'your character' if you don't properly understand yourself- I mention this because it's quite literally what the Sinners do. I know this seems random to bring up but I hear me out here. I think it's clear that method acting wise, Hong Lu gets much more lost in his roles than the other sinners- I'd argue Canto IV especially shows this. Some of the others seem to also have trouble with Canto IV's play scene, but I believe the difference between that and their EGOs is how prolonged it is. Hard to explain, but yeah, Hong Lu quietly gets much more lost in his roles and it really does show in his EGOs- which is likely part of the escapism of it all. TL;DR I think his thing is denial, and as such, he represents the Repression half of the Wellcheers Grape Soda, and the reason he's on the boat is that he's *fully* invested in the EGO.
...Someone more into method acting should explain it better and see how it works within the context of EGO.
"Go on, open wide. Relax and cram this drink down your throats, heheh." 
- Ryoushuu Awakening
And that brings us to Ryoushuu, who I think represents the Attatchment side. And that might sound really weird at first. Why is the friendly one who seems to be more open with everyone Repression and the one who quite literally would attack other people and seems much more distant from everyone else despite it being several months now be Attachment? I'll explain more in Hong Lu's corrosion section. Anyways Ryoushuu! I think, in a way, her EGO, and the fact it's Zayin, is rather important- I'm still not quite sure on that aspect outside of 'it is really notable Gregor and Ryoushuu have Zayin EGOs.' I think her form of escapism is much more external than Hong Lu's- of course there's her tendency to smoke, but there's also her tendency to get obsessed with her art- and I think the fact that art is often heavily affected by the emotions of the creator is important. Art's a form of venting in a sense, but the way Ryoushuu does art she forces other people to deal with her problems. It's hard to explain gosh. Basically, she's very much ignoring her problems by creating art- she's not solving the root problem, she's not actually understanding why she's feeling that way, she just doesn't deal with it. THIS IS SHORTER THAN HONG LU'S SECTION BUT IN MY DEFENSE-
"The seagulls... They keep crying and screaming away...!" 
- Hong Lu Corrosion
So yeah these two. Ryoushuu's based on a man who committed suicide after the death of his daughter(who we know is dead in Limbus too, Fourth Match Flame and Red Eyes very heavily imply that, not to mention how Ryoushuu reacts to Outis during Hell's Chicken) and very much so has self-destructive behavior(said staring directly at Indiscriminate Art, which passive wise is exactly the same as Self-Neglect, and her smoking habits), while Hong Lu seems to very much have a persona of being cheerful and oblivious to the point of where it's very hard to tell if he's being genuine or not(The one potato joke in Hell's Chicken)- a persona that has not cracked yet in story, even when Faust attempted to break it with a sledgehammer(Once again, Hell's Chicken). I mention this because his persona has cracked in his EGOs- and this is one of them. I argue that both of their egos will be them no longer able to confide in their coping mechanisms of escapism, and their reactions to that. Hong Lu's EGO specifically shows him with the net stuck around him and in his mouth, and with him seeming almost panicked and lost. It's very particular he seems focused on the 'seagulls' which can seem a bit random, but I believe this is due to the 'seagulls' representing his last thread of escapism- his world, literally and in his denial, is falling apart. I'd argue that Ryoushuu's will be somewhat similar, also representing her thread of escapism falling apart- likely to do with either Yuzuki’s death or her completion of the ‘Hellscreen,’ and her being unable to deal with it.
I think they'll both be either Lust or Gluttony EGOs put a cute little thumbsup here
Of course I can be like, completely wrong. Anyways it's like 3 in the morning stream heart's claws by vane(flashing colors warning): 
https://youtu.be/2M2BHjVQPH4
i wanted to post the sodas but that’d take too long
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drunkkenobi · 1 year
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Oh boy oh boy, here we go.
I waited until this week to do a Ghost Files spreadsheet update because I wanted to do it the same week that I record the older videos. (I have two spreadsheets, one that I only record once a month and one that I do every week) I wanted to see overall what a difference GF has made to Watcher’s shows and views. But first!
All of these videos blow the previous “fastest to one million” Watcher records out of the water. Every Ghost Files episode has hit it in 29 hours or less.
Trending continues to baffle me. As you can see, St. Ignatius did not trend, but had the best opening weekend of them all. I will not and do not understand trending.
The Debriefs are doing about on par that the PostMortems did, with these actually doing better than the most recent PMs did in 2021. They are also quite meatier episode lengths.
You can’t really compare GF to anything else on Watcher’s slate because it’s so doing so far and above everything else. So I’ve been comparing it to the final few seasons of BFU. It’s right on track with those videos, which is pretty amazing considering GF is under a completely different name and channel. I know those of us Watcher fans who have been here since the beginning find the fact that so many people didn’t know it existed baffling, but the algorithm is bizarre and cruel, so I think it’s a huge accomplishment for Ryan and the crew to be right on track with its predecessor.
Also, it is very sweet to me that right now, the top 3 Watcher videos are all from a different Watcher founder. Waverly Hills at #1, Simu’s Dish Granted at #2, and Puppet History’s Dancing Plague at #3. Aw.
One of things I’ve been most excited about with tracking these numbers is how other Watcher series are doing now that Ghost Files is out and so big. This will probably get long, so under a cut.
A lot of Watcher series are up right now, but only the Ryan and Shane shows. Unfortunately, none of Steven or other creators’ shows have gotten a boost from GF. The two exceptions to this are two recent DG episodes. The Uncle Roger episode continues to perform very well (at 908k and counting, twice as much as any other episode from this season) and bless his heart, Zach Kornfeld’s episode got a mini-boost after all the Try Guys drama broke. None of the other Watcher videos featuring Keith or Zach had notable boosts, though. (thank god they never had Ned on, am I right?)
The newest season of TMS has gained an average of 69k (nice) views since GF premiered. Compared to a 4 week run in August, they gained a total of 26k views. The other seasons also got some mild boosts, except the most recent holiday one for whatever reason.
Newest season of AYS averaged new ~14k views over a 4 week period before GF. Now it has averaged ~49k views. Older seasons also got a bit of a boost, although interestingly again, not the second most recent one as much. Maybe people started the playlists at the beginning after watching most recent seasons and didn’t get to the second most recent ones yet?
Most recent season of Puppet History is up to 50k new views per episode since GF, compared to ~28k in the same time period. Older Puppet Histories are also doing very well across the board. Will be interested to see how much this continues with the new season on deck next.
And finally, our dearly beloved Weird and/or Wonderful World. It is not up across the board, but a few episodes have gotten boosts in the past month. Solvang is up 24k, Roller Derby was up 21k, Pop Pals 52k, and Pie Shop 29k. Not sure why only these got boosted, but I will take it. Watcher, please, give this show another chance.
Oh also Tourist Trapped is up 50k.
As of today, October 17, 2022, Watcher has 209,373,478 views across 221 videos. This averages out to 947,391 views per video. This is up from 887k per video that I recorded a month ago. Jesus fucking Christ.
I also subtracted every video that’s premiered since 9/19 to see how the average changes without Ghost Files numbers (or that one off AYS). The average for the 213 videos that premiered before GF is 913k, which is still up quite a bit.
Watcher has gained ~200k new subscribers (at 2.26m) to the channel during this time as well. Their patreon has also gone completely bananas in terms of members. They’re at 6300(!!!!) right now, which again, completely bananas. I know a lot of these folks will probably dip after GF ends for the season, but all of this support only means good things for Watcher. They’ve got more wiggle room now to travel again and try new things and give new creators more shots. After everything we’ve watched this channel go through over the past two and a half years, I could not be prouder. 
As always, thanks y’all for reading! I very much appreciate all the love and nice comments and tags I see on these posts. Glad we are all numbers nerds that are overinvested in Watcher. 
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aquato-family-circus · 2 months
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Hey! I hope it isn't rude or anything, but I wanted to ask your opinion on the Psychoanuts Art Book. I'm thinking of getting it for myself but the price tag hurts a bit, and Im wary of buying something this expensive without having an idea of how good it is.
Ps. I don't really care about spoilers, so whatever you want to say about the book will be helpful, part of me really wants to know if there's concept art for PSI King's Sensorium bc it's my favorite level
Thank you for your time!
definitely not rude at all!! I'd be happy to give a brief review of the book as is
first of all, this is quite possibly the biggest art book in my whole collection, page count AND size wise. I'm not sure if it's because most of my other art books are for movies & tv shows, while this is a video game, but a lot of the former cap out at around 200 pages
this book has 400 pages, and a lot of those pages are almost just exclusively showing off the art so you get a lot of really satisfying 2 page spreads
it's really thick tall and heavy with a solid, cool looking hard cover, nice binding & good quality paper, looking at the art itself is really pleasing
honestly one of my only complaints is that reading it is a bit annoying physically bc i have to find a good position to comfortably put it in 😂 its so heavy!! and if you do get it be sure to find a tall bookshelf for it, mine just barely fits so it is possible
the contents themselves are basically all I'd been hoping for, there's soooo much artwork and a lot of commentary both from the author herself + loads from the development staff.
notable example that i liked a lot: the folks double fine had consulted for the mental health sensitivity provide commentary for the new mental enemies, very illuminating stuff!
also do NOT worry, they have Psi King Sensorium concept art!
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The contents they cover here are really thorough, there's a little bit here for everyone!
5 stars, I only mind a little bit that it got delayed a few times because I think the book itself is 100% worth the price if you're invested in this game and interested at all in video game development
[side note: having watched the psychodessy is not necessary but makes reading the art book extra interesting bc I recognize a lot of the development team's names now! shout out to gigi's super cute art style i love those tiny raz's]
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gren-arlio · 4 days
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So, I appear with Madou findings I forgot to give. And Yokai Watch updates.
I was supposed to show this in my last post but forgot to make a section for it, so I'm deciding to do it here, alongside other stuff.
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Check it, a popularity poll around the time Saturn released. (The Schezo and Witch artwork.)
It's quite literally a popularity poll. There's the usual, Arle and Schezo being top 2, Witch and Draco in top 5, Satan being 6th, that nonsense. However, as we go down the list gets more interesting. Notably, Kikimora ranked 10 over Lagnus, who ranked 11th.
A few more notable placement is Momomo outplacing Suke (15th to 19th), Skeleton-T being 14th, and 20th being Honey Bee.
Waku Puyo Stuff:
So, a pal (@kirstenonic05 ) and I decided to go through some old Waku Waku Puyo Puyo Dungeon manuals we found online, and honestly? Yielded interesting results.
Waku Puyo Translations takes a super long time. Believe me, I'm working on them.
But with that, here's some of what we found.
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Photo of Serilly inside one of these manuals. If you notice, there's some text next to her, so I decided to quickly run through these. The result is:
Serilly: A Rather Timid Mermaid
17 years old
210 CM (so about 6'10 in Ft.)
B: 93 W: 58 H: N/A (all in CM)
Undefined Weight, but likes round things.
A slightly naive girl with a complex due to being legless. She's paranoid that people are out to get her, but is actually lonely and wants friends.
Then after this, we have Harpy.
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This stuff is partly in Korean, mostly because the best quality image I could find of this (The ones we had weren't the best,) came from Puyo Chatterbox, so the Japanese text could be easier to read.
Harpy: A Self-Proclaimed "Diva"
14 years old
147 CM (About 4'8 Ft)
B: 75 W: 58 H: 79 All CM
38 KG (About 83 pounds), and likes singing.
A young girl with wings who loves to sing more than anything else. But the heavens never bestow things to one person, and she's frankly bad at it. She's so bad at it, you can complain at the top of your lungs and she won't hear you. No offense given.
And then we got Incubus.
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It reads as follows:
Incubus: The Invincible Narcissist
Unknown Age
181 CM (About 5'9)
71 KG (156 pounds)
B, H, and H: I don't want to tell you. (AKA. Undefined.)
Likes cute girls and himself.
A narcissistic Demon who loves any cute girls, no questions asked. Despite being confident in his looks, rumor has it that he wears makeup. According to Arle, he's a pervert like Satan and Schezo. There's really no serious men in this world.
And now, Draco.
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So what does her bio say? Well:
Draco: The Energetic Dragon Girl (You could add Kung Fu if wanted...?)
16 years old
162 CM (5'3-ish. Are YOU taller than Draco?)
B and W: 78, with her H being undefined.
She chose to not tell her weight, and likes beauty contests.
A high-spirited half dragon, half human girl in a Chinese dress. She's a fighter of many techniques, has a variety of special moves, and can even breathe fire. Rumor has it, she's gets stronger depending on her popularity. (Or yours.)
And finally, Witch.
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Ah, here we go.
Witch: The Tomboy Who Runs Her Own Path (directly doing translations gave me the tomboy of the Witch clan, which is...correct too? Your choice.)
15 years old
158 CM (5'1. Wow. She's short.)
B and H: 81 W: 58
45 KG (99 pounds)
Likes clean clothing and brooms.
A magical girl whose tone is influenced by The Drifters (a Japanese comedy band), with phrases such as "Oops!" and "That won't work!" She has a rivalry with Arle, but for some reason, she has a soft spot for Schezo. (You can also say she's very friendly to him.) She tends to be nosy.
Quick Yokai Stuff:
A while back, I posted the 3D models of the Yokai Watch collab finally being unearthed, so I decided to just quickly find some neat looking stuff.
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This thing.
First thing I wanna say about it: Arle is legit part of the metagame. She's unironically amazing.
Second, just some promotional artwork I found of the game. I couldn't find more stuff for Witch for some... unexplainable reason.
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(Thank goodness for my friend finding the last image. And also the watermark being noticeable enough.)
And honestly? That'll be all for now. Thanks for reading.
Adios.
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boytoyhalo · 4 months
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hi you should talk more about your blue ring Pac headcanons (it's really cool and I like it a lot)
YIPPEEYIPPEEYIPPEEYIPPEE KISSING U ON THE MOUTH RN MWAH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO TALK ABOUT HIM
ok so first and foremost as I've said I imagine him having the spots on his face neck and shoulders, i think he'd have them on all of his joints too though. The spots are normally dark yellow/brown when theyre at rest but thats BORING so i hc that the blue in his are always somewhat visible but when startled or threatened they glow brighter and expand. this video is a good visual reference (watch it its neat)
youtube
I imagine that along with the spots the rest of his skin would get a bit darker like the octopus does! i also imagine that his skin would be bumpy/textured the way they are, especially around his browbone and temples.
He can't entirely change his shape the way an octopus can, he's still mostly human in function and his muscles are as unyielding as anyone elses most of the time - but when he wants to he can stretch out to make himself look bigger and more threatening, and he's unnaturally flexible enough to slip through small cracks and crevices. it's... really freaky to watch. of course his metal leg poses a challenge since it can't be as fluid as the rest of him, but he's tricky enough to get it through most of the time. If he really needs to hide in a small space and it won't give he can always just detach it
He has crevice dweller instincts, so whenever he needs comfort or security his first instinct is to squeeze himself into the smallest space he can. He habitually piles whatever he can find outside of the space and outside of the door to his room/bases like the real life octopus piles rocks outside its home
He doesn't have tentacles, but his hands and fingers are covered in tiny almost invisible suckers that have surprising grip strength - not enough to stick him to walls spiderman style, but enough that he never drops anything and if he's holding your hand it takes notable effort to detach yourself
Blue ring octopuses carry two toxins (probably??? theres some dispute) - one that paralyses prey thats present in their saliva, and an incredibly potent neurotoxin in that they use for defense and acts both as a poison to predators and as injectible venom- they're one of the deadliest animals on earth in relation to their size. Pac has both of these but less potent, a hard enough bite from him will result in some nausea, dizziness, and weakened/paralyzed muscles if he breaks skin (his teeth are just a TINY bit too sharp to be normal by human standards, but not enough to tear through muscle) but it wont Kill you. and making out with him will give you a few spasms and a bit of weakness/dizziness - fit learns this the hard way, and pac apologizes profusely but because he's pac fit is actually really into it which is kinda weird but hey what are you supposed to do when your boyfriend has toxic saliva other than develop a kink for it (sorry for making it about fitpac it will happen again)
also because BROs carry their venom all throughout their body theyre immune to their own toxin and most other toxins in the same group, so Pac probably has a higher poison resistance than a normal human would
He's a really strong swimmer of course, unnaturally strong for how the prosthetic should weigh him down. Since he still has human shaped limbs what he does isnt quite jet propulsion, but its somwhere between that and normal swimming. I cannot describe the movement im imagining so like just watch the video and try to recreate the Vibes with a human shaped body and you'll get to the same place i am
ok that's kinda all i have there isn't really that much to go off of just because the nature of the octopus makes it kinda hard to study them in depth so we only really know the basics of their behavior, the only other thing i can think of is more of a fun fact which is that their venom is actually produced via a symbiotic relationship with bacteria that lives in their mouth! can't really do much with that in terms of applying it to a character headcanon but its pretty cool right
also i am kinda torn between the normal human mouth with toxic saliva and a normal human mouth that's actually just a front and can unhinge to reveal a horned beak and tentacles hidden inside (if u dont know octopus body plan is basically head with mouth at the bottom and then the tentacles surround it, and it feeds by using the tentacles to pull food in towards the beak which it uses to puncture it and inject venom) I kinda do love that cuz it's freaky and eldrich but on the other hand there is literally no physical way that could ever make any sense so... idk you can decide for yourself lol
thank you again for giving me an excuse to flesh out this headcanon i love it so so much im glad im not the only one that finds it interesting
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the-fear · 5 months
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hiiiii :3
i read tags on that post you reblogged for me and i agree that its most likely that kayne is nyarlathotep since it'd pretty much align with cthulhu mythos - it often takes human form to walk the earth and it's character is pretty similar to kayne's. It also acts with seemingly no particular goal again just like kayne! and i can't really think of any other gods in cthulhu mythos that would fit him so well
also I'd love to hear more about that theory of yours ^_^!!!!!!
Aw thanks for asking about this! :D
{Putting this under a cut because this is a lot of information. It’s pretty condensed but still quite long}
Please take in mind that this theory only just popped into my head when I read the post, so this has more holes in it than Emmental cheese.
I was thinking on the fact that Harlan’s post mentioned explicitly that Kayne’s identity will be addressed in season 4, and I was wondering what other things have been added to the podcast this season. Most notably are the characters (Oscar, the Butcher, Daniel, etc. - Noel is a Very Close Contender for being Kayne for me), but we’ve also had some other things at least slightly confirmed. Probably one of the most important things that have been confirmed it the time dilation.
I seem to remember that there were quite a lot of theories around time loops and similar phenomena (I think a few were on @ty-betteridge’s blog but I can’t find the posts for some reason). With Scratch’s apparent ability to live longer in dreams than in the real world, eldritch time dilation is basically canon, as far as we know. This could further open the door to other time-related shenanigans, including time loops, to be canon as well.
It’s also been mentioned in the time loop posts that John could in fact be a future Arthur (I may have got this wrong because it’s been a long time since I caught up on the theories). I personally don’t see that (I don’t know how that would fit in with the KIY stuff) but I do really think there’s going to be some stuff involving timeloops and Arthur and John.
Anyway, enough of that ramble! Let’s get back to the important part: who is Kayne?
I 100% believe Kayne is Nyarlathotep - or at least one version of him. Maybe not the one directly from the Lovecraft source material, but definitely an entity that shares the same role as him in the story. Especially with the common description of Nyarlathotep as “joyous”, and we can defintely say that Kayne is enjoying himself with Arthur’s story.
I say that Kayne may not be entirely based on Lovecraft’s Nyarlathotep, because that entity is described as an Outer God, and this theory hinges on the fact that Kayne’s origin is something much closer to home.
So what are some things that we know for sure about Kayne / Nyarlathotep?
From Lovecraft’s source material: his description tends to be of a “tall, swarthy man” but it’s often noted that he can shapeshift.
From the podcast: he has no canon appearance apart from wearing a black suit (and other details), as described by John in part 20. He is also noted to be playing piano in his first appearance.
He also has an Extreme interest in Arthur’s life, as far as to having “watched [Arthur’s] life unfold”. He wants to find out what’s “different” about Arthur compared to other people.
So here’s my theory:
Kayne is Arthur (+ John) from the future.
If you’re thinking that’s a slightly far fetched, I agree! There are several problems with this theory that I need to iron out. I’m replying to this ask because I hope other people can add to this theory, correct me on things that I got wrong, share some more stuff about Nyarlathotep, etc.
One question with this theory is that surely John would recognise Kayne if he looked like Arthur? Well, that’s already got an answer - Kayne can shapeshift, so probably changed his appearance to throw John off his scent. That might also explain the difference in accent between Arthur and Kayne: Future Arthur!Kayne is trying to be incognito, he doesn’t want Arthur and John to find out who he is.
Another question is why is Arthur!Kayne doing this? The motive I think Arthur!Kayne has is pretty evident: he wants to find out what makes him different, what allowed him to become Kayne. We’ve already been told that Arthur is different to most people in that he can hold a piece of the King in Yellow in his mind without succumbing to their will (compared to Marie’s sister, who was taken over completely by Mr Scratch, and the people who did not survive John’s book). Perhaps this difference allowed Arthur to become Kayne (remember that Kayne discusses hearing voices too, perhaps in a similar manner to John + Yellow in Arthur’s mind). Maybe what sets Arthur on the path to becoming Kayne is… accumulating other parts of Gods? Mr Scratch maybe - Arthur might be strong enough to keep charge of his body and Scratch just lives in his mind like Yellow did (if his plans with the stone go badly).
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bioloyg · 3 months
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I know that we all want to have a calm and normal conversation with Storer & Co about the panic attack scene, but another scene I’d like to get his thoughts on is the whispering argument in Sundae when Richie is kinda watching them and when Carm walks away he goes “Oooooh”
Yes this could simply be typical Richie making fun. But I know he knows these two are Weird with each other, like how Cicero and Nat were watching them/trying to bring them out of their bubble when Syd and Carm started arguing about stars. Mom and dad are fighting and often don’t realize they have an audience 👀 WAIT they did this to Marcus too
Okay fr the way they air their dirty laundry in front of everyone sometimes. Like that first time in S2E3 they step away but still lmao. And Syd was fully acting like a jilted lover, girl was pissed. She got stood up, spent the whole day in her feelings for various reasons, and then showed up with food for someone else only to find the loser who stood her up knocking shit down and not communicating anything to her?
That scene spirals in my brain, mostly because I was (and still am) rooting for them to fuck nasty about it but I digress.
I know someone else has talked about Richie’s reaction to that specifically, but cannot remember who off the top of my head so if someone else sees this and knows please feel free to tag or link to that post but, here’s how I think about it. You didn’t ask me, but I also can’t help myself, so
Carmen postures a lot. He’s not super quick to apologize to the men he goes head to head with if at all. I think Marcus is the most notable exception. He does with the women in his life (not including Donna here) but it’s usually in private. The two heart to hearts he has with Natalie S1 are relatively private. Once in her house when she’s pulled him to the side to yell at him for taking advantage of her freezer and husband (but more importantly, for not calling), and again when they’re in the office looking for paperwork for the IRS. His whole affair with Syd is relatively public by comparison. The fights AND their make ups. Richie tells Syd to grab a can opener and quit fucking around when she returns to The Beef for her last paycheck. She’s still not sold so she looks at Carmen and he - acting like no one else in the world is there - starts proposing an entire new business to her. Everyone and their mom can see and hear this, but they’re in their own world. Forget about how, by that point, Syd has long defended Carmen and sung his praises and Carmen has told everyone else that Syd is in charge and to be trusted. The two of them are thick as thieves almost immediately.
So back in Sundae, and keeping in mind that Carmen puts on a big act to keep everyone else from fucking with him when he’s already at his limit, and the fact that if anyone else were to question Carmen they’re met with attitude (those fork numbers, Carm, not fantastic) I get why Richie makes his stupid little comment. For one, it’s on brand for him. Slightly juvenile and there’s zero tact or ability to read a room. See also: him saying Yikes when Carm and Nat are talking behind The Beef S1. And second, it’s so NOT on brand for Carmen to show deference like that. Even with Sydney there was some hierarchical structure in S1 (yes chef), but that all melts away in S2. They are partners and it shows. So Carmen starts to catch a little bit of an attitude and Syd gives it right back, he asks what he could have done better for next time, and Syd lets him know. Very mature of them, bravo, wish it had lasted past that point. That’s all very new for Carmen and we are shown just how new when we flash back in Fishes. He was even more catty then, any apologies had to be weaseled out of him by force, and you can still tell he’s pissed he lost. That’s not really the vibe with Sydney. She doesn’t ask him to apologize, he gives that to her and it’s so unprompted and new that Sydney doesn’t even know what to do with it. She makes this weird abortive gesture like she might’ve returned the ASL I’m sorry if she’d been prepared, or maybe she wanted to grab him and the moment because she wasn’t finished. Idk. Whatever the case, there’s a LOT going on in that exchange, and Richie fucking calls it just like he called Nat being pregnant. Dude KNOWS there’s something there. I’m a cynic, so I don’t think he was oooh’ing bc he found the undertones a little relationshippy, just that Carmen got told to mind by the ole ball and chain (work wife edition). That said, if he did peep the weird shit going on between them, that makes his little “Interesting” aside to Carmen when Claire shows up a little bit more funny. Especially since Carmen and Sydney air their shit in front of everyone AGAIN there.
I think everyone recognizes that Syd brings something out of Carmen that they either thought was dead or that they don’t see often and/or haven’t since Michael was still alive. They bicker like two people who’ve known each other forever and it hasn’t even been a year since they met in universe I don’t think. But even more than that, it’s the fact that Sydney can kind of pull his focus in a way most other people can’t. Carmen will straight up ignore shit, but when it’s Syd he’d gotta acknowledge it or he’ll die. The alarm is blaring, Richie is being Richie, but Syd just made a comment and, “I want to start from an honest place with honest partners and I can’t have her thinking I got a star when I only retained it because she wants one and I’ve never gotten one on my own and, and, and -” you get the point. Everything else can get blocked out, he can’t block Syd out. He doesn’t want to but even if he did, he couldn’t. Her opinion of him matters in a way others don’t, and for reasons that are far different than say, him not wanting Claire to think he gave her a fake number even though he absolutely did. With her, it’s about avoiding conflict and not coming off as rude lest it start a whole argument. With Syd, he doesn’t enjoy conflict (even though it seems like he enjoys riling her up, freak), but he’ll absolutely get into it with her because he needs the air to be clear of any bullshit in order to think straight.
That whole exchange in front of Marcus is something else entirely, I can’t even get into it. The layers there are insane. You have Marcus wanting Syd, Carmen crashing their little moment, then he just starts word vomiting - bc again, Syd’s within a ten foot radius and he clocked that she was upset about something IMMEDIATELY and felt the need to clarify so she wouldn’t get upset or would at least be upset for the right reason. Then Syd hears him call Claire a friend that’s a girl and loses her last shred of patience re: that whole affair, and Marcus can feel the awkward so he moves them along as quickly as possible because… he was literally just in the middle of something with Syd. Carm fuck out of here? Ugh. Tired of their asses. All of them. The entire cast lmao.
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annabelle--cane · 2 years
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tma post relisten thoughts, mainly about new takes on the last season when listened to in a binge:
-> I think listening week-by-week is best for analysis and picking up details and theorizing, but just for pure enjoyment I found the pacing for s5 much better on a binge. it's meant to be a very dark and grim time for the characters, so it's right that they're usually glum and frustrated, but it could get kind of gruelling during the live release schedule when you could go six weeks without hearing a character laugh. I find the feeling of the upbeat/depressing ratio carries well enough to the binge experience that I vastly prefer it.
-> episodes, like, 161-176 ish had a LOT of heavy lifting to do to make the jonmartin romantic core work. we'd seen them do the grand romantic gestures the previous season and s2-s3 had enough implied offscreen scenes that we know that's when they got close, but those first episodes of s5 really had to push to show-not-tell that these were characters who enjoyed spending time together. and I thank them greatly for it because the banter was peak.
-> the way jon is presented in s5 is quite starkly different compared to the rest of the show. tma's writing is notable for how good it is at dynamic characterization where people permanently change from their experiences in a way that doesn't feel like a betrayal, but I hadn't noticed quite how severe it was with jon here. the omniscience and near absolute power really affect him, he sounds much more calm and assured than he ever has before, which makes the times when he doesn't (ex., 194, 199) more impactful. however, I don't think this new outward presentation is entirely down to character development, I think a certain amount of it is because
-> there are almost no soliloquy or aside type sections compared to the earlier seasons. the format before usually had it so a character reads a statement, does a bit of follow up, then talks a bit about where their head is at directly to tape, and that is all but completely gone in the last season. pretty much everything is either statement or dialogue. jon muses out loud a bit to himself at the end of 168 about not wanting to kill oliver, but the rest of the time he is always presenting his thoughts through a conversation filter. martin does eventually get 186 and we hear him talk through all his present thoughts, but jon ends up being much more mysterious this season than he had before. we didn't know he had already decided to kill helen until he did it, we didn't know his watcher/watched beam worked both ways until he used it, and we didn't know he was going to break with the final plan until he went ahead with it. compare 199 to 117: both are the last calm episodes before the finale sequence where we wave goodbye to the status quo and characters we've come to know, but where the whole point in 117 is that we're getting the characters' inner thoughts, 199 is all dialogue, and we have no idea jon's hiding anything until afterwards.
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