#can’t believe how much english has made me hate reading

[b1rdbra1ned]

Trying to mentally prepare for tomorrow but at this point i just want to not be here

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F! Reader - Part 8

a/n: heyy loves! if you’ve stuck around for all 8 parts, thank you SOOO much. writing this series and receiving so many kind comments and love has really made the past month and a half so enjoyable. i cant believe i’m concluding my first fic already!! it’s been so fun and i definitely want to write more. shoutout to my friend @avessss who encouraged me to start posting even though i was really nervous. i couldn’t have done it without her 💕 but anyways enjoy the last chapter! not sure when i will post next but until then… message me, give suggestions, etc!! love you all SOO much 💌

word count: 4.6k words

masterlist

playlist

warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, making out, language, angst for like one second, FLUFF, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

“A pint, please. Thanks.” You smile at the bartender as you slide forward five pounds. You stand and wait patiently, leaning against the bar as he shuffles away to go fill up a tall glass of beer.

You hear your name being said from next to you. You turn to see a familiar girl with olive skin and long, silky black hair. Your brain takes a few seconds to compute who it is.

“Sasha! Hey,” You grin and she smiles brightly. “Hi. I didn’t know if it was you or not,” She chuckles and you stand there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“How’s life?” She asks. “Uhh, good. Can’t complain.” You shrug as the bartender slides you the beer across the counter. You take a sip as she nods.

“Same here. Just a little terrified of the fact that we are going to be seniors in a year,” She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Me too, girl.” You nod in agreement.

“How was your summer?” Sasha asks. You let out a sigh unintentionally before fixing your facial expression.

“It was… good,” You nod slowly, almost trying to convince yourself. “I don’t know if you know but…There’s a rumor going around that you and Farleigh had somewhat of a summer fling,” She winces after she says this.

“Oh God,” You press a hand to your forehead and shake your head. “Who told you that?” You groan.

“I’m assuming it came from Felix. I’m not sure, but I just wanted to tell you…” She places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “If you ever need to talk or anything like that, let me know.” She says, her English accent soft and elegant.

She seems almost too nice. You’ve never seen Sasha like this, so it’s hard to believe.

“Thank you.” You dip your head and take another sip of beer. “I know I was never the nicest to you and we were never close, but I’m here for you.” Her hand falls from your shoulder gently.

“I think I was honestly just threatened by you,” She continues. You jerk your head towards her quickly and furrow your eyebrows.

“What? Why?” You scoff as if it’s absurd. “I always had this… gut feeling that he was in love with you or something. He would talk about you nonstop, about how much you annoyed him and how much he ‘hated you.’ I knew better,” She shakes her head.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry,” You feel bad, suddenly. Like you were the cause of their relationship problems.

“But that whole thing is over now,” You wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” You both giggle at her words.

“He is. I can see why you broke up with him,” You nod, feeling no remorse for talking about Farleigh this way. It’s all true. But you also know Sasha had a lot to do with the shitty parts of their relationship.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” She grins and holds up her hand, giving a tiny wave. “Yeah. See you,” You watch her walk away before turning back to your drink, grabbing it and heading to find an empty table.

You sigh, leaning down and fishing your textbook out of your bag. You still have four chapters to read before tomorrow. The first term of your junior year is kicking your ass, even though it’s only October.

Sooner or later, you see Felix walking through the entrance of the pub. You immediately crane your neck to search for any signs of Farleigh, since he usually follows Felix around. But thankfully, he’s not anywhere to be found.

You turn your attention back to your textbook, and when you glance back up, Felix is sitting across from you.

“Hey.” He smiles and you notice the cigarette between his fingers. “Hi. How are you?” You reply, not exactly in the mood to talk to him right now.

“Oh, you know. Just drowning in work,” He sighs and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back slightly.

“You and me both,” You chuckle lightly and close your textbook, knowing you won’t get anything read so long as Felix is here. He leans forward again and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“So…” He starts, trailing off. You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“Are you and Farleigh ever going to make up?” He asks suddenly. You cough, surprised by the abrupt question.

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t even try it, Felix.” You roll your eyes and he groans. “Please, we don’t even get to hang out much anymore because you’re avoiding him,” He whines.

“Then just… arrange a time to hang out with me when Farleigh isn’t there.” You grimace at the feeling of his name in your mouth. Felix facepalms. “C’mon. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but…”

“It sounds like you think you know what happened.” You narrow your eyes and he seems confused. “What?” He tilts his head.

“Lola told me you’re spreading rumors. Like, that Farleigh and I had some fling over the summer,” You explain, and he glances down like he’s been caught, before looking back up with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What, you thought no one would hear you two fucking at one in the morning? You guys were so loud, it’s like you wanted to be caught,” He chuckles and shakes his head. Your face burns beet red with embarrassment.

“I don’t judge you for it. I just didn’t expect it,” He says. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you go telling everyone about it,” You reply.

“I didn’t mean to. I told one person in confidence.” Felix says. “You know you can’t trust these people to keep things to themselves,” You shake your head in disappointment.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I think Farleigh really wants to talk to you.” He says, his tone persuasive and you immediately cringe.

“I’m not talking to him. Nothing will come of it,” You finish off your beer and set the glass on the table decisively.

“I just don’t want our friendship to be messed up because of this.” He says, sounding a bit sad. You look back up to him and see him glancing down at his lap.

“We’re good. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” It comes off harsher than you meant it to, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “I can’t just forgive and forget, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright, then. Just consider talking to him. I’ll see you later, mate.” He drums his fingers on the table before standing up and walking to the bar. You sigh and decide to pack up your things after checking your watch and seeing the time. It’s getting late.

You stand up and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walk out of the pub and down the cobbled streets while looking around and just observing the several groups of students, chatting loudly or laughing. The chilly autumn breeze tosses around crimson and golden leaves.

You go over your plans for the remainder of tonight in your head. You’re going to get back to your dorm, take a shower, then get the rest of your work done. That is, if you don’t procrastinate like you usually do.

You enter your dorm building and then stop in your tracks when you see him standing there, at the bottom of the stairs. It’s like you have a full body reaction to him standing in front of you, sending a chill down your spine and making your stomach churn. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at you. You step forward, walking up the stairs and completely ignoring him. “Can we please talk?” Farleigh calls your name.

“No, we can’t.” You respond, your tone harsh and bitter. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs behind you and you increase your pace, trying to get to your door and unlock it before he can catch up to you. But it’s no use, he’s already standing there behind you.

“Please. Just let me talk to you,” He begs. You shake your head. “Farleigh, I already know how this is going to go. You don’t talk.” You can’t even stand to look at him, even addressing him is difficult after all these months of not speaking.

“I’m going to talk. I swear. Please,” He pleads. “Fine,” You groan with exasperation as you unlock your door, although you’re sort of curious as to what he’s going to say.

He closes the door behind him and you go to sit on the edge of your bed after setting your things down and kicking off your shoes, looking at him expectantly. “Okay, talk.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Farleigh says, and it surprisingly sounds sincere. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you all these years. And those things I said at Saltburn, I didn’t mean any of it.” His voice is quiet and he looks down at the ground as he speaks. You blink a few times and take a moment to respond.

“Why would you say those things if you never meant them?” You ask, your own voice timid as you remember all the harsh and cruel words he said to you that one night.

“Did you mean it when you said you hated me and you wished we never met?” He fires back. You bite the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze as regret washes over you. “...I never said–”

“Yes you did.” It’s silent and the tension in the air is palpable. It seems like you’re both waiting for who is going to speak next, but you aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to apologize when you’ve literally hated me since the day we first met,” You chuckle sarcastically and shake your head. He falls silent, and when you glance back up to him, he looks nervous, like something’s on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s not… exactly true.” He mutters. “I never hated you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. That night at Saltburn, when Felix introduced us to each other. I saw you and I just felt… Something just came over me. I’d never felt it before. I mean, I was so captivated by you. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about you every second. And I was scared. I was so scared. So I was mean to you.”

He lets out a breath after his confession and you stare at him in disbelief. You’re barely processing anything he’s saying. Is this real? You feel like you should pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“And Felix never kept his friends around for long, so I knew I couldn’t get attached to you. I thought you were just passing by and that I would never see you again. But when you came back the next summer, then the next, and then you got into Oxford, I knew I was fucked.

“I just kept pushing my feelings down and instead of dealing with them, I was just… a bitch. I was trying to push you away and I was hoping that would get rid of my feelings. But it didn’t. And I regret it so, so much. I wasted all this time and I was being so stupid. I was just scared of love. I was scared of loving you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You swear you can see tears in his own eyes.

“What about Sasha?” You ask when you finally gather yourself. “Really? You don’t know why I dated Sasha?” He chuckles a bit like it should be obvious. You shake your head no.

“I just needed someone to distract me. I got with all those people to fill the void. I mean, Sasha and I’s relationship was purely based off of sex. And every single time, I pictured that it was you instead of Sasha. I would close my eyes and imagine it was you. I think that was the only way I was able to get off,” He laughs. Your eyes widen at his words and your stomach flips. So that was why he was always moaning like a bitch?

“So when we finally… I freaked out. It was getting too real, and so I pushed you away again. And I said some shitty things.” You blink and a few tears fall. You don’t even know how to describe how you’re feeling right now. So many emotions are building inside of you, and they’re so dense and heavy, you’re not sure how to comprehend them.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Farleigh seems to notice that you’re crying. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a fucking idiot,”

Before you know it you’re off of your bed, crashing into him and sobbing against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in a tight embrace and enveloping you in his warmth. Your shoulders shake as you feel all the emotions pouring out of you. He holds you like he’s never going to let go. You don’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers your name into your hair. “I’ll never do that to you again.” He continues muttering these things to you as you let him hold you, melting into the hug.

You look up at him and his brown eyes are illuminated with affection. Something about him is different. He’s softer, unlike his usual cold and teasing personality.

He gently moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, causing you to blush and smile softly.

“Why did we waste so much time when we could have been together?” You ask timidly, more of a rhetorical question. He sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Cause we’re stupid,” He chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t matter now. We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” He grins down at you and you smile against his hand that cups your face. He leans down and you tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow and sensual, like you’re both trying to savor each other for as long as possible, like you’re making up for all those years of fabricated hatred. You can’t deny that you missed his lips and the way that he kisses, the way his tongue licks into your mouth. He pulls away after a minute.

“But I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” Farleigh’s expression changes and his voice lowers to that familiar deep and gravelly sound. You can see the lust in his eyes and you feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“What should I do for you, baby?” His hands snake down to your hips as he lowers himself slowly to the ground until he’s on his knees. Your heart races and you feel chills racing across your skin.

He looks up at you and you swear your knees almost give out from underneath you just at the sight. “Far..” You giggle shyly and feel your face burn red.

His fingers fiddle with the waistband of your skirt, almost teasing you and waiting until you ask him to take it off. But after a moment he’s pulling it down gently, and you step out of it gingerly and nudge it to the side with your foot.

He groans and his hands roam up and down your thighs. “You’re so perfect,” He mumbles as he hooks your lace panties under his fingers and pulls them down as well, almost hurriedly this time like he’s just that eager to eat you out until you’re sobbing for him.

Without any warning or time to prepare, his mouth is already on you, tasting you passionately with his tongue and moaning, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You moan breathlessly, your hand reaching down to tangle in his curly hair for something to ground you, and he seems to like this. He keeps letting out these small, needy whines like he’s the one getting devoured.

Every swirl and flick of his tongue has you whimpering like you’re in pain, your legs feeling unstable and weak. He sucks on your clit and you feel two of his fingers already inching their way inside, curling inside of you deliciously. It’s all too much and your breath has turned into short, high-pitched, desperate huffs.

“Please- Shit, Farleigh,” The third finger he inserts draws a long moan out of you. You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you, with no drawbacks or regret looming in the future. When you think about how he just confessed his love for you, it only brings you closer to the edge of your beautiful release.

He laps up your slick, his tongue getting dangerously close to your entrance. You gasp for air as his fingers leave, only to be replaced by his tongue. You whine at the new feeling of his tongue deep inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. You feel your climax approaching, threatening to make you crumble and beg for mercy.

A deep and guttural groan leaves him as he continues fucking you with his tongue. “Far, I’m close-“ Your hand twists in his hair and you roll your hips against his face absentmindedly, almost like you’re stuck in a trance.

His tongue slips out of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Then, you’re gone. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re the only two people in the world right now, all your thoughts disappearing as that divine ecstasy shoots through your veins and melts your muscles and your bones.

He stands back up and takes you into his strong arms, cradling you as he brings you over to your bed, with occasional kisses along the way. You both pull away to tear off your clothes. You hurriedly pull off your sweater and your bra and toss them aside, hearing them land somewhere on the floor. Farleigh takes his own shirt off and his jeans, revealing that beautiful body you’ve subconsciously been dreaming of.

“Lay down,” You tell him with some sort of newfound confidence. You’ve never been on top before, but right now you want to pay him back and give him all that you have to offer.

“Mmm,” He hums in response, laying down on your small, twin-sized bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, feeling slightly nervous as his hands rest on your hips. You keep your hands on his chest as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling the form of him through his boxers.

He’s rock hard, and it only encourages you to continue to grind against him, rolling your hips smoothly and slowly. He whimpers and grips your hips harder, biting his lip. “Fuck, baby,” He moans, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.

You can’t wait anymore. You reach down and maintain eye contact as you slowly pull down his boxers, shuffling them down his legs.

It’s definitely intimidating, but you’re determined to ride him. He looks up at you. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands returning to your hips. You nod. “Yeah,” You reply before rising up on your knees and adjusting yourself before sinking down onto him.

You wince at the delicious pain as your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip, his hands guiding you further down his length. A string of curses leave his lips once his whole cock is inside of you. He definitely missed this.

You place your hands on his chest again as you begin to drag your hips back and forth. He whimpers and whispers your name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck-“ His grasp on your hips tighten and you can already guess that you’ll have bruises.

You rock your hips back and forth, creating a better pace for the two of you as he thrusts up into you. That pained look crosses his face again as you make eye contact. You’re completely enthralled by the sight of each other, a sheen of sweat forming on both of your foreheads. Your head falls back once you finally find the perfect angle that brings you such satisfaction, your jaw going slack. “Baby,” He begs, breathing heavily.

You feel yourself growing tired from the fast rhythm, and you slow down, still circling your hips on top of him. He seems to sense that you’re growing fatigued, so he flips the two of you over, switching your places. You’re dizzy and caught off guard, but you focus on his eyes as he takes over, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes.

Farleigh reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together and holding on tightly. He lowers his head to pepper kisses across your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. He brushes some hair out of your face.

“I love you,” He mutters, his nose rubbing against yours. Your eyes widen at his words and your heart skips a beat. You squeeze his hand weakly and grin.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you so much,” You tell him, and he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck as he moans desperately, his thrusts faltering. Your other hand rests on the top of his head, stroking his curls. You both finish at the same time, whispering each other’s names and more confessions of love. It’s meaningful, beautiful, and sweet. Something you’ve craved but never experienced. That is, until now.

He collapses next to you and eventually pulls out of you, causing you to grunt just a bit. You lay there, your legs entangled with his and his arms around you protectively. He pulls the sheets over the two of you and continues to kiss you slowly with so much passion and affection.

Farleigh pulls away and swipes the tears off your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You take his hand in yours once again and press your forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” You whisper with a cheeky grin. He laughs softly. “Really?” He responds sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“Really.” You giggle quietly and he presses another kiss to your cheek. “I would consider spending the rest of my life with you,” He shrugs nonchalantly and you can’t seem to stop smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

“You’d consider it? Woah, thanks,” You say with fake awe, gasping. “I’ve been considering it for a while, actually,” He mutters, running his fingers through your hair. “Have you?” You whisper, suddenly feeling sleepy. Everytime he holds you like this, it puts you right to sleep. You feel so safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm.” His other hand rests on the small of your back and you feel your eyelids growing heavy. “I love you, Farleigh,” You whisper. “I love you too.” He replies, and with that, you drift off to sleep, with no cares or worries in the world, now that you’ve finally solved your problems with Farleigh. You’re so glad you gave him a second chance.

The next morning you wake up to Farleigh pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his head in your chest and groaning. You yawn and glance over to your bedside table, checking the time on your alarm clock. 9:42 AM.

Shit. You forgot about your class. It started at 9:30. Oh well. You groan and let your head fall back onto the pillow, rubbing your forehead.You pat Farleigh’s head, his curls sticking out at awkward angles but still managing to look cute.

You shiver and reach down to pull the duvet over yourself. He stirs at your movement and eventually, his dark brown eyes open.

A grin immediately appears on his face as he looks at you, taking in your appearance. Thank God you hadn’t worn makeup the day before. You were in your natural state, besides the messy hair. He traces his finger along your jawline and you smile, tilting your head.

“Good morning,” He wraps you up in his arms again, desperate to be close to you. His voice is deep and raspy. You’ll never get tired of his morning voice.

“Morning,” You reply, snuggling up to him and breathing in his scent. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back soothingly.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about waking up next to you?” Farleigh asks. You giggle quietly. “Well, your wish came true,” You reply with a quick raise of your brows.

Suddenly, you remember what Lola said that one night at Saltburn as you think about you and Farleigh’s relationship over the years.

“Lola told me something a few months ago,” You start. “Mmm, and what was that?” He responds.

You inhale slowly. “She said that you were looking for me one morning and you came by our dorm, and you seemed very worried about me,” You smile at the thought, knowing what you know now.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I was always worried sick about you. Whether you got home after a night out, if you drank too much, if some guy took advantage of you…” He trails off and sighs.

“Really?!” You ask, gazing up at him in shock. “You’re so confusing,” You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head.

“Do you remember our first night at Oxford? The very first party we went to?” He asks. You nod. He fiddles with a strand of your hair.

“After our little… argument, I stayed away from you the rest of the night. But then it was getting late, and I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t know if you knew the way back to your dorm. When I went into the bathroom I found you passed out on the floor. Black out drunk.” He explains, his voice soft.

“Anyone could have found you, or taken advantage of you. So I picked you up and carried you back to your dorm and tucked you into your bed.” Your eyes widen as your brain registers his words. Lola never told you about that.

“And when we were talking that night on the steps outside at Saltburn when we couldn’t sleep, the first summer you were there, you fell asleep on my shoulder. So I carried you up to your room.”

It’s silent for a minute as you process this. Was it a common theme for Farleigh to carry you to your bed when you were passed out?

“I never knew you cared that much.” You whisper, reaching up to play with one of his curls. “I don’t think I knew, either.” He mumbles.

You kiss him, slowly and gently, smiling against his lips. He grins, breaking the kiss, before holding the back of your head and guiding you back to him.

And you really believe that in this moment, you could die happy. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. The hot August nights, the freezing December mornings, the summer days under cerulean skies. The good days and the bad days. You can’t even remember how it felt to hate Farleigh. Every single trace of dislike for him is gone, erased completely from your heart. All that’s left is a love too strong to comprehend.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

[exilepurify]

Reigen’s confession scene: original Japanese manga text analysis and translation

I had a ton of fun translating the Japanese text from the “no one will save me” Mob headspace scene and it’s fantastic practice, so I decided to personally translate the raws from Reigen’s confession scene and analyze that a bit.

More under the cut! (Very long :0)

Reigen: なんの力も無いんだ！— I dont have any powers!

持ってないんだよ！— None at all!

Reigen: 嘘… — A lie…

最初から嘘だったんだ… — From the start, it was a lie.

Reigen: ちょっと失礼。— Excuse me for a moment.

花粉症かな? — Hay fever, right?

俺はよく嘘をつく。— I lie all the time.

客にも… — To my clients…

Reigen: お前にもな… — and to you…

初めてお前が事務所に来た日… — That day, when you came to my office for the first time…

俺は嘘をついた。— I lied to you.

お前の悩みを知った気で相談に乗った。— I advised you as if I understood your struggles.

お前は俺を簡単に信じた。だから… — And you believed me easily. So…

お前を騙して仕事をやらせた。— I tricked you into working for me.

あの日から今日まで… — From that day, up until now…

Reigen: ずっと… — The entire time…

ずっと利用し続けてたんだ... — I continued to use you the entire time…

俺… — I…

本当は何も知らねぇんだ。— I honestly don’t know shit

Reigen: 超能力のこと… — about psychic powers…

Reigen: これが俺の正体だ… — This is my true self.

今まで師匠面してすまなかったな… — I’m sorry for acting like your master up until now.

だけど最後なんだ。もう少し言わせてくれ。— But this is the last time. So hear me out just a little longer.

Reigen: お前だけが特別な訳じゃない。— You’re not the only one who’s special.

ニ面性なんて誰にでもある。— Everyone has a second side to them.

これは今でも本当に思うことだ。— This is what I truly believe, even now.

皆お前と同じだ。俺も… — You are the same are everyone else. The same as me, too…

だからそんなに悩むな。— So you don’t have to worry so much.

いや… 悩むんでもいいか… — No… worrying is fine, too.

それもまた当たり前のことだ。— That is also a natural thing to do.

ここだけの話… 俺は隠してる自分の本当の姿が大嫌いなんだが… — Just between you and me… I absolutely despise the true nature of my secret self.

それとは別として相談所での日々は嫌いじゃなかった。— Despite this, I didn’t hate those days we spent at the consultation office.

俺には「嘘」があったからお前と知り合えた訳だし… — Because I had “lies”, I got to get to know you…

モブにもその「力」があったから… 今のお前があるんじゃないか。— Because you have your “powers”… you are the person you are today, right?

Reigen: えーと… Um…

要するにだ… — In short…

お前は… — You…

そのままでいい。— are fine the way you are.

もう俺がいなくても大丈夫だ。— You will be okay even if I’m not here anymore.

大丈夫。— You will be okay.

そろそろ受け入れてやれ。自分を！— Accept it a little at a time. Accept yourself!

お前なら… モブならそれができるって事を…俺は知ってる！！— Because it’s you…. Because you’re you, Mob, you can do it. I know you can!!

—————————

Notes:

- なんの力も無いんだ! — I dont have any powers!

Reigen uses a widely-unused kanji here, 「無い」 or “nai”. A.K.A, Japanese negation. It’s almost always written with kana (興味がない、続けない、etc). I imagine the kanji was included here for greater emphasis. Reigen does actually use another unused kanji later in this conversation though (事 instead of こと) so I also think there’s a case to be made for it being an intentional decision made to make Reigen’s speech patterns seem eccentric, but I would need to look at much more of his manga dialogue to confirm that.

- 本当は何も知らねぇんだ。— I honestly don’t know shit

Okay. He doesn’t actually use the shit word here, but cursing is a bit strange in Japanese because of how tone can be subtly indicated by verb form, something we can’t really do in English. Reigen uses a very casual, rude form of 「知らない」 that I think is most faithfully represented by a curse word. He’s obviously trying to put negative emphasis. The Crunchyroll sub put it as “I don’t know a damn thing”. I chose “I honestly don’t know shit” because it’s a bit less of a deviation from the raw dialogue.

- 今まで師匠面してすまなかったな… — I’m sorry for acting like your master up until now.

I thought the use of 「師匠面して」 was interesting. 「師匠」 is “Shishou/Master”, which is straightforward, but 「面」 is a kanji that means “mask, face, surface” and it’s basic readings are “メン/men”, “おもて/omote” and “つら/tsura”. Reigen uses a lesser-known reading and meaning of this kanji, so much so that ONE included furigana over the kanji to clarify the reading. 「面」 here is read as 「づら」and is used as a suffix to mean “looking like a…, acting as if a….”.

お前だけが特別な訳じゃない。— You’re not the only one who’s special.

「訳」 (wake) is my mortal enemy, because it’s a word in Japanese that’s so close to being a particle but isn’t a particle. It’s a word indicating a conclusion reached from personal reasoning or evidence, or circumstance, or meaning related to a situation. It’s abstract, so it can be a bit tricky deciding how best to translate a sentence it’s used in. Sometimes it is not directly translated at all, which is what I did here, taking it more as a subtextual indicator of context than as a word in the text itself. However, this is out of personal preference, and I would totally accept it being translated more overtly as “You’re not the only one with special circumstances.”

- ここだけの話… 俺は隠してる自分の本当の姿が大嫌いなんだが… — Just between you and me… I absolutely despise the true nature of my secret self.

Two notes about this one:

「ここだけの話」 is a phrase that directly translates to “this is a discussion for only right here”, but that would sound kind of weird to say in English, and it means the exact same thing as “just between you and me”.

「隠してる自分の本当の姿」 is a DOOZY. It’s a little clunky, but I think it fits for Reigen to be a bit dramatic with it. I sort of played around with it a little bit, but strictly translated, it means “my hidden self’s true form”.

- 大丈夫だよ。行こう。— I will be okay. Let’s go.

This happens in the scene where Mob and Shigeo accept each other (not a part of Reigen’s confession), but I included it for a good reason. This isn’t so much a translation note as it is a commentary on the manga, but I think I like the manga version of the scene just a little better than the anime, just for the “大丈夫” thing between Reigen and Mob. Mob’s referencing Reigen’s previous words, 「もう俺がいなくても大丈夫だ。大丈夫。」 — “You will be okay even if I’m not here anymore. You will be okay”, which are beautifully enhanced by the sudden panel of Reigen watching Mob in that moment with a small smile, silently reassuring him that it’s true. It’s such a small detail but it means so much to me, and I’m a little sad it wasn’t fully preserved in the anime. But, yknow how it is. Not everything can make it in.

[sukirichi]

SUKIII I DON’T KNOW WBAT TO FEEL ANYMORE ?!? i wanted a rintarou redemption but then i saw that ending, then it REPULSED ME omfg i love rintarou in general but i have sm anger for him afternthis HE’S SUCH AN ASS I CAN’T BELIEVE I WANTED A REDEMPTION ARC BEFORE READING THIS 😭😭

he’s making me so damn confused, like does he love yn, does he not? why’d he leave?? what is he going to do next?? WHY WONT HE WAKE UP AND SEE IRIS DOESN’T ACTUALLY LOVE HIM!?! like he already realized that but why won’t he leave her instead??? what is he going to do nEXT WHY IS HE SO ANNOYING UGH i cried real tears & i feel so bad for omiyn plsplspls now i js want their end game

though,, as much as i do want the omiyn ending i don’t think yn deserves to stay in the royal family or at least not suffer from it :(( she deserves sm better & i think suna has to do some SERIOUS groveling and... pagbabawi?? LIKE (im not sure what the english of bawi is) HE JUST NEEDS TO DO SOOOOOO MUCH to get me back on his side again ok !!

i’m sorry for this rant omg i have so much emotions after reading ch11 and this is some RAW reactions bcs i wrote this immediately finishing the update 😭😭 i love ur writing style so much, nothing has ever made me /feel/ much like your fics hshwhahqha ILY SUKI THIS IS WHY UR MY FAVORITE

no, i feel you!! its like you want him to do the right thing and stop messing up so redemption arc please but after everything he does, its like... would we still even support him once he’s finally doing the right thing? can he be given a second chance after all that? </3

also help, not all of us crying because of omiyn on that chap and not bcos of suna 😭 but on the last part though, he left and took off his ring because the way the princess looked at him made him feel like she hated him, so he thought he didn’t deserve to be her husband in that moment. n yeah i think pagbabawi is right (?) i am honestly the best at tagalog either bb, i’m sorry ahsjeqndwb. also gosh i AGREE like. i want omiyn ending so bad too but i can’t imagine how it’ll be if she stayed in the royal family. although... if she was married to prince kiyoomi, it honestly wouldn’t be too bad. omi’s already perfected the work life balance and lives a very private life + he’s rich even without his titles so... giggles, he’s perfect, yeah.

aaah please don’t apologize for the long messages or rants, i don’t mind! if anything i love love hearing everyone’s thoughts 🥺 and thank you so much for all the love on dtd, i’m going to melt from everyone’s sweetness 😭

[boldlyvoid]

Can you please write where Eddie really likes the reader but reader is dating Jason carver 😌😌😌😌

absolutely! i hope you like it

Warnings: mutual pining, bullying, abusive relationships, mental abuse, name-calling, slut shaming

word count: 1.7k

Jason used to be cool.

Not in the way most kids at school think he is now, no, he used to play pretend with Eddie and the boys in the schoolyard… he used to have an imagination and a kind heart and a strong arm to wield his imaginary sword side by side with Sir Eddie. 

Although, he doesn’t know how much of that was truly him or if it was all just one of the many faces Jason had. Their group was a lot bigger back then, back when they were forced to socialize with each other, they even had a lot of girls in their group. 

One girl, in particular, Y/N, who was now a cheerleader and Jason’s doting, perfect girlfriend. It made Eddie’s stomach turn to think about his wonderful friends becoming the people who hurt him the most now. Jason was so fucking mean, he didn’t understand how someone as lovely as Y/N could sit by and let it happen, which hurt him more. 

It didn’t stop his crush on her, unfortunately. She was still nice to him when Jason wasn’t around, she was his partner in Chemistry and she helped him with his English homework sometimes… but she still went back to Jason at lunch and kissed him in front of everyone and said nothing when he told Eddie to eat shit and die for no reason. 

There was a hatred on Jason’s part that he didn’t understand whatsoever, Eddie was valid for hating him back cause the treatment was unbearable. He’s been tripped, pushed, spilled on, yelled at, lied to, and about… people believed anything Jason said just because he was popular. The teachers loved him because he was a handsome, church-going, helpful man. He was a kiss-ass. A rich kid. A little bitch. 

Eddie was the opposite. Just by looking at him the teachers and the other kids decided that he was a bad kid. They thought that he was evil because he didn’t fit into the mould that society set for young men. They claimed he was going against the church for growing out his hair, wearing dark colours and reading any book that wasn’t the bible. 

They believed in boats full of animals, wizards that could part seas and turn water into wine and that killing gods son was okay because he could come back to life 3 days later… but the lord of the rings is too much???? It thoroughly pissed him off. 

Like clockwork, he has enough of all the shit-talking in the cafeteria and retreats to the back corner of the library to read his devil books and have a moment of peace. But it doesn’t happen. He’s barely in his spot for 10 minutes when Y/N shows up between the bookshelves and smiles at him like nothing happened. 

“Hey…” 

He ignores her even though his heart is screaming. He’s so mad that she can just sit there while her boyfriend says those things and then show up here. It’s not like she was going to apologize or make it right or anything. 

She walks over to where he’s sitting and kneels down beside him, trying to get his attention, she rests her hands on his arm but he flinches back. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Really, you have to ask?” He tries to keep his voice down but he’s so hurt. “your boyfriend is a grade-A cunt and I can’t fucking do this anymore.” 

Her shoulder slump and her face falls, “oh…”

“Oh?” He shakes his head, disappointed in her. “Why don’t you care? Why do you let him talk to me like that? Does he talk to you like that?” 

She shakes her head, “not really… I mean, it’s different but he is mean to me too.” 

“Why?” He stares into her eyes and watches them break, “why do you stay with him?” 

“I don’t know,” she cries, eyes welling with tears as she loses her voice. “it’s… it’s complicated.” 

He drops his book and cups her face in his hands, he hasn’t seen her cry since she was 11 and scraped her knee on the pavement. He held her like this back then too, he kissed her knee to make it better and he wiped all her tears… “what does he do to you?” 

“He doesn’t do anything,” he’s adamant about that. “It’s the way he talks to me… like— like I’m nothing if I leave him. Like he says I’m wasted goods and no one else will love me like he does.” 

“That’s a goddamn lie,” he’s stern but soft at the same time. “Cause that’s not love, I love you. I’ve loved you enough to watch you live your life from the sidelines and now I love you enough to tell you that you deserve better.” 

She doesn’t look like she believes it, she looks so defeated. “I don’t like what he does to you, I don’t like how he talks to anyone, really… I can’t just leave him. He’s not going to just let me go…” 

“Do you want him to?” He asks, “do you love him?” 

She’s confused and distressed, she’s never told anyone the truth let alone herself. She’s barely processed this on her own and now she felt like he was making her choose. “I don’t— I mean, I’m not sure? I don’t want to be alone.” 

Tears well again and she pulls away from him to sob into her hands. 

She really believes the shit he’s told her. Eddie can’t believe how deep he’s got his hooks in her. It breaks his heart to see her like this. He doesn’t know what to do, he knows he can’t change her mind in a matter of minutes, this is something he saw in his parents. His dad was a royal cunt, his mom a sweetheart, so of course, his words got to her. She was too soft for the world, Y/N was too. 

He reaches out to comfort her and she leans right against his chest. He wraps her up in his arms and kisses the top of her head, “I’m so sorry he’s made you feel like this. He’s not supposed to make you feel like this if he really loves you,” he whispers. “This isn’t how real love feels.” 

“This could be,” she mumbles against him. 

“What?” 

“This could be what real love feels like,” she says it again. 

“It could be,” he agrees. His chest filling up with a mixture of pride and anxiety, “I’ll tell you right now, I’m never going to treat you like he has… and if I ever even slightly make you feel unloved you have the right to knock some sense into me.” 

She laughs a bit, “okay… do you think we can do it?” 

“Do what?” 

“Make it through whatever he’s going to put us through… I mean, once I dump him the slut shamming with start and then the bullying will escalate and god knows what else. I might even be kicked off the team for breaking the abstinence pact.” 

“What?” He had no idea that was a thing. “Does the basketball team have one too?” 

She shakes her head. “That’s fucked up. If you get kicked off then Jason should too…” 

“No, he’s going to tell people that I fucked you,” she explains better. “Not that he took my virginity, he’s going to say I’m such a sex-crazed whore and couldn’t get it from him so I went to the freak. I’ve been with him long enough to know what he’ll say.” 

“I’ll break both his hands he’ll never make another fuckin basket again,” Eddie basically growls. He’s seeing red at the mere idea of Jason carrying on his bullshit but directing it toward her. 

“And go to jail,” she reminds him. “I quite like having you in my classes and not behind bars.” 

“We could just not tell anyone?” He suggests, willing to be her dirty secret to keep her safe. 

She shakes her head and holds him tighter, “um, no,” she sounds offended. “If I get to finally touch you all the time I’m taking the opportunity.” 

She was clingy… he was going to love this. 

“When can you dump him?” He wonders, wanting to know exactly when he can ask her out…

“Now,” she takes a deep breath as she pulls away. “Come with me?” 

She hauls him up to his feet and straightens out his jacket, looking up into his eyes with a smile. “You get to be my bodyguard.” 

“As long as I can keep the title,” he compromises. 

“Of course,” she takes his hand and leads him out of the library. 

She doesn’t drop his hand until they reach her locker, where Jason is standing with his friends… his own locker was right beside her’s after all. 

“What the fuck is this?” He points to Eddie, “the freak needs a tampon?” 

“Eat shit, Jason,” she spits back. “I’m tired of you bullying my friends. And I’m tired of the shit you say to me. I don’t want to date you anymore, I’m not sorry.” 

He lets out a shocked laugh as the rest of the kids around him oo and ah at the situation. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I don’t like how you treat me—

“How I treat you?” His voice gets louder. “I deserve a bit more respect and then maybe I’d—

“Hey man,” Patrick places his hand on Jason's shoulder and pulls him back. “She’s not wrong. You’re not the nicest to her, let her go. She can make that choice.” 

“Yeah, let me go,” she gives him an evil grin. “Have fun finding someone who can put up with your shit as long as I did.” 

He doesn’t say anything after that, he just shakes his head in a fit of burning rage and heads off down the hallway. She turns to her fellow cheerleaders who were all whispering to themselves, “I don’t care who dates him next, just don’t come crying to me when he’s belittled all the self-worth out of you.” 

She grabs her things from her locker and hands them to Eddie, “can you take these for me? I need to go ask the office if I can move.” 

“Just use mine,” Eddie offers, taking all her things gladly. “It’s not like I do.”

“Okay,” she gives him a sweeter smile, looping her arm under his and making their way down the hall despite all the prying eyes. 

They’d just have to get used to that. 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @wroteclassicaly @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @eddiemunson-rp 

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie 

[emerson-grimes-apologist]

Is it me or do I think (or theorize) that almost all the women in candle cove are all a reminder or ATLEAST symbolize Janice's girlhood, or just anything relating struggles about being a woman. Mostly because of their roles and personality and such, especially in a male-dominated world and practices such as piracy.

You got Janice, who is pretty much a typical girl, who is the embodiment of innocence, curiosity and guilt (for something she did not mean to do as in her mom died giving birth to her) and who is traumatized from her sister, Melrose. Melrose is GREIVING because of a female parental figure being lost in her life. She could be an embodiment of impulse since her only hobby is bullying Janice without thinking "would this hurt her feelings?". She is confident in doing this to her thinking it would make everything better, but it didn't, it only made everything worse for her and Janice.

Now Mary, is an embodiment of rage, and hate itself. She is an intrusive thought of feminine urge. Only burning people because she feels like it, and using techniques to get her way (such as putting on an act as a nice person, saving lillian so she would be more believable) and then throwing it all out so she can betray the crew. It's more like a "I'm just a girl" thing

Sariah is an embodiment of innocence being lost, and the stereotypical things people say about women, (she's naive, innocent, wears pink, falls head over heels to men like milo). When Milo killed her she lost all that stuff and grieved over someone who loved her and killed her only for him to get killed by the Skin-taker.

Lillian represents motherhood, due to how she comforts thade after thade was hesitant joining her crew because his previous crew was harsh. She has a mother-like personality and protected Auburn from Mary, which is typical mother things.

Auburn is the embodiment of free will and justice. Who sees the world being unfair, and is a caring soul. She is trying to receive justice, like many wronged women try to receive it.

Sunny, I cannot think what she embodies but it's mostly how she is the OPPOSITE of what men perceived women at the time. She's vicious, she's tomboyish and the only member in a crew which has mostly men in it. She has been seen equal by the crew because she orders the crew around when Horace is asleep or drunk, but that is because they never knew she's a woman because Horace refers to her as "he". If she did say she was a women, the crew would throw her off or even kill her, since back then people thought women were bad luck on ships.

Susan siren is an embodiment of how men want women to be and look. She's beautiful, long haired She's barely wearing clothes, she's flirtatious. She is chained to a rock and that only shows women cannot escape from men's standards, even if they are the exact opposite without getting sexualized.

Laughingstock is the embodiment of leadership, and always has the final say in things. She keeps trying to tell Percy to go inside caves and stuff. Even if Percy refuses.

Mrs skin-taker is also an embodiment of how men see married wives as. (Nagging housewives) The reason for this is because she wanted to divorce Skin-Taker all because "he's changed". She also had a stereotypical things associated with housewives (thick lips, and a necklace)

So yea I hope this makes sense and English isn't my first language 😭😭 I just like theorizing little things and maybe I'm obsessed with symbolism

AGH, I was so excited when I came home to this ask!! I made some tea and sat down and read this like I’d read a chapter of a favorite book.

It’s really great to see other people into symbolism and media analysis. It’s not something I see often in fandom spaces even though analyzing media deeply like this is really fun, and I can’t be the only one who thinks so. (Well, the only one besides you, Anon.)

This ask has really stirred my brain, so I may have… written a whole essay in response. Heh. (Sorry for taking a while to respond by the way, I wanted to make sure what I wrote made sense.)

I feel like as Janice is growing up and “growing into a young woman” as people say, she would be observing the women around her and learning about the different ways to be a woman. Janice is 9, and it’s around that age when kids really start to form their identities, so it would make sense.

Also, I think being thrown into Candle Cove and the world of pirates, where there’s mostly men, would make her feel like being a girl makes her different, and as the adage goes, identity is formed by finding ways you’re different from other people. So I think coming to Candle Cove and being surrounded by men would solidify her identity as a girl, and lead her to observe and imitate the women around her even more.

Also, a lot of people theorize that Candle Cove is all in Janice’s imagination and by extension, all the characters from Candle Cove represent some aspect of her psyche, which would make this make even more sense. Like, each of the women in Candle Cove could represent a woman (or type of woman) Janice looks up to for guidance.

JANICE

Janice does embody guilt, and I think specifically how women are made to bear the guilt for things that aren’t their fault. Janice is blamed for her mother’s death, but what was she supposed to do? Not get born? And she was a literal NEWBORN BABY—the most innocent a person can be—and is still blamed for something as serious as killing someone. Not to mention that she’s a victim in this situation, too, having never known her mother. But the people around her don’t seem to care.

MELROSE

This might be a reach, but I think she may also represent women who side with men against other women. I’m applying my headcanons to make this work, but what if Melrose learned to bully Janice by watching how her father acts around her? We already know Mr. Stewart is… well, not a very good parent, based on how he doesn’t seem to do anything about Melrose harassing Janice. So it wouldn’t be a reach to say he’s also not a very good parent in other ways. Maybe he’s cold and dismissive towards Janice, bitter because she’s the reason (in his perspective) that his wife died and he’s left to take care of two daughters by himself. And Melrose, as children do, could have learned her behavior from him, bullying Janice because she thinks that's what her father wants her to do. And it’s worse because Melrose is somebody Janice is supposed to have solidarity with, as her sister, and yet she treats her so poorly. It reminds me of how in real life, women put each other down for male validation instead of having solidarity with one another.

RED MARY

She does definitely embody female rage, but I feel like she could also embody women who perform traditional feminine roles to get ahead in life. Like, women are often pressured into being docile and accommodating or else be shamed and called bitches (whereas men doing the same things wouldn’t be shamed and instead even be praised for taking initiative). So women are forced to fit themselves into this docile female role if they want people to like them and to get what they want.

Red isn’t traditionally feminine. She isn’t kind. She isn’t docile. She isn’t nurturing. In fact, she’s the opposite of nurturing—she kills people and draws out their suffering. But she pretended to be all these things when she was with the Tarantula Crew because they wouldn’t take to her otherwise. Like you said, she saved the crew in the past to earn their trust, which obviously isn’t something she would do out of the kindness of her heart. It isn’t made known why she wanted to be with the crew, but whatever the reason was, she didn’t need to be with them anymore at the end of Come and Rip, and so then she was able to be her true self and let go of the act.

SARIAH

I agree with what you said about Sariah representing innocence being lost. She’s naive and probably has an unrealistic, romanticized view on dating men. She was in love with Milo, but in the end, Milo only used her to get something else (Skin-Taker’s trust). It reminds me of how in real life, men often start relationships with women (and take advantage of their naivete) mostly because they want to use them for something else, like sex or free housework.

I also think maybe she represents women who are “props.” Women who have no significance (at least seemingly) other than their relationships with men. A good percentage of female characters in 1970s media fell into this role, so this would be another female role Janice would know of.

Sariah is not portrayed as having any depth. All we know about her is that she’s pretty and has 2 personality traits. She can and probably does have more to her personality, but the audience doesn’t need to know any more because the only thing that’s important about her is her relationship with Milo. He’s the one who matters—she’s just there to support and define him.

And this is something that I realized recently, but the wiki doesn’t actually say Sariah is Milo’s girlfriend. She’s only ever called his “love interest” or “the girl he likes,” which is more vague. She could very well have no relationship with Milo at all. And that’s so much WORSE to me because she could have zero interest in Milo, and yet her whole identity and her whole life (all the way to her death) is defined by him just because she was unfortunate enough to be the object of his attraction. She was doomed by the narrative to be a background character in his story no matter what she did.

LILLIAN

I don’t really have anything to add here. Lillian is obviously motherly. Like you explained, she’s comforting and protective. She’s also sensitive to others’ emotions, which is also a trait mothers are expected to have. Also, I didn’t notice this until now, but Lillian is the only character in Candle Cove who is a mother (unless you count Janice’s mother). So it checks out all around.

AUBURN

I don’t really have anything to add here either, BUT I’m gonna take this opportunity to talk about something that I find interesting:

Auburn is a little girl, and Boar is a grown and capable adult. And yet it’s Auburn who swears to kill Red Mary and avenge Lillian. Boar just tells Auburn that it’s impossible to kill her and leaves right after. Also, bear in mind that Boar and Lillian are described as “very close friends,” so it’s not like he has no reason to feel just as upset and vindictive as Auburn does. Anyway, I think this scene goes to show how intense Auburn is. She, a young and incapable girl, swears on her mother’s grave to do something impossible (kill an Abyssian), even when the adult, the more capable one, just shrugs his shoulders. Like, if Boar sees no point in trying to avenge Lillian, then it really shows Auburn’s vindictiveness that she’s dead set on it, even though she’s weaker compared to him.

SUNNY

I think Sunny represents women who present less femininely in order to be taken seriously. There are women like Red Mary who get their way by following the feminine role of being docile and obedient to curry favor from people, and then there are women who do the opposite: acting masculinely so that people will think they’re owed the same level of respect as men.

This is taken to the extreme with Sunny, who I think deliberately disguises herself as a man. The wiki makes it sound as though the Rubber Fishes simply don’t notice that she’s a woman, but I’m doubtful of that. Not only is she tomboyish—she doesn’t have any overtly feminine traits. She’s bald. She wears androgynous clothes. And yes, she could just be gender-nonconforming, BUT the wiki mentions that she has a feminine-sounding voice, but rarely talks. This leads me to think she keeps quiet deliberately in order to hide her voice, and hide her being a woman. And also, if this is deliberate, that the other ways she presents as masculine are also deliberate. My other support is that female pirates in history, like Anne Bonny and Mary Read, had to disguise themselves as men in order to be accepted by their pirate crews, so her crew thinking she’s a man could have been inspired by that.

While there aren’t many modern-day situations of women literally needing to pretend to be men to get ahead, less feminine women are seen as more deserving of respect than feminine women. For example, when women want to be taken seriously, common advice that’s given to them is along the lines of “Don’t wear so much makeup” or “Carry a briefcase instead of a purse.” There’s also the phenomenon of women saying they’re “not like other girls” as a way to BRAG, because according to them, not being interested in makeup or clothes or other feminine things make them better and more deserving of respect.

All that aside, I personally like to think that Sunny is just GNC by choice and that the Rubber Fishes would accept her all the same if they knew she was a woman, but I still think this interpretation is interesting.

SUSAN

The way you said that women are sexualized no matter what interests me because sirens as mythological creatures got sexualized. Listen: in Ancient Greek literature, they were these frightening bird-women who tempted people by offering to reveal secret knowledge to them, drawing them in by singing and playing instruments. Then in the Middle Ages, their unique traits were removed—no frightening looks, no arcane knowledge, no playing instruments, even—so that they could become these unoriginal, conventionally attractive mermaid/succubus-esque creatures that seduced sailors to kill them. Unsurprisingly, this is the interpretation that stuck. (Does anyone know of that image of some Overwatch character or whatever before and after she was “un-Tumblrized”? It’s exactly like that to me.)

Yeah, so as Janice is growing up, she’s probably being exposed to magazines and TV shows and what-have-you where most of the women are half-naked and doe-eyed and not serving any purpose in their media other than to look pretty, especially bearing in mind that Candle Cove takes place in the ‘70s, where women’s representation in media was even worse. So Susan represents that role for women—the sex object. Which is also, like you said, the way society wants women to be.

Susan isn’t reduced to being a sex object, though. She has an active role in the story, luring a ship to save the Laughingstocks. And heck, she’s actually very powerful, having almost sunk a whole fleet of ships in the past. It’s interesting, though, that her source of power (her singing), like everything else about her, is beautiful. It reminds me that no matter what they do, even if they have agency, society expects women to be beautiful and able to be sexualized as they’re doing it. Able to be turned into the mere sex objects that society wants them to be.

Also, the way that you said that her being chained represents how she’s trapped by men’s standards got me thinking…. Her clothes are basically lingerie, but what’s interesting to me is that they’re made of chains. This leads me to think that they’re not her own clothes, but clothes she’s forced to wear as a prisoner. Stripping people was (and still is) a common form of punishment, so it would make sense. And I sense some symbolism here too, with her clothes being made out of chains. Like, women are chained by society’s standard to be sexy. Pressured to wear revealing clothes or else be shamed and called a prude. Basically, she’s trapped, literally because she’s chained to the rock, and figuratively because society pressures her to be a sex object.

And one last point while I’m here: Even when she’s imprisoned, she continues to have perfect hair and doe eyes and revealing clothes. It reminds me of how, even in suffering and oppression, women are still expected by society to be pretty. (Does anyone know of that old trend on TikTok where women did makeup to make themselves look like they’ve been crying? Not as special effects makeup, but regular makeup to wear to look pretty? And think about how, even though crying realistically involves being puffy and having snot all over your face, this trend implies that women crying is seen as (and expected to be) beautiful by society? That’s one example.)

THE LAUGHINGSTOCK

@mewpirate posted a screenshot from the wiki that said something like, “the creators explained that Ms. Laughingstock isn’t supposed to represent a mother, but a boss,” so I think what you’re saying is actually canon. The wiki does say, now, that she considers herself to be Janice’s “substitute parent,” but still, I see her as a mother in a “head of the household” sense, not so much a “nurturer” sense. She orders people around (mostly Percy), like you said, and also briefs the audience at the beginning of each episode explaining what the characters do in that episode.

MRS. SKIN-TAKER

Mrs. Skin-Taker definitely seems like a housewife viewed from the perspective of her husband. She doesn’t do anything but nag, as if she’s an exaggeration created in her husband’s mind. Like, men get so pissy about their wives complaining now and again (instead of sitting quietly as women are supposed to /s) that they come to only see them as nags. She also kind of reminds me of how wives are portrayed in '70s sitcoms (written by men), so this could be where Janice learned this role from.

And also, she doesn’t have anything to her character other than being Skin-Taker’s wife. She’s basically a gender-swapped version of him. She doesn’t even have her own name—she’s just “Mrs. Skin-Taker.” She’s like his appendage, not an individual person. Although this may be justified, seeing that she was just a throwaway character for one episode and so wouldn’t be very fleshed-out.

You know, I often like to imagine that there isn’t any historically accurate misogyny in Candle Cove, and I didn’t think there was any historically accurate misogyny in Candle Cove based on what the wiki said, but… after reading your ask and then writing about it, I think maybe the creators of the wiki created it with the misogyny of the times in mind? Because a lot of these women seem like they were written a certain way because they’re a woman in the Golden Age of Piracy (like with Sunny needing to disguise herself as a man) or that they were written a certain way because they’re a female character in 1970s television (like with Sariah and Mrs. Skin-Taker being flat and only there to support the male characters).

On one hand, I like to think of Candle Cove as an escapist utopia where misogyny doesn’t exist, but on the other hand, I do like feminist themes in media and to use media to explore the struggles of being a woman. So I have mixed feelings about this, but all in all, it’s really interesting to think about. Media analysis is fun!!

Also, I feel like I should say thank you for reading this whole thing. Here, have some food to regain your energy with: 🍊🍎🥐🧀🥓🍳🍪☕🍫

[captain--sif]

You And Me And Buck

Rating T, 1.7k, Buddie, 911

Eddie asks Christopher about his feelings concerning his new attempt at dating. Chris' answer has him rethinking what he already has in his life.

A little episode coda for 6x14, mostly inspired by the clip of Eddie’s date that we had seen already before the episode aired. Read on AO3

"Are you going to see her again?"

Eddie would lie if he said that Chris’ question didn’t take him by surprise. He tries not to lie to his son, and he certainly didn’t outright lie about this, either, but he kind of did omit the fact that his hangout the evening before had been a date.

But Chris is old enough and well-versed enough in the intricacies of the English language by now, that Eddie knows that’s what he’s asking about. Are you going to go on another date with her?

The answer is no, he’s not, they both agreed on that, and he doesn’t mind that that’s the point they came to. He isn’t even particularly looking to start dating again, doesn’t think he will anytime in the near future, so he’s not exactly sure why he counters Chris’ question with his own.

"How would you feel about it if I did?"

Chris looks at him calculating, or, well, as calculating as a 12-year-old can look, pondering over an answer.

"I got used to Ana," he says finally, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. It’s not an endorsement, neither of Ana, nor of Eddie dating at all, but he hasn’t specifically said that he’d hate it either. "I’ll get used to her too," he adds.

"But?" Eddie prompts him to continue, "I feel like there’s a but coming." A smile creeps onto his face when he sees Chris’ own face splitting into a grin. He feels a snarky reply coming.

"But," Chris says, enunciating clearly, grinning because there was indeed a but coming, but then quickly taking on a more serious air, making clear to Eddie that he really means it, "I prefer it when it’s just you and me and Buck."

Eddie nods because Chris has made it more than clear before, when he was dating Ana, that he didn’t like him dating, but this was much less negative than before. Eddie will take that as a win, despite the way that Chris’ "you and me and Buck" has lodged itself into the outskirts of Eddie’s brain like an ear worm, begging him to acknowledge it. He will, he thinks to himself, as soon as his brain figures out how to process it.

"Well," he says instead, "it will be just us a little while longer."

"Okay." Chris smiles a tired smile up at him and Eddie takes that as his queue to get up and leave the room.

"Good night, mijo," he says and closes the door.

"Good night, dad," Christopher replies around what is without a doubt a yawn.

They’re a family, Eddie rationalizes later, when he’s lying in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The three of them make up a family, and it’s one of the truest things Eddie knows about his own life. It’s not interpretation, it’s not wishful thinking, it’s not something that Chris only believes in his still-childlike convictions. It’s one of the fundamentals of the universe. It should explain all there is to Chris’ remark, since it does, and yet: Eddie can’t help but feel like there’s something he’s missing, some dimension to the remark that’s not yet encompassed by the unshakable truth of their being a family.

He’s overthinking it, Eddie is sure of that, and at the end of the night he’s not sure if it’s into Chris’ or his own intent that he’s attributing this additional information.

"I feel like I’m a divorced dad starting to date someone new again who the child disapproves of," he voices his thoughts on his shift the next day.

"I thought you said you wouldn’t see her again?" Chimney asks, just as Bobby says: "Didn’t you already clear this up with him when you were dating Ana?"

"I’m not gonna see her again," he replies to Chimney, "that was more of a hypothetical question." He shrugs. "Just trying to figure out how he’s currently feeling about it. Besides, you never know when Tia Pepa will spring something like this on me again. So I thought it’s better to be prepared."

"Do you want to date the next person she springs on you?" Eddie can hear the lifted eyebrows in Chimney’s voice without looking.

He grimaces. "No."

"And," he restarts, well aware of Bobby’s still lingering question, "I didn’t know if he ended up being okay with me dating in general, or just with Ana."

"You said he didn’t throw a salad bowl tantrum like the last time, so to me it seems like he reacted well," Hen points out, "so what are your hold-ups?"

Eddie grimaces again. "I wasn’t actually finished," he admits. He’s really glad that Buck is riding with Ravi and some of their other teammates in the other firetruck today, since he’s not sure he could say what he does after that the way he does if he wasn’t, not before he hasn’t untangled his thoughts about it. "I feel like I’m a divorced dad starting to date someone new again," he restarts, "who the child disapproves of since they want their divorced parents to stay together."

"Shannon is dead," Hen says cautiously, "he knows that."

"Yes," Eddie says, "because in this scenario my ex-wife isn’t my actual ex-wife, or even any of the other women I dated, but it’s Buck." He moves his hands in a kind of "ta-da" gesture, expressing that he finished talking.

There’s a silence in the truck that is soothing Eddie, just knowing that they know as little what to do with it as he does.

"So what," Chimney asks finally, "now you think Christopher wants you to date Buck?"

He’s obviously trying to be funny, but Eddie stays quiet, has to think about that. Because: "I hadn’t even considered that."

He sees Chimney and Hen share a look at the quiet way he breathes these words out. Eddie thinks Chimney was probably aiming for a "No, of course not," and up until this very moment Eddie would have assumed that’s what his answer would be.

But now he thinks back to the way Chris’ comment unsettled him the night before, for a reason other than the knowledge that he doesn’t want Eddie to bring someone new into their family of three, the way he tried to evoke with this little analogy he’s been telling the team.

Of all analogies he could have chosen, he chose one where he casts himself and Buck as a divorced couple. No matter how accurate to Chris’ sentiment it might be, Eddie considers that his choice of analogy might be a tell in itself. Like his weird feeling the night before.

Sensing his oncoming panic, his team seems to have chosen a different road to approach him now.

"Has he given any other indication that that’s what he wants?", Hen asks more cautiously, softer, Chimney nodding along but staying quiet, like he’s afraid he’ll make it even worse, "what did he say exactly?"

"I don’t know," Eddie admits, because he hasn’t looked for it before, hasn’t once considered it. "He just said that he prefers it when it’s just the three of us. He hasn’t said anything about dating, but what if…" he trails off.

He kind of has the urge to laugh. It feels a little ironic now. When he was with Ana, he handled dating just fine, but the idea of forming a family with her gave him panic attacks. Now, the panic is clawing at his throat again, but he can handle Buck being a part of his family just fine. In fact, he loves it. It’s still the only thing about this that feels steady. Like an anchor that, while not being able to smooth out the waves, still keeps him in place and from falling into the deepness of the troubled waters.

Just as contradictory, he now wishes that Buck had been riding with them instead of in the other engine. Eddie can clearly hear Buck’s voice in his mind asking him if he’s panicking, and he thinks it’d help calm him down, even while knowing that had Buck been here, Eddie would not be in the situation he is now.

And maybe that should have been Eddie’s first hint (or second, technically) that something was going on with him. That he realized even while telling his analogy that he would not have told it the same way if Buck had been present. He should have seen the avoidance for what it was, but then again, Eddie had always been good at avoiding and ignoring his uncomfortable thoughts.

Repression, the doctor had called it.

"If that’s what you think Chris meant, maybe you should think about why that is," Hen suggested, just as softly.

"I will," Eddie says, partly because it is true, and partly because there’s nothing else he feels able to say. He stays quiet the rest of the ride, the cogs turning in his head, only vaguely taking note of the worried looks the team are sending towards him and each other.

He does think about it. It’s the echoes of Buck’s and Dr. Salazar’s voices in his head that are spurring him on to look at what he’s feeling, and — well, mostly to look at what he wasn’t feeling. He’s taking a big long look at all the suspicious absences. All the moments where he braced himself on the rational explanations, without looking at the feelings behind or around it. And all the ordinary feelings that he paid just as little attention to for believing their origin to be obvious.

He examines all of his interactions with Buck over the last couple of months. As well as all their interactions as a family, the three of them, him and Buck and Christopher.

The conclusion he comes to is this:

Chris will not have to worry about Eddie bringing anyone else into their family any time soon, maybe ever.

Fuck.

Drop me a little kudos on AO3

[earlgreytea68]

A few years ago, I found that I had to teach Hamlet to a class. I hadn't read Hamlet since senior year of high school, so I re-read it one summer so I would remember enough to be able to teach it.

And I'm sitting there reading this play and I'm like, "Oh, my God, this play is so good." I kept saying to my family, "I don't think you understand, this play is SO INCREDIBLY GOOD." And it seemed so ridiculous of me, like, most people would say that it's the best play ever written in the English language, hands down, without a doubt. But when I read it as a senior in high school, I just...didn't get it. Like, I don't remember being at all impressed with it. The teacher was like, "IT'S THE BEST PLAY EVER WRITTEN," and I was like, "...whatever." And then I read it as an adult and I was just like, NO, IT IS ASTONISHINGLY GOOD, I CAN'T GET OVER IT, and I suddenly understood why people say it's the best play ever written, like, it is REALLY GOOD.

Anyway, that experience stuck with me. It occurred to me that maybe many of the Great Literature we get assigned to read in high school and college we're just too young for. We're not ready yet to grasp how good it all really is.

So I was thinking that maybe I should reread some of the things I read in high school and college that I just didn't like, on the theory that maybe I was too young and didn't get it. And then I learned about this app called Serial that will send you an installment of a public domain book, no more than 20 minutes reading every day. It seemed like a good way to tackle a project like this, made it doable. Like, "Oh, I'm going to read War and Peace," but "I'm going to spend 20 minutes a day tackling War and Peace."

Actually, I didn't start with War and Peace. I did like some Russian literature in college, Chekhov remains one of my absolute favorites, but Idk, I wasn't inspired to do Russian literature. I decided instead to tackle Dickens.

Why? Because Dickens is one of my MOST-HATED WRITERS. I HATE DICKENS. I had to read so much Dickens in high school and I hated every single bit of it. Not true, I remember liking A Tale of Two Cities. But I hated Great Expectations and I hated Oliver Twist and I hated A Christmas Carol, which we read EVERY YEAR from fourth grade to eighth grade, like, ENOUGH WITH THE DOORNAILS VS. COFFIN-NAILS, CHARLES DICKENS, ENOUGH.

But everywhere you look, people are like, "Dickens: one of the best English writers ever," and I'm just like, What is the deal with everyone and Dickens! Maybe I just didn't get it, like with Hamlet.

People recommended Bleak House to me because it has to do with law but given the time of year I decided to start with A Christmas Carol. The first installment came and oh, look, there in the second paragraph is that stupid doornails vs. coffin-nails thing and I hate that whole aside so much and I was just like, WHY. WHY IS DICKENS LIKE THIS. HE IS SO ANNOYING.

Well. I am now three installments in and...this is a good book????? hahahahah I cannot believe it! But I am enjoying it! I am absolutely shocked! Were people right about Dickens, too????

Look, here's the thing: I think the man is bonkers. Like, his comparisons are absolutely off-the-wall. He's always off on some stupid aside nobody cares about. But whereas that annoyed me when I was younger and having to read the book to take a test on it later, now I'm just like, What is this man on about???? What is this man ON?????? Like, Dickens is so tongue-in-cheek, right??? And I missed that the whole time??? Maybe it's just A Christmas Carol, which makes sense, but I cannot believe how hilarious it is. Scrooge is actually funny! He says funny things! And Dickens keeps using droll little adverbs to describe what he's doing and it is cracking me up! But it also legit creepy! But also it is just WILD.

Like, look at that simile above. "Like a bad lobster in a dark cellar." What the hell does that even mean???? I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW, because it is absolutely hilarious, I'm just like, "Go on, Chuck, it was like a bad lobster in a dark cellar, uh-huh, what's next?"

I think when I was younger I thought being told, "This guy is one of the best writers of all time," meant that he had to be SERIOUS. Like, my impression of literature is that it was SERIOUS. And that is something that really annoys me now, but as a young person, that's what I thought. And now I'm like, no, actually, you can be one of the best writers of all time specifically because you know how to use words in all sorts of ways, not just serious ones, and it feels like it took me a long time to realize it, but maybe I like Dickens? I'll see how the rest of the story goes.

I WILL NEVER LIKE EMERSON AND THOREAU, THOUGH, THEY REMAIN MY NEMESES.

[undead-merman]

Garnet

December 31st 2015

To my horror, my father's scraps of rambling claiming to be research turned out to be true. 

Deep in this unnamed facility past a million warning signs was the monster. His eyes gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the light of my lantern. I swear his eyes bore into me as if he was reading my very soul. He shouldn't be alive, not for how long this place has been abandoned. Life behind a chain link fence with only stagnant air and dust particles. 

I pulled him out and seeing as how I simply came here to fight off my burning curiosity and hatred, I don't have a team to help me swipe the place and collect the research from the last group that contained him. I've contacted my most trusted allies to help me. They'll arrive any day now to my camp just outside this worn down concrete mess of a building. 

He's semi feral. He understands basic body language, but does not speak or respond to any spoken language. I've tried. He growls and hisses at the most basic of things. He didn’t even understand forks and knives. He doesn’t even eat with his hands, he kneels down and licks it up from the ground. It’s a sad sight, really. I managed to lead him outside with some scraps of my lunch. He hissed and shied away from the sun like it was a beast. The poor thing, I shielded him away from the sun and waited with him until the sun went down. I made him a spot in my tent, and I'm watching him. I can’t be too careful with how wild he seems to be. He’s sleeping in my bedroll. 

I cannot believe my father was right. The power of manifestation is true and has happened in the past, allowing a billion gods to be born over the years… Garnet, as I will be calling him from now on, doesn’t seem to look like one. He looks more like a demon. Garnet horns, a long tail, rough skin with pillars of said stone growing out of his spine and across his skin. His skin I can tell is supposed to be a much more saturated red, but with who knows how long he’s been in there he’s surely gotten paler. 

I’m going to do my best to look after him. I think I should look into my father’s notes more as well. 

January 5th 2016

A few days have gone by, and I want to compile my notes here. My new team has arrived, a few of my late father’s friends, a few friends of my own. All of them know of my father’s sudden detrimental interest in manifestation, even after all his years as a man of hard science. A handful of them searched the building, while a few stayed with me and studied Garnet. 

Previous research dating back to the 1800s shows he wasn’t always feral. He was a calm-collected man that was theorized to be a demon of sorts. The horns on his head are indeed made from pure garnet, as well as the protrusions on his body. He used to have wings, as stated in some of the old writings, but they must have atrophied and fallen off. 

I’ve taken some time to try and teach him some basic English. He’s a fast learner, which makes my life a lot easier, though it seems like he used to speak it a long time ago. My guess with how long he’s been alone, he’s forgotten it. Makes me sick to my stomach. Over a hundred years of solitude. Strangely enough, looking at his old enclosure, there were no signs of attempted escape. He stayed put like a well-trained dog.  

There are thousands of files, some of them unreadable, almost all of them unorganized. We suspect people have been in here to explore or trash the abandoned facility, so it makes it harder to find material. But with Garnet the moral is up at the very least. Though, Garnet seems wary of new people. He only seems at ease around me and inside my tent. He snaps at anyone getting too close. In fact, he goes ballistic unless I stand in the way. I hate to describe it as such, but he acts like an unsocialized dog. Still, he seems like a good man, just lost from the stillness and loneliness of that facility. I’ve seen him sneak around and patrol my tent before curling up by my head. When he thinks I'm asleep he’ll lick my hair and chew it. 

Talking with the team they agreed to stay here for as long as it takes. One of them even inviting a few more to understand garnet, a biochemist, a genealogist, Histologist, Biophysicist, the whole nine yards. Some of my father’s friends are even paying for the expenses of this trip. I’m so grateful. I hope that the study doesn’t stress Garnet out too much. Furthermore, I’ve resolved myself to taking Garnet’s comfort as a priority. If he doesn’t want to do something, then I will make sure that they don’t press anymore. 

January 16th 2016

Our team has done some more digging and careful organizing and we’ve found out more about Garnet’s reason for being here. This used to be a research company that was looking into lab grown crystals but had ended up finding Garnet. They had harvested garnets from his body using different methods from bloodletting to cutting them out of his skin after burning him. From what it seems his blood would solidify into gemstones. It would provide hefty amounts, though their color would be low quality. The act of burning him which would scab over with the crystal and yank them out. These would result in much higher quality garnets. They wanted to test this, but I refused. It's far too inhumane. 

We have also discovered he’s been there for generations. They had found a collection of folders called ‘Project Vein’, they didn’t even properly give him a name. I couldn’t stop myself from crying, knowing this man had gone through all that for some stupid fucking jewelry. Worst of all, when he saw me crying he straddled me licking my face and tried to comfort me, me. I couldn’t sleep that night, I didn’t even try. 

The company dissolved after the great depression and he had been there ever since. Wasting away as he waited for someone to come find him. Save him, give him orders. Good riddance. I don’t even want to know the names of the people working here… it would eat me up inside. 

We’ve been trying to teach him more and he’s picked up on it more and more. Instead of basic words, he’s relearned slightly more complex sentences. Thankfully, he’s a bit more social now and not just hovering around me and hissing and biting at the others. Not to say he doesn’t hover still but at least he’s not hostile to the others at camp. My father’s closest friends from work, he has taken great interest in Garnet. He keeps trying to feed him and get Garnet to spend time with him. Garnet is still wary of him. We did find out Garnet enjoys fruit. One in particular being a pomegranate. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. We gave it to him, and we watched as he peeled the flesh with such delicacy. No juice spilled from it unless it was already in his mouth. We all sat around and watched as he plucked seed after seed. He offered a handful to my colleague and myself before eating the rest. Ever since then, he’s been pestering us for ‘the tiny pom’. 

His body is nothing like the doctors have ever seen. They were able to take small tissue samples and do some check up and scans. The tissues turned to Garnets within a few minutes. After study, his flesh truly turned to the crystal. The Mineralogist explained that garnets have a few different species. He seems able to produce many species… I wasn’t aware there were species.... Chrome pyrope garnet seems to be the main one he produces. He’s only able to produce a red variety as far as we know. But even she doesn’t know if. His flesh produces Spessartine. She wanted to take samples from all over his body including bone and marrow samples, but I refused.  

I made sure they don’t go overboard with testing. As fascinating as he is, I cannot allow any mistreatment. 

January 25th 2016

We have been here for nearly a month and Garnet has made leaps and bounds worth of progress. His long hair had been bothering him so they went head and cut his hair. He perked up the minute they showed him his reflection and he came scrambling over to me asking if I liked it. It suits him, and now I don’t have to spend twenty minutes every morning combing it. 

He’s finally comfortable wearing clothing, much to everyone’s relief. With the cold, It only further proves the point that he is not bound by reality like us mortals. While he contains a stomach, he does not need to eat, he doesn’t need to sleep, the cold has no effect on him, he can have his body torn apart and beaten and still be fine, and heal it all away within a matter of hours. 

He is not a mortal creature. If my father had any say in this, he would have called it a god. Garnet ceaselessly creates from his body without the need for energy. What else could you call it? I’m not even sure myself. Father’s research says there are billions of them. Gods created from the ideas and concepts attached to them. He mentioned gemstones, devils, zodiac, animals, though gemstones are primarily the object of his interest. Garnet, amethyst, ruby, topaz and citrine. He claimed to have known about Garnet, his mother telling stories about him. I worry that my family was somehow involved with him. 

We’ve plucked through as much as we could inside, but sadly time has destroyed most of their research. What I've previously written down in my cataloging is simply all we have. Garnet doesn't seem to remember anything after the last visit to him. From what he's told me, a man had come up to him and told him to wait there. He waited and waited until I came. 

Everyone discussed what to do next. Without Garnet consenting to testing, there wasn’t much they could do. But when I told them about my father’s research, they asked if I was planning to see if there was more like Garnet. I had to admit it. If there were any more creatures like Garnet, I was willing to risk everything to find them. 

I really am my father’s child… 

They agreed to help me and asked what to do with Garnet, and honestly I had to think awhile about it. I simply just couldn’t let him go about the world on his own. I know it in my heart that he’d be taken advantage of the moment someone got him in his grasp. But keeping him with me? It is not like he’s some pet. I’d have to hide him, keep him safe. I’m not sure if I am up to the task. 

But seeing how Garnet curls up to me every single night, licking my fingers and hair, and nibbles at my shoulder just to hug and hold me, I knew I had to. I told the group I’d keep him by my side and Garnet was thrilled about it. He latched on and didn’t let go until bed. I’d have to return home to look more into my father’s notes. The people of my camp offered to help me get back without having to arouse suspicion from the public. I am privileged to have such lovely people surrounding me in this mission. When I told Garnet that we’d be traveling back home, his tail whipped around wildly, and he seemed to take pride in the fact I called it home for the both of us. I hope I can spoil him like he deserves. 

January 28th 2016

We ended up taking a train. We were able to have a whole private cart to ourselves, so I didn’t have to worry about Garnet getting overexcited and getting caught. I had to thank one of my dad’s old friends for that. 

He was pressed by the window the entire time, and he refused to let me squirm away. I was by his side with his hand around my waist as he watched trees and mountains go by. It was charming seeing how amazed he was. Every seat cushion he bounced on, the table he laid upon and lounged like a king. After so long alone, it was heartwarming to see him so enthusiastic about the world. 

I’d let him pick at my lunch and takes the things he wanted as I looked up more about Gemstones, mostly the ones about my dear new friend. 

From my dad’s rants, I remember him saying that humans assigning characteristics would result in a grain of truth. So I looked at what the birthstone would represent and their symbolism. It was sweet seeing him sniff and poke at my pad and pen. 

Loyalty, passion, healing, and protection were the most common aspects… and it would make sense for him. Loyal to the end. Waiting for someone to come find him. I have to push down all those hateful feelings. I have Garnet to look after. 

Maybe in the future we will find more about them, but for now I'm going to spend some time looking into my father’s things and making sure Garnet feels safe, loved, and taken care of. He deserves it. 

[goodnightmemes]

BONES SENTENCE STARTERS / s01e12 - s01e14

❛ Don’t use your charm smile on me. ❜

❛ Every family has its secrets. ❜

❛ Are you a nerd? ❜

❛ Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you from - What are you doing exactly? ❜

❛ You know I gotta tell you, I never bought all that English 101 stuff. Sometimes a river is just a river. ❜

❛ Could you please, maybe just for once try not to piss everyone off around you? ❜

❛ My God, it’s like we lead parallel lives. ❜

❛ You’re just one of those guys who’s way too good at lying. ❜

❛ I’ll see you in the comic books, buster. ❜

❛ So what you’re saying is that reality falls far, far short of the fictional. ❜

❛ I was just using it as an excuse to make conversation and reestablish our connection. ❜

❛ Great, how he’s ignoring us in two languages. ❜

❛ You know that book I’m reading, about getting along with your coworkers? It says that sarcasm is never helpful. I could lend it to you if you want. ❜

❛ Did you hear what I said about sarcasm? ❜

❛ I call shotgun. ❜

❛ I called shotgun. What does it mean to a society when the niceties are no longer observed? ❜

❛ Is anybody here? You don’t have to be afraid. ❜

❛ Of course they’re gonna be afraid, I have a gun. ❜

❛ I am asking you as a favor not to make me do this…to scare her. Please? ❜

❛ Interesting or horrible? Because sometimes, it’s the same thing with you. ❜

❛ Mega tough old bastard. ❜

❛ I’ll tell you what, because I like you so much, if I find out who did it, I’ll kill him. ❜

❛ You think you can intimidate people into doing what you want? ❜

❛ How do you handle someone who isn’t afraid of you? ❜

❛ That’s gonna hurt in the morning. ❜

❛ I know you’re all about self-reliance and fighting your own battles and standing up for yourself, but now, as your friend, and knowing how much you hate psychology here, you need therapy. ❜

❛ Later I found out it was three days. But, I thought it was a week, maybe more. ❜

❛ He came in every day and made me believe I was going to die. ❜

❛ I promised myself if I ever had the chance, I’d get even. ❜

❛ You put a hit out on my partner? ❜

❛ If anything happens to her, I will find you and I will kill you. I won’t think twice. ❜

❛ Come here, look in my eyes. Look at my face. If anything happens to her, I will kill you. ❜

❛ Should I keep talking as though you are paying attention? ❜

❛ The information that I’m about to tell you must not leave this room. ❜

❛ I am philosophically imposed to institutional secrecy in all its forms. ❜

❛ So now politics are more important then murder? ❜

❛ Next time you know, you miss me, pick up the phone, call me, we’ll do lunch or something. ❜

❛ He doesn’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, you do. ❜

❛ You want to back down a jot there buddy? ❜

❛ Well maybe he discovered that being pushy is how you get cops to pay attention. ❜

❛ What are you hawking at me for? ❜

❛ Ugh, you’re so sweet, honey. You really are. ❜

❛ We get it. You’re a rebel. ❜

❛ Yeah, I know at times like these not to get hopeful, but on the other hand you’ve got to have hope. ❜

❛ I’m not really interested in bonding over the loss of my parents. ❜

❛ Ah, good one sir, very droll. ❜

❛ Never. Freeze. On. Me. Again. ❜

❛ Well, I’m never trusting any of us again. We’re that good at lying, huh? ❜

❛ Some people find it harder then others to get over the loss of a loved one. ❜

❛ Either talk loudly enough so I can hear all the way or whisper so I can’t. ❜

❛ No, we are going to keep doing what we are doing behind [name]’s back. ❜

❛ Oh, I’ll do that! Was that overly enthusiastic? ❜

❛ You just want to see what happens when you toss some frozen pig into a wood chipper. ❜

❛ Your primary job is to do what I say, failing that your job is to fool me. You failed to fool me. ❜

❛ I can be vindictive and petty. I will take you down even if it means striking at you through your friends and co-workers. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like not to know what happened. I know how painful that can be. ❜

❛ Even if you don’t believe it, I know your parents are somewhere proud of what you do. ❜

❛ Hey, you know, your people are my people. ❜

[theladyofbloodshed]

SJM is a feminist qwueen.

Elain is Elain felt wrong at so many levels. Couldn’t understand why. But here’s my reason for hating it.

Elain is Elain means that Elain is not much. Not worth considering a threat or an opportunity. Not a villian, not a hero, not useful, just not much. Why would that be? What’s different? Nesta and Elain are both made by the cauldron. She’s eager to help (in ACOWAR).

She’s not doing what males do in SJM fantasy world. Not swinging a sword (like Aelin and Mor). Not rude and dismissive of authorites (like Feyre in the high lords meetings). She’s being normal and wearing dresses. And that’s completely fine.

But apparently not by SJM, the feminist queen and her fans. Because guess what, that’s not feminism. That’s internalized misogyny. You only like feminist heroines when they do something that males do. How dare she stay in the house and bake? Be queit and proper like a lady. Wear dresses!??? Go put on some fighting leathers and swing a sword. Only then will we value you. We are feminists. Can’t have a girl acting all girly and expect people to think she has some good qualities. Qualities worth appreciation. Nope, we will value you when you fight, put on some muscles and ditch those dresses. And get out of the kitchen!

Until then, Elain is just Elain.

Never tell me that young girls reading this are not getting a bad impression. I saw a 14 year old pick up this book today. SJM and her internalized misogyny, that the fans label as feminism ✨ is going to shape some young minds into believing a lot of fucked up things being right. Forgiving your abuser and sexual assualter (Aelin-Rowan, Feyre- Rhys), mistreating people with trauma (Nesta being locked up) and of course, the smaller problem discussed above. I am not old enough to have children yet, but I regret the fact that I read this crap and I beg all you fans out there to never have your children read this crap. It is honestly surprising that these books have not been deemed inappropriate yet. I have read a lot of dark romance and this is not it. The theme is clear in dark romance. Characters in those books are held accountable for their actions. The constant cycle of making the fans beleive that Rhys, Rowan, Cassian etc. are not wrong and you should want a partner like that..now that is harmful.

P.s. English is my third language. Idk if I made any mistakes, but do let me know if I did so I can take care of it next time.

It was such crap. If Rhys was actually held accountable for his words then yeah, okay, he can say that. But if Feyre ever questions him, it happens once then it's waved away by Rhys. Within a few minutes of meeting the sisters, he dismisses Elain as unimportant and Nesta is Illyrian at heart and he can never forgive her - for something that never ever involved him.

For me, it wasn't really about the fact that Elain is typically more feminine. Beyond the colour of their dresses where Elain favours pink, I'd say Nesta is also very typically feminine (for the time period). She doesn't like pants, her hobby is reading, she was saving herself for marriage. To me, what Rhys said aligned with Feyre's view of Elain from the first book where she said that it wasn't that Elain was being mean and not helping, she just didn't grasp that she might actually get off her ass and help. And Rhys is fine with that. Elain can be oblivious but that's okay and he won't ever push her <3 It's so hard not to compare how Elain and Nesta are treated. Both lived in the cabin. Nesta said mean things, Elain didn't. Nesta helped, Elain didn't.

At the end of it all, these men should stay far away from these women. The men all need therapy and should be taught how to be a better partner <3

p.s. your English is brilliant

[dramatic-squirrel]

Daminette December Day 8- Submission

@maribat-calendar-events

“I don’t know Alya, do you really think this is good enough?” Marinette frantically paced back and forth in the small space of her room. If she stopped moving she was afraid she’d explode. “I mean, it's super weird and the writing’s not good at all. Then there’s the fact that it’s in French because my written English isn’t that great and I’m sure they’re going to dock point for that and-”

Alya threw a pillow at Marinette before the girl could panic her way out of this contest. “I’ve gone over it a hundred times, Mari. If you don’t turn it in for yourself, you at least owe it to me. And I told you each and every time that the essay is great.”

Sitting up from where she had fallen on the floor, Marinette calmed down a bit, but her anxiety was still getting the better of her. Just as she had decided that deleting the entire document and washing this experience from memory would be a good thing, she caught Alya at her computer.

“What are y-”

“And done. You can’t back out now.” Rushing over to the computer, Marinette's eyes landed on an almost all white webpage, with the words “Submission accepted. You will be notified by email once the results are decided.”

“Alya!”

“Marinette!” Alya could tolerate a lot being the middle child, but with Marinette, she was going to take a stand. “I get that you’re nervous about this, but you don’t have to be. If you win, that’s fantastic. If you don’t win, that's fine. There is no losing here and no one even knows about it yet so no one can be disappointed.”

“I know Alya. I’ll be disappointed. In myself.” 

Alya stared into her eyes, making sure she had her full attention. “And I’ll be proud that you tried.” 

Tears welled up before she could stop them and Marinette started sobbing. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“I still hate you.”

“I know. But think about the bright side here. If we win, we get to go on a trip outside of  Europe. I know Gotham isn’t exactly the safest place, but it will definitely get our minds off of Hawk Moth.” And that’s what really mattered to Marinette, letting her classmates relax for a week. With how often the class was targeted for Akumatizations, she hoped that this trip could let them do stupid stuff without fearing every possible repercussion,

Finally pulling herself together Marinette wiped away the last of her tears. “I still hate you, but thanks again Alya. For submitting the essay, and for looking over my work.”

“What are deputies for if not helping out the class president? I just wish I could have written the essay for you but, they did say class representatives only. Anyways, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. If the people working at Wayne Enterprises know anything, they’ll pick your essay. And if they don’t… Well, I’m sure I can uncover some dirt on them. Any company worth billions has got to be hiding one secret or two.” 

“Alya!” The journalist laughed as she dodged the pillow thrown her way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Damian couldn’t believe the circumstances that led him to be sitting in front of a computer reading essays. One small incident at school where he accidentally hit someone. It wasn’t even entirely his fault, the teacher had tried to get his attention from behind, and really, he could have sworn that father warned the staff about that. It was only natural that his years of training kicked in, and it was only due to those years of training that the teacher only suffered a light punch. 

So it wasn’t like it was his fault that the incident happened, and he shouldn’t be punished for it. He certainly shouldn’t be punished for it by being made to read essays for some insipid contest. He couldn’t even offer his opinion on these poorly written essays because he was simply supposed “to learn a bit more about how other kids act.” 

He spent the next couple of hours half-heartedly reading until he got to an essay in French. It wasn’t the first essay in a language other than English and while the computer could translate it for him, Damian already knew six languages fluently and French happened to be one of them. 

What grabbed his attention immediately, was the way the writer addressed superheroes, and villains and the emotions that came with it. How over time, she and her classmates had gone from being terrified to desensitized to the situation, and how something so awful became ordinary. It reminded him of his own life. 

He was so absorbed into reading the essay that he failed to notice his father standing next to him. “I see you like the essay that won the contest.” Luckily Bruce had more training than his son, so he was not only expecting the dagger, but was also able to stop it. “If you’d like to meet the class, they should be here in about two months.”

“That sounds like a complete waste of my time, father.”

Bruce just stared at him, his eyes disbelieving. “In any case… I just came in to tell you your punishment’s over and Jon came to visit you.”

“Then I will see you at dinner later tonight.” As Damian left the room, he failed to notice the calculating look on Bruce’s face.

[jibbi]

Unpopular opinion: Sam Smith is cool & valid

CW: transphobia, nonbinary hate

Every time I see an article pop up about Sam Smith, there’s a bunch of nasty, transphobic comments and jokes from people even if it’s not an article related to Sam’s gender. And, additionally a lot of people keep saying “Sam Smith has changed so much!”

It all makes me genuinely angry because Sam Smith is such a cool person and talented singer.

So, here is my post defending them because they are so valid and undeserving of the hate and ruthless laughs they’ve been getting.

Their gender identity

I can’t remember when exactly, but I BELIEVE it was a few years ago that Sam came out as nonbinary, stating their preferred pronouns are they/them. Cool. Good for Sam. I was and still am happy for them!

But of course, after this, a lot of people didn’t want to respect this. So, Sam has been continuously misgendered and called “delusional” (which is sadly very common transphobic behavior).

It’s really sad to me that there are still so many close-minded people out there who can’t accept people using gender neutral pronouns and don’t understand that they literally use they/them pronouns singularly ALL THE TIME for strangers with indeterminable gender. Like, bigots, use your brain for two goddamn seconds…

“Oh there’s someone sitting over there. I don’t know who they are.”

“I haven’t met my new neighbor yet but I heard they have a dog. Their dog barks a lot at night. I don’t know how that doesn’t bother them.”

You can also do a very quick Google search and find out that they/them has been used singularly for centuries now. It is basic English language.

It is not strictly plural and not used only when referring to more than one person. The proof is there.

Also if you’ve had the luxury of never having to worry or question your gender at any point in your life, it must be fucking nice, because us trans and enby people have not had that luxury. And, what makes it even harder is that society squishes gender into boxes.

But, you see, enby folks don’t fit into these boxes. They don’t fully identify (or don’t identify at all) with their assigned gender at birth.

Coming from me who’s trans enby, at first, I didn’t fully understand how someone can internally feel that they’re a woman, a man, or neither. I can understand where that confusion comes from. However, I got some clarity and realized there can be a lot of internal discomfort over having to view yourself as the gender you were given at birth and that others perceive you as that gender. Or, that maybe you simply have a stronger preference of feeling a different gender (or none) over the one given to you.

I remember reading a really great article about Sam Smith regarding their perspective on this. Sam said they’ve always felt they’re nonbinary, and that they feel just as much womanly as they do manly (not the exact wording, but something along the lines of that). And seriously, good for them for confidently explaining that! That open representation is so important.

The change in their appearance

I will say that this is absolutely a mountain made out of a mole hill.

Sam gets put down for their weight and their fashion choices that don’t “flatter” their figure. It is truly disgusting to me that people bring their weight into this. People naturally lose and gain weight, it’s not uncommon. It shouldn’t be seen as gross or controversial. We’re all human.

In my opinion, Sam’s outfit and costume designs are so amazing and very fitting for who they are as a person. Also, you can just look at Sam and see how happy they are being themselves and wearing what they want to wear. There’s so much pure joy and confidence.

I feel like Sam really came into their own with both their identity and fashion sense, which I have such strong admiration for. I don’t know how people can tear others down for finding themselves and doing what obviously makes them very happy. I think it’s a lot of self projection.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to fit into the typical styles women and men have - that’s perfectly okay! It’s a problem when you feel it’s okay to force others to fit into the “normal” type of fashion. And, honestly, I’m willing to bet if all kinds of style were completely acceptable in society, a lot of those same people who make fun of people like Sam would also develop their own sense of style that wouldn’t necessarily fit what’s currently deemed as “normal.”

Also, I wanted to mention one of the most controversial outfits (aside from the one where Sam’s nips were out) - the devil suit and hat. This was seen as worshipping and promoting Satanism despite it being one of Sam’s more reserved outfits.

But, legit, it was a costume for a song that is called Unholy?! It fits the narrative of the song and doesn’t even measure up to the level of controversial past singers’ costumes that are - as we’ll say - unholy.

The change in their music

Putting Sam’s presentation aside, there are people who think Sam has changed their style of music, too. But, as an active listener of their music, I can tell you this has only been the case for their more popular songs lately.

Unholy and I’m Not Here to Make Friends are undeniably different from Sam’s old popular hits. However, if you are in fact a big fan of theirs, you would’ve listened to their latest album and known that most of the songs on there are still in fact very much the same style as their past hits.

If you preferred Sam’s style of music before Unholy and I’m Not Here to Make Friends became popular, listen to their other songs on the latest album Gloria. I highly recommend How to Cry, Fire on Fire, No God, and Lose You. They’re still very much the same as Sam’s older hits and are absolutely beautiful songs.

Conclusion

I think Sam is amazing. They’re just being themselves and they’re incredible for showing others it’s okay to embrace your own personal identity and style.

I don’t think Sam has done or said anything foul that would make people hate them, unless I’m unaware of something that happened. So, from what I’m understanding, they’re a joke to a lot of people - particularly the bigots - simply because they’re being the person that they are.

It’s easy for these people to sit behind their computers at home and pitch a fit about Sam “changing” and say nasty things about them. They’re definitely jealous that they don’t have half the talent and confidence Sam has, plus the super cool outfits. However, I can’t let these people continue acting this way towards Sam without calling them out. Why? Because it’s still spreading more hate that ends up extending beyond the internet into the real world.

Sam Smith has not only received this wave of hate on the internet, but they’ve gotten insulted (and I think even spat on) in public just for living their life authentically. It makes me so upset. These people need to be stopped and called out for their disgusting behavior.

Leave people alone for being who they are. They’re not hurting you. And if you feel hurt by just them existing, go touch some grass and figure yourself out, pal.

[m2kdj-waist-connoisseur]

One thing I love so much about orv is the writing style. SS has such a beautiful writing style that I get absorbed into orv whenever I open my kindle.

Orv doesn't have a single meaning, the scenes we interpret do not have a single interpretation and I love that. Different aspects have different interpretations and I believe that’s really beautiful for a book to have different interpretations and invoke thought.

Sometimes I’ll sit and think about a scene in orv and come up with my own interpretation, how it made me feel then open twitter and see someone with something different and it makes me think more. I read the thread wanting to know why they think like that? What did you see that I didn’t? And seeing different opinions (the good ones, not the hateful ones some assholes drop) make me really happy. Maybe it’s cause my brain can’t rest and refuses to stop at my interpretation but I have to say SS really made a piece of art!

Orv would make literature teachers cry cause it can be interpreted in so many ways (gone with ‘the curtain is blue as a symbol of sadness’).

Another good thing about Orv having such an open to interpretation style is that spoilers don’t pull me off. I haven’t finished it but can talk about it for a more than reasonable length (Apologies to my younger brother as I spent well over an hour explaining why kdj and yjh are life and death companions last week) because I’ve seen so many takes and opinions on twitter.

Hell twitter was the final push that made me pick it up (shoutout toapollo their jd sleeping beauty au led me down the orv rabbit hole). Seeing the ‘spoilers’ on twitter piqued my curiosity and made me search for a way to read orv and here I am on tumblr.

I wanted to know why are jd known as ‘life and death companions’? Why does 49% and 51% trigger people? Why is my tl filled with kdj’s 24 inch waist? (I believe his waist is AT MOST 26 inches) With so many whys, threads explaining shit after I liked ONE AU I picked it up for myself and I can say starting Orv is the best and worst thing I’ve ever done to myself.

I can confidently say orv is indeed the bane of my existence and the object of my desires (head in hands begging for an official English translation so I can buy it ) Orv didn’t pull me out of a reading slump, it put me in multiple but they’re the most pleasant slumps I’ve had cause I don’t want to finish reading it but I also can’t wait to finish it so I’ve decided to stall my suffering and take it at an extremely slow pace.

This feels like a diary rn

I feel like I’ve said a lot without really saying anything but meh so is life ig (damn Shakespeare got nothing on me)

I almost forgot!

The topic of interpretation comes from lsk encouraging kdj’s love for books! Lsk encouraged kdj to reread books when he’s done because there’s always more to it than what you saw in the first read. He could reread a book and focus on someone else’s pov and get an entirely new story from something so simple :) I’m not a fan of rereading books (I’ve tried and just can’t so it’s one of the reasons I stick to ebooks cause I don’t have to worry about getting rid of books I’ll no longer read ( ◠‿◠ ) )

Orv might have been about that one reader’s pov (sobs) but it sure made me think of things from others’ pov! It took being empathetic to another level and made me want to understand these characters and not just understand their love for that rat bastard {affectionate}.

I wanted to understand why these people kept going when it looked like all was lost. They’re living in an apocalypse for goodness sake and they’re still trying to survive??? I’d look for the quickest and least painful way to end it all cause I wouldn’t see a way out and even if I did see one who says I’d struggle to get it?? Do they keep moving just to survive? Why do they struggle when a peaceful death sounds appealing? (if it’s not obvious I’m a weak ass bitch and can’t imagine facing a scenario )

There’s something in them that makes them move even before they met kdj. Maybe it’s the fear of death? Maybe it’s hope? Maybe it’s the desire to live even when it seems impossible? Maybe it’s something I haven’t thought of?? Who knows?? (SS probably but this ain’t about them :) )

JD HAS DIFFERENT INTERPRETATIONS AS WELL

There are people that ship jd and see romantic intentions behind their actions (they’re married your honour) and there are people that have chosen to interpret these actions as outstanding companionship (history will say they were best friends) and that’s fine!

To my knowledge, SS hasn’t confirmed anything but best believe jd is married with biyoo as their daughter and living together with a nice house in the suburbs free from all scenarios and just enjoying domestic married life to me. Jd has caused so much commotion in the fandom that it’s funny. Like damn it’s not my fault I see two married men (life and death companions is a wedding vow???!) and other people see besto friendos ٩( ᐛ )و

*puts rose tinted shades on* all in all I need to hold kdj’s waist and will not know peace until then

Anyway! Let me stop here I need to eat something and if I keep brainstorming I’m gonna cry ϵ( 'Θ' )϶

[frozenbound]

I'm the person who asked about your tumblr so glad to see asks open for requests! I absolutely adored that shimadacest fic of yours, I also saw a fic recently where jesse has the hots for hanzo but hates him they eventually fuck and it's written as fairly tender/smut with feelings at the end. I'm not sure if that was you or anyone else but I am always and I mean always in need of more yeehan smut. So my request is assless chaps, hanzo in a cowboy hat fukin.

Thank you so much for your kind words! The hate-to-tender-fuck fic isn’t mine, but it’s a great story! I tend to want to skip straight to the tender fucking. I have no patience for hate between two handsome men, haha!

Thank you so much for the request!! I’m super excited to write it! YeeHan Cowboy Hanzo coming right up, under the Read More!

“What are you wearing?!” Genji demanded, rocketing to his feet off of Hanzo’s bed. Hanzo shook his head as he closed the bathroom door behind him and walked…the hairs rising on the back of his neck from the noise the jingling spurs made, so antithetical to the silent steps he had taken since he was four…to the full-length mirror beside his wardrobe.

He stopped in front of it and considered himself: front on, in profile, and looking over his shoulder.

He looked really good as a cowboy.

Genji came bouncing up behind him, staring. “No way. No way. Who are you? What have you done with my brother?”

“If you’re allowed to make extravagant purchases every day,” Hanzo retorted, still looking himself over, “then I’m allowed to make at least one.”

“Extravagant?! Is that what you call this?”

“What would you call it?”

“Insane!”

Well, Hanzo conceded internally as he turned back to face the mirror full-on, Genji might be right.

A dark brown cowboy hat, a blue-green plaid button-up shirt, tight-fitting jeans, chaps, and cowboy boots, complete with spurs, were an insane impulse purchase after discovering that Seven Samurai had an American rip-off called The Magnificent Seven…a rip-off that was actually, surprisingly good.

But, as Hanzo raised a hand to his chin and stroked his new beard and goatee, which he had grown recently and now coincidentally looked like the finishing touches on this new look, the impulse had paid dividends.

He looked good.

He looked really good.

He would never, ever, ever wear this in public, but he looked really good as a cowboy.

“I can’t believe,” Genji said slowly after a brief silent period while they both stared at Hanzo’s outfit, “that you even got the assless chaps.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “All chaps are assless, Genji. You remember how in English ‘trousers’ and ‘jeans’ are plural? It’s because they started out like this.” He unbuckled the belt holding the chaps together and took them off, showing Genji the shaped leather was in two distinct pieces that covered the outer parts of his legs, but not only didn’t join up at the crotch but were also open in the interior.

Genji whistled. “Huh. You learn something new every day.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo replied, buckling the chaps back on and turning back to the mirror to feed his growing admiration of himself. “Do it and I’ll break it in half.”

“Brother!” Genji whined, cellphone in hand. “You gotta let me!”

“I will break it, Genji.”

Genji put it back in his pocket, grumbling, but Hanzo had no pity for him. This had been an impulse buy, a gift of sorts, but to himself, and himself alone.

Nobody would ever see him like this. Ever.

“Ever” turned out to mean “For twelve years”.

When Hanzo and Genji walked down the exit ramp of the transport to meet the small crowd of Overwatch agents that had gathered to greet them, Hanzo only had eyes for the giant gorilla who was leading this insane escapade of a second Overwatch, and when he got over him, there were plenty of other characters to distract him, ranging from the bubbly British agent to the Brazilian guerrilla DJ to the Korean streamer-slash-war heroine.

Then there was Genji nudging him familiarly and catching Hanzo’s eye and grinning, his teeth flashing white in his dark, scarred face, and the fact that Genji was here and alive and welcoming him into his circle of friends and comrades took Hanzo’s breath away and he could only look uncomprehendingly at his brother for a few uncomfortable seconds.

Then Genji motioned again, stronger and more insistent, and obligated Hanzo to look at a…at a…

At a cowboy.

With a cowboy hat, red and yellow plaid button-up shirt, tight-fitting jeans, chaps, and cowboy boots, complete with jingling spurs.

Hanzo stared.

He even had the cloak over his shoulders. What was it called? Not a poncho, it was a…

The cowboy looked back mildly, with a trace of unfriendly wariness at Hanzo’s scrutiny and silence.

“Howdy,” he said at last, when Hanzo failed to say anything, and Hanzo nearly closed his eyes.

He even sounded like a cowboy.

But he managed to return the greeting with a minimum of nervousness under Genji’s gleeful eye, and the cowboy introduced himself as Cole Cassidy and left it at that.

But things didn’t stay like that.

No, over the next weeks and months, the cowboy revealed himself to be an astute, thoughtful, charismatic, and capable leader. 

He turned out to be an excellent shot.

He had a varied and eventful and unlikely background, with an undercurrent of a search for redemption running throughout.

He was gay. Completely and thoroughly gay, and after a few months, when he discovered that Hanzo was a sharp, observant, poised, and skilled agent who was an incredible shot with a mixed and weighty and strange background that had ultimately led to a search for redemption…

Well, it turned out they had a lot in common.

So it was no surprise when they started fucking.

It was a surprise that it didn’t take at least a little alcohol to get them started, but Cassidy made sure to proposition Hanzo in the afternoon that first time, not in the evening after they had both indulged in some whiskey and sake.

Maybe he simply found him irresistible when they were shirtless and sweaty and alone in the Watchpoint’s gym.

At any rate, they ended up running up to Cassidy’s quarters, and Hanzo managed to surprise Cassidy by pushing the cowboy to sit on his bed while Hanzo dropped to his knees.

“And here I thought I was taking the initiative,” he drawled as Hanzo tugged down his workout shorts to reveal his erection, the head shiny with precum.

“You did,” Hanzo replied, “but I’ll take over from here.”

The cowboy opened his mouth to retort, but only a groan came out as Hanzo engulfed him in the moist heat of his mouth.

Hanzo was pleased to find that the cowboy was a complete gentleman. There had been times when his partner had enjoyed Hanzo’s lips and mouth and tongue and then immediately dropped off to sleep or simply left as soon as they exploded down his throat, but not Cassidy. After Hanzo had swallowed, Cassidy took a few minutes to catch his breath, gently stroking Hanzo’s cheek with a thumb and gazing affectionately down at him, but then he lifted Hanzo onto the bed and returned the favor with gusto, milking Hanzo dry with the best blowjob he’d gotten in years.

Things progressed and meandered at a gentle, languid pace after that, the two men cautiously yet resolutely exploring this new relationship of theirs. Their encounters were restricted to blowjobs and sloppy makeout sessions for a few weeks more, until Hanzo realized that while the physical contact and physical release were welcome, a certain bloom of warmth began to swell in his chest whenever he saw Cassidy, and he fancied that he could see something similar welling up in the cowboy’s eyes and face whenever they met, and it stayed there as he watched Hanzo’s head bob up and down in his lap or when he stared up at Hanzo as he licked up and down his straining length.

“I think,” he said slowly one golden afternoon, his metallic fingers tracing the lines of Hanzo’s dragon as Hanzo cuddled him to his chest, “that I’d like for you to call me Cole.”

Hanzo blinked, swallowed, then ventured, “In what capacity, exactly?”

“In the capacity of my, uh…” Cole said, trailing off, then setting his jaw and looking up at him. “As my boyfriend.”

To his visible relief, Hanzo smiled. “I’d like that very much, Cole.”

Genji screeched when he found out later that day.

“I knew it! I knew it!” he crowed, pounding a metal hand painfully on Hanzo’s back. Hanzo absorbed it stoically. “I knew you had a thing for cowboys! C’mon, we gotta get down to the evidence lockers and see if it’s all still there.”

“If what is still there?” asked Hanzo, bewildered by this completely unexpected turn.

Genji grinned, and while Hanzo was thankful he was getting used to the sight, he couldn’t help worrying at the implications. “If the evidence we seized when Blackwatch raided Shimada Castle is still there.”

Hanzo felt the blood drain out of his face. “Evidence?”

“Yes, brother,” Genji replied with a gleam in his eye. “Evidence.”

And that was why, hours later, Hanzo sent a text to Cole. 

“Come to my quarters. We need to celebrate.”

Cole came, and knocked on the door, which slid aside to admit him into the dark interior, lit only by a few candles.

“Hanzo?” he asked, sounding as though he rather liked where this was going as he stepped inside and let the door close behind him. “Where are you?”

Hanzo pushed the bathroom door open.

Cole stared.

“Howdy,” Hanzo said at last, when Cole failed to say anything, and Cole closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” he said, opening his eyes and letting a grin slowly spread across his face to rob his words of any seriousness, “that I’m not just your fetish.”

“You are not,” Hanzo said, smiling back as he stepped into the room with a jingle, forcing an involuntary chuckle out of Cole as he glanced down at the spurs. “When I was younger, I…happened to see and enjoy an Old West film, and I liked the aesthetics enough to want to have some of them. It’s not a sexual thing, but, ah…now…I thought it might come as a welcome surprise.”

“It sure did. It sure is,” Cole said, laughing again in wonderment as he came forward and took Hanzo by the shoulders and looked him up and down. “Look at you! You’re picture perfect. You look like you’re ready to mount that bull and ride him all the way to Santa Fe and back.”

“Well,” Hanzo said, reddening. “I thought…though it isn’t a sexual thing…I thought perhaps…we could…that I could…” he trailed off.

Cole’s grin widened, though it disappeared for a moment as he licked his lips. “That we could ride?” he finished, his eyes alight with hope.

Hanzo nodded.

Cole leaned in close. “Yeehaw,” he murmured, then he ducked under the brim of Hanzo’s hat and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You, uh…you want me all dolled up, too?”

Hanzo licked his lips and nodded.

Cole looked radiant. “You into assless chaps at all?”

“All chaps are…”

“Oh, darling!” Cole interrupted, hugging him close and nearly bumping Hanzo’s hat right off his head. “You’re turning into my sun and stars, you know that?”

Hanzo mumbled something into Cole’s chest, but even he didn’t know what it was.

Cole rapidly went back to his quarters and returned so quickly he was breathing hard when he knocked on Hanzo’s door to be readmitted. Despite being out of breath, he did his best to saunter in, his own spurs jingling, and even twirling on the spot under Hanzo’s heated and openly admiring gaze. “Look who’s here,” he said smugly. 

“I’m looking,” Hanzo replied, pushing off the wall he had deliberately posed against. “I see a wild stallion in need of being tamed.”

“Oh, really?” Cole said, reaching up to pull the brim of his hat low over one eye. “And you think you’re the one who’s gonna do it?”

“Clearly,” Hanzo said as he stepped up to him and looked up, their brims brushing against each other.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, partner.”

“With good reason.”

And Hanzo took Cole’s jaw gently in hand and guided him down to his lips, immediately licking into his mouth before parting and looking into Cole’s rather dazed eyes.

“You got a, uh,” the cowboy said slowly, his eyes flicking between Hanzo’s eyes and Hanzo’s lips. “You got a gentler touch than I was expecting.”

“Gentle or rough, I’ll get the job done,” Hanzo purred. “Perhaps the wild stallion might even come willingly.”

“Oh, he sure will, when he sees what you got to offer,” Cole replied fervently.

“Good. Then first, the stallion can lose these.”

And Hanzo swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped Cole’s jeans.

“Tit for tat, cowboy,” Cole said, a little breathlessly.

“If you insist,” Hanzo breathed back as he tugged Cole’s jeans over his thick thighs to pool around his boots. Hanzo had the presence of mind to pull off his boots first before he unbuttoned and shucked off his own jeans, and he laughed as Cole awkwardly tried to shove off his jeans and boots while keeping his eyes glued to Hanzo, managing to tangle the jeans into his spurs before finally kicking the whole mess off.

Then the two of them stalked around each other in the middle of the room, hungrily devouring the sight of the other’s bare ass flexing, round and muscular and framed by the dark leather of the chaps.

Then Hanzo began to slowly unbutton his shirt and Cole’s lips parted as he drank in the sight, Hanzo’s abs and pecs and the swirling lines of his tattoo coming into sight as he shrugged off and dropped the shirt to the floor. 

Hanzo winked and slid his fingertips along the brim of his hat. “The hat and chaps stay on.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling,” Cole replied, his weeping cock bouncing.

“I would,” Hanzo said stepping forward and taking hold of the hem of Cole’s shirt. “I want this off.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Very well,” Hanzo said, stepping a little closer and swishing his erection back and forth. Since he was shorter than Cole, his cock brushed over Cole’s hairy ballsack, leaving a trail of precum.

All of Hanzo’s attention, however, was on the vista of Cole’s dark skin and darker body hair coming into view as he pulled the concealing, offending fabric of his shirt away, rising and falling under Cole’s heavy, aroused breathing. When he finally had it all unbuttoned, he stepped even closer to push it off his arms, which had the extra effect of pushing his cock past Cole’s balls and into the tight junction of Cole’s thighs, rubbing against his perineum and eliciting a sigh from the taller man.

“Feels good when you touch me there,” Cole said over the soft sound of his shirt falling to the flood, leaving his muscular biceps on full display.

“Does it?” Hanzo asked as he cupped Cole’s balls with his hand and stepped still closer, forcing his cock further between Cole’s legs and along his perineum.

Cole shuddered. “Surprisingly good,” he admitted.

“For me as well,” Hanzo said, wrapping his free arm around Cole’s waist and grabbing a fistful of his ass while simultaneously pulling Cole until they were pressing flush together, with Hanzo’s cock pressing through Cole’s legs and into the softer region of his asscheeks. Hanzo had to tilt his head up to keep his hat from bumping into Cole’s face, which suited him just fine. Cole’s face was red and slightly sweaty, his eyes dark with arousal, his lips full and parted, and his cowboy hat made the perfect background.

“God, you look so handsome in that hat,” Cole whispered, echoing Hanzo’s thoughts. “Never thought I’d find another cowboy so far from the cattle ranches back home.”

Hanzo smiled. “Clothes don’t make the man, Cole.”

“Nah, but now I’ve got to get you back there,” Cole said, starting to run his big, rough hands up and down Hanzo’s sides, feeling the soft skin and hard muscle. “Gonna get you up on a horse, and then we’re gonna gallop all over the countryside together. Gonna teach you how to lasso a calf. Gonna see how long you can stay on a bull.”

“Real or mechanical?” Hanzo asked, flushing under the open, yearning look in Cole’s eyes and under the touch of his hands wandering from his sides to his chest.

“Oh, you’ll graduate from the mechanical to the real thing in no time,” Cole said, sounding entirely convinced. “You’re gonna be winning blue ribbons in barrel racing and bull riding and calf roping in no time.”

Hanzo smiled indulgently. Cole was talking complete nonsense.

The thought of Hanzo on a horse, lasso overhead, chasing down cattle…

…

…well, actually…

…no, it was absurd.

However…

“If you were there,” he said slowly, imagining Cole alongside him on his own horse, whooping and hollering, egging him on, and cheering when Hanzo effortlessly looped a lasso right around a steer’s head, “if you were there, I just might be able to do anything.”

“They got team roping, too, darling,” Cole said with a grin. “Two people gotta rope a steer together. We’d break records, I’m sure of it.”

“Me, too,” said Hanzo softly. “Me, too.”

And he tilted his head back a little more invitingly, and Cole leaned down and kissed him, and it was like something out of a dream that had started out bizarre and nonsensical but had slowly morphed into something more.

Cole licked into his mouth and the dream got even better as Hanzo responded in kind, subconsciously thrusting his hips and making them both moan at the feel of his cock rubbing between Cole’s legs.

When they broke apart, they took a moment to take in the sight of each other’s shiny, wet lips before Cole whispered, “I think it’s time we ride.”

Hanzo’s body burned with desire and he began pushing Cole towards his bed.

“Whoa there, partner!” he said, chuckling at his impatience. “We haven’t rightly…I mean, do you want to…”

Then he yelped when Hanzo roughly shoved him down onto the bed and was instantly upon him, straddling his hips and looking down into his surprised face. Hanzo slowly took in the beautiful sight of the cowboy laid out beneath him, his thick legs covered in leather chaps, his erection standing tall between the leather, his defined, muscular torso bare but for his thick body hair, and his hat, lying upside down above his head, pushed off by his falling on the bed.

He leaned over to snatch the waiting bottle of lube off his bedside cabinet and watched Cole’s face darken with lust as he squirted a healthy amount onto his fingers and reached behind himself, his slick fingers probing toward his entrance. He sighed when his rough fingertips grazed over the sensitive ring, then sighed again, louder and indulgently, when he pushed in, sticking in an entire thick digit because he was impatient and he wanted to be bouncing on Cole’s dick right then and there.

Then he felt Cole’s hands on his hips, over his own chaps, steadying him as he murmured, “Easy, darling, easy. I’m not going anywhere. You get yourself nice and ready, alright? I want you to feel good. Real good.”

Hanzo took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then smiled down at him. “I have been anticipating this for some time.”

“You’ve been anticipating dressing up as a cowboy to seduce the one other cowboy on the Watchpoint?” he replied with a wink.

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a smirk and a shake of his head, looking down at his own legs encased in the loose leather of his own chaps. “Precisely.”

“You sure this ain’t a fetish?”

“Are you?” Hanzo shot back.

Cole grinned triumphantly. “Sure it’s my fetish. I didn’t grow up on a ranch, I was a farmboy. I used to wait all year for the rodeo just to see all them cowboys strutting around in their assless chaps. I didn’t get my first cowboy duds until after my first heist. They were my reward to myself for pulling it off. I was hard as a rock when I first put everything on and looked at myself in the mirror. Jacked off and came all over myself. Almost stained that brand new hat.”

Hanzo stared down at him, idly continuing to finger himself open as he digested this information. 

“Then you’re telling me I shouldn’t aim for your face when I cum?” he asked, glancing at the hat resting on the sheets just above Cole’s head.

Cole burst out laughing. “Just try not to get the hat, darling. If you can manage that, I think I’d look mighty fine covered with your cum.”

Hanzo sucked in a breath at the mental picture.

He was going to make it happen.

He scissored and spread his fingers, stretching himself out until he was working three fingers in and out with ease.

He was ready.

He shuffled forward on his knees and took Cole’s erection in hand, stroking it gently as he covered it in lube. 

Then he shuffled a little further forward, rose up, maneuvered himself into position, then looked Cole in the eye.

“Yeehaw.”

And he sank down onto Cole, breathing out as his blunt cockhead pressed against his entrance, then popped inside.

Cole groaned, his fingertips digging into Hanzo’s hips, but he didn’t hurry him on. He waited patiently for Hanzo to get used to his thickness and length and slide down a little further, then pause, then slide down, until soon Hanzo’s ballsack draped over Cole’s pubes, and Cole’s cock was fully sheathed in Hanzo.

They were both breathing heavily, and sweat dripped down Hanzo’s skin, trailing down his forehead and chest and stomach as he shifted in place, feeling his body stretch and relax in order to accommodate Cole, his own cock leaking like a sieve. 

Just when he was nearly ready, he felt Cole take his cock in hand at the base, his fingers not quite touching around his girth, and he gently pumped him a couple of times.

“You feel incredible,” Cole whispered reverently.

Hanzo smiled as the last of his body’s resistance melted away, leaving nothing but the pleasant buzz of fullness. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he replied, mimicking Cole’s accent. “And now, stallion, we ride.”

He closed his eyes and pictured himself on horseback, going at an easy pace, and began working himself up and down on Cole’s cock as though he were bouncing lightly in his imagined saddle, getting speared quickly yet shallowly.

“Wow,” Cole breathed.

Without breaking his rhythm, Hanzo opened his eyes and reached up to tip his hat. “How’s the pace, wild stallion? Should we kick up into an easy trot?”

Cole’s eyes shone with erotic amusement. “You tell me, cowboy. You’re in charge. You’re riding me.”

Hanzo grinned and did indeed pick up the pace, but imagining a fast trot instead of an easy one, and Cole actually went a little cross-eyed at the feel of his cock sliding further out of and deeper into Hanzo’s heat, the two of them bouncing on the mattress. 

Hanzo, on the other hand, was enjoying the glide and the fullness of the cock rubbing so deliciously against his innards, but the feel of the chaps, so loose and soft around his legs yet leaving his cock free to jump and wobble with each movement, was a novelty that he found he greatly enjoyed.

Then he leaned over and Cole smiled up at him and puckered his lips slightly, expecting a kiss.

Then Hanzo broke into a “gallop”.

Cole gasped and gaped up at him as Hanzo jackhammered his hips up and down, leaning forward with a savage grin as though he was tearing across the prairie at full sprint on his “horse”.

Despite the concentration it required to keep up the brutal pace, he couldn’t fail to notice the strange feeling that started to build up in his groin. His dick, though untouched, was tingling at both the head and at its base…no, not at the base, within him, the two sensations spreading out to engulf the length of his dick and then his entire pelvis. What was…?

Then, with a surge of exhilaration in his chest, he realized he was slamming Cole’s cock into himself so fast and hard that he was going to come untouched.

Buoyed by the revelation, he snatched his cowboy hat off his head and waved madly above his head.

“Fuck!” Cole gasped, his eyes wide at the sight. “Fuck! Fuck! Darling! Ride me! Ride me! I’m gonna! I’m gonna! Yes!”

“Yes!” was all Hanzo could reply before he threw his head back and yelled wordlessly.

Cum exploded into him and out of him in the same instant as Hanzo and Cole were simultaneously rocked by their orgasms.

“Darling! Sugar! Oh! Honey! I’m! Oh! Darling!” Cole blabbered as he tried to thrust up into Hanzo as deep as he could go.

Hanzo had no words. He just let out meaningless grunts and half-formed, guttural noises as he sprayed cum everywhere, onto Cole’s hairy belly and chest, onto Cole’s face and beard, on the sheets surrounding them, everywhere.

Then, the strength of his body taken up entirely by the strength of his orgasm, he dropped his hat off to one side and slumped forward onto Cole’s torso, smearing himself with his own cum and trapping his own cock between their bodies.

He lay there, eyes wide open yet unseeing, as Cole shuddered and panted underneath him, pumping cum deep, deep into him as his cock continued spurting, forcing semen between them as they lay pressed together, skin-to-skin.

Slowly, slowly, their orgasms subsided, leaving them drained, exhausted, euphoric.

Cole was the first to regain his senses, and he wrapped his arms, warm flesh and cold metal, around Hanzo. “My god,” he murmured, sweeping his hands up and down Hanzo’s sweaty back. “My god.”

“Mmm…?” hummed Hanzo, Cole’s word rousing him out of a pleasant, heady mindfog. 

“You have no idea,” Cole said quietly and adoringly, “how good you looked up there, waving your hat around like that. My god, Hanzo. You just about killed me, you looked so good. Like sex personified.”

Hanzo smiled and kissed the skin beneath him. “And you, stretched out beneath me and so far inside of me. I have never cum handsfree like that in my life. Never. You felt exquisite, and looked even better.”

“Aw, shucks,” Cole said, half jokingly, half bashfully. 

“I fear,” Hanzo said, after a few minutes of comfortable, silent afterglow, “that I may have gotten your hat after all.”

“Nope, not a drop, darling. See?”

Hanzo looked up, and Cole was holding his hat aloft to show that it was untouched, but Hanzo hardly saw it.

Instead he saw just how much of his semen had splashed over and still clung to Cole’s face, a fat white drop hanging off his beard just below the faint scar that ran across his lips.

Hanzo reached up, caught Cole’s hat out of his fingers, and plunked it on his head.

He scrutinized the resulting tableau, Cole’s handsome face framed by the wide brim of his hat, and covered with Hanzo’s cum.

He hadn’t been lying before when he said cowboys weren’t his fetish…but it would truly be a lie now.

[why-is-james-on-here]

I just finished a shitty Christian fantasy novel. Rant time!

I wish I could start this review with some snarky comment making fun of how awful this book is. I wish I could talk about how it murders the English language on every page or how it made me feel mental anguish on par with physical pain. I can’t though. If Leviathan was the worst book ever, that would be something. Instead this book is… empty. It’s a tale based in Christian mythology, all about the life of Noah when he was a young man, long before God told him to build the Ark so he could escape the Great Flood. It takes place in a world filled with angels, giants, dragons (actually dinosaurs in this world), and at the center of it is a man chosen by God to do great things. Does that sound cool? Well, yeah, I thought so too. There are 2 issues (at least 2 big issues, there’s plenty of small ones) that prevent this book from being… anything. 1: The author believes that all of this is literally true. He genuinely believes that the Earth is only a few thousand years old and dinosaurs lived with humans in Biblical times. That’s hardcore stupid on its own, then you realize it means that R.M. Huffman believes this book is all true. Maybe parts of it are fictional in his mind, but which parts? It’s impossible to say. Imagine if J.R.R. Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings under the impression it was real. He wouldn’t be writing it to make interesting characters or a cool world to explore or a story with heart, he’d be writing it with religious reverence. He’d be copying something someone else already made without any new ideas or themes added and expecting everyone else to admire it as much as he does. And if anyone doesn’t admire it, it’s because they hate God and Christians. No need for self-reflection or taking criticism, because this isn’t actually a fantasy novel (in his mind). The issue here is not that the author has different beliefs than me, or even that he’s clumsily pushing them in his book. The issue is that there is nothing here beyond his beliefs, which brings me to the next point. 2: There are maybe 6 events that transpire over the course of more than 400 pages. This isn’t an adventure, or even a series of adventures, it’s just Noah. Noah hanging around at home and basking in everyone talking about how great he is and how he’s destined for great things. Noah going to get help for his town without running into trouble. Noah coming up with brilliant plans to defeat villains such as “If we want to kill the Leviathan we have to break it’s skull open with an ax!” Great plan, mate, no one else could have come up with that. That might be fine if Noah had any personality or interesting things to say/do, he doesn’t though. He’s just the hero because the author made him the hero, and the author made him the hero because the Bible did. There’s a final battle near the end which, to be fair, isn’t half bad. It would be better if the protagonist actually did things instead of just knowing how to win without effort, but y’know, I’ve read worse. The only real entertainment value it has is to remember that the author believes this is all literally true. He’s an insane dipshit who believes humans and dinosaurs lived together, this isn’t a fantasy world for him, its existence is a religious fact, never to be questioned. And if anyone does question it, they must be attacked/silenced. So I can’t even act like this book is the worst thing ever. I want to channel my inner Roger Ebert to roast it until it’s reduced to ashes so I can scatter them on the wind. I can’t though. And even if I could, this book isn’t worth it. There is nothing here, not even anything to mock. I know Christian conservatives would say that dog shit tasted like candy if the dog claimed to love Jesus first, so I expect at least some hate for this negative review. I don’t care though. This book isn’t bad because it’s Christian, it’s bad because it’s bad.