#and to take my mind off that extremely upsetting implication i am simply going to enjoy gilear being the most pathetic man on the planet

[aq2003]

this is fucking killing me

[pinkslashersimp]

hello! how are you doing today? please make sure to grab some snacks and stay hydrated dude!

i really like your take on the characters (esp. the ones i am quite familiar with: micheal, jason, thomas) and i am curious on what you think are the things they would look for in a partner/relationship? (platonic, romantic, anything (including random hc's) + any characters that comes to your mind goes!)

please don't feel pressured to make this an established format either, just do whatever you are comfortable with and whenever! want to consume your thoughts jdhshs. lastly, your flustered!reader x jason piece is adorable ;; and your blog is really cool. hope your day is going well and thank you in advance!

Hi!!! i’m so sorry i didn’t see this until just now i’ve been at college<3 i’m doing really well tysm for asking i hope you’re doing well too💗

Thank you so so much for ur request and feedback it makes me so happy to hear that ur enjoying my work and how i write the characters honestly 😭💗💗💗

This will be me drabbling on and adding some HC as u req as well as Hannibal i hope u enjoy it:)<3

TW: Implications of murder + cannibalism please scroll away if this upsets or triggers you in any way and stay safe🤍

What the slashers would look for in a relationship🌷

Michael Myers (RZ)

For a romantic relationship, I honestly believe he would look for quite a quiet s/o, someone who wouldn’t scream so much like his victims do and who would let him enjoy comfortable, loving silences whilst cuddling or holding hands. Somebody who could softly whisper to him about their day or gingerly rant to him about someone who pissed them off earlier (whom he’ll take care of later.) I personally believe he’d greatly enjoy those tender, silent moments of simply gazing into each other’s eyes and tenderly holding each other.

He wouldn’t care about his s/o’s appearance at all. Love goes beyond appearance.

Poor mikey just wants some moments of calm with the person he loves.

Definitely enjoys delicately taking his s/o by the arm and drawing them into him, holding them close to his chest and rubbing circles into their lower back with his thumb.

Honestly think he would be very shy with kissing at first, would much prefer to kiss his s/o atop their head or hand during the first few months of dating.

Enjoys his s/o’s cooking very much.

Tries his absolute hardest to cook for them too, granted, it doesn’t go very well but he tries his best and is extremely happy when they tell him it tastes good.

For a platonic relationship I think he’d like someone a little louder, anyone who takes risks and is willing to try new things, even if that comes at a price.

Someone to be his getaway driver.

And maybe even his cleanup crew.

Jason Voorhees

Jason would definitely look for someone with a sweet parental role as his partner. He loves his mother dearly and therefore believes his s/o should hold the same values she did. Much similar to Michael, he wouldn’t care about what his s/o looks like. If they’re good to him that’s enough reason to fall heavily in love.

Enjoys the quiet moments too, hes heard enough screaming and yelling from camp counsellors he doesn’t need a loud s/o to come home to. But, he does enjoy when they get really happy about something and start quickly and excitedly telling him about it. It makes him melt<3

Is very insecure about his s/o leaving him and will become very very clingy at times.

Enjoys picking his s/o up and carrying them around camp. It gives him a nice sense of control and it’s too dangerous for them to wander camp ground when there are traps laid around.

Likes holding his s/o’s face and trailing over their soft skin with his fingertips.

Will place his hand on his s/o’s lower back when he’s guiding them somewhere.

To become friends with someone would be extremely rare, usually Jason kills whoever enters camp grounds without a second thought into who they are as a person. All he can think about is protecting the camp and his mother.

So, in the same way as his s/o, his friend would have to reflect motherly traits. Being nurturing and soft spoken but strict at times.

The only way he’d pick a friend or s/o is by luck. And you’d better hope you have some if hes after you.

Thomas Hewitt

In an s/o Thomas would absolutely without a doubt look for someone who seems as if they don’t have a mean bone in their whole body. The poor boy has been taunted, ridiculed, and insulted his whole life. He would never want an s/o who would treat him the same way Hoyt does.

Definitely looks for someone who is very soft spoken and gentle with their words and touch. The way they tenderly care for their friends and how each word softly escapes their mouth entrances Tommy immediately.

Would go for someone shorter than him, the size difference makes him feel masculine and good about himself, and he enjoys being able to scoop his s/o up at any chance he gets to take them somewhere else in the house.

Big fan of hand holding. Loves to see how his hand engulfs his s/o’s much smaller one.

Hates the idea of his family getting their hands on his s/o, so he keeps them by his side at all times. Including if hes in the basement chopping “meat.”

He never ever wants them to leave.

I think it would be quite difficult to spark a friendship with Thomas if you’re a potential victim.

He would ideally like someone who understands his position, and will tell him they understand and feel sorry for him but he isn’t so easily swayed.

Maybe he’d keep them alive out of pity and out of loneliness. A nice basement friend.

Hannibal Lecter

Definitely looks for someone as sophisticated and high class as him.

But also secretly loves a daredevil who takes high risks and talks loud. Especially someone he can feed “special meat” to. Or someone he can take to “take care of a friend.”

He just wants a murder s/o. tbh.

Loves taking his s/o to expensive restaurants just to flex his money and show off how classy he is.

Buys his s/o expensive jewellery and clothing and offers to help them try it on.

Big fan of long hugs, not a fan of cuddling unless it’s to get to sleep.

Pretends to be offended when his s/o doesn’t like his tastes in wine because he knows they find it funny.

In a friend I know he’d want somebody like Will. Someone clever, sarcastic, and joking. Someone he knows he can connect emotionally to and look after. Somebody he can share his “special hobbies and interests” with.

[blindbeta]

Different anon here! I have a character who's blindness is incident related, but it's been several years since then and the story isn't heavily focused on his trauma (or at least that specific trauma, as he has others that aren't related to blindness)

This was before I knew injury-based blindness was a harmful/potentially harmful trope though, so now I'm worried that I'll have to rewrite his backstory entirely to avoid writing about experiences I don't have, or pushing any harmful tropes that are already pushed far too much.

What do you think? Could I still use that as part of his story without focusing too much on that specific traumatic event, or do you think it's better for me to discard it entirely?

The Accident Narrative/Going Blind Through Trauma trope and How to Make It Better - (I’m just calling it that because I don’t know if this thing has a name)

My problem with this trope - and the problem many people have with it- is very specific. I’ll try to break it down for you so it is easier to understand. My problem is basically with the execution.

Characters go blind unrealistically often from traumatic accidents in media. Mainly because it creates a lot of drama, which is fair, if cheap. It is also a good story starter if the story will be about them being all sad that they’re blind. These stories usually focus heavily on the blind part rather than the trauma part, and they paint blindness as the worst thing that can happen to anyone. Including death. Sometimes the character grows out of this feeling and sometimes they don’t.

The way you portray this is what changes the narrative.

I like that your story takes place several years after the incident although how well it is done will depend on the portrayal of the resulting blindness. Blindness can be tough, but avoiding considering the incident a tragedy that ended his vision could help. Not having too much of a woe-is-me attitude toward it will also help. Starting the story years after the incident creates beneficial distance.

With this in mind, the story won’t be - about - him going blind and then adapting and possibly being sad, possibly not sad about it. That would be a type of story that is probably best left to blind people who lost their vision later in life. Your story avoids this issue by starting the story well after the incident occurred. When you said you didn’t want to write about something you hadn’t experienced, to tell a story that wasn’t yours to tell, this is what you want to avoid. If you aren’t writing about going blind/being blind, you’re good, at least for this question.

So, you have avoided writing about the experience of going blind (and having that be the focus of your story) and starting the story at another time so your character can have some distance from his trauma. Your story will not be showing your character tragically losing his sight and learning to adapt. -dramatic sniffle-

The other part of this ask that really works for me is the part about focusing on different traumas. It sounds like the character is going to have more to them, and the idea of the Blindness Trauma being not as significant as other more recent traumas sounds good and true to life. It also takes the focus away from any implications of blindness as particularly tragic and all-encompassing. Your character will expirience different things just as anyone else would. Focusing more heavily on other things in his life is a good idea. That, coupled with the distance from the initial traumatic incident makes it okay with me.

What else can you do?

Here are a few other options for you or other readers who are writing incident-related blindness:

1. Have them focus on the traumatic incident itself rather than the resulting blindness.

Yes, going blind can change your life. It can be scary and someone may need to grieve their vision loss as they would any other major change. However, this doesn’t have to be the dramatic take-up-an-entire story thing either.

If you decided to write flashbacks, you can show the character mostly dealing with trauma, with blindness as a reminder of it. This puts the focus on the traumatic incident itself healing from trauma rather than trying to heal from blindness. When sighted people write about this, it comes out as awkward, not relatable, and impossible to separate voice-type things - like worrying about never being able to marry - from the authors own opinion or worries about blindness.

Focusing on the trauma of say, extreme injury can help with that. It is important to make a distinction for the reader, who usually goes in not knowing much about blindness and conceptualizing it as one of the worst things that could happen to them. Make it as clear as you can that the character is upset due to trauma rather than being devastated their life is over because they are blind.

2. Have the trauma happen off-screen / have them not remember it much due to young age

It sounds like this is also what you’re going to do. You could mention the traumatic incident briefly, without too many dramatic details. A few descriptive sentences should be enough. You could write it for reference and only take a few samples from it you liked. This keeps the focus away from drama for drama’s sake. It also disrupts the usual narrative, putting you farther away from the Accident Narrative or trope. You could simply have had the character be too young to remember much detail.

3. Add more blind characters

This one is good for any story. You should always trace your logic for topics like the one you presented or consider how to do things better, but one easy way to avoid readers thinking all blind people are like your character (which they might), you can add another blind character or more who were born blind or went blind at a very young age. Who don’t struggle with being blind generally. This exposes your readers to more ideas of blind people.

When your story is standing on the line between nuanced character and meeting a stereotype, you should absolutely have at least one other if not a few blind characters. In fact, I would be surprised if a story like this didn’t have other blind characters and, if I were reading this story randomly, I might even feel less forgiving or open to what was different about the Accident Narrative this time.

Thank you for asking this question. It is kind of challenging to answer and I had to rewrite this a few times. Basically, you want to do what you can to disrupt the usual portrayals of blindness because there are actually so few and most are made by people who aren’t blind or even disabled. You cannot make this trope or stereotype go away, but you can try to shake it up. Because this can be done differently, to avoid writing about adapting the tragic blindness, I am ok with this type of story.

I don’t know if this one is harmful exactly, but it is frustrating to see and can certainly lead to some harmful ideas, such as blindness only being tragic even when someone was born blind. I have a review coming up for a book called Blind that might be helpful, as well as a post called Tropes I’m Tired Of that I hope will help. Your ask definitely helped me consider more ways this trope could be made more bearable and concentrate on what exactly I dislike about it.

All that said, this is not a post encouraging people to use this narrative in all their projects. Only if you feel like it is necessary and fits the character. I would like for this trope to be less common than being born blind or going blind in a way that isn’t so dramatic and, possibly, abrupt. When most characters go blind through traumatic accidents it contributes to people’s idea that blindness is not only traumatic for anyone at any age, but also cannot be anything but a tragedy.

I really hope this helps. Of course, I would really encourage a few different sensitivity readers with this story. Just to get different perspectives. There is another blind person who also offers sensitivity reading at @sensitivityreaders and it might help to get them or someone else, in addition to me. Because I would love to read this sometime.

-BlindBeta

[alistonjdrake]

June’s World Building Cheat Sheet Part Nine: Multicultural

I kind of touched on these subjects before but as I’ve been doing lately I’ve had more thoughts and I want to do a deeper dive. 

Honestly while I’ve been thinking about this for a while and briefly mentioned it in a previous post, it really hit me when I was playing Crusader King’s 3 and my character became the Norwegian-Irish Emperor of Britannia and France, and a lot of my subjects had some qualms with my cultural identity and as I watched areas of England get Norwegian-nized and names changed I started thinking about cultural markers. 

To put it simply, a “cultural marker” is basically just something to quickly pinpoint where someone is from or what their heritage is. Of course these are not always super specific and there is overlap. Like, me saying I speak English does not immediately make it obvious that I’m American. But if I talked about what I grew up eating, regional slang, some things people wore commonly, you would probably be able to narrow it down. There’s also what I tend to refer to as the stereotypical cultural markers so if someone was to say “I’m from X” what’s the first thing that comes to people’s mind that they relate to that place and that culture?

I also started thinking deeply about language and language as an extension of someone’s identity. This also stood out to me in the case of empires or in places were dozens of cultures have blended. At some point, language either is or isn’t an extension of someone’s background but the language someone does speak can say a lot about them or the area they grew up as I mentioned in my last post with regional dialects or when a certain language might be considered the “default” among some characters.

Now, as always, I have to say I do not think it’s extremely pressing to give fantasy cultures so many layers. I don’t think it’s always necessary to have a throwaway line about people speaking multiple languages in your metropolitan city or the fact that the culture is either not a monolith on its own or new people have moved in. Do I think it spices things up a little bit? Of course. That’s why I’m talking about it.

The lack of especially falls short to me in settings, as mentioned, that are empires or densely populated or considered “centers” of the world. How many times have I read a fantasy university or guild settings or these expansive cities and all the characters were more or less from the exact same place, all spoke the same language, pretty much ate the same things, and had the same opinions on anything not a huge plot point. 

So Let’s Talk About Language (Again)

I’m not gonna lie. My nerd brain loved it when my Norwegian-Irish emperor took over England and instead of the names of familiar places changing completely they were just changed to sound slightly more Norwegian while still looking enough like what it used to be. I am upset with myself for never considering this before in my own work or thinking about it when I craft fantasy worlds, especially in settings where one group or place takes over another. The language would change or there would be shifts due to either

The sounds for the original thing they’re trying to say do not exist in their language

That’s simply how they pronounce it

Maybe they were feeling frisky that day and decided to change it just because. 

I think we see this most often especially with borrowed words. When a word more or less exists in several languages maybe because they’re taking on a title or a position, it’s not so much that the word changes but each one has to put their spin on it. Not always intentionally it might just be how they say it given either the limitations of their own tongue or how they heard it. 

In my last post I began to touch on this with the introduction of people speaking the same language differently in my Grazan Escan vs “regular” Escan dialect (the basis of this discussion just that people who live in Graza in my setting speak the language slightly different than non-Grazans which sometimes makes the language hard to understand for even native speakers). Last night I had another breakdown about how much I hate the common tongue and the concept of the common tongue and I’d like to also mention that if there is going to be a “common” language in a setting, I myself tend to use Escan as the common language because Escan is an imperial nation and have intentionally spread their language all over the place so a lot of my characters speak it, I think it is important to have some context as to why a language would be so widespread/ common. Someone would have had to go to these far places and teach people how to speak this language (and somehow walk away with it having no regional differences). Why would people in this setting think it a good idea to even learn this language if they have their own and rarely communicate with people outside of their community? What is the impact of a character having to take up another language in order to? In my recently finished draft of The Night Court, due to my own temporarily fleeting memory I forgot one of the main characters was going to a place where he could not speak the language and spent that entire half of the book asking for translations and not being able to speak to certain characters directly. Which, now that I’m done with the draft I appreciate more because I’ve definitely been in situations where I’m in a new place and my poor planning and education made me the only one who couldn’t speak the language and I had to have friends help me.  

This is where language as an extension of identity comes in. Could this character have assumed that his first language was dominant enough where he could travel to new places and not have to learn anything else? Or was it just bad luck and now he feels isolated in a setting where he cannot speak to anyone? What are the implications behind someone’s first language based on where they live? I just wrote two posts now talking about Prince Toli of the Escana Empire’s first language not being Escan and how that impacted his early life and how he appears by the time we meet him in the books. What does it say about the world characters live in where what language they speak and what language they learned to speak first has such an impact?

And in the reverse, what is the perception of someone being multilingual? It is expected in a setting? It is a bonus? A requirement of certain jobs or positions? A necessity to live in certain areas? Given how much court intrigue and political scheming I write I tend to have characters switch languages to avoid spies or eavesdroppers but on the other hand it’s also easier to make new allies if you extend the branch by speaking their language. 

Are there official languages? Court languages? Trade tongues? Coded languages you’d only learn for very specific purposes? 

Clothes And Culture: Sumptuary Laws & The Fashion Police.

This is a point I missed completely in my fashion post and I’m sorry about that. As with all my “advice” I feel it important to note I don’t ever expect anyone to go the extra mile nor do I usually think people need to. These are just things I like to sprinkle into a setting to give in breathing room or background information so it doesn’t feel like it was created just to serve a story purpose, but that it’s a world people live in. 

On that note. I’m very passionate about clothing. I’m encountered a lot of fantasy fashion in my day and I understand why people don’t ever find it relevant to mention certain things but as my setting is a late 18th century world in which the common people are starting to realize that royalty kinda sucks, it’s something I can talk about.

Like, the extensive labor that goes into making sure my royal characters have 100s of different outfits. Fashion is cheaper than its ever been but that was not always the case. There’s a reason why often see people in ye old days with only like 2 outfits for any given occasion. Characters and people who had constant changes weren’t just fashion forward, they were showing off wealth whether or not that was front of mind. To give some context as a lover of historical fashion and beautifully detailed garments, I did some quick math to see how long it would take me to recreate one of my favorite gowns by and. Given the intricate details, all the delicate beading and lace and all the fabric I’d have to buy (I didn’t even get into costs) it would have taken me at minimum 50 years. 

Now does anyone need characters going around talking about how Princess Zurina is wearing a gown that would have taken one man 50 years if not for the staff of seamstresses who likely work on her wardrobe? No. If a character in a setting is a seamstress or if the story has anything to do with wealth distribution and the extravagance and waste of the super rich, sure maybe throw it in there. One half of the book I’m working on is about political cartoons criticizing the royalty and wouldn’t you know if I go back to the time period I’m basing my work off of, you can find a lot of jokes and slights towards outrageous dress because people back then understand the labor that went into these garments. 

This is where I’m going to mention sumptuary laws. Basically, whenever I do my dives into fashion history I’ll find a lot of policing towards the way people dress. I mean we still have them now but maybe they’re not as apparent to us? And a lot of them used to be more class-oriented. One should not dress above their “means” or status which is where we get certain fabrics or colors meant only for certain types of people. But it also happened in the reverse where certain groups are designated things to wear so other members of the community know who and what they are. People not being allowed to wear certain things either because they would be related to deviance or offensive. Like characters in my setting cannot wear any shade of green around the king because dark green is the Escana mourning color and it would be considered as cursing the king to die.

Are there punishments for wearing the “wrong” thing? Is exaggerated wealth or having too many outfit changes something calls criticism if the character is at the top of the food chain (or maybe criticism them no mater social standing)? Are there any unwritten dress codes in a setting that people unknowingly follow? In settings where multiple cultures might exist or people from different backgrounds exist in the same place, do their choices in dress reflect cultural markers? And is there a stark difference between traditional (to a culture) clothing and modern dress? 

I think really I’m spewing this out because I want to see more culturally rich settings that reflect some of the stuff that I think is the most interesting things about a person which is what they wear and how they speak. But again, this is a personal preference and it’s just stuff I think about. 

[caithyra]

A lot of people claim Kagura (and by extension her "siblings") was a full demon, but am I alone in thinking that she was always a half-demon/hanyo because she was an incarnation of Naraku, who was also a half-demon?

First a disclaimer: I view Naraku’s incarnations very different from the rest of fandom, like I do with most things in this manga.

Naraku’s incarnations fans might not like my interpretation... Oh, and it only pertains to the manga.

TL;DR: They are likely as yokai as Sesshomaru’s severed arm. Except Muso. (Skip to the bottom of this post if you want the elaborated, quick answer of my interpretation and then the probable canon answer, which is different. I just have an interpretation of canon that I haven’t seen anyone else suggest before that...)

Anyway, first we are going to go through what Naraku is before he creates his incarnations:

Onigumo, a human, who is devoured by a yokai horde that becomes Naraku.

Naraku is then a hanyo capable of absorbing other yokai and their power, which he presumably does a few times before he tries something as big as absorbing a daiyokai like Sesshomaru (which he fails at), given his attempt at Sesshomaru, we can presume that at least a few of these yokai were powerful even if they were not daiyokai, since going from lesser yokai to greater yokai without anyone inbetween is very foolhardy, given how weak Naraku was at the time (he also used manipulations mostly during this time).

So up to the point that the manga starts, Naraku is a mostly yokai hanyo made up of literally hundreds of yokai of various powers and strengths.

Then, before he begins creating incarnations Naraku is nearly killed by Kagome (this is an important part of my interpretation) and cannot restore himself without turning towards a dark type of magic called kodoku.

Kodoku is a magical ritual/art called “gu/ku” in Chinese in which various toxic creatures are put into an enclosed space to absorb one another until only one remains. This remaining creature (also called Gu/Ku/Kodoku) is considered supremely toxic and powerful and with various abilities such as pestilence, manipulation (Naraku/Kanna/Infant?), transformation (Naraku), and a number of other things that falls well within Naraku’s sphere of power.

Anyway, Naraku absorbs the kodoku and is restored, and also made up of even more different kinds of yokai. And he holds a large chunk of the empowering Shikon no Tama, courtesy of Kikyo.

And that’s when he begins creating incarnations (分身 - bunshin).

That word, bunshin, is a funny thing. In Naruto, it is the “clone” part in Clone Techniques (such as Kage Bunshin/Shadow Clone which Naruto uses all the time), and as a common word, has been used in many manga/anime/games.

Here’s the definition of Jisho.org for example:

ぶんしん 分身 common word Noun 1. other self; alter ego; part of oneself (in someone or something else); representation of oneself 2. (Buddhist term) incarnations of Buddha​

Kotobank.jp translates it into “double/doppelgänger” and has this to say:

1. One divided into two or more separate bodies. 2. (Buddhist term, similar to above.)

But basically, a bunshin is not a separate person from what they are a bunshin of most of the time in pop culture (or they are re/pre/incarnations like in Buddhism, but no one suggests Kagura is to Naraku what Kagome is to Kikyo, so... *shrugs* Lets got with the other definition!). They always exist in relation to the original (Naraku). Other translations simply call them detachments, which has the implication of parts of Naraku that he’s cut off and given life for his own purposes.

I will be skipping Muso since he is an aberration among the bunshin, and likely the most hanyo of the lot.

The first bunshin Naraku creates is Kanna, who has no will, no emotions and no drive of her own. She solely does Naraku’s bidding, no more, no less. (There is a sole exception of her death scene, but that was more to inform the heroes of Kikyo’s light, which curtails with how the story began bending to fit Kikyo as a tragic heroine... Don’t even get me started...)

Then he creates Kagura, who is the opposite extreme; freedom is her greatest aspiration and she continuously backtalks Naraku and tries to act against him, yet, in the end, everything goes as Naraku wants when it comes to Kagura (this is also important).

Lets look at these two extremes and lets pretend that these are not Naraku’s incarnations; they are toasters.

Kanna is the toaster that Naraku must put the perfect settings in every time before use and push the toast down with a lever. Then he must wait and push the eject button, because Kanna wont do it herself.

Kagura is the fancy toaster with all the bells and whistles and more settings than anyone needs, including sensors to tell when the perfect toast is done to be ejected. She even automatically lowers the toast into the toasting slots when you put them in. In theory, Naraku doesn’t need to do anything else; Kagura knows exactly what to do to make the toast Naraku wants. Except fancy gadgets like these malfunctions and are temperamental and has the wrong settings put in and, yeah, Kagura doesn’t want to make Naraku’s perfect toast, but Naraku has rigged a big, complicated Rube-Goldberg machine to push her eject button before she can irreparably burn his toast, so it doesn’t matter.

All the different incarnations are on a sliding scale of these, except for Hakudoshi, who is an even fancier version of Kagura and capable of making grilled cheese sandwiches, and what more, Naraku wants Hakudoshi to burn some of his toast, because of the risk/reward that one day, Hakudoshi will not burn Naraku’s toast, but instead will make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich for Naraku to enjoy.

Byakuya, by contrast, is the perfect blend of obedient Kanna and the ability to make tedious decisions and act on his own like Kagura.

It’s like with computer programs; some require a dozen clicks to complete a task, another, that has been further programmed (given personality and motivation), only require one.

In short, I do not see them as separate people from Naraku, which is where I diverge from most of fandom; they have no pupils, which are signs of possession/not having their own minds in many anime, which is also a yokai trait (like Koga), but is egregious when it comes to everything else. It should be noted that most of Naraku’s bunshin are obedient to Naraku, but that in order to arrive to the perfect blend of independent action plus unquestioning obedience that is Byakuya, he experimented with giving more or less free will, individual desires and so on.

And it was Kagura who led me to believe that:

First; she is given the appearance of “Sesshomaru’s ideal woman” according to Takahashi who believes that all men want Kikyo or someone like her (”Sesshomaru’s ideal type of woman” is “like Kikyo” according to her according to some interview I’ve seen quoted around, but I would like an actual source, please...), including Sesshomaru, so she makes Kagura a young woman like Kikyo named after a dance that miko, like Kikyo, dance.

Second; she is given a sympathetic motivation “freedom” but at no point do we get a clue as to how she feels about “freedom” other than something to attain. She does not daydream about it or what she will do with it, she does not envy others’ freedom overtly (nor resentfully watching them), there’s literally nothing except her nebulously wanting “freedom” being “the free wind” when she passes away.

Third; she is obviously and loudly antagonistic towards Naraku, and, indeed he, the great villain, holds her heart literally in his hand to torture her with. Don’t you want to save her? Give this pretty lady freedom?

Fourth; she really wants Sesshomaru to save her, despite the fact that Sesshomaru has never come close to killing Naraku and always refuses to save Kagura.

Fifth; but when Kagome, the only person to ever come close to killing Naraku in the entire series at this point, offers to protect Kagura, Kagura refuses and still goes to Sesshomaru. Even though Kagome is not just the person whose power Naraku fears, but also someone with a history of taking in her foes as friends (unlike Sesshomaru).

Sixth; Tenseiga did not even react to Kagura “dying”.

None of this makes sense, unless one thinks of Kagura as a part of Naraku that he has “programmed” specifically to mess with Sesshomaru. In that case, Kagura refusing Kagome’s protection while still being infatuated with Sesshomaru who refuses to do anything and has proven nothing as her supposed savior, and the lack of psychopomps at her death and Tenseiga having no reaction, makes sense if Kagura is little more than something like a living tentacle of Naraku’s, given a pretty face, personality and “programming” to go hard for Sesshomaru and then, use her final moment to upset him (by this time, everyone knows Sesshomaru’s complex with his father’s swords, so if his sword wont work when predictably would he ask it to... Cue upset Sesshomaru. Too bad Inu no Taisho did one up on Naraku on that front by ensuring Inuyasha got the Meido after Sesshomaru and Rin nearly died in front of Sesshomaru’s mother for Sesshomaru to get it... Naraku’s manipulations got nothing on InuPapa’s beyond the grave...).

It would explain her undeveloped motivation (the abstract “freedom”), why everything still goes as Naraku wishes despite a few hiccups and so on, and, of course, why she had no soul for Tenseiga to save...

Naraku might as well have told Kanna “fall in love with Sesshomaru and plead with him to give you freedom” and Kanna would do her best to obey, but because of her non-personality, the emotional manipulation would be obvious (even more so once she refused Kagome, since, after all, it is Sesshomaru who is to give her freedom). But Naraku would have to micromanage her extensively to do so as well as make her a mature body. Far easier to just create a new detachment with slightly more free will and so on with the “programming” installed.

Does Kagura know this? Maybe she suspected it by being around her “siblings” and noting how different their levels of sapience/sentience/free wills were (and she even tells Hakudoshi that his plans will come to naught because Naraku wont allow it, suggesting she believes Naraku’s will is absolute over the incarnations), but she probably felt like her own person, and would have been “programmed” to think of herself as such and dismiss any suspicions to the contrary.

It would fit very well with the body-horror aspect of early Inuyasha and Naraku’s character as a whole. But would also be a bit too much for a children’s comic magazine in an action series...

So what are Naraku’s incarnations on the human-yokai scale?

They are likely yokai, like Sesshomaru’s severed arm, with the exception of Muso who had Naraku’s most human part in him and would likely be considered hanyo on a DNA test. They were likely made from the yokai parts of the hordes that make up Naraku after the kodoku, but aren’t separate people (like, the parts of a crane yokai would have been used to create Byakuya, for example, while oni parts would have been used for Goshinki). They are just more advanced dolls made of purely yokai parts IMO.

But that’s just my extremely niche interpretation of the manga and the inconsistencies with the story.

In canon, it is much more likely that the simpler explanation; that they are separate people who are also yokai (except Muso), is the answer.

I just don’t like the inconsistencies it creates within the story and made my own interpretation and rambled on and on in this post. Sorry.

[merakiui]

Day Team Slumber Party

(I wrote this on a whim based off of Ethan saying he’ll get nightmares if there’s too much on his mind and if he forces himself to rest, and June suggesting that everyone should sleep together to solve the problem. lol There’s no point in this, but I want to think it’s an enjoyable read. Now I’ll get back to working on everyone’s requests!)

It’s Louis who complains about the not-so-perfect sleep he had the other night. His fellow teammates look at him, and it’s June who asks for an elaboration. Ethan wishes he wouldn’t, and Theo can only force a small smile while he takes extreme interest in his chopsticks.

“What could be giving you trouble, my brother?” June practically shouts, slamming his drink on the table. “Are you suffering from any nightmares? Is it a vengeful spirit? Tell me and I’ll make sure no one gives you trouble! We’re brothers for a reason!”

Louis, having been given an opportunity, feigns a forlorn expression, holding a gloved hand over his chest. “Your overwhelming kindness is but a mere balm to soothe my pain! Surely you understand the horrid imperfections an improper sleep brings.” He sighs, wiping a faux tear from the corner of his eye. “If this continues any longer, my beautiful skin shall be tarnished! The mirrors may crack if I walk past, and I simply cannot let that happen.”

“Ah.” It slips from Theo without his meaning to, and he figures a small explanation won’t hurt. “Louis, I’m sure you’ll sleep better if you stop worrying.”

“Worry? ‘Tis a silly implication, my handsome Theo! Alas, what shall I do if I’m not as beautiful as the sun? Which, if you haven’t noticed, must shine brighter than everything else!”

“Well, you are the sun, aren’t you?” He means it as a joke, but he knows better than to assume Louis will laugh.

June grins. “I agree with brother Theo! It is just as he says. We must fix this problem of yours so that you can continue to shine as bright as the afternoon sun. That’s what our team represents, isn’t it, my brothers?!”

Ethan rolls his heterochromatic eyes. Though these types of shenanigans are a common happening within the Day Team, it doesn’t do anything to dispel his annoyed state. “We really shouldn’t be enabling such a narcissistic fool. Don’t you have anything better to do than to weep about something so insignificant?”

“How can you say that, brother Ethan? A good rest leads to a healthy mindset!”

“And a lovely lifestyle,” Louis adds, posing dramatically before the three Reapers.

“Why don’t you drink something that’s bound to make you fall asleep? Chamomile is known to treat insomnia, so I could brew you a cup if you’d like.”

“A perfect prince such as myself would never fall victim to that disease you call insomnia!”

It was worth a shot, Theo thinks, deflating. I’m afraid there’s no getting through to him.

“I doubt you’d know what a disease is,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “You’re quite the disease yourself.”

“Your words wound my already fractured heart!” Louis slumps against the table, woefully sighing. “How cruel of you.”

“Insults won’t fix anything either. Maybe you’re reading too much into this. Everyone’s had their fair share of sleepless nights. You’re no different, Louis. The problem might lie in the fact that you’ve been sleeping in an uncomfortable position, or you’ve had too many heavy thoughts. Whatever it may be, I’m sure you’ll be able to overcome it in no time,” Theo says, shifting so he’s slightly in between Ethan and Louis. “You just need to fix your sleeping habits.”

“That’s it!” June jumps up from his seat. “The answer to your problem is simple! We’ll spend a night together!”

“Excuse me?” Ethan raises a brow.

“Um...” Theo trails on his words. “I don’t think that’s—”

“A marvelous idea! Truly spectacular, my dear June.” Louis applauds him, all traces of sadness gone from his face. “Please tell me more.”

“I’ve heard about it from the manager. They used to participate in a tradition where their closest friends came together for an evening of fun! Something called a slumber party.”

“That sounds too noisy. I’m not going to lose sleep because someone can’t seem to turn away from his own reflection at night.”

“Ethan’s got a point. Aren’t parties a bit too exciting for a time when we should be asleep? Won’t the manager be upset if we’re too tired to work the following day?”

“Nonsense! The manager should join us! They’ll get a chance to see the flawless Prince Louis in his silken night clothes. ‘Tis a sight to behold. Manager may go blind from how perfect I am, even in the late hours of the night.”

“If the manager’s going to be there...” Theo’s cheeks redden at the prospect of spending time with the manager outside of work hours. “I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad.”

“Brothers!” June gathers everyone’s attention, which isn’t a difficult task because he’s practically got the entire cafeteria watching him. “Have you forgotten about brother Louis? We must help him get a good night’s sleep! Therefore we’ll try this slumber party the manager mentioned, and it’ll restore his well-being!”

“I’m declining, so don’t ask again.” 

“I’d rather sleep by myself, if I’m being honest.”

“A little company never hurt anyone.”

“We have to stick together in times like these. When one of us falls, the others should be there to help him up! That’s why we’re brothers!”

There’s not much of an argument here, and it’s not like either of them will give up—or listen to logic for that matter. Besides, a slumber party—whatever that may entail—can’t be entirely bad, right? Theo’s willing to give it a try if it means hanging out with June more, but Ethan refuses to even accept the idea. He thinks it’s a waste of time that’ll only make the issue worse. And he can’t be blamed for his thoughts, no matter how cold they may be. 

If only any of them knew the true purpose of a slumber party.

-----

“All right! Everything has been prepared. The futons are laid out, tea has been brewed, and we’re dressed appropriately. Let us commence our first slumber party, brothers!” June laughs energetically, pumping a fist in the air.

“Sure.” Theo already regrets agreeing. The manager is absent, and somehow Ethan’s managed to join. “I’m glad everyone’s here.”

Ethan scoffs under his breath. “What’s the point in trying to sleep alone now? I’ll just hear you from outside my door.”

“What are we supposed to do, though? I’m a little confused.”

“Good question! Allow me to enlighten you.” Louis is holding a rose between his fingers as he speaks, twirling it as though it were a lock of hair. “You are to sleep wonderfully with the deepest of dreams! Naturally, that shouldn’t be a problem for us. After all, it’s called a slumber party for a reason. With this, I’ll finally be able to catch up on all of that precious beauty rest I missed.”

“Oh. We’re just supposed to sleep, then?”

“Precisely.”

Theo turns to June for confirmation, who says, “We’ll do all sorts of things to tire ourselves out so that we can sleep without fail!”

“That sounds fun, but I’m already tired. I’ll just finish my tea before heading to bed.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with Theo’s easy escape method. “I suppose I’ll do the same.”

“That’s hardly enjoyable,” Louis states, admiring the flower’s vibrant petals while letting out his signature laugh. “Doesn’t this color match Ethan’s charming hair? Perhaps he was born amongst the rose bushes to have gained such a blessed hue!”

“You talk too much.” 

“And you hardly talk at all! We should enjoy this night to its fullest potential. I propose we admire my beauty for the rest of the evening! My face will surely lull you to sleep, as will my splendid voice. Consider yourselves lucky! I’ll sing a lullaby for you, my sleepless friends.”

Louis makes a motion to begin singing, and he’s promptly cut off when a pillow is thrown at him, hitting him square in the face. On the other end is Ethan, whose brow lowers in a fierce glare. The perfect prince is shocked, mouth slightly agape at the audacity of his fellow teammate.

“My face!” he exclaims, bolting upright to get to the nearest reflective surface. 

June lets out another laugh, grabbing the pillow and testing its softness. “Excellent aim, brother Ethan! This seems like a worthwhile game. Catch, brother Theo!” 

Theo has just enough time to set his teacup down before the pillow makes contact with his chest. “Junee, I wasn’t ready!” There’s a hint of a smile on his features. “Louis, your face is fine. This pillow couldn’t hurt even a vengeful spirit.”

“How can you be so sure? Check the material! Anything could be a hazard to my endless perfection.”

June stands up to drag Louis back, an arm slung around him. “Fear not, brother! You’re glowing!”

“If you say so, then it must be true. You have an eye for perfection, June!” He swoops down to grab another pillow, eyeing it with a hint of mild distrust. “This should tire us out thoroughly!” 

The three Reapers toss pillows back and forth with the objective of hitting one another. Catching seems to be thrown out the window in favor of playing such a childish game. Every now and then, a pillow grazes Ethan, and despite his grumbling he ends up returning the throw, whacking June in the side. So begins a worthless contest of agility, strength, and endurance between Reapers who are far too giddy to continue this strange version of a pillow fight. 

“Isn’t this great?!” June asks when the constant barrage of pillows has slowed down. “I’m proud to spend this night with my brothers!” 

He tackles all three of them at once, which results in a pile of Day Reapers landing on the plush surfaces of their futons. Louis crows about his face once more, while Ethan sighs, more so bothered by the sudden act of affection than the actual fall itself. And Theo is just glad to have tried something new, despite the arbitrary implications of the events that led up to this moment. Nevertheless, it’s oddly fun. He’s never experienced this sort of glee before, and he’s certain the others haven’t either. For once, they’re closer than they’ve ever been, and that’s not just because they’re still on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“This is like a new type of training! Let’s do it once more!” June is the first to get up, already gathering his own arsenal of pillows. 

In the beginning, Ethan wanted to ignore them and simply sleep like any normal person. Now he just wants to get the others to settle down. Against his better judgement, he reaches for a pillow. 

Theo chuckles, sensing where this’ll lead. Thankfully, he managed to clean everything earlier, so dust and germs won’t hold him back. “Junee, let’s do this together.”

“Nothing can stand in our way, brother!”

“I’ll be unable to forgive either of you if you leave so much as a dent on my fragile appearance! Have mercy on those who are good-looking.”

“Stop whining and get a pillow. This battle won’t be in their favor.” 

There’s an air of pride to Ethan, and rightfully so, as he’s ready to put a swift end to their antics. Just for tonight he’ll team up with the self-loving prince. He must be extra tired if he’s willing to side with him and take part in such a senseless game, but there’s nothing he can do now. He’s already committed, and he isn’t one to regret his decisions.

-----

The Day Team stands before both (Name) and Nyang Lead Manager the following morning, dead tired and yearning for a few more hours of coveted sleep. 

“We received lots of noise complaints—meow. Would you mind explaining yourselves?” Nyang hisses at the quartet, a bone-deep scowl on his furry face. 

“I’ll take care of it. You’ve got a lot of work to get to, so you shouldn’t have to stress over this,” (Name), their ultimate savior, offers kindly.

Nyang looks like he wants to protest, but he decides that they’ll execute a punishment per his orders. “Then don’t let me hear their ruckus again!” With another hiss, he exits (Name)’s office.

“So,” they say, analyzing each Reaper’s expression. Three out of four appear guilty, but they all seem groggy. “Now I know why June was asking me so many questions about slumber parties.”

“Manager, please forgive us. We’re truly sorry.” Theo attempts an explanation, but (Name) holds up their arm to silence him. 

“Are you kidding? You guys had all that fun and I wasn’t invited? We should hold a slumber party for the entire 14th Department! Then everyone can join in on the chaos.”

June overcomes his tired haze to nod enthusiastically. Theo looks like he could just faint on the spot, and Ethan is stone-faced. As usual for such an icy Reaper. 

“I’m just surprised Louis isn’t worried about his hygiene. You know, all of that beauty sleep and whatnot.”

“The light in here is simply horrendous!” Louis waltzes over to the windows, peeling the curtains aside so that he can bask in the warm light. “That’s much better.”

To everyone’s surprise, there’s no sign of sleep deprivation.

“Aren’t you lively today?” (Name) smiles, taking in Louis’s refreshed appearance.

“So you noticed! I slept like an infant in a castle of clouds. Ah, this is truly a wonderful morning. I’ve awoken, beauty sleep reclaimed, and have blessed everyone in the Department! Rejoice!”

Theo rubs his eyes, at a complete loss. “He...actually slept.”

June blinks twice, holding back a yawn. “Brother Louis truly is as radiant as the sun. So cool!”

Ethan sighs, already intent on moving forward from the previous night. “This was pointless to begin with.”

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Girls #1 Thoughts

FINALLY I’ve gotten to the series I was most anticipating!

 Just about the ONLY thing I was remotely interested in Spider-Geddon for was this mini-series.

My hype was strong because even though at the time I’d not finished RYV proper the prospect of seeing Mayday again, in her proper outfit (we’ll talk about that) and interacting with Annie was a fanservice dream, especially after Houser established that in the RYV universe (though this didn’t exactly make sense with the original RYV mini from Secret Wars) that Mayday was miscarried in this universe.

So how did this issue measure up in delivering on that enticing prospect?

Well in short it did a good job.

Let’s get the negatives out of the way.

Mayday’s costume is off model on both the cover and interior of the comic, albeit in different ways. On the cover she has webpits which she never had outside of her redesigned costume from Secret Wars: Spider Island and Web Warriors. In the interior the artist neglects to draw the red on her boots. At first I thought it was just because she was being drawn in motion or a mistake but no the art is consistent. Then I thought maybe in the prior issues of Spider-Geddon she also had no red on her boots but no, she did. So this artist just screwed up.

A nitpick? Perhaps but given how contentious the issue of Mayday wearing her true costume has been ever since Spider-Verse it’s worth talking about.

A more significant problem where Houser, much as I have liked her work in the past, really didn’t do her homework, was presenting Peter a(and arguably MJ) as wholly unaware of the Inheritors.

Why is this a problem. Because this version of Peter Parker literally debuted during Spider-Verse, specifically Spider-Verse #2, an anthology comic which was written with the explicit intention of teasing Renew Your Vows during Secret Wars. So he should absolutely know about the Inheritors. The only way this makes sense is if the RYV Peter of Secret Wars and the one of RYV the ongoing are in fact not one and the same. Which was a theory some held when Conway’s run began because of how much it didn’t line up with the Secret Wars mini-series.

Another little nitpick is the Vulture gang. They were pretty lame although I suppose that may have been the point and it echoes Spider-Geddon #1 where Miles fights the equally lame Vulturions.

A more significant problem which I grant you may be addressed in future issues is that Peter’s reaction to Mayday is simply the initial shock of her reveal and then he seems relatively non-chalant. Mary Jane, in a brief yet heartbreakingly brilliant scene, goes off on her own to be upset, but Peter doesn’t do anything like that or show signs of being that thrown for a loop from seeing his dead daughter alive and well.

Now look I’m going to be very harsh. Maybe extremely controversial here. Call me out if I am because I’ve never been through a tragedy like a miscarriage. In such a situation from what little I know, a mother being more upset than the father wouldn’t be unrealistic or unreasonable. Buuuuuuut...unless RYV Peter is way more different than the Peter we know and love from 616 seeing Mayday (let alone finding out her Dad is dead) should get under his skin and we should see that. In 616 after the Clone Saga there was more than one scene depicting Peter being upset about MJ’s miscarriage.

Another problem is that Mayday and Anya comment that it’s nice seeing the city so normal. I didn’t understand that exchange and can only summise that Houser is implying being with the |Web Warriors they haven’t seen a normal (for them) version NYC in awhile. This doesn’t really make sense because the Web Warriors isn’t Mayday’s day job, she still operates in her version of NYC regularly last we checked. Unless this series takes place REALLY soon after Web Warriors and Mayday has changed back to her old outfit and then just helped monitor the Inheritors leading into Spider-Geddon and little else. But that’s not the implication of the prior issues of this event.

Also, though this is more a problem with Spider-Geddon #1-2 I admit but i’m only just realizing it now, where was Anya until now? In Web Warriors she lives on Loomworld with Spidey-UK who is her (most recent) mentor. But she wasn’t around in any of the prior issues of this event until now. And for a girl who just lost her mentor (again) she seems nonchalant. Sure as a someone who at best is lukewarm to her character I don’t care about seeing her reaction. Heck I’d rather she be outright absent from this series and it be all about Annie and Mayday. But from a writing POV she should have a reaction to Billy’s death.

Finally Houser continues to insist Annie’s hyper Spider Sense was something her parents only recently learned of.

That’s about it for the negatives.

Pretty much everything else about the story was GREAT.

Do not mistake my above negatives for me disliking the story.

I didn’t.

I LOVED it.

Where it succeeded it really succeeded.

After the bitter disappointment of the last arc of RYV this was Houser very much back on form.

In a lot of ways this issue feels like RYV #24. But because it isn’t an issue of that series I can’t hold it against the story for again focussing on Annie. In this series Annie, Ayna and Mayday are the leads, Peter and MJ are the supporting characters and there is no pretense of that.

Now for sure, as is typical with most of Houser’s issues, Annie is more centre stage than everyone else, being the only character afforded an inner monologue. Now I’m actually okay with this for now because Spider-Girls seems to be to Spider-Geddon what Scarlet Spiders was to Spider-Verse (ironically including ‘siblings’ one of which sports the Spider-Ben outfit) and in that series every issue gave focus to a different lead. If that is the case then this was simply Annie’s turn and the next two issues will give the focus to Mayday and Anya. If that isn’t the case then...that might be a problem.

That all being said this wasn’t BAD focus for Annie. Throughout Houser’s run the main tension for Annie has been between wanting more independence and adult responsibility vs. her being able to live up to that. Case in point she does need her parents help in this story.

In that sense I suppose this issue was a little repetitive of themes we’ve hit on before. But no one said she finished that arc by RYV #23 nor that it should be over by that point anyway. She’s a kid so for her to get that independence and responsibility within like 10 issues would feel unrealistic and unearned. What’s nice about this issue is that the situation organically confers onto her that sense of independence, trust and responsibility. We just need to see if she’ll be able to handle it now.

We also get more expansion on her ‘unique’ Spider Sense. It’s a little inconsistent in this story because prior to this she got outright visions but the impression given at the start of this issue is that her latest vision is more vague. Now of course Mayday’s spider sense to a lesser extent was capable of seeing the future as was Kaine’s. I don’t mind her borrowing from the latter but given the similarities between Annie and Mayday already it was a problem; having such visions more frequently didn’t help that much. This issue does rectify this issue a little by connecting her more directly to the Web of Life and Destiny giving her Spider Sense a greater root in magic.

Love or hate that it’s certainly more unique. I typically dislike magic in Spider-Man, but given how RYV has ended and this may well be the last hurrah for the RYV characters there ain’t much to lose in going this direction.

On Mayday’s side (yeah heads up Anya is just kinda just there so I have little to say about her) Houser does little but what little she does goes a long way; more is less in this case.

Unlike Slott, Costa or Gage who either wrote Mayday out of character, generically or the way a human being wouoldn’t react, Houser seems to have enough knowledge of basic human emotion to get that you know, seeing her Dad alive and with a daughter who isn’t her would upset Mayday.

Rather than rearing to tear the Inheritors a new one like In Spider-Geddon #2 or Spider-Verse, Mayday here just vents a little too hard on the Vulture gang and is a little more distracted and quiet than she normally would be. It’s subtle. It’s in character. It’s well done.

I also appreciate that Mayday was able to one hit K.O. two Vultures at once. Mayday in that moment became the most bad ass character in the issue. It also created a nice subtle parallel with Annie. At the start of the issue Annie tells and shows off how being a hero for a long time has made her such a competent fighter. Mayday’s prowess in the previously mentioned moment shows that off too. Realistically Annie may well be a more competent and effective fighter than Mayday given how she’s been doing it for longer and has had extensive X-Men training. Although Mayday has had more direct training from Peter, the Avengers (including American Dream), Phil Urich and noticeably Elektra. I’d like for this angle to be explored going forward. Seeing how Mayday sigs where Annie zags is surely one of the most obviously interesting prospects of a series like this.

Apart from the great MJ scene where she is sad by seeing Mayday, the only other positive I have is the art.

Now I was less than thrilled by the post-time skip RYV art to be honest. I felt a lot of the time it felt sketchy, unfinished even.

Here Genolet, whilst not being s slam dunk super star Spidey artist like Ottley or Stegman, delivers smooth, clean, effective artwork that serves the story and has a dash of Phil Noto to it in my eyes.

So yes.

There are problems with this issue but so far it has a lot of greatness to it and I’m very interested to read on!

[paganinpurple]

A Feline’s Family - MariChat May 2019

Buy Me A Coffee?

AO3

Chapters (If there’s no link, it’s not written yet)

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20

21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30  31

Day 16 – Ghosts

“Oh my God. You knocked him out with one hit,” Chat said in shock, mouth gaping.

Ladybug wrinkled her nose as she glanced down at her unconscious arch-nemesis. “I know. It was…really anticlimactic,” she said, bending down to pluck the butterfly brooch from his purple suit, which transformed into a white one the moment it was removed from his body.

“What now?” Chat asked.

“Now, you kids call the police,” Tom said, “Get them down here. Let them see Adrien’s mother and get her to a hospital. Show them the butterfly miraculous. Do whatever you need to – but get back home right after. They’ll want to speak to Adrien soon enough and he needs to be available, so no one believes Gabriel if he tries to give up your identity.”

Chat’s eyes snapped up to meet Tom’s as he realised the implications of his words.

“We’ll be your alibi, son. You’ve been at our house all evening. But only if you’re actually there when the police show up.”

***

Marinette popped her head up through the skylight window.

“Hey,” she said, “we need to be out early on Wednesday so the men can start work…on…um, Adrien?”

She waited for a response from the transformed boy perched on the balcony railing, but he remained silent, searching out at some point beyond the skyline with glazed eyes. She carefully pulled herself the rest of the way up and nervously tip-toed over to him.

It wasn’t until she leant her folded arms against the railing beside him that he seemed to come to, the vibrations through the metal bringing him back to awareness. He glanced down at her, eyes widening as he seemed surprised by her sudden appearance. “Marinette!” he said, “How long have you been here? Were you saying something?”

She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders a little. “Just that the workmen start on Wednesday, so we need to be out of everyone’s hair earlier than usual.”

Chat’s upper lip curled in annoyance. “I hate the idea of having to move downstairs,” he said with a pout.

“Yeah…well, it’s that or that woman from ASE comes back and takes you away to your aunt’s in Lyon,” Marinette said sadly, “Downstairs is definitely closer.”

***

Mme Kindern pushed aside the main divider screen as she inspected the set-up of the attic room. She looked positively scandalised at the idea of a teen boy and girl sharing a living space.

“I simply cannot authorise an extended stay for Adrien if he doesn’t have his own room here,” the Aide sociale à l’enfance officer told Tom and Sabine as she made another note on her clipboard.

“What if we could get him his own room?” Sabine begged, stepping around to put herself back into the woman’s direct line of sight, “We could make one. It just wouldn’t be right away,”

“Make him a room? I’m afraid I don’t understand Mrs Cheng.”

“No, no, my wife’s right,” Tom said, looking at Sabine with undisguised awe, “The storage room for the bakery’s ingredients has an extremely high ceiling. It reaches from the ground floor all the way up to the same height as our first floor.”

“We talked about having work done to have new support beams and a floor put in before. We even had an architect work out the details. The only reason we didn’t do it-” –Sabine chewed her lip nervously– “-is because it’s expensive and we didn’t really have an urgent need for it at the time.”

“But you would be willing to go to the expense in order to foster Adrien?” Mme Kindern raised an eyebrow at the smaller woman who nodded her head earnestly.

“We’d do anything to make sure that boy gets to stay somewhere safe and familiar,” Tom said.

“And you’re familiar because-” –she glanced at her clipboard– “-he’s friends with your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“And he ‘sleeps over’ here a lot,” she said with a pointed glance at the three-quarter bed by the window, “Even though he claimed at his assessment that his father doesn’t let him see friends very often.”

Tom lowered his eyes bashfully. “Well, in our defence, we didn’t know he was sneaking out to do that. We cleared it with his father the first couple of times and trusted his word after that.”

“I see.”

It felt like an eternity that the woman stared at the couple. Eventually though, her stony exterior crumbled and she smiled warmly at them. “I’ll need some kind of proof that work is being arranged as quickly as you can provide it. And I still don’t like these living arrangements. I’ll need to check in with him and your daughter to ensure neither of them is uncomfortable. Or in case they’re a little too comfortable with it as well, I suppose.”

***

“Is there a reason you’re Chat Noir and not Adrien right now?” Marinette asked, breaking her kitty from the numbing fog that had begun to settle over his mind once again.

He sighed heavily. “Other than the fact that the press will work out where I’m staying soon and flood the street? This might be my last chance to be transformed on the balcony for a while,” he said, “It’s a miracle my genetic donor hasn’t told anyone who I am, and I don’t want to mess it up for myself if he plans on staying quiet.”

Marinette heard the bitter tone in his voice. She also noticed he was trying out another way of referring to Gabriel again. So far, he had used a total of seven different nicknames for him – including one which Sabine had overheard and severely scolded him on, considering the use of colourful language. Marinette had found that her favourite was ‘The Emotional Un-provider’ as Adrien’s poor excuse for a father had done everything in his power to give Adrien anything material that he wanted whilst simultaneously denying him anything that met his actual need for a loving parent or social interaction.

As much as she knew his identity was a delicate subject right now (hers was too now that her mama and papa were completely aware of who they both were and were insisting on speaking to Master Fu as soon as possible) she could tell that there was still more to this than what he had told her.

“Spill it, Kitty,” she said, nudging him a little with her elbow as her eyes rolled, “I know you too well now. Why else are you transformed?”

Chat’s ears drooped close to his head and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye quickly before lowering his gaze to examine the street below them. Marinette was hard pressed to determine whether it was because he was upset or ashamed. It almost seemed like both.

Taking a deep breath, Chat turned his head to look her in the eye as he spoke. “I really don’t want to be an Agreste right now,” he admitted uncomfortably.

Marinette’s face instantly relaxed in understanding, only a slight wrinkle between her eyebrows showing her concern. She shuffled towards him a little more, her arm lifting from the railing to tightly wind around his waist in a half-hug. She used him for balance as she stepped up onto tiptoes to rest her forehead against a shoulder much higher than her own.

“You don’t have to be with us. You know that, right? You can just be Adrien.” Her head ducked shyly as he gave her a warm smile. “Besides, you’re pretty much a Dupain-Cheng now anyway.”

His smile turned mischievous and she froze against him at the sight, desperately trying to predict what he might say or do.

“You know,” he smirked, leaning his face down close to her own, gleefully noting the heat creeping  across her skin as his nose touched against her own, “If you’re asking me to marry you, I’m gonna need to see a ring first.”

He might have regretted the comment –but not the intent behind it– when she shoved him off the building with an embarrassed squeak.

Buy Me A Coffee?

[four-loose-screws]

Their Sealed Pasts - FE4 Short Story Translation - Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

I consider this a “section” and not a “part” because it’s a break that I defined myself. This short story was not broken up into parts by the author.

T/W: Half-sibling incest. Direct implications of sex, but no explicit scenes.

———————————

Their Sealed Pasts

Short Story #5 of Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War - The Last of the Earth Dragon Tribe

Section 1

It was love at first sight.

The young man really should have asked himself why.

However, this was the first time that he’d ever been in love, so he didn’t even think to question it.

The young woman looked terrified. The expression clouded her beauty a bit, but she’d already stolen his heart, so it did not change how he felt about her at all.

‘I want to take away whatever is that’s scaring her. I want to know just how beautiful her smile is.’

He raised his hand, ordering the butler that had brought her in to leave the room.

The butler explained that he’d found her standing in front of the villa that morning, looking completely lost.

When he’d tried to ask her some questions, she didn’t answer, but he guessed from her exquisite dress and finely crafted circlet that she must be of royal lineage. That was why he’d chosen to bring her before his lord.

When he was finished, he left the room.

The young man told the young woman,“You may sit here for now.”

She sat in the chair without saying a word.

"Could you tell me your name, please?"

She simply stared back, looking very confused.

"You're right, I should introduce myself first, shouldn't I? I am Duke Arvis of Velthomer. Now it's your turn."

She furrowed her brows and mumbled, "D? D…"

"'D'? That's it? Just 'D'?" He asked as cheerfully as he could.

"De… De…" It appeared to be on the tip of her tongue.

'Impossible! She can't even remember her own name!?'

Finally, she made progress. "De… Deir… Deir…"

"Deir? Sounds like you're almost there! Deir. Now what's the last part?"

"Deir… Deir… Deirdre!"

"Deirdre? What a beautiful name you have, Deirdre. Now, can you tell me your parents' names?"

Her eyebrows furrowed once again.

However, this time, not even the first sound came out of her mouth.

Finally, she said, sadly, "I can't remember."

"I see. How about your home, then? Do you remember where you live?"

She paused again. "I'm sorry. I don't remember at all."

"You have no need to apologize. You must have undergone some kind of shock and lost your memory. You can stay at this villa until you remember. I'm sure that'll be in two, maybe three day's time at most. After that, I'll take you to your parents."

"Thank you." She finally looked relaxed.

To Arvis, her face in that moment was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

ー

It was early winter of Gran Year 758, and Arvis was very busy.

The large-scale plan that he had been working on for years was now in its final stages.

And that plan was to dismantle the current political structure of Jugdral, and build a utopia.

Not only was he Sage Warrior Fjalar's successor, but the blood of the Loptyrian Emperor Galle also coursed through his veins.

He’d learned of his Loptyrian bloodline on the night of his fifteenth birthday, when he was visited by Bishop Manfroy of the Loptr Church. If the world were to ever find out the truth, then he'd be burned at the stake.

It worried him for a long, long time, until finally, he decided that he would create a society without discrimination. 

'This is something that only I, who shares the blood of both a Crusader and Loptous, can do.'

To make his utopia a reality, he decided that he had to completely destroy the world as it was. At that time, he had not even turned twenty yet, and had no idea what just what kind of tragedies would have to occur for that to happen. He'd simply been a boy drunk on his newfound sense of purpose.

To destroy the world as it was, he decided to use the Loptr Church, whose power over Jugdral was growing stronger and stronger by the day.

'Once I create my ideal society, the Loptr Church will be naught but one officially recognized religion. Nothing more, nothing less. Just by promising them that much, they have granted me power that I could have never dreamed of. And I am the only one who could have thought of such a plan.'

The Loptr Church's priests planted seeds of dissatisfaction and jealousy into the hearts of the many rulers and influential nobles of Jugdral. Those seeds budded and blossomed into a war that spread across the entire continent, dismantling the old system's authority and order in one fell swoop. Now, it was time to reap in the harvest.

Grannvale's sole inheritor to the throne, Prince Kurt, had been assassinated, and Duke Byron was scapegoated for that crime. After that, his son, Prince Sigurd, had been accused of plotting a rebellion alongside High Priest Claud.

Sigurd and his troops fled to Silesse, where Queen Rahna welcomed them. But word was that civil war would soon break out in Silesse, and it was a win-win situation for Arvis, no matter which side emerged victorious. All Silesse had to do was go to war. Then, he could send a large army to pick off the winner, and end the fighting for good. He would leave that to Dukes Lombard and Reptor.

Since the prince's death, the entire country of Grannvale was in a state not unlike that of an illness. Even if he stayed quiet, the country would fall right into his hands.

ー

Arvis ordered his butler to treat Deirdre as a distinguished guest, then left for the royal palace.

Besides him, there were two other people who had power in the Grannvalian government, Dukes Lombard and Reptor. While their titles were equal to his, ever since Prince Kurth's assassination, Arvis had clearly been the one on top.

Arvis entered the government meeting room, heard the reports that the representatives from each area of Jugdral had to give, then announced his decisions and gave his orders. After that, he managed to squeeze in lunch, and his work continued on into the afternoon.

He finally finished just before four, choosing to cancel all his evening appointments, and return to his villa.

He found Manfroy waiting for him in his room, who reported that Silesse's Duke Maios had finally attacked Sigurd's army.

Everything was going according to plan.

Once he was done giving his report, Manfroy disappeared into the wall.

Since the beginning, Manfroy had always come and gone like a shadow. It annoyed Arvis that someone came into his bedroom as he pleased, but it was necessary to keep his involvement with the Loptr Church a secret.

'Once the Loptr Church is officially recognized, I won't allow it anymore.'

Arvis took off his Roten Ritter uniform, and chose his attire for his dinner with Deirdre.

He put on slim grey pants, a matching vest, and a blue coat, then finished off his look with a red cravat that fit with the current fashions popular among the nobles.

'With this, I won't look too formal.' He thought as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Deirdre was already waiting for him at the dining room table.

"How are you doing, Deirdre? Has your memory returned to you yet?"

She shook her head.

"Don't worry. You'll get it back soon."

The butler poured each of them a glass of fine Grannvalian wine.

"Let's propose a toast, shall we? May your memory return soon!"

She smiled slightly.

He could tell that she was happy, even if only a little bit.

Once dinner was served, he was so concerned about what she thought of him, that he didn't remember how the food tasted at all.

The biggest problem was coming up with things to talk about.

When eating with someone for the first time, it's best to ask about the other person. But without her memories, there was nothing he could ask her about.

He had little choice other than to share court gossip.

He told her of a man who'd confessed his love to a beautiful woman, who then flatly turned him down; of two nobles who'd fought over the same woman, both putting each other down to win the girl, only for her to refuse them both; and of a young wife with an elderly husband who was having a secret affair.

He was happy that she seemed to be interested in his conversations, as he'd worried that she wouldn't be.

Before he knew it, it was time for dessert.

"Shall we eat together again tomorrow night?"

She nodded happily in response.

It was the best day of his life.

ー

They began to eat together every night.

He could sense that she liked him.

On the night of the third day, he found himself considering confessing his feelings over and over again. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

'This love is the greatest feeling in the world.' He thought, and desired to do whatever it took to take their relationship to the next level.

Her memory had yet to return. He began to wish that she would return his feelings more than he wished for her to get her memory back.

ー

It was the night of the tenth day.

When they finished their meal and he retired to his room for the night, Manfroy appeared before him.

"What are you doing here at this hour? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing has happened."

"Then why are you here?"

"It’s so unlike you to question me like this, Lord Arvis..."

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty with me! What is it you want to speak with me about!?”

"The beautiful young woman you found."

"What about her?"

"Last night, she started leaving her bedroom door unlocked."

"You creep! What reason would you have to spy on her!?"

"She is waiting for you. Her unlocked door is sure proof of that. Surely you'll return her feelings, won't you?"

"Get out of my sight, Manfroy, and mind your own business."

"I apologize for upsetting you. As you wish, I will won’t go near her room ever again. Take care of yourself." He said before his body turned into a shadow and disappeared.

Arvis hated it when people trespassed in private places, and was extremely agitated by Manfroy’s spontaneous visit.

He got into bed, but couldn't sleep.

It was only natural that he couldn't keep his mind off of Deirdre.

"She is waiting for you." Manfroy's words echoed in his head.

Part of him felt that Manfroy was right, but another part of him felt that Manfroy was wrong.

Then, he thought, 'What if she is actually waiting for me, then what?'

Once that thought crossed his mind, he couldn't get it out of his head.

He thought through every little thing she had done that night. Her every word, her every expression, and her every action.

Those words, those expressions, those actions…

‘She wouldn’t talk to me or look at me the way she does if she didn’t love me too… Everything she does points to one truth… She is waiting for me.'

Lust, and the desire to figure out just what was going between them, swirled around in his head, leading him to one conclusion.

'If she did leave her door unlocked and Manfroy is right, then she just forgot to lock it. I need to check and see if he was telling the truth.'

He got out of bed, grabbed a candlestick, and went to her room.

He worried about how he would explain himself if he ran into anyone, but fortunately, he didn't.

He stopped and stood in front of her door.

'I should just go back right now,' he thought, but then continued, 'No, it's best I check first.'

When he put his hand on the doorknob, his heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it.

The knob turned.

He pushed the door and heard it click open.

‘It really is unlocked. I’ll have to tell her in the morning to be more careful from now on.’ He thought as he began to close the door.

‘But if she is awake, then what if she noticed that someone opened her door? I need to go in and check whether or not she’s sleeping. If she is, I’ll just go back to my room, but if she’s awake, I’ll need to explain to her why I opened her door.’

He walked inside her room and closed the door.

He noticed her bed, next to the window.

He tiptoed over to it, and saw her sleeping.

‘She looks so perfect when she’s asleep.’ He thought. ‘I love you, Deirdre.’

Satisfied, he turned around to return to his room.

But then, her eyes opened.

‘Oh no! I woke her up!’

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, and just stood there.

There was no way she couldn’t know that he was there.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I couldn't sleep…"

"Why?"

"I-I couldn't stop thinking about you."

'I’m not telling her the whole truth. I need to tell her about the lock.' He thought, but then saw her pale arms come out from under her blanket.

She was reaching for him.

She brought her hands up to his face, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

They kissed long and hard before he even realized what was happening.

"I love you, Deirdre."

"I love you, too."

They kissed again.

There was nothing left for them to say to each other.

Arvis took off his shirt and climbed into her bed.   

He had been cold, so the blanket was so warm that it surprised him. And her body was just as warm…

He hugged her as tightly as he could.

Then, he unbuttoned the front of her nightgown, and pressed his naked chest against her own.

"Marry me, Deirdre." He breathed, wanting to convey his true feelings before making love to her.

[jikooklaundryroom]

Dry Pancakes

Gather around folks. It’s time to have an open and honest conversation about – yep you guessed it – Jimin and Jungkook and the behavior that mystifies the entire fandom.  And notice I say Jimin and Jungkook, not Kookmin or Jikook, because this talk is less about them as a couple and more about them as individuals.  A fair warning to everyone, only grown, competent adults are invited to this conversation.  If you are a twelve-year old who wants to scream about top/bottom sex positions and Omega slick and Jeonlous tongue thing – please move on.  This conversation is not for you.  Adults will be talking here.

In this essay, I will NOT discuss Jimin and Jungkook as an intimate- romantic couple, or as boyfriends, or as domestic partners, or as husbands.  In fact, those topics are so complex, that they will definitely need to be saved for another day.  Lastly, the only time Tae will be mentioned is in this sentence because I plan to write a full separate tribute to this precious man so that I can properly call out how poorly he is treated and perceived because of shipping wars.  Again, I give you fair warning, if this ain’t for you, move on because I can’t help you. OK?  I am going to give you my honest opinion here and I won’t be nice about it.  Pancakers, you should also be warned, you may be offended as well.  I leave no stone unturned.  Now that we have a proper filter in place, let’s get it.

The month of May gave us nauseating amounts of Jimin and Jungkook being seen together occupying each other’s space.  For those of you have been living under a rock, I will do a quick break down of some of their time together:  stage moments of laughing and teasing, stage moments of them comforting each other through difficult emotions (aka: the infamous ear sucking confusion), stage moments of them holding hands, sudden VLIVE, the two of them sharing a car, the two of them presumably sharing a hotel room, each one watching the other during rehearsals, the two of them watching fireworks, the elusive selca, the hand jockeying during the unboxing video and last but not least, the full day of sight-seeing they did with their friends in London.  And of course, for every moment they DO spend together there is a sea of people who only care about the moments that they DON’T spend together.  I’ll address both sides.  Within this flurry of activity/inactivty, comes a flurry of narratives from different factions within the fandom attempting to define what is happening, attempting to brain wash the neutral observer into taking their side over others.  These folks are literally and figuratively battling across social media to reign supreme in the war of narratives that explain Jimin and Jungkook.

Let’s break down some of these narratives and discuss why they are ALL bullshit shall we?

Narrative #1 -The “Bighit is forcing them to be together for publicity” crowd –  This group thinks that everything that Jimin and Jungkook do is strictly for the sake of bringing publicity/attention to Bangtan.  This shit has never made sense to me.  Exactly what additional publicity does Bighit and Bangtan need?  They just reached 20.2 million followers on twitter. They just won TWO Billboard music awards in America despite singing in only Korean.  They’ve been announced as members of the Grammy Recording Academy, they received the Order of Cultural Merit award in South Korea, they spoke at the United Nations.  They are the biggest boy band in the history of the world and if I am not mistaken they are currently on a sold-out stadium tour that has sold out over 600,000 seats in just ten shows.  SO, tell me, what bitch doesn’t know who Bangtan is?  Let’s pretend for a moment that Bangtan needed more publicity.  What additional publicity would be achieved by insinuating a homosexual relationship between two members?  Especially when you consider the vitriol that explodes when these two particular members are together.  Do you really think that forcing Jimin and Jungkook into a touchy-feely spree will help Bangtan sell more CDs or get more YouTube views?  If we consider how many homophones exist within the fandom, do you really think that highlighting the intimacy between Jimin and Jungkook would be viewed as positive and promote deeper engagement with the group?  Absolutely not.  Bighit is not encouraging Jimin and Jungkook to be fake gays for publicity. So again, I ask you, what additional publicity does Bangtan need? The answer is NONE; I think they’re good bro.

Narrative #2 - The “This is just fan service to satisfy the shipping culture” crowd – No other “ship” makes the fan more unhappy than Jikook. In fact, SNS explodes with negativity almost every single time that Jimin and Jungkook even breath near each other. Fans get extremely upset OR they ignore and refuse to acknowledge the interaction.  So how can it be fan service if it pisses off the majority of the fans?  Isn’t fan service supposed to make fans happy?  I would go even further to say that Bangtan, Jimin and Jungkook in particular know full well how polarizing their interactions are for the fandom. Seems to me like they don’t give a fuck though.  Fan service is to service the fans and give them what they want.  They don’t seem to want Jimin and Jungkook as unit.  And for those of you who think their relationship is manufactured to feed the pancakers out there, you’re mistaken and here’s why: Jimin and JK work very hard to avoid being caught or showing us too much.  It is pretty common knowledge that most of their most intimate interactions are done AWAY from the cameras – a fact that we would never know if they didn’t accidently tell us.  (“I go to Jungkook’s room at night when I can’t sleep because he also stays up late.” - Jimin) Often times, pancakers are VERY unhappy with the amount of interaction we get between Jimin and Jungkook and we are quick to yell foul if we aren’t “fed”.  This once again proves my point, it is not fan service if it doesn’t please the fans.

Narrative #3 – The “We just don’t understand Korean culture “ crowd - Uuum what? Talk to K-Army and even they will tell you that the intimacy and togetherness between Jimin and Jungkook goes far beyond typical “fan service” or “cultural norm” that would be expected from the Korean culture. It also extends beyond typical friendly male behavior given their closeness.  Westerners often get accused of “oversexualizing” Jimin and Jungkook or claiming something as homosexual because we “don’t understand” how Koreans interact.  BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT.  We know what we see.  We know what K-ARMY has explained to us.  We have taken the time to study the culture in Korea and talk with our fellow ARMY about Jimin and Jungkook.  The conclusion is always the same; there is an entire relationship being played out in front of us and it is consistent, predicable and progressive.  These interactions are not just fortuitous bits of circumstance by two friends. It is not just Korean culture.

Narrative #4 - The “Bighit is forcing them to be apart because they are too loud” crowd – Sorry Pancakes, but shut up.  This has become a ready-made excuse for us pancakers whenever we don’t receive the interactions that we expect (demand, crave, obsess over). Do you realize how much influence Jimin and Jungkook have over their own choices?  They are not mindless dummies who are mind controlled by their management. I will concede the fact that both of them are thoughtful and considerate of the feelings of the other members and they are also respectful of the wishes of management.  So if either of the two entities gives them advice with regard to watching their proximity then YES, this could affect their natural behavior’s. You have that concession from me. But that is NOT WHY THERE ARE LULLS IN THEIR INTERACTIONS.  Bighit management and Bangtan members are not playing some sadistic game of RED LIGHT – GREEN LIGHT with Jimin and Jungkook’s emotions.  Think about how ridiculous this sounds to say to grown men, “Ohh well you two were too intimate and too loud and you could expose yourself so you better repress your natural instincts as best friends and then pretend that the other doesn’t exist.” And then conversely, “You two have behaved and been good boys, so now you are allowed to interact and act like you’re in love again.”  If Bighit was trying to hide anything, they would shut it down completely, permanently - NOT IN RANDOM SPURTS.  The two of them would be threatened beyond belief and I guarantee there would be contractual implications.

It is simply ridiculous, not to mention reductive to attempt to exercise that level of control over two rich, popular and very grown individuals.  Guess what?  It’s also impossible.  Have you ever noticed that neither Jimin nor Jungkook are very good at following directions? If they are being told to stay away from each other, how come they never seem to do it?  At best, they manage to tone things down for short periods, but inevitably they always go back to just being them. My fellow pancakers have even gone so far as to develop a theory that Bighit was keeping Jimin and Jungkook from ever doing VLIVES together.  But just recently, we saw them splash tension all over the screen in a VLIVE between the two of them.  If they were restricted from doing VLIVES, then why did they do one all of a sudden after a 2-year hiatus?  Did Bighit suddenly change their mind and allow it?  Of course not.  There is a much simpler explanation and I will explain later.

Narrative #5 - The “They are just brothers, nothing they do is a big deal or any different from the rest of the members” crowd – Guess what? I actually agree with you, sorta’. So much of what Jimin and Jungkook do is the result of them being very close and loving friends who have been together forever. Even some of the gentler physical contact between the two is not exclusive to just them when compared to the other members.  But the situation is not quite that simple is it?  Brothers (not blood brothers) is just ONE of the many layers of the Jimin and Jungkook dynamic.  There’s more, a lot more.  I will come back to this one.  

Hm.  So if none of the prevalent theories above define the incongruent public intimacy of Jimin and Jungkook, then WHAT IS THE ANSWER?  Simple.  It’s called FREE WILL!  No one, especially Pancakes with butter and syrup, want to ever admit that Jimin and Jungkook do exactly what they want to do. The reason they interact and the reason they don’t is because it’s what they want to do at that moment.  They are exercising their FREE WILL.  If Jimin and Jungkook don’t speak, it’s because they don’t want to.  If Jimin and Jungkook don’t post on twitter, it’s because they don’t want to.  If Jimin and Jungkook don’t post a selca, it’s because they don’t want to.  If Jimin and Jungkook don’t do a VLIVE for two years, it’s because THEY DON’T WANT TO!  There could be months that go by where they CHOSE not to let us into their private lives and we as Jimin and Jungkook supporters have to be accepting of that choice.  Allow them to exercise their free will.  In most cases, their free will is to self-manage their own interactions.  Think about it this way – is everyday a good day for you?  Probably not. Some of us have really good days and some of us have really bad ones.  Our moods can be dictated by so many things such as: hunger, bad news, fatigue, negativity, irritation, anger, jealousy, illness, depression – so many things can affect how we feel and how we project our energy. These two men are no different.  They are not immune to the emotions that plague the rest of us mere mortals. Travel with me for a moment as we reflect on just how much Jimin and Jungkook are together,

Sharing a car during transport to and from the airport

Sitting next to each other on the plane

Spending time outside of business schedules to attend personal events (movies, dinner, tours)

Visiting each other’s parents

Presumably living together

Presumably sharing hotel rooms when they travel

Working together

Practicing together

Filming together

Presumably engaging in intimacy together

Together- Together -Together –Together- Baam  

That’s a lot of freaking togetherness.  When we see them keep their distance, why are we surprised?  It is clear that they are using their free will to be together MOST of the time and that is a sign of a very solid symbiotic relationship.  So why can’t it be conversely true that they are also using their free will when they are apart?  We pancakes are so quick to blame external forces when Jungkook and Jimin aren’t stuck to each other as opposed to blaming Jimin and Jungkook themselves.  Personal growth can only occur when you broaden your horizons and experience new things, new environments, new opinions and new people.  YES NEW PEOPLE.  It is an exercise in self-care for them to be apart from time to time.  We can’t and shouldn’t expect them to be together 24/7. It just isn’t healthy.  I would say they live a well-rounded life when they can be happy apart but still prefer to be together.  It’s beautiful.  It you are truly a part of the Jimin and Jungkook nation, then your attitudes and opinions toward the strength of them individually or as a couple should NOT be predicated solely on what they do together and how often.  Do I need to repeat that last sentence for the 14YOs who read this post even though I tried to filter you out?  Just because the two of them don’t show us blatant interactions does not meant that is an indictment or indicator that the friendship/relationship/companionship/brotherhood is dead.  Please stop posting fatalistic admonishments because their interactions are not timed according to your schedule.  Let them live.  Yes, I am saying that when we go through a pancake drought, it is because Jimin and Jungkook themselves want it to be that way.  Not because they are being forced to do so.

Now let’s talk about the nature of their interactions by using myself as an example.  I love my husband with all of my heart.  He is truly my soul mate and we get along very well. Our relationship is so complex and has so many layers.  We are friends, lovers, parents, mates, partners, business owners, even at times like siblings.  So, when he and I interact, the definition of that interaction could fall within any of the categories that I just listed.  It could be a friendly touch, or a sexual touch or a business partner touch – understand what I mean?  The same is true with Jimin and Jungkook.  Their interactions are highly conditional and must be reviewed within the context of the moment.  Which means, when they are in friend mode and they hug, they honestly are just hugging as friends.  Over hyping meaningless moments without placing it within proper context, makes pancakes look petty and delusional.  Another example, when one is sucking the other’s ear – aww shit – I have no idea what category to put that in – but it ain’t friends – we need to hype the shit out of that one.   That was a bad example.  But you get my point.  Moving on…

Let me make this really clear.  Do you remember when you first fell in love with Bangtan?  We fell so hard right?  The music, the dancing, the talent, the fashion, the creativity, the visuals – we fell hook line and sinker.  But there was more wasn’t it?  Think back.  There was soo much more.  Yes my pancakes, we fell in love with their hearts.  We fell in love with them as people.  Above all, we fell in love with their AUTHENTICITY.  You see, Bangtan was never fake.   Bangtan never presented a closed-off image to us.  They provided as much transparency and honesty as they possibly could, which was a HUGE change from what we were accustomed to seeing from KPOP artists (any artist really).  They allowed us to have a real-world peak into their emotions, vulnerabilities and personalities.  Bangtan’s authenticity is why we love them most and why we continue to love them. So when we see the love that exists between all seven of them, we know it’s real.  Accordingly, there is an extreme affinity that Jimin and Jungkook have towards each other that cannot be faked.  Even if they were being forced for publicity purposes to spend time together, they could not do it successfully unless there was already an underlying desire to be together.  Furthermore, forcing someone to be together when they don’t want to be is paramount to torture and that would greatly affect the overall happiness and chemistry of the entire group.  Imagine being forced to spend that much time with someone you don’t like.  It also explains why we don’t see other couplings “forced” upon the members because it’s not natural.  None of the members have a strong ability to vacate authenticity.  They all truly exercise their free will.  

And for my very last point, I want to talk a little tiny bit about the VLIVE (again).  I have insisted throughout this rant that Jimin and Jungkook were never prohibited by Bighit from doing a VLIVE together. So why the 2-year hiatus?  I think the explanation is pretty simple.  As we saw, it is very difficult for the two of them to maintain “composure” when they are together.  They show us so much when they fully intend to show us nothing.  They are acutely aware of how they appear on camera – which is why I argue that their two-year hiatus was self-imposed.  Think about how hard it must be in that intimate setting, sitting that close, talking that freely to repress their natural instincts to touch, or call each other pet names or possibly even kiss.  It’s like freaking impossible.  So why risk it?  It is so much easier to just keep themselves out of that situation and instead watch each other do the VLIVES from off camera.  As we know, even when one of them is off camera, they still freaking flirt.  Imagine if they were both in front of the camera on a consistent basis.  This goes back to my theory on free will.  I honestly believe that these two are being very smart to exercise their free will to stay away from Jikook VLIVES.

I have probably not changed anyone’s mind and you will likely continue to incessantly spew your narrative, whatever it is.  But for those of you who are a bit more open-minded, I hope you found some insight as well as clarity in my words.  Here’s to loving our seven boys and obsessing over two of them.

So in conclusion, I have concluded.  Thank you. Love you Pancakes – don’t be mad, k?

[erraticsketchings]

A Fortunate Ending

Fandom: A Series of Unfortunate Events (Netflix)

Summary: I decided to write a happier ending for the series to give myself some closure and that happier ending mostly consisted of Lemony Snicket encountering the Baudelaires on Briny Beach when they land for the 4th time and finding a new family. 

I have spent many years of my life in the pursuit of certain tales that would haunt the mind and chill the soul. The knowledge of the unfortunate events surrounding the three incredibly intelligent children of my now lost love have been my burden to carry. Many an hour of my life has been spent bent over a desk reliving the terrors they had to endure after their parents were lost in a terrible fire. The story was bleak, the kind of story to make you lose all hope in finding anyone alive at the end much less happy. Yes, the Baudelaire orphans lived an utterly arduous life but, as is sometimes likely to happen when one is smart but without luck for a long period of time, there did finally come a time where the tides turned, a term here meaning a reversal of fortune. For example when a man loses his job only to win the lottery the next day, or when a boat on the sea carrying four orphans suddenly changes course leading them toward a beach where a certain former volunteer happened to be watching.

On that fateful day, I was retracing the then cold case of the Baudelaires for the third time looking to turn up new information. I had arrived on Briny Beach with low spirits and little hope, only to find a new hope floating just on the horizon. The stories I am about to retell to you are not like my works in the past. By reading this you will not be stripped of joy or left so distraught that you cannot go on, no, these stories are quite the opposite. These are stories of new beginnings, of found families, and of safe havens among outcasts. This is once again the story of the Baudelaires and the newly adopted Snicket, but this time they are saved, adopted by a man who had lost the rest of his family in the same conflict they had. The one who happened to find them out on that beach years after they had disappeared from the world.

When the four first washed up on the gloomy shore I was reluctant to approach them. I simply watched as the orphans I had studied for years unloaded onto the grey sand for, I came to find out, the fourth time.

Their boat was tattered and seemed to be leaking ever so slightly.

“We are lucky that The Beatrice made it this far yet, it feels like a bad omen to end up back on this beach again,” Violet commented as she helped little Beatrice, now an energetic toddler, onto the beach. This was the first time I saw my niece. Klaus, who was making sure the boat would not drift back into the sea, answered her.

“At this point, I’m fairly certain that our luck can't get any worse. I wouldn't worry about the implications.” Violet looked at Klaus sadly in agreement and softly set Beatrice on the ground so she and the others could unload what little supplies they had left after their lengthy trip.

It was at this point that I was discovered when the now fluent Sonny climbed out of the boat to sit with Beatrice and spotted me across the beach. She began to silently signal her siblings before I realized I had been found. Though I was still standing a whales length away from them I could see all four heads turn to face me as they took notice of the stranger watching them from afar. At this point, it would have been customary for me to introduce myself, as one should always do when you are found out for watching others who may not know who you are, lest they take you for some kind of threat to their health, but before I could think of the words the eldest Baudelaire approached me and found her own words.

“Are you Lemony Snicket?” She asked the question cautiously and made a point of stopping just out of my reach while her siblings waited safely by The Beatrice.

“I am.” The answer did not seem to bring any relief to Violet’s stiff features.

“Sonny recognized you from a picture of VFD before the schism. Our parents wrote about you in a book once too, you were a trusted friend. Is this still true?” It was agonizing to hear the apprehension in her voice but knowing her history it was not surprising. When a child goes through what the Baudelaire's went through they have every reason not to trust random men on beaches, even if they are old confidants of their parents. I understood this because I knew all that they had lost each time they trusted a volunteer, but I wanted to do what I could to make up for what they had lost. My dearest Beatrice would have wanted them to be safe, so I did the best I could to show I was trustworthy.  She had asked if it was still true that I was a trusted friend, I told the truth and hoped for the best.

“It is.” I answered, “I understand that you have been through a lot of grief since your parents perished in that fire and have been double-crossed many times by those your parents once trusted, but I can promise you that there are not enough sugar bowls in the world to make me turn away from your parents and that dedication passes on to you Violet, and all your siblings. I have been trying to find you since you disappeared at the last safe place. I have followed everything that has happened to you. I want to help you Baudelaires. ” Violet said nothing, only looked back and nodded to Klaus who led the rest of the children to join the conversation. When they had arrived Violet conveyed to the others that I was indeed who they assumed me to be.

“Mr. Snicket, these are my siblings,” Violet started to introduce them but I stopped her.

“No need, I know who you are. Violet, the eldest Baudelaire who has a knack for inventing, Klaus, the middle child and researcher of the family, and of course Sonny, the youngest with a talent for the culinary arts.” They stood a little straighter at hearing their titles as my focus fell on Beatrice. “but this one, I don't recall in my research”

The pride the Baudelaires had experienced the moment before evaporated before my eyes, as most good things for them did at that time, and was instead replaced by the suffocating memory of sadness from their past and a realization of a harsh truth they would have to convey. Perhaps you have been privileged enough to have lived a life where you have never had to tell someone that someone they cared for is dead, and if you have I cannot explain to you what goes through your head but it was all going through the Baudelaires heads that day. The day they told me, Kit, thought lost to the ocean, had indeed lived to see land and have her baby, only to be taken by the carelessness of the man she had once loved.

“I see,” I remarked, pensively, when they had finished reciting the dreadful truth. Klaus was the first to attempt to comfort me, as decent people do.

“We’re very sorry for your loss Mr. Snicket-”

“Please, call me Lemony”

“Of course...Lemony, we did everything we could for Kit but by the time she had Beatrice, it was too late to save her.” A very deep sadness settled on that beach as often happened when the Baudelaires visited it. Earlier in my writings, I explained how I could not describe what it felt like to lose someone if you have never experienced it, there is a similar experience when you have lost someone and find someone else who knows how that feels. There is a deep understanding between these types of people, like that of the bond between two longtime friends or a parent and their child, an instant and complete understanding of each other that goes far beyond any comfort you could receive from another. This was a connection that the Baudelaires had made with Beatrice and it was one that they, in this moment, made with me. This, I suspect, is why I was not refused when I implored, a word here meaning to piteously beg for something one desperately needs, them to let me hold Beatrice.

She was still small but already clearly intelligent and extremely affectionate. She smiled at me and for the first time that day there was a ray of sunshine on that cloudy beach. Her eyes sparkled like her mothers and like our mothers before her, a sight that was of great comfort to me. Carefully I set her onto the sand and put my attention back on the Baudelaires. I was suddenly very aware of the tears gathering in my eyes. I composed myself long enough to extend a proposal.

“Baudelaires, long ago now I offered to take you away to safety in that taxi cab.” I motioned to the cab I had arrived in that was parked near the trolly stop, “I extend the same offer to you now and I beg you to take it. I still can only offer a life on the run but I can promise you safety from any villains who may still be out there. I once knew your mother very well, what kind of a friend would I be to her if I did not do what I could for her children”

“You would be better off than the others” Klaus answered grimly, “you would still be alive”

The edge on his voice cut through the conversation carrying all of the guilt Klaus had likely been holding onto since the carnival where he and his sisters had been forced to watch a woman who had helped them, plummet to her death into a tiger pit. The same guilt came across Violet's face and even Sonny seemed upset.

“We’re bad luck,” Sonny confessed.

“Well then,” I bent down to match her eye level and smiled, “you four and I have that in common. We will be in great company” The words did little to convince them. I stood to face them all again and saw how deeply their faces were weighed down by their past. I wanted to help but wasn't sure how to convince them to let me. I was contemplating words when, once again, Violet filled the silence.

              “ We will come with you” Klaus shot her a confused and alarmed glance which she met with a look that seemed to say wait and finished with a qualifier. “We will go with you, to lunch, or something of the like. If you truly wish us to come with you, we need to know who you are first. I want to trust you Lemony, but you can understand our situation I'm sure.” I did, and I agreed.

And so, it was decided, over greasy diner food and root beer floats, that I was to be given the chance. As I have stated and proved, over the years I have learned a great amount about the Baudelaires but nothing compared to being able to converse with them. It is a strange feeling when you meet someone for the first time, or nearly, and know everything about them, but they know nothing of you. At first, I took special steps to tell them everything I felt they should know. VFD was dead now, there was no point in keeping anything from them anymore, but, as I found out, that's not what they really wanted to know about.

“With all due respect Lemony,” Klaus interrupted. “We would really rather hear about you..” My bewilderment must have shown, for Violet was quick to support her brother's point.

“What Klaus means is, we have had many guardians to watch over us in the past, not all of them kind, and we want to know what type you are. It is very kind of you to offer to take us in, and it would be very helpful to have someone to watch out for us, but at the same time, I am 18 now and therefore should be able to protect my siblings on my own if need be. If we don't know that we can trust you we may choose to go elsewhere alone and continue to find our own safe life.” Violet was very formal and she had been very formal the whole time that I had been talking to her. There was a guard up somewhere in her soul and it was preventing me from making a good impression.

As if I was not in the conversation Sonny began to argue with Violet's reasoning.

“But we cannot go back” By this, she was, of course, referring to going back to a normal life., to rejoin the world as normal citizens. They had been through so much (and technically were wanted for so many crimes) that it would be next to impossible for them to go back to being normal people. Even if they managed to settle themselves there was always the threat of rival volunteers seeking them out. They, like me, had no choice but to keep running. What it came down to was just whether they would do it with me or not.

Violet pondered on this for a moment. It was a very miserable ponder. Eventually, after she didn't speak Klaus directly addressed me and asked if he and his sisters could have a moment to talk alone. I conceded to his very reasonable request and went to pay for the meal. What the orphans spoke of they have never told me. Parts of the discussion have come out over the years, there were mentions of their parent's trust in me and of lost guardians but I never truly did figure out what it was that Sonny said that day that made her siblings stop and fall deep into thought. I watched from the counter as her words seeped into their brains and tilted the odds in my favor. I don't know if the comment was something complex like a known story from my past where I had been a savior or if it was something as simple as the idea that my brothers taxi would be a great perk, all I know is when I came back to the table the contemplative energy from before was gone. The four (though Beatrice was so small I doubt she had much input) had made a decision.

From that day forward I became the unofficial, official guardian of the Baudelaires. By this, I mean that there was no legal paperwork tying me to any of them, no bank man to put them in my care, but there was an agreement amongst those involved that we would stay together. Now, as the children are not children anymore, we are not always together but as we are all still on the run, we find ourselves together often enough. When one has very few friends in the world it is always nice to know there is someone that you can trust out there.

[friendshipcampaign]

Session Recap 7/15/18: Cooperation and Cohabitation

Intrigued by what he’d heard of the Tome, Palava asked Ditto if he could try communicating with it -- hoping that perhaps between his religious knowledge and Mynskay’s knowledge of necromancy they could path together some way for Tsova to communicate. She handed the book over.

As the party waited to hear if Palava and Mynskay had any ideas, Voski tapped Amaranth on the shoulder, pulling her aside to discuss some of the ballads she’d discovered. As Amaranth looked them over, Voski asked for some clarifications about her story. She wanted to know about Amaranth’s comment that the Dirge’s crew didn’t like people interfering with their cargo.

Amaranth admitted that she and her crew had boarded a ship themselves, not knowing that it had already been overtaken by a group of slavers. They had then proceeded to free the proper crew from their grasp -- unaware that the slavers were in league with the Dirge, and those crew members were already considered cargo. Cargo that she and her crew had interfered with.

A singular devil, she said, had then showed up to speak with them and mentioned reporting back to the ship. But it was the only one they’d directly interacted with.

At this point in the conversation, Amaranth was looking fairly haggard. Voski glanced around the room to try to note the others’ positioning and if they might hear what she was about to say. She squared her shoulders to try to block them out, and proceeded to tell Amaranth she could tell she was upset -- and that she was going to share a piece of information with her and her only. After a deep breath the dragonborn admitted, “Voski… is my real name.”

She then proceeded to give the context -- for years now, she’d been going around under fake names, aliases, and disguises. “If you had met me at any point for the last while,” she said, “You wouldn’t know me by that name it all. It would have been Ina, or Kadri, or Mjosena--Tiffany, once. Dimira, the one I sold. But for some reason, when we got on that stupid boat, I decided to bring Voski out of retirement. And I don’t know why.”

She seemed to be getting stressed, explaining that she didn’t feel good about the fact that her real name was the one that the fae had, that the group was using, and that she kept giving to people. But she then turned it around on Amaranth, pointing out that she had been having extreme reactions to things related to her past coming up unexpectedly, and if they challenged the contract they might have to deal with much more of that. If a rumor in a ballad had been enough to shut Amaranth down the night before, a devil deliberately using her trauma against her could be disastrous. Voski’s point was that they both needed to handle their concerns, and that if Amaranth needed to share or disclose anything so as to not be caught off-guard later, this would be the time.

Amaranth admitted there was one detail that had been changed in the ballad. “Fury of the Sea” hadn’t been the name of the ship. It had been her name, as a captain. Which meant the song was highly unlikely to be simply rumor -- hence her strong reaction. And also that she and her crew had killed the devil that had come to negotiate with them, which caught Voski a bit off-guard.

Voski then urged Amaranth to recognize that while Hayel still had the face in her repertoire that had hurt her before, it was just a face. Amaranth told her that after what she’d seen recently, she didn’t think it could hurt her anymore. They then discussed that Amaranth was clearly trying her best to not simply rush in with swords -- but that it might be an option. Voski closed off the conversation by handing over the book of ballads and telling Amaranth that if there was anything in there that she’d like her to learn, she’d give it a go.

At that point, a kobold came running into the central area, holding what looked like a little moving piece of paper, saying it had gotten caught in one of their traps. Assuming that it was one of the living spellbook pages from Lakaphai’s tower, Erwyn reached out and grabbed it, at which point it stilled to become readable. The message on it read, “The shadows are dispersing. What have you done?”

Voski turned to Palava and asked how his research was going. The elf seemed fairly optimistic about one option, and asked the group an odd question -- “How do you feel about possession?”

He explained that it was likely possible for them to summon and bind Tsova, even as a dead creature, if they were contained within a living being, who would retain some of their senses but could switch between the god controlling them and the host still controlling themself.

Erwyn immediately volunteered to serve as a host for Tsova, but Kriv chimed in to say that he thought the elf’s knowledge and speaking abilities would be more valuable than his own in the impending court proceedings, and that he was also willing to be a vessel. When Erwyn protested, pointing out that of everyone in the group, he was most familiar with having a loose relationship with his own body, Voski pointed out that they didn’t know if there would be a physical toll of some kind on the host, but if there was, Kriv would be far better equipped to handle it than Erwyn, who was not only much smaller and scrawnier, but frequently exhibited signs of having a poor constitution. Eventually, he conceded, saying he’d rather be wherever the group thought he’d be more valuable -- though he seemed perhaps a little quietly upset that they didn’t think he could handle it -- and the group agreed to bind the forgotten god to their paladin.

Palava started to draw a magic circle on the floor, telling Kriv to step into the center once he’d completed it. The dragonborn gave him a thumbs-up, which the cleric returned. As the ritual went underway, the circle flashed with green and purple light. Soon, Kriv heard a nervous voice in his head asking, “What’s happening?” -- prompting him to explain to Tsova their plan, and that he’d agreed to this, so as long as the god was alright with it there was nothing to fear.

The light faded, leaving Kriv standing in the center of the circle looking no different than before. Cautiously, Palava asked if the ritual had actually worked. Kriv could feel Tsova sharing his mind and granted them control to try to respond. He started to make some strange noises as Tsova tried to figure out how to talk to the others, but eventually they were able to tell the others it had been successful. Ditto asked if Kriv was okay, and they confirmed he was communicating with them.

Erwyn then proceeded to write a message to Lakaphai on her spellbook page, saying the entity from the woods was on their side and was now horrified by the terms of the contract, which was probably reasonable grounds for a challenge. Once he re-folded it, it fluttered off towards the tunnel it had come down before, headed towards the surface.

With the party playing a waiting game again, Tsova proceeded to try walking in Kriv’s body, falling over immediately and commenting on the fact that he had “so few limbs.” When concerned party members asked if the duo was okay, Kriv reassured Tsova that he was fairly sturdy, and simply falling over while walking wasn’t enough to harm him. They passed this on. As they tried to practice taking more steps, Amaranth and Ditto nervously spotting (the latter remembering the first time she summoned Tiktik). Tsova asked if walking was this difficult for all of them, and Erwyn reassured them that “It took me years and years, so you’re doing alright.”

Kriv also realized, when Ditto Messaged Amaranth about the situation, that with a god sharing his head, he could hear their conversation in whispers. When Amaranth mentioned to Ditto she should be careful, he asked Tsova to tell Ditto to possibly steer clear for a bit, since she was small and could be in a little danger. Tsova looked at Ditto and said, “You are very small” -- to which Ditto enthusiastically responded, “I am!” until Tsova explained that they had meant they -- and Kriv -- didn’t want her getting hurt. Ditto offered to use Minor Conjuration to create a cane for them, which seemed to help.

After a bit of time, the spellbook page returned, followed by some excitable kobolds. Erwyn snatched it out of the air and read the message -- which, in ever shakier handwriting, read, “Come to the inn. We need to talk.” The party, while acknowledging this was probably a trap, decided this was probably their next step, and discussed the fact that Alembic and Palava should probably come with them this time. They all began to head towards the surface.

Alembic Messaged Ditto, asking if she was still intending to try the Sending spell she had been thinking about trying. She seemed reluctant, saying she thought they should wait if they were potentially headed to the Hells, since she had no way of knowing what would happen there. But he replied that was exactly why he was asking -- he thought she should try it before leaving, precisely because they didn’t know what would happen after this, and if this was important he wanted to get the word out to people. The implication that the party may not be able to get the word out after this negotiation was not lost.

Voski then messaged Alembic to demand if he and Palava had anything more than myths and rumors to suggest winning a trial in the Hells was even possible, since some of the party had accepted so quickly that this was inevitably where things were going. Alembic responded that he had seen a few verifiable accounts over the years--both of successes and of failures.

As the party approached the inn, Kriv reached out to update Volfred on the situation. The goat informed him (and Tsova by proxy), that both Hayel and Lakaphai were headed towards the building as well. Tsova passed this on to the others. Ditto interjected that she needed to prepare some spells, prompting Erwyn to ask about the fact that wizards usually did that in the morning, and Voski to say there probably wasn’t going to be time. She didn’t pursue the excuse further for the time being.

Entering through the kitchen, when the group walked into the main dining area they found Lakaphai sitting, fiddling with with her hands at the largest table, and Hayel lounging at another, already halfway through a bottle of alcohol. She looked up and greeted them, saying, “Well, hello. Someone’s been busy.”

As the group filed in, Alembic lurked in the back, telling Ditto when she Messaged him about it that he felt like maintaining a bit of an element of surprise. Hayel looked at those who were more obvious expectantly, asking them what they wanted to talk about. Erwyn said it was really something they ought to talk about with the town council, to see if they would like to challenge the contract. Hayel responded, “Well, why don’t we ask them?” and called out, “Alright, they’re here!”

Slowly, from the second floor and cellar, most of the population of the town emerged, brandishing assorted sharp implements and avoiding coming too close, but spreading out to cover all the doors to the room. Hayel smiled, saying, “It’s really great that you brought a friend along.” She told the townspeople, “This should be as many as you need,” and smugly informed the party that this was what happened when one tried to help people. “They just backstab you, and decide to sacrifice you to a devil.”

Erwyn angrily interjected, asking her if she’d even told them they didn’t have to. He took a deep breath and shakily tried to address the people of Folly’s End, telling them about what the party had learned. One of them immediately accused him of bluffing, but Ditto made eye contact with another and asked them if they wanted Hayel to be right. She asked if they were ready to be brave, and they said they already were.

Voski sighed, calling the townspeople “backwoods simpletons,” and grabbed something from the bar to pour herself a glass. She said that Erwyn was trying to tell them they had signed a contract under false pretenses, and asked if Tsova would just talk to them already. The god finally spoke up, explaining that they rejected the terms, having sought the shadows out of misunderstanding. Voski chimed in, saying, “That’s a god, by the way.” She took a big swig from her glass and shot a glance at Hayel. “You didn’t know?”

Erwyn deferred to Palava at this point, who mentioned the possibility of bringing this up in court on the behalf of the townspeople. Hayel laughed, saying they didn’t know enough to put forth a challenge to the courts in the Hells, saying it was pointless and they should give up. As she spoke, her gaze flickered between Kriv (or Tsova), and Erwyn, eventually settling on the former. Tsova instantly was overtaken with a feeling of despair, telling Kriv they didn’t think this was going to work, though he tried to reassured them.

Ditto and Amaranth both took their turn to address the townspeople, Ditto saying they wouldn’t be doing this if they didn’t think it could help, and Amaranth asking if they were really going to give Hayel what she wanted. Eventually, Erwyn took the floor again, with an impassioned plea that the townspeople had entered this contract in the first place to try to protect people -- did they want it to end with sacrificing some strangers? It seemed like they were abandoning what had been good motivations. “I believe that the world is kinder than this,” he said. “It’s why I’m doing what I’m doing. I’d hoped it was why you were doing what you were doing. Is it not?”

There was a creak from behind, and Karvel rushed up from out of the cellar, a tiny lizard still resting on his shoulder. He ran out in front of the party and stated that the world was kinder, and that he didn’t believe the townspeople had forgotten -- he’d watched them be kind before.

Voski turned to Hayel and asked why she was hanging onto this contract so strongly -- it was clearly built on fairly shaky ground at this point, and didn’t offer a lot of reward. Hayel replied that she didn’t like to let things go. When Voski asked if there was an easier way to get through this without the full trial, perhaps a neutral third party, Hayel dismissively said there weren’t many options unless they had an Inevitable in their back pocket. When Voski commented that there was actually one fairly nearby that would probably be willing to head over, she responded with incredulity.

Lakaphai stood up and said she voted they should wait until the Inevitable could be brought to Folly’s End. The town smith lowered the hammer he’d been brandishing and seconded the vote. When Lakaphai called, “All those in favor,” there was a slow chorus of agreement -- including Lacha, who emerged from the cellar herself to chime in.

Once it was agreed that Ditto would cast Sending to contact the Inevitable (whom they’d last seen still vainly trying to solve a riddle outside Auntie Eyren Keep’s home), she headed outside for a bit to maintain her lie from earlier that she still needed to prepare her spells. Alembic followed, but she told him she wasn’t going to try her other spell now.

Back inside, Voski, sitting at the bar, tore into a piece of bread before gesturing at a seat for Hayel to take. The devil raised her eyebrow, and Voski made a “your loss” gesture. Across the room, Erwyn anxiously collapsed into a nearby chair and Amaranth ruffled his hair, saying, “You did good.”

It wasn’t long before Ditto came back in, saying she was ready, and asked what they wanted to say. She then Sent a message saying, “We have an important task for you. Come to Folly’s End for...law-related stuff.” The Inevitable replied with acceptance, which she reported back to the others. Given the travel time that it needed from the demiplane in the lake, they projected it would probably be there sometime in the early morning.

With nothing else to be done before then, Lacha told the rest of the townspeople that they could all head home if they didn’t intend to get anything. They did so, sheepishly. Hayel finished her bottle, grabbed two more, and said she’d wait in the tower. Lakaphai, however, asked if she could stay until the arbiter arrived. Ditto headed upstairs, Messaging Palava that she would be in the third room on the left.

Kriv had a quiet conversation with Tsova, asking them what they thought faith was. Tsova talked about their people believing in them in battle and times of peril for protection. Kriv said he always saw faith as having a ridiculous amount of trust in something. Tsova seemed to agree that was not a bad way of putting it. After a bit of this talk, he asked them if he could take over for a bit in order to get some food. They were perfectly happy to let him. When Karvel rushed up to him and asked if everything was going to be alright, Kriv said it would be, citing the fact that he had a god in his head and anything felt possible.

Alembic and Palava joined Ditto, and she told Tiktik to head downstairs -- saying that she really loved them, and didn’t want them to be in the room when the Sending happened. They extremely reluctantly agreed to this. She informed Alembic and Palava that she didn’t want the others knowing what was going on just yet, but if she ended up incapacitated she would like the two researchers to answer any questions the party asked them honestly, so they wouldn’t be left in the dark. Palava set about setting up some wards, since they didn’t know what kind of a response would be likely, and eventually Ditto sent out her message to the entity she wished to contact: “Can you hear me? I want to help.”

She woke up to Alembic and Palava leaning worriedly over her, and though she’d blacked out at the force of it, she recalled a loud reply in her head that had said “WHO ARE YOU?” She frantically babbled at the two of them, prompting Palava to offer a Calm Emotions that she rejected, repeating nothing but the phrase, “It heard me and it talked back.”

Ditto immediately wanted to try again, but Palava insisted on healing her first, clearing up a deep exhaustion and sharp pain in her head as he did so. Her second Sending said: “I’m the one who brought you here. I’m so sorry, but I want to help. Can I help you?” This time, the response didn’t cause her to black out, but it still felt like it somehow encompassed all of her senses at once, saying, “WHY DID YOU TAKE ME?”

She fell back on her back and immediately tried casting the spell again, only to discover that she’d tapped out of all her magical energy for the day. She babbled once more, repeating, “If I rest I can talk to it again, I can talk to it.” Palava cast Calm Emotions on her at her request now, causing her panic and relief to subside a bit in intensity. Alembic asked if she wanted to tell the party now, and she insisted not just yet -- soon, but not before they knew what the situation would be after that night. Now that communication with the creature was opened and there might be something that could be done about the situation, she felt more of an obligation to tell them.

Tiktik had curled up with Amaranth, but when Alembic came downstairs and they spotted him, they zoomed back up to rejoin Ditto. This immediately aroused Amaranth’s suspicion, as she’d noticed that Ditto seemed very nervous earlier, and she asked Alembic if everything was okay. He said that Ditto had tried to do something difficult, but was okay, and she would tell them about it in the morning. The rogue tried to force her way past him and failed, insisting that if Ditto needed her, she wanted to be there.

Alembic headed back up to ask Ditto if she wanted to see the others just yet, informing her about Amaranth. Somewhat wobbly, she headed about halfway down the stairs to where her friend met her, motioning for her to follow into the room where they’d done the Sending. She apologized for worrying her, but said she’d only want to give the full explanation when she could talk to everyone. Eventually, Amaranth was persuaded to head back downstairs.

With the party still waiting for the Inevitable to show up, Ditto was able to rest long enough to cast one more Sending, reaching out and saying, “It was a terrible accident. I’m so sorry. I want to help. Can you tell me what you need? I’ll talk again soon.” The voiced echoed through her head once more, saying “CAN YOU SEND ME BACK?” Ditto tried frantically to reply again, but nothing happened. It took some time, but Alembic and Palava managed to calm her down once more, and Palava draped a blanket across her once she’d been coaxed to lie down with Tiktik.

[fourplayergame]

An Analysis on Jason Dean

Being callous, cynical and disrespectful of othersI’ve wanted to make a post on this ever since I watched the musical + movie a few weeks ago. I want to make a disclaimer before I get into the rest of the post, however: Just because I’m making a point about this obviously horrible person, that does not mean that I believe that people with the disorders that I will be pointing out are bad people. 

The case of Jason Dean is simply me throwing headcanons, and using logic to back these headcanons up. If you don’t agree, then that’s your opinion that you are more than welcome to. 

This post also does not serve to justify his actions in the movie and musical. Jason Dean is a horrible, horrible person. No mental illness or diagnosis can change or justify his actions. 

With that out of the way, I’ll start my analysis under the cut. 

From my research of different disorders, Jason Dean shows very obvious signs and symptoms of two Cluster B personality disorders: Borderline Personality Disorder and Anti-Social Personality Disorder. In this post, I’ll be going in-depth with my reasoning as to why I feel that these two disorders fit Jason Dean as a character... Without including the murders that litter the plot of Heathers. They’re self-explanatory, and I feel that including them would be in bad taste, and there’s plenty of other subtextual things that prove my headcanon without the outright implication of “he murdered three people, that’s more than enough proof he has these disorders.” 

I’ll start with Borderline Personality Disorder. The list of symptoms that I will be using for this post can be found [here]. I’ll be going down the list and pointing canonical facts to support my claims. 

Efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment, such as rapidly initiating intimate (physical or emotional) relationships or cutting off communication with someone in anticipation of being abandoned

This one is fairly obvious, considering how he’s very quick to get upset over the idea of Veronica leaving him. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep her from leaving, because he needs her. See his promise to change in Seventeen, as well as his reaction when she breaks up with him after McNamara’s attempted suicide. 

The attempt to bomb the school falls under this, due to his views of the school + student body “taking” her from him, and causing her to abandon him. 

Also, see his warning to Veronica in Freeze Your Brain:

But the sky’s gonna hurt when it falls So you’d better start building some walls

A pattern of intense and unstable relationships with family, friends, and loved ones, often swinging from extreme closeness and love (idealization) to extreme dislike or anger (devaluation)

Four words: Meant To Be Yours. He’s so mood-swingy about Veronica in the song, and it’s one of the things that makes it so amazing to me. He goes from sadness to anger in a split second, and then back again. 

Not to mention the very beginning of the song!

You chucked me out like I was trash, For that you should be dead-- But! But! But! Then it hit me like a flash! What if high school went away instead?

It’s also important to note his views of the Heathers and the Jocks: they’re all terrible people who deserved to die. There’s no gray area when it comes to people for him. People are either good or bad, with no in between. 

Distorted and unstable self-image or sense of self

His entire identity, throughout the musical, revolves around Veronica’s love for him.As long as Veronica loves him, he’s... Okay. Ish. 

Impulsive and often dangerous behaviors, such as spending sprees, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, and binge eating. 

I know that I said that I wouldn’t use the murders to prove my point,  but I feel this is a necessary place to: his decision to kill Heather Chandler is impulsive. A spur of the moment thing, and something that he obviously doesn’t think through very well. He’s very aware of how risky the situation is, yet he continues to not tell Veronica that she grabbed the wrong cup. 

Also in the movie he rides his motorcycle without a helmet. 

Self-harming behavior, such as cutting

The entirety of Freeze Your Brain. 

Also, in Meant to Be Yours:

You left me and I fell apart I punched the wall and cried BAM! BAM! BAM!

Recurring thoughts of suicidal behaviors or threats

Once again, look at Freeze Your Brain and the fact that he??? Literally kills himself at the end. 

When the voice in your head Says your better off dead Don’t open a vein Just freeze your brain!

Intense and highly changeable moods, with each episode lasting from a few hours to a few days

Again, I would like to point you to the  entire end of the musical, where his mood is changing rapidly. Not just in Meant to Be Yours, but also between Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) and Damaged.

Inappropriate, intense anger or problems controlling anger

Once Again, see Meant to Be Yours. Also, in general, how he gets incredibly angry over little things throughout the musical. Especially when he points the gun at Veronica, even if it is an accident. 

Difficulty trusting, which is sometimes accompanied by irrational fear of other people’s intentions

Freeze Your Brain’s beginning:

Don’t learn the names Don’t bother with faces

Now, for ASPD, or Antisocial Personality Disorder, I will be using the symptoms listed [here].

Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others. People with antisocial personality disorder tend to antagonize, manipulate or treat others harshly or with callous indifference. They show no guilt or remorse for their behavior.

Individuals with antisocial personality disorder often violate the law, becoming criminals. They may lie, behave violently or impulsively, and have problems with drug and alcohol use. Because of these characteristics, people with this disorder typically can't fulfill responsibilities related to family, work or school.

Disregard for right and wrong.

I feel that this one is fairly obvious. JD doesn’t really care if what he’s doing fits into society’s definition of “right” and “wrong.” He’s doing his own thing, and that’s all that really matters to him. 

Persistent lying or deceit to exploit others.

Did you meant: The Entire Musical and Movie? JD consistently lies to Veronica to get her to go along with what he wants to do. He purposefully doesn’t tell her that she grabbed the wrong cup, and also the whole “Ich Luge Bullets” lie. Both to exploit Veronica into helping him achieve his less-than-morally-sound goals. 

Being callous, cynical and disrespectful of others.

He has no respect for most other people, especially not the authority figures in his life. Veronica is an exception, in some ways. But even then? 

He’s a very callous and cynical person, and for fuck’s sake. He shoots a gun in the house just to piss his dad off. 

Using charm or wit to manipulate others for personal gain or personal pleasure.

Again, please see literally the entire musical. The Ich Luge Bullets scene comes to mind again, as well as his manipulation of Heather Duke to get those signatures for the note. He’s a manipulative person who’ll go to the extreme to accomplish what he wants. 

Arrogance, a sense of superiority and being extremely opinionated.

“Our Love is God.” JD has a severe God Complex, labeling himself as the Judge, Jury, and Executioner of all those who had done terrible things at Westerburg. 

His opinions are really all that matters to him, and let’s take a look at the movie for a lovely example. In the scene where he takes Veronica away from the pasture? When he’s pissed about her spending time with another Heather? 

“Sorry, I’m feeling a little superior tonight.” Followed by the iconic: “Our love is God, let’s go get a Slushie.” quote. 

Recurring problems with the law, including criminal behavior.

Ignoring the murders? There’s still the fights that he gets into. 

Repeatedly violating the rights of others through intimidation and dishonesty.

Meant to Be Yours. Just, the entirety of Meant to Be Yours. He’s intimidating Veronica because he wants her back, not caring about how she feels about the situation. He’ll do anything to get her back, because she makes him feel loved. It’s not really about how much he loves her-- He loves the fact that she loved him. And he wants that back. 

Impulsiveness or failure to plan ahead.

Admittedly, this entirely describes Musical JD. Movie JD is quite the opposite, however. 

Hostility, significant irritability, agitation, aggression or violence.

JD is snappy and violent throughout the entire musical. The scene where he pulls out the gun to shoot the TV? And then points it at Veronica by “accident” when she breaks up with him? 

He’s a very irritable and aggressive person, especially if he doesn’t get what he wants. Not to mention, again, violence. 

Lack of empathy for others and lack of remorse about harming others.

He doesn’t show any remorse after the murders. At all. He doesn’t show any legitimate remorse throughout the musical. Not even in “I am Damaged.” He’s simply parroting the things that Veronica had said during Seventeen, proving his feeling that he deserves to die over her. 

Though I suppose the entirety of “I Am Damaged” proves BPD, more than anything. 

Unnecessary risk-taking or dangerous behavior with no regard for the safety of self or others.

I don’t think that there’s any canon evidence for this, but I can still see it. 

Poor or abusive relationships.

His relationship with his dad! His relationship with Veronica! 

How can anyone look at JDRonica and say that it isn’t toxic as shit? Because it is. Sorry guys, I love the ship? But it’s toxic as fuck, and I really wish that people would portray it as such. 

JD isn’t good for Veronica. Their relationship is toxic and unhealthy. 

Failure to consider the negative consequences of behavior or learn from them.

Seventeen happens, and then what does JD do after the Shine a Light incident? He suggests killed Heather Duke. He learned nothing from what he and Veronica talked about during the song. 

He thinks that Veronica will still love him, even though she made it clear that he needs to stop. Thus she breaks up with him, because he doesn’t know right from wrong. He doesn’t consider that his actions have consequences, and he oversteps the very clear boundary that was set in Seventeen. 

To conclude? JD is mentally ill and unstable as fuck, and needed serious help that he didn’t get. Things could have ended better if he had gotten the help that he needed, but he didn’t. And so everything went to shit. 

Please stop ignoring how unstable he is just for your “Cute” and “pure” ship. Learn to actually look at a character, instead of turning them into something that they’re not. 

[dkettchen]

An open letter to Marvel, Taika Waititi and the writers of Thor: Ragnarok

On behalf of my snowflakes

I spent the last days trying to figure out what exactly about Ragnarok it was that upset me so very much. 

As a storyteller, I supposed it was because of flaws in story and execution, like the pacing of some of the beats being off, the characters were lacking depth and in part (extremely) out of character, or because things hinted at in the trailers and whole shots of what we were shown that were edited or left out completely, altering the movie we were promised to something completely different, or in light of that, because of my theories, that I had crafted from said promo material, which pointed to an amazing movie, didn’t come true, and my expectations were simply too high. 

But after a few days of unrest and reflection, and now being able to take a step back from my expectations, I still don’t like it. The pacing and characters were off, and it is quite disappointing, when you’re able to imagine exactly how the movie could have been better, but all of that wasn’t the thing that upset me.

The thing that upset me was the carelessness to let Loki be so very out of character. Not the fact that he was out of character, but the fact that the people who made the movie did not stop to think about the implications of that, not on their story (also on their story) but on their audience. And I don’t mean the part of the audience that doesn’t care about Loki, the part that wants to see a Thor movie for Thor’s sake and kinda deals with Loki being there as well. (Thor was a bit out of character too btw, but that’s not what this is about)

I am talking about the part of the audience that is Loki’s army. Loki’s fans. 

They are an extremely dedicated fandom, and they have waited 4 entire years to finally see their favourite again. 

And now you might think, yeah but how are they any more important than any other fans? How is their character’s accuracy more important than that of other characters?

They aren’t. But the reason that their character is more important to get right than others, is because of the impact he has on them.

Let me put it like this.

Here you have a group of thousands of people, who identify with this character. They like him because, just like them, he struggles, he feels too many feelings, and life and the universe itself seem to hate him, judging by the amount of shit they throw at him. But unlike them, he always finds the strength to persist, to keep on going, he always finds a way out, always gets back up, no matter what. That makes him their hero. Their champion. 

And that is what the superhero genre is about. To give hope to the hopeless. Whether that is by giving them someone superhumanly perfect to look up to, like Superman, or by giving them someone they can identify with, but who can overcome the limits they can’t, someone who makes them feel like they can do anything. (A recent example of that being executed very well was the Wonder Woman movie)

Even if Loki isn’t always a hero in the stories he’s in, he is still a hero to his fans. He is there to represent them, in all their troubles, whether it’s mental health issues, lgbt+ rights, or even just seeing the shades of grey that make up our world and human nature itself.

And now these troubled souls have waited for 4 years, for this movie, that the trailers promised to be so very good, getting themselves hyped up within the fandom, because they’ve been waiting for this for so long, looking forward to finally seeing this character they care about so much again, only to be given someone who was not at all the character they know and love. 

And it’s not like Loki’s character wasn’t really defined, the last three movies, not to mention the last at least 6 years in comic books, were exploring his character in depth, and defined it quite consistently even across the different media. 

Ragnarok completely disregarded all of that character work, and made Loki into a bad caricature of himself. With stress on bad.

After he went from neutral (beginning of Thor) to evil (peak in Avengers), to realising his mistakes in TTDW, everything, trailers, costume design, everything seemed to point towards him having a good arc in Ragnarok (before inevitably going back to neutral in IW). Which would be in line with the recent years of comics, and the state of mind he left off in in TTDW. 

Even the people outside the fandom read the trailers as clearly Loki being one of the good guys now, being part of team Thor and all that. 

And the fandom rejoiced, after loving the Kid Loki and Agent of Asgard comics and after years of hoping for Loki to finally have some good stuff happen to him, they grew hopeful of seeing him trying to be good on the big screen, being included in a superhero team, potentially even getting a love interest, finally. 

But that didn’t happen, did it now.

Instead it seemed like the movie was actively trying to put Loki down, to not let him be a hero, bond with and be an equal part of the team, or even to let him get a love interest who might’ve chosen him over his brother against all odds. It didn’t let him be his own person, it barely even let him exist within the story.

And this is not bullying the character (I mean, it is, but) this is bullying the people that are already miserable, who identify with him, and who came to see this movie in hopes of feeling better about their own life, because there’d be someone there on screen, who is like them and to whom good things can happen. 

This is telling them that there is no hope for someone like them, that nothing good will ever happen to them, this is telling them that they are worth nothing. And the thing is life already does that. 

Fiction, and even more so superhero fiction, is supposed to inspire its audience and give them hope. And your movie did quite the opposite. I hope you realise the impact of your work and I hope you feel ashamed of yourselves. 

Kind Regards

A fellow storyteller who cares greatly about our patron deity and his fans

PS: To all my dear people in Loki’s army who are feeling down after the movie, I want you to know that I and the rest of the fandom will be here for you, even if the movies aren’t. You are worthy, you are valid, you deserved better. We all did.  

I will be working in industry in a few years, making content not for the content’s sake, or the mainstream audience’s sake, but for the sake of people like you and me, who are underrepresented and need some good vibes. 

I promise you that I will try my best. Always. (And I don’t promise things that I don’t intend on keeping) 

The thing about real people rather than fictional characters is, they won’t ever be out of character, meaning if I tell you you can believe in me, that won’t change, ever. I promise.

[pseudofaux]

Goodness (Nobuyuki)

Title: Goodness Series: Samurai Love Ballad: Party Relationships: Sanada Yukimura/Sanada Akiba, Sanada Nobuyuki/Sanada Akiba Rating: M. Hoo boy. Wordcount: high

Sanada Akiba loves her earnest, sweet husband, and hopes she is like Yukimura. She is. Her goodness gets her into trouble.

Her keenness sees her through it.

HERE is my dirty, dirty story baby of the last few days. Be warned that this involves Yukimura’s MC/Wife having sex with NOT YUKIMURA. If you love Yukimura (so does she, and so does Nobuyuki, if that helps?) and that thought breaks your heart, it is probably not a good life choice for you to read this. If you think Nobuyuki is too yandere or clever or hot for his own good, it might be a good life choice for you to read this. No shame either way! Live your bliss. This clocks in at around 7500 words. It’s also being posted at Ao3, broken into two pieces. I’ll link that later. The idea for this pretty much demanded sex, but this is the first time in a while that I’ve written it. I’m so sorry if things are stilted. Everyone knows authors love comments and I’m particularly begging for them here. Please feel EXTREMELY WELCOME to let me know what you think, if you are so inclined. Comment or message. Whatever works for you! Tagging beautiful, generous wonderpeople @yuyuisakura @unicornthug4life @phantomofthelabyrinth @little-mini-me-world @opossumlyotterlyinsane the very dear @dear-mrs-otome @daebakdays-blog @quincette (I am not worthy) and @saialock , with much appreciation.

Xoxo!

*This is set in Ueda, throughout late summer and fall. Akiba is Yukimura’s (recent) wife; I haven’t written her as having the story from Yukimura’s route, just the commonalities of her character from the prologue. Family does own the restaurant, she’s not from a samurai family. Yukimura is still a blushing little cuddlewaffle, but he’s also a married man and MC is a grown woman. They’re a bit shy but not beside themselves with nosebleeds or anything.*

She set down the tray on the floor of Nobuyuki’s study, hoping he would be pleased at the elegant presentation. The kitchen staff were teaching her regional methods of plating and garnishing, and putting foods together to please the eye as well as the tongue was surprisingly gratifying. Yukimura noticed her first attempts when a maid brought them to his attention, and his gentle, knowing smile for her when he realized what she was trying to do had softened her entire day. She expected Nobuyuki, on the other hand, had noticed immediately. That was his way.

“Thank you, Akiba-san. Those look very appetizing.”

Her husband’s brother was invariably pleasant to her. In both brothers, the Sanada had the noblest scions possible. She knew she was fortunate to join their clan as Sanada Akiba, to have her own family under their protection. Her mother and Yahiko adored Yukimura (who returned their affection with his abundant good nature), and Nobuyuki made a point of being seen in their restaurant every time he was in Kyoto. To look at her marriage shrewdly, she had only brought her cooking skill and her devotion to Yukimura to their union. But the consistent warm approval of the clan was making her feel more comfortable as the first season of their marriage passed into the second. Sometimes she woke up within Yukimura’s arms not believing it was possible to be so lucky as to live this way, loving and loved by a lord.

Her lord. Her husband! The kindest, most earnest person she had ever known. She had been enchanted by his shyness and touched by his regard for her from the moment they met. Capable of unmatched ferocity (she had seen it, been shocked and even a little thrilled by his strength) but also of reverently cherishing her. Yukimura’s masculine, beautiful body had shielded hers and made her a woman. He took such tender care of her.

“Are you thinking of something pleasant, my dear?” Nobuyuki’s face was suddenly much closer than she remembered.

“Ah! I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” His smile widened. Moments like this reminded her that Nobuyuki was cut from different cloth than Yukimura, perhaps a shade darker than his brother. But she also knew he was only teasing her, not trying to be unkind.

“My thoughts got away from me.” She took a breath, knowing her cheeks had pinked, and smiled back at him. “I apologize. Is there anything else you require, milord?”

“Hmm.” Nobuyuki’s face didn’t move. She thought briefly that something might have changed about his eyes, or flitted across them. The aquamarine was startling—like Yukimura’s, but not quite the same—it was difficult to be sure of changes because it was so easy to be lost in their color. She realized they were staring at one another, and felt her face blush further.

“No,” he said, after an unsettlingly long moment. She ducked her head in a quick bow. Worry that she had wasted his time or displeased him or come across like a simpleton had her nervously feeling for the hairline behind an ear. Had she missed some cue? She would have to ask Umeko if there were signals she needed to learn. She no longer served anyone but Yukimura and, infrequently, Nobuyuki, but she wanted to do things right.

“Good afternoon, then, Nobuyuki-sama.” She bowed properly and made to leave.

“And to you. Thank you again, Akiba-san.” Oh, but his voice was so warm and kind. He wasn’t upset. She couldn’t keep the relief from her face, and she lifted her eyes to his to make sure he saw her happiness. It always seemed to please Nobuyuki when she was happy.

He was reading.

She had announced herself in the antechamber, but since there had been no response she allowed the cups on the tray to clink together. That brought his face up right away.

For the barest second his face seemed very… flat. But no, he was smiling mildly at her and she had not even seen his face move, so he must have been smiling all along, or simply startled by her warning. And really, the man almost smiled too much. His cheeks probably hurt by every midday.

“Akiba-san. Good morning. I lost track of time. Please set the tray beside the table.”

“Of course.” She lowered her head.

She didn’t begrudge him his leisurely morning, but it wasn’t like him to lose track of time. He was so steady and mindful. As the Sanada heir, though, he probably had responsibilities she was ill-prepared to even imagine.

She kneeled to set the tray where he asked, and moved the cups a bit apart so nothing would be knocked over when it was time for him to share the food and drink with his guest. She wondered who he would be hosting here. She had never been to this room, a private library, she guessed. It was a small space, so the meeting was probably going to be with someone he trusted. There were only two cups, of course, and the refreshments were high-quality but minimal. She rolled her eyes at the chattery thoughts; honestly, it was like she brought the voices of the kitchen with her whenever she left.

“Akiba-san.” He’d come over to stand behind her. How had she not heard the rustling of his clothes? The fabrics were rich and heavy. She knew they made noise. She must have been very caught up in her speculations on what he was going to do with what she had brought to him.

Since she knew he was standing just behind her, she did not turn around. It would be an untoward closeness, to have her face at that level. She remembered quite specifically from other encounters that her eyes were hip high on his body when she was kneeling. She blushed, unable to help feeling like Yukimura when he realized intimate possibilities of… anything, really. The next time she wanted to tease him, she would remember this and keep her thoughts to herself.

“Yes, Nobuyuki-sama?” Her voice was steady, despite her embarrassment. She was getting better!

“What is on your wrist?” he asked.

Was that frostiness in his voice? Was she not supposed to be wearing them? Akiba frowned at her incomplete understanding of how things worked here.

“Bracelets from Yukimura, milord. I… I’m sorry, if I am not supposed to wear them. I didn’t think.” Her fingertip traced the curve of one of the dainty bands gingerly as she answered him, sad to think of taking off the gifts so soon. The enamel of one was bright red like Yukimura’s war clothes, and the other was just the otherworldly color of his eyes. Sasuke had cheerfully let it slip that morning that Yukimura had ordered them made for her. Imagining Yukimura having thoughtful treasures commissioned just for her made her feel like she was standing in warm sunshine. He was so good, but he was also so green, and she knew something like that had taken real effort from him. She loved him fiercely, even when it occasionally felt as though she was more worldly, even though that was completely untrue. Still, Yukimura was good, and brave in so many ways. The bracelets represented the breadth of his heart and were already very precious to her.

“Of course you are supposed to wear such precious things,” he said cordially. Ah, the smile was there in his voice. And of course he understood her feelings about the bracelets; that was like Nobuyuki, to see and recognize the implications of what he saw. She felt tension release in her jaw and shoulders. She stood up, and turned to face her brother in law. Akiba had to angle her face to meet his eyes, but this was considerably more appropriate than looking up at him from below his waist.

"Thank you, Nobuyuki-sama.” It felt like they were sharing his understanding, in on a secret together. Her face felt a bit silly from the smiling but she could not seem to bring her cheeks down.

His own smile was steady as ever. He waved a hand, gracefully, dismissing her earlier concerns.

“Is there anything else you need, milord?”

His head tilted slightly. He regarded her without criticism, and without giving her any clue as to his thoughts. After a long minute, he said “No. Thank you.” Something about his smile might have been stiff as he said it, but when she looked closer his face was in its usual agreeable grin.

So she bowed, and left the room.

“Nobuyuki-sama, I’ve brought the sake you requested,” she quietly announced. It had taken her a few minutes to even find this room, and she wondered if he might be trying to help her improve her knowledge of the castle by asking to be served in such a variety of places. Or toying with her. Both seemed possible.

“Excellent. Come in.”

As soon as she slid the door open, she recognized the peppery, sweet smell of lavender. She had learned from the gardeners that he liked it and had it grown as long into the year as possible. Given that it was solidly fall now, she was surprised to see a vase stuffed with fresh flower stalks just beside the doorframe. It made her smile.

She set the tray down a respectful distance from him and went back to admire the flowers. It had been a long day, but she expected a moment or two in Nobuyuki’s presence would refresh her, just as his lavender was doing. He was so refined. That evening at dinner she had admired the graceful way he ate. His hands on his chopsticks so sure, every bite precise but effortless, no spills, his sleeves somehow avoiding every dish. His courteous nods to her, and to the kitchen staff, and to all the retainers in the hall. She was a little lonely, missing Yukimura’s own pleasant nature. And his warmth, especially at night. He was supposed to be back within the week. Saizo and Sasuke were gone, too, and several of the retainers she was getting to know. Everything seemed quieter. It wasn’t unpleasant, and honestly there was so much to do in a household in the fall, both as Lady Sanada and as Akiba who was still allowed in the kitchens, that it was helpful to be preparing fewer meals. She suddenly remembered that she needed to do some tidying before bed if she wanted to remain in the cook’s good graces, and prepared herself to go. She couldn’t help touching one of the vibrant flowers before she left.

“Is there anything else I can bring to you, milord?” she asked as she rose from kneeling. At this point, she knew to expect he would be closer than he was when she’d turned her back to him. Sure enough, he was right there. But how had he gotten up, and over to her, without making a sound? Was Saizo teaching him? She believed he had his own Saizo, but had never seen or heard the ninja. Naturally.

“Hmm,” he mused. His ever-present smile widened. And then, fast as a viper, he grabbed her wrist.

“Nobuyuki-sama?! Are you alright?” Had he staggered? Had he been poisoned? His hand was hot.

“Dearest. Don’t fret. I am ‘alright’. There is something you can bring to me.”

Her smile felt weak, and her pulse felt fast. “Of course, milord.” Her voice wavered. This was so unlike him. “What is it that you need? The food is back in the kitchens, of course…”

“I need,“ he said, his face coming close to hers, "you.”

The hair on her arms raised. This was uncomfortable teasing, even from him.

“Nobuyuki-sama,” she tried, pulling her wrist back. He did not let go. “I’m not sure what you mean. But I am happy to go back to the kitchen and get you what you need.”

“Sweet girl.” His other arm went around her, pulling her against his body. He continued to smile. “What I need is right here, Akiba.”

She was in shock. This was her brother in law! She had observed before that there was a bit of disregard for the rules in his nature, but this was beyond inappropriate. She was so unsure how to respond that the voice protesting this treatment in her head was minimal, and she did not fight him. She did not push him away or scream or run. She did not try to get him to admit this was a bit of fun at her expense. Akiba could do little more than blink and breathe, and it felt like any moment her body would give up. Or he would give up the joke.  

He brought her hand to his mouth. She watched, feeling the confusion wrinkle her forehead. She didn’t dare slap him, did she?

“Darling,” he murmured against the flesh of her palm, “you must relax. You are safe.”

Safe?!

“I am going to cherish you. This will only happen once. I will not hurt you.” He punctuated these declarations by kissing the inside of her hand. Her nervous brain seized on the effort of trying not to gawp, since she could not seem to hold on to any other thought.

“You are so loved here,” he said gently. He looked up from her palm to meet her wide eyes. “By everyone. You are innately good. I am hungry for something good that can be mine.”

He turned her around so fast it felt like she had been whirled in a dance. Now her back was to his front. Her whole body felt frozen, and her hands were useless at her sides.

His own hands were sliding down the sides of her body. He stopped at her hips and squeezed. Not so hard it would hurt, but hard enough to brook no argument.

“You are what you can serve me. I will never take your goodness for granted.” Nobuyuki began to move his fingers up and down in tiny lines, massaging the front of her thighs. His tongue touched just behind her ear, and she whimpered. She was an insect in a web, a rabbit in an inescapable snare. The sense of doom made her feel overpowered. Her thoughts remained stuttering and unclear.

“But. I will have that goodness for my own. This once.” Her lips were quivering. She tried to speak and failed. A small, inarticulate sound came out of her throat. Her husband’s brother put his arms around her waist and pulled her back the last few centimeters to his body. He kept her there as his cheek rested atop her head and his hand moved to stroke her arm. It would have been comforting if this had been any other circumstance. “Shh, darling, shh. I would never hurt you.” Akiba needed to protest. But she still could not speak. Her breaths were quick, tiny huffs and her throat and lungs would not cooperate with her knowledge that she should cry out, to shock Nobuyuki out of this extremely strange behavior, to break the spell of this joke, to try to alert someone to help her. “You have lain with Yukimura?” His voice was very steady as he put the question to her. She colored deeply and nodded, expecting that she would still be unable to speak. Maybe he just needed to know this, perhaps there was some regard for his brother that would make her answer make him stop, maybe… She did not want to think it of him, but nobles could be strange—maybe he just wanted to bed a virgin?   But he did not let her go. He sighed as though relieved, and gently pressed her against his body. She could feel him, smell him. Nobuyuki’s body was less muscular than Yukimura’s, but they had the same broad form. Despite the very different ways they lived day to day, they even smelled a bit like one another. Incense, she realized. It must be in their clothes.

“Good. I’m not doing these things to tease you. This is selfish; all for me. I have coveted you since I met you. My desire is not to hurt you or your spirit in any way.” “Then why?” The words were out of her mind and her mouth at the same time. She could speak! Sort of. Her question had sounded desperate, fearful and breathless. “I’ve been thinking on that. Your resiliency is impressive. I believe you can withstand this. I know that I can have you once and let you go.” “I am not yours to have,” her voice was firm but tears were spilling from her eyes now. She felt cold and hot all at once, discomfited as she had never been before. “No?” he breathed at her ear, easing his hand under her kimono above the swell of her breasts. Akiba could feel the warmth of his fingers through the nagajuban. Even as her breath hitched, she tried again. “No. Nobuyuki, I am your brother’s wife. I love Yukimura. We are happy. P-please. Don’t.” His hand stilled. His whole body stilled. She worried he might hurt her then, this man she had thought she knew so well, but his voice came out warm and benevolent. Normal. “Akiba, I know exactly who we are. Close your eyes, darling. Pretend that I am Yukimura, if that helps you. I won’t mind.” She could feel her mouth quivering, but the pitch of his voice at her ear made her close her eyes just as he bid. And she did not protest further.  “Is there something that you like…? I know your neck is sensitive, and your waist.” Yukimura. It was Yukimura asking her this question. He wasn’t leagues away, he was right here. She took a deep breath and pictured his dear face, looking down at her with wonder and regard. Together they were discovering what they liked, happily learning each other with each coupling. But the silly thing still needed reassuring, sometimes. “M-my hips.” She cleared her throat and raised her chin, keeping her eyes closed. “My breasts. My wrists. Holding. Gentle squeezes. I don’t… I don’t like to be hurt.” “It is an even worse man than I that would hurt you, Akiba.” She kept her eyes closed, but tears seeped out anyway. She could feel the warmth of the path they followed to her chin. Solemn, resigned. Her crying was silent and felt residual, more from stress than fear of the unknown. Somehow she had skipped past being frightened to be stoically passive. “Brave woman. A stalwart warrior’s heart,” he murmured. He sounded impressed. Akiba stiffened and opened her eyes, even though her back was to him and she could not see his face. If she could, she would have looked at him askance. She had learned a few things, but she was no warrior. If she was, she would have fought her way out of this position.

“I do think so,” Nobuyuki said through a smile. “There are many ways to fight. Endurance is one. I can see why you and Yukimura adore each other. Your resolve is admirable. And then there is…” he trailed off, his hand lowering inside her clothes, to cover the curve of a breast. “…The rest of you.” The end of that thought sounded slightly husky.   Unbidden, she realized she should be flattered. She was flattered. This was simply not an appropriate way to be flattered. She felt appreciated, but wrong. His hands were warm on her body. The one at her side held her to him. The one at her chest flexed, as though he were testing the weight of her breast. He was practically wrapped around her.

“Gentle here?” Nobuyuki asked, pressing against her chest lightly.

She waited.

He waited longer.

She nodded her head, once, quickly as she could. Still above her nagajuban, his hand went further into her kimono, all the way across her breast. And then he slowly, so slowly, brought his hand back to the center of her chest, pressing his fingers lightly into her skin along the way. Her breath hitched, and she shuddered. He repeated that movement, moving his fingers just a bit to never quite trail over the same parts of her breast on the following pass. She shook every single time. His lips pressed soft kisses to her cheek. One of his fingers put extra pressure on her nipple and she drew in a noisy breath. Her traitorous body was beginning to warm. He smiled against her face.

“An exquisite sound, that. We are quite alone. You may make all the noise you like, darling.”

Something about his surety made her sag in his arms. She realized she could not escape this. Deep inside her heart, she began to steel herself for what was to come. Her life had prepared her to resist fatalism whenever possible, but this was an extraordinary circumstance. She knew it was going to happen. “Would you like to sit down?” His solicitude in the midst of this made her head swim, and it made her frown. “…Yes,” she said, finally. She did not trust herself to stand. She did not trust herself at all. He slid his hand out of her kimono and took her wrist. He walked them behind a screen. Plush bedding was laid out on the floor, and one small covered lamp cast warm, steady light. An alcove held a beautiful vase with stalks of feathery grass artfully placed within. Nobuyuki sat down with no ceremony and softly pulled at her until she kneeled. She stared into the light of the lamp, no longer crying but feeling heavy with dread. He sat with his legs crossed, facing her. His other hand found hers, and he began to trace whorls on the inside of her wrists. She fidgeted, feeling warmer.

Of course he was getting to her; she had told him exactly how to do it.

“Would it be better, do you think, if I took you roughly?” he asked. “Would it be easier for you to not be thinking about this?” His question was asked so courteously, so earnestly. He did not sound like his usual bemused self. She pulled her eyes away from the lamp to look at him, because she was a fool. His expression was unguarded, gentle. He wasn’t smiling. He was looking at her with infinite concern and patience. She remembered so many times when he had taken up for her, teased her out of sadness or worry, and treated her well. She looked at his face, trying to puzzle him out, for a long time. It helped her get closer to calm. She shook her head. But there was something she needed to know.

“After this… what?” Of course he had an answer for her right away.

“I would like us to return to our regular lives. I will treasure this memory all of my days, but I will never proposition you again, and never tell a soul. You may do as you wish. If you would like to make your household elsewhere, I will quietly help make that happen. I will not trap you beyond this night, in any way. If there is more that you want, you may name it.” He looked so much younger. Vulnerable. It was like he was trying to convince her without trickery, despite… all his trickery. He looked like his brother, without the blush. 

“Can I trust that you will do what you say? Not hurt me, not do this ever again, not use this to hurt Yukimura?” “Yes.” And she was a fool ten times over, because she saw his face, looking hopeful, and heard a helpless catch his voice, and believed him. Akiba knew it might all be artifice he’d perfected to mislead people like her, but she believed it. She believed him. She nodded.

The part of her heart that had calcified minutes earlier softened. But she would not go without him knowing that she saw him, and that behind the goodness he wanted there were eyes that saw and a brain that worked, and she was not—totally—fooled by him.

“You planned this. I do not appreciate your machinations." She saw something in his brow flicker a bit at her words, and she realized he seemed excited to have been called on his scheming. Had no one ever challenged the way he played people? If someone had checked him before tonight, would the two of them even be here?

“But I recognize that I have limited power here. If you will do as you say, then… continue. If you do not, I will see you poisoned. And I will tell Saizo. In some order.” He beamed at her, delight incarnate, and nodded. “Yes. You clever, brave beauty. I will do as I have said.”

Feeling abstractly soothed that things were now plainer between them, she closed her eyes once more and took a steadying breath. She pulled her hands free and reached for the bow at her back. Best to get through this now and process it later.

“May I?” he asked. She nodded and brought her hands to her lap.

He rose to his knees and moved in front of her. His sudden embrace surprised her; he held her tightly and whispered just beside her ear. “I promise. I love you, I will never hurt you. I will never make you do this again. I would never hurt Yukimura.”

She sighed in his arms, feeling that their strange dynamic had somehow inverted.

Nobuyuki straightened, and his hands made quick work of undoing the knot of her obi. He pulled one end of the fabric until it was gone from her body completely. Her kimono and nagajuban went slack across her chest without the obi holding them closed. A swath of her body felt the mild chill of the evening air.

“So lovely,” he praised. “You are autumn made flesh, warm and beautiful.” His poetic commentary made her blush. She did not need Yukimura to craft fine phrases for her to love him, but it was objectively nice to be admired by someone with the depth of culture to do so.

Nobuyuki moved to her shoulders, where he took the collars of her robes in his hands. He eased them down her arms, taking in the sight of her body with widening aquamarine eyes. He let the kimono fall to the floor behind her back before pulling the remaining fabric from her knees and pushing it to the floor as well. And then he just looked at her, clearly pleased with what he saw.

“How does he ever leave you?” he wondered aloud, cupping a breast in each hand. At that question, she had to smile. She was not a warrior, but she had strength. And Yukimura, if indirectly, had taught her to use it. Talking about him would help.

“He leaves for you. And me. For the glory and safety of the Sanada.”

She could see from his face that he loved Yukimura, too. Somehow, despite where and how they were, that also helped. She could not decide if this meant she was capitulating to Nobuyuki entirely, but she hoped not.

His hands on her breasts were tender. They rubbed gently, in ways she liked and in ways that were new to her. He plucked at her nipples, never pinching too hard. Eventually she was unable to resist the urge to push forward into his touch. His right hand moved around to her naked back and he brought his head to a breast, suckling at her, pressing her skin. She only realized when she felt the texture of his hair that she was weaving her hands through it. She told herself to focus on the feeling. She would use him, too, lonely little lord with too much time and too clever a mind.

His hand came back, and he played her body like a master musician. Before long her head was thrown back, and she was moaning and rolling her hips towards him from her kneeling position. Nobuyuki kept at it. At one point he was rubbing one of her nipples with his thumb and tonguing the underside of her breast where it joined her ribs, humming. His other fingers drummed around the other breast. Why, precisely, had such a skilled lover put forth all this effort for a night with her?

After playing with her body a few moments more, he drew back. His hands began to untie his own clothing, moving in ways that looked oddly dispassionate. She felt her eyes narrow as she watched. “Do you want me to do that?” she asked. Her voice was even steadier than she had hoped it would be and she felt a tiny thrill of triumph. He smiled at her. “Don’t trouble yourself. But I admire your nerve.”

The rest of his clothing was pulled off and tossed aside. To think she had been impressed by his manners only a few hours ago. His body was lean, but had more muscle than she expected. Her eyes fell from his chest to his—oh. Oh dear. There went her admirable nerve. He chuckled at her again, and her eyes whipped up to his, frustrated. His smile softened and she frowned at him but then relaxed. What was the point? Nobuyuki took up her hands again and kissed both palms. He placed them gently on top of her lap. She watched as he reverently brought a hand back to her body. She thought he would touch her breasts again, but his palm landed on her stomach, fingers down.

“Our hope is in you,” he said quietly, looking where his hand rested. On another day she might have blushed further, but she knew that he was speaking the truth, whether Yukimura’s seed was already growing in her body or not. She herself was hopeful but could not be sure for another week or so.

His hand slid lower. She fretted at her lip, feeling anxious again. Why had her sudden bravery deserted her just as quickly as it had come?

“What do you like here?” he asked. His fingers were edging into her curls, slow but insistent.

She had been bold earlier, but was not ready to articulate what he was asking for. She grabbed his wrist with both hands instead and took a deep breath through her nostrils. Their eyes met. He nodded.

Akiba slid her own hand down to cover his, and spread her thighs. She took his hand to the bundle of nerves and rubbed in a slow circle. She dipped his fingers to her slit and brought them back up between her folds, already slick. Nobuyuki was a quick study, and when he was touching her properly without her help, she brought her hands up so she could tease both breasts at once. Yukimura always went a little wild seeing her do this as he coaxed her body.

Nobuyuki’s labored breathing and quick glances from her chest to her face made it apparent Yukimura was not the only one who liked the sight.

She pinched her nipples, relishing having hands to do this while she was touched just as she would touch herself. Then there was pressure at her entrance. One of his fingers. Then his voice, somehow sweet: “And…?” “Mmmnnnnnyes!” Her answer was a hiss, eyes shut tight. She pinched harder and grit her teeth as he pushed that finger inside. Her blood began to sing a dangerous melody in every part of her body, especially where his finger crooked within her. He was still circling her clit, applying exactly the pressure she had shown him. Another long, pathetic sound came out of her mouth as he withdrew the finger and then eased it back into her.

A hand behind her neck pulled her face to his. It was not to the kiss she was expecting, but to his open mouth, covering hers. She realized what he wanted and let herself moan into him. His hand went into her hair and he groaned into her mouth in turn. The fingers at her scalp pressed, massaging roughly, while he slid another finger inside her body with the first. He swallowed her broken cry. And then he consumed every one of the sounds that followed as he fingered her, steadily, crooking those fingers just so, taking her to that peak. She was squeezing her nipples hard and quick, trying to make him go faster. Ever observant, he caught on and sped up. She could feel the tension rising, rising, right along with the pitch of her voice between their faces. Her thighs were shaking.

And then she tumbled over the edge, and she fell and fell and kept falling. He slowed but did not stop. The hand behind her head moved to her back to keep her upright. His fingertips twitched up inside her again and her legs shuddered anew. Her own fingers rubbed her breasts lazily, riding out the sensations as she came down.

“That was magnificent to watch,” he said softly at her ear. All she could manage was a comfortable “Hmm.” She was glad of the hand at her back or she might have collapsed. He was bringing his fingers out, and her eyelids finally opened as her body clenched on the emptiness he left.

Akiba watched as he brought his hand to his mouth and licked the fingers and palm clean, humming at the taste. It was erotic but elegant. She supposed that was how she would view him from now on, if she didn’t have to see him dead.

When he was satisfied with his hand, he used it to push her back onto the bedding, lowering her with his other arm still behind her. Once she was settled, his fingertips moved to skim the curves of her body, the light touches waking her up from the pleasant drowsiness and making her feel warm despite the nip of late evening in the room.

Nobuyuki moved his body between her legs. She felt his cock, rigid and hot, against a thigh. Since his hands had been on her, she knew he had not touched himself. So she smirked, knowing his arousal was from her body, her words, her sounds. She would think about how wrong her pleasure in that was later.

His forearms rested on either side of her head. His torso pressed to hers, making her breasts tingle as they absorbed his body heat.

“I love you,” He said. She opened her eyes and cocked a brow at him. This was a very unorthodox way to love someone. Actually, she realized, to him it was probably as orthodox as it could be. He trusted practically no one and wouldn’t allow a casual observer to see beyond his smile or his calm to become more intimate. This might be the only way, for someone like Nobuyuki. It didn’t make what he was doing okay, but it did soften her heart further. What was going to become of this man?

He looked so different without a smile. His lips curved up from habit but there was no mirth in his expression. His gaze was desperate, and it looked foreign on his face. “I love you,” he repeated firmly. “I’m not sorry.”

Without guidance, he brought the head of his cock forward, touching where his fingers had been. She was so sensitized a tiny moan escaped her. And then he slid in.

In.

In.

She felt her mouth become an “O” as she took in a shuddering breath. She breathed out a quieter sound and listened to his own gaspy breathing, the lack of elegance in it giving her another small thrill. Nobuyuki’s body was rigid, and she could feel the muscles of his arm under her fingers. Did he hide these on purpose, like he hid the darkness he was capable of? Did he do it to lull the people around him into thinking he wasn’t as dangerous as he was?

He was longer than Yukimura, and more slender. The tip of him was pressing against something deep inside her body, just shy of painful. She recognized the sensation; sometimes Yukimura surged against that part of her with his quick, deep thrusts when he sought to come quickly to join her after she reached her completion. But Nobuyuki stayed right next to that spot, a constant pressure. It made her close her eyes and curl her toes. And raise her hips slightly. For more, and then less.

She felt him kiss her forehead. He groaned, hovering just above her face. He drew back his hips and then pushed into her again slowly, returning to exactly where he’d been. “You feel perfect,” he said, and she knew from the vindication and wonder in his voice that he meant it.

He lifted her arms over her head, clasping her wrists in one of his hands. One of his fingers caught the bracelets. The little ring of their contact was delicate. “I helped him get these,” he told her softly. His voice was thick, but held no bitterness. He said it like he simply wanted her to know.

Ah. And she felt like she understood more, now. A new sense of the three of them and how their lives were entwined clicked into place.

“Why would you do that?” she asked on a sigh, rising her body to him again to chase the friction his cock and hips provided. She knew the answer. But maybe he wanted to be teased as much as he wanted to be discovered in all his plots.

“Why indeed,” he breathed, moving his hand to her face. His length twitched within her. He was smiling again. A real smile. She was right about him wanting someone to tease him back. He cupped her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose. Then his hand slid down her body to her hip. His left hand, wherever it had been, went to the other hip, and he pressed his fingers into the flesh of her bottom and his thumbs into the front of her body. She flexed herself around him within her and he stilled. 

“What else do you like done to your hips?”

She thought she was done marveling at him forever, but she had to wonder how a question could be so demanding and deferential all at once. Master of a clan, she supposed. “Hold them while you push in. Keep us close,” she answered. And he did. She began to moan anew as he sped up. It was still languid; there was so much of him it took time to slide out and in. And every time he thrust, he put himself as far as he could go into her body, bringing their hips flush. He kept brushing that tender spot within her, like the oddly pleasurable sensation of poking a bruise. She writhed, but not to get away. He continued to hold her, to grip and squeeze the soft skin of her hips, and to murmur her name and call her clever and radiant as he pushed inside of her. 

Nobuyuki’s hands slid to her waist, where he handled her in much the same way. His thumbs pressed into the sides of her belly and his fingers felt like they nearly touched behind her back. He held her in place there as he fucked her with no apparent hurry, and the rising tension of her pleasure went up another notch.

She gasped, her lips trembling around the sound, as he pushed in and clutched her with his hands. Her body clenched around him again.

“So. Tight.” He gritted out. The observation was so flagrantly carnal that she moaned and squeezed herself, hard, around his cock once more.

His right hand moved from her waist to cup her thigh. He raised his eyebrows at her, seeking permission. She raised her own right back in challenge. Nobuyuki’s eyes narrowed, but she had not missed the feral pleasure that had flown across his face. Whether he was letting her see it or she was getting better at seeing, she wasn’t sure. He lifted her leg against his chest and held it there as he was drawing out of her. And then he slammed into her, hard. His moan mingled with her sharp cry. She arched her back and tossed her head, needing to move, needing to vent this feeling. She reached for him to pull his body closer.

“Are you alright?” “Yes. Go.”

“Of course,” he said, gliding slowly into her again. Then he pulled out and slammed back in. Then drew out and pushed back, so, so slowly. Nobuyuki caressed her face as he moved, and she could tell he was looking right at her even though she couldn’t keep her own eyes open. He was probably going to drive her insane and definitely going to make her come. “Close,” she hissed. And oh, the delicious throb of him inside her when he heard her took her right there—

“Who do you love?” He demanded through his teeth, his forehead rubbing hers, drawing his hips back, poised to crash into her again.

“Yukimura!” she cried as he did just that, her eyes shut tightly as she shattered around him.

“I know you do, darling.” He smoothed the hair at the top of her head, he palmed her breasts, he gripped her hips, he did everything. She could not keep track, it was all too hazy and she was making mindless breathy little cries as she came down. He was everywhere, and still moving within her, drawing every sensation out.

And then suddenly he wasn’t moving within her, and his body wasn’t on hers anymore. She just managed to keep herself from crying out by biting her lip, a needy sound making its way through her nose instead. She felt his hand on her thigh, and then warm, thick liquid splash onto her stomach and upper legs. Nobuyuki, on his knees between her legs, quietly moaned as he spent himself. She marveled at his body in her afterglow, especially those muscled arms, pulling his cock and seeing his pleasure to its end.

He moved outside her legs and fell beside her, breathing heavily. He gathered her into his arms. His come was sticky between them, smearing from her body to his, and she could feel her own wetness slipping out of her. He groped for his discarded kimono and pulled it over them, then resettled his arms around her.

“You are a jewel without peer, Sanada Akiba” he said quietly into her hair.

“I’m sure you tell that to all your brother’s wives, schemer.”

He laughed, a free sound, and touched her cheek. “I wish I had found you first. You are so much more than they will ever understand.” There was audible sadness, even though he was giving her the truest smile yet. It reminded her of what he had said about the bracelets. This was information that he gave her only because he wanted her to know, not because he expected her to change anything.

As their breathing slowed, she raised her head to look into his eyes.

“Why did you…?”

He knew what she was talking about, and had an answer for her right away. Of course.

“You should bear a Sanada,” he said solemnly, his free hand trailing down to rest low on her stomach. “But he should be my brother’s.”

Her heart swelled with tenderness for this man. She should hate him. But she did not.

After they had lain quietly for a few minutes, Nobuyuki got up from the bedding, taking his kimono with him. Her eyes followed his lean legs and backside as he took two sleeping robes from a chest, and brought them over to her with a bowl of water and a cloth. Without asking, he wet the cloth and cleaned her body. How water left untended all their time in this room could be warm, she did not know. But it was, so she stretched out and luxuriated in the feeling of the water cooling quickly on her body. His touch with the cloth was gentle and thorough. His hands did not stray from the task of cleaning her. She told herself not to think about whether she wanted him to or not.

He offered her one of the sleeping robes when he was finished. She put it on and tied the sash as she watched him clean his own stomach and thighs. The skin of his abdomen looked golden in the lamplight, soft over the hint of musculature. Then he shrugged on the other sleeping robe and his body was hidden by cloth. “May I kiss you?” he asked. The man was impossible.

“Only once,” she answered.

His smile was rueful. “I will save it, then.”

Kneeling beside her, he leaned closer to her face and took her hands in his.

“Thank you. I do not expect anyone will ever replace you in my affections. But I will never coerce you again, and I will never use this night to hurt you or my brother. ” She held his gaze until she was sure he knew that she knew. That he knew that she saw him. That ever-observing Nobuyuki was not immune from being noticed, himself. That she noticed, and remembered what he did, and perhaps understood him. Much better than everyone else, apparently, anyway. That she loved his brother. But that she loved the Nobuyuki who did not smile, too.

When she was certain they understood one another, she reached for his face and pulled him down to her kiss.

[never-relaxed]

On the Persona 5 translation

I’ve read a lot of extremely hot takes on the Persona 5 translation today. So many, in fact, that it’s difficult to address everything wholesale. To the their credits, the critics are both thorough & well-articulated, and their arguments are strong enough to get me thinking - strong enough, even, to kickstart me pushing out this writing blog I’ve been wanting to get off the ground.

I want to respond to the myriad of issues listed on the website being currently used as a sort of rallying-cry, http://www.personaproblems.com/ . It’s well-designed, and organizes the issues well. I’ll start at the top, then:

- “Yet no other form of media would ever get away with the number of errors found in Persona 5's English script.”

This is a very minor nitpick, but actually, yes. Other forms of media would, indeed, get away with any number of similar errors; viewers of foreign films, for instance, can tell you all about how perfect-world this sentiment is. Additionally, classic books aren’t retranslated for no reason; direct translation is not actually a Thing, and any translated work is going to display the biases, quirks, and language tendencies of its writer(s). This is why people learn dead or archaic languages just to read Cicero or Plato in the original text. It’s a bizarre claim, to say grammar issues are not a problem throughout other media. (Also, try reading a novel translated from a Slavic language, if you don’t like stiff dialog. Have fun.)

- “The baseline for any translation is this: readers of the translation should receive the same experience as readers of the original, as if the original creators had written it natively in both languages.“

If this is the writer’s goal when they go about their own work, it’s admirable. It’s also completely impossible. What does a “native” English speaker sound like? Are they American? British? Australian? Here’s the short of it: by translating a work in your own native tongue, you are co-authoring the piece. It is never, ever, going to be a 1:1 situation when facing down the realities of character limits, cultural differences, & even personal backgrounds. Some works get closer, some works get further, and it’s down to the writers to decide whether a strict or a loose translation better fits the text.

To a certain degree, the way we think - the actual way we formulate & process our thoughts - is influenced by language itself. If you ever communicate with folks who speak English as a second, third, fourth, or so on language - you’ll notice that, even when extremely proficient, they don’t just totally entirely lose the speech quirks that come with their parent language. Eliminating those quirks of speech already changes the context of the work. Is this a bad thing? No, not necessarily; but it’s presumptuous at best to believe yourself capable of understanding how another person would write “if only they were native” in your language.

- “Translation can be a murky concept, so first I'll define a standard to measure against: imagine if translation weren't necessary at all.”

I absolutely despise this. The assumption made is that any story could be told completely, and just as enjoyably, in any language, in any culture, without any change to structure. It is simply not how language works.

- “Translators do not convert words from one language to another: they convert ideas.”

Okay. Let’s keep this in mind.

- The entire “Why aren’t more people complaining?” section

This is one of the most bizarre, difficult-to-follow explanations I have ever seen. It makes totally weird assertions, such as the idea that people hold early, loose translations against current-day translators. That’s a really strange idea, considering the popularity of things like NA Kefka, or bounty-hunter-Samus. The truth is that if the translation was good back in the 90s, no one cared if it was inaccurate. Outside of Usenet, none of us really had a point of reference. The writer seems to have some sort of personal beef with Working Designs leaving Bill Clinton jokes in their work, or something. I am especially confused by the TV Tropes links here, and what they have to do with the point.

Cutting down on this section, we could just apply Occam’s razor: most people have no issue with the translation. 

- I’m not going to go through all the examples. There are some I think are silly, some that I haven’t seen yet, some that are definitely awkward.

One thing that does frustrate me about these examples - it’s noted by the writer that the script does a fine job of getting _the idea_ across. There are few, if really any, examples of the game actually failing to convey meaning. By the author’s own definition of what a translator does, the script succeeds. No, it doesn’t flow the way it would if it were written by an American. Translate dialog this way, and it sounds weird for English speakers elsewhere in the world. It’s a give and take - we don’t all speak the same English. “But these are factual errors!” is a really silly argument here; if they are, why isn’t this an issue for everybody?

- “Unfortunately, while it's possible for a translation to be stiff but understandable, stiff but accurate translations are pretty much a myth.”

I hate this idea, too. “If it doesn’t sound right in American English, it’s incorrect, & doesn’t get the idea across.” The other thing I really don’t like about this is the vast majority of dialog in Persona 5 flows very smoothly for native English speakers! The writer even seems to be aware of that fact, as I’ll address later.

- “It's definitely great to get to experience the cultural aspect of a piece of foreign writing. However, that foreign nature should be expressed by the text's content, not by the text's awkwardness. This goes back to creator intent. If the original creator were perfectly fluent in English, would they have made their writing intentionally awkward just so readers could feel how “foreign” it is?”

I really fucking hate this! How are you ‘expressing’ the cultural aspect of a text by eliminating the speech quirks of the parent language - is the implication that you intentionally add lines to express the character’s nationality? It really feels like ‘thing that detracts from my experience by taking me out of my personal cultural & linguistic comfort zone should be removed and replaced with, y’know, something.’ And that final claim! People who write in two languages - or speak fluently two languages - will very, very often include quirks, stiffness, or other eccentricities in their own personal English. If the author means “fluent in the brand of English I speak and write,” that’s extremely irritating!

- “Consider—how would readers react if George R. R. Martin released his next book and every third sentence was awkward, with every fifth sentence containing an objective error? Writing is hard, and his novels are long, after all.“

I wish this author had simply not written this blurb, I was so much warmer on the criticism beforehand. George R. R. Martin works in an entirely different medium, in one language, with years and years between each published work. The criticisms even this writer has with Persona 5 do not extend to “every third sentence,” “with every fifth sentence” containing some sort of grand, inexcusable error. People would be far, far more upset if this were actually the case. This comparison fails in every conceivable way, & is just outright ignorant.

- “One reason someone might use this defense is that they genuinely don't see a problem, because to them those flaws aren't flaws. And that's valid, so long as they accept other people's right to believe otherwise.”

I like this. I wish the author didn’t hide this at the end, behind all of the assertions of objective “failure” and “outright errors.”

- “I haven't listed every mistake in Persona 5, or even a substantial fraction of them. I've also been forced to focus on the translation aspect of localization, which means I haven't properly addressed other failings such as bad typography, untranslated images and video, and voiced lines that are unsubbed even when Japanese audio is enabled.1 Nor have I dedicated time to the sometimes strange handling of honorifics.“

The typography complaint is valid, though one of the pettiest things I’ve seen in awhile now, and the untranslated images are a series staple, but the honorifics thing HAS bothered me since P3. Just commit or don’t, guys.. Anyway, not much to say about this chunk. I just wanted to say, man that honorifics stuff can be weird (& has been for years).

Listen: If you take nothing else from this write up, understand that I have no issue with people disliking the P5 translation. That’s totally fine. My problem is with the concept of there existing a ‘correct’ English, or a ‘correct’ translation. My problem is with the repeated emphasis this writer, and others expanding on them, place on their definition of “objective” errors. The vast majority of the moments picked out by this writer are not selections of terrible grammatical errors - and I’d argue that it’s /completely fine/ for a couple of those to exist in a fucking video game - but of what the author calls stiff language. That is to say: Neither meaning nor soul are impaired by the P5 translation.

The reverence with which this author refers to the text - referencing how the translation has ruined one of the ‘greatest RPGs of the last ten years’ for them, and so on, so forth - speaks to a kind of pedestal-hoisting that does no good for anyone. For example, in the Sae moment detailed on the site from the start of the game, with the “psychic detective”; what makes the original so good? In Japanese, the detective says “There’s been a call for you” right before she receives a call on her cell phone. Is this not silly as all fuck? Why is it so much better? Why did Sae’s boss call the detective first, why didn’t he just call her cell phone if he had it the whole time? The English script changes the moment to make the detective seem aware that she’s about to receive the call - emphasizing that the detective and Sae’s boss are working together no one in the scene can be trusted, while also positing Sae as an outsider. Watch the scene again and see if you get what I’m saying. https://youtu.be/f3bVM2mxh4k?t=876

It’s super frustrating that a changes like this get flak from this writer, while the worldview being pushed is one of ‘capturing the spirit, not the words.’ It’s also frustrating that many of the game’s legitimate, real problems (that aren’t fucking, the font used to spell out ‘hello’ on a calculator, god damn guys it’s okay most people have done that before) are ignored - such as the constant battle chatter every time you hit a weakpoint in a game centered on repeatedly exploiting weaknesses, or the intensity of the writing game’s first chapter. The writing is held in extremely high regard, & the translation is being used to try to assert the truth of controversial axioms without actually needing to discuss said assumed “truths.”

I just want to leave with one assertion: There is no “correct” English. It’s okay for a text to sound awkward (especially in visual media) _with the caveat_ that it must get the spirit of the original work across. It’s all right, for sure, for a foreign text to challenge or disrupt the expectations of a native English speaker in its translation. In some ways (and not even all), Persona 5′s translation does this. Is it a perfect translation? No, no translation is. Do you have to like it? No. Should you respect the opinion of players who do (as well as ESL players & those abroad!) enough to avoid making sweeping, generalized statements about the failure of the script to appeal to your individual sensibilities, complete with long, detailed theories as to why other people don’t seem to mind? Please. _Please_. Honestly, y’all make this game sound like it’s Chaos Wars, or Arc Rise Fantasia. The hyperbole is unreal, and it simply needs to stop.