s0ulm8s

[melverie]

Can we please stop baselessly accusing artists of using AI in their artworks just because there is some element to it that you don't like? Thank you

[luciferloveschloe]

goodbye, lucifer (but not really!)

I cannot BELIEVE that I just watched the last episode of my favourite show.

I usually cram everything I have to in tags under gifsets I reblog, but for this final season I'll go through the pain of actually writing shit down. I'll try to keep it short, and I'll try not to ramble. (Edit: Did not accomplish that.)

what i loved

SCREAMS

God, soooooooo much!!

Deckerstar baby

Okay, so when Rory showed up in the trailer I was like "Ugh, another annoying angel? Meh." FORGIVE ME, my sweet murder child! Of all the things I thought they might do, a Deckerstar baby was DEAD LAST on my list. And a daughter no less, I just... When she says she's Lucifer's daughter, I was like *SCREAMS*, but when we learn she's Lucifer AND Chloe's daughter, I completely lost it. My boyfriend's on a trip with his friends this week and I'm sooo grateful for that, I made the weirdest, loudest, ugliest noises while watching this season, I ran around our apartment like a maniac, I squealed and laughed and cried and just generally lost my mind. But when she says that?? Oh my God. Also the way Lucifer reacted when Chloe shows him the pregnancy test? Straight outta fanfic.

Lucifer being a father

Oh my God?? I've always said he'd be the BEST father, and actually seeing it on screen... I love the parallel of him being ridiculously over the top with Rory at first, just like God and Lucifer in S5. The way he looks at her when he sees her playing the guitar? Their duet?? Instantly one of my favourite scenes. Them driving in the Corvette, their last day together, how he keeps her from killing Le Mec? Just murder me.

Established Deckerstar

All the hugs and kisses?? The declarations of love, the besotted looks, the absolute power couple we got? Their look from Maze and Eve's wedding, OH MY GOD???? Just, these two are so pretty and we got SO MUCH. Also, their scenes with Rory?? I just love them so much...

(More under the cut!)

Ella's storyline

I wanted a reveal for her so badly, and the way it turned out was brilliant! I loved her figuring it out for herself and calling everyone out lmao. I especially loved poor Carol returning to that room full of shocked people. They had some GREAT punchlines and gags this season, absolutely hilarious! I also love Lucifer's parting gift for her and that she finally found a good one with Carol.

Hugs, so many hugs!

That's it, that's the paragraph.

The Police storyline

As a white person who has literally never once had a problem with the police, I know this is not my place to say, but I think they did a good job? Not giving into the "a few bad apples" excuse but acknowledging that the whole system needs to change? I also really enjoyed the scenes with Amenadiel and Officer Harris, showing what policework could and should look like.

Maze and Eve's happily ever after

I'm so glad auntie Maze and auntie Eve got their happy ending! And that wedding was a bomb. Also, "You're my hell!", lmao.

Dan's ascend to heaven

First of, great to know his only torture was Belios' lack of table tennis skills. Secondly, how very fitting for the show that they didn't hand Dan his happy ending easily, that he fought and won it for himself. Him as a ghost and him as Le Mec was equally funny, and his talk with Trixie was just perfect, literally tears you guys.

Amenadiel becoming God

I mean, dude's perfect for the job! From the loyal, distant, obeying servant to a God who wants to work as a team with his siblings, who wants the Celestials to experience the human world, who hates injustice and loves fiercely? In this universe, I couldn't imagine anyone better suited to be God.

Nobody misses the case of the week

At least I don't! God, I wish they'd tried this out sooner.

The bittersweet ending

Let's preface this by saying I HATE bittersweet endings. Give me a happily ever after or else. And yet, and yet!! I think the ending they settled on is perfect. Would I have loved it if Lucifer had a life on earth with Chloe, Trixie and Rory? God, yes. Do I get emotional over him being alone in hell, again? Goddd, yes. But still. I so love that he found his calling in the end, that they reunited, and that he actually makes good on his promise from S5 to change the system. Also, I don't care if this is canon or fanon for now, but they totally spend time in heaven with Rory and visit earth whenever they like. And this would have been my ideal ending - them being free to go where they like, and I don't see why they shoudn't. It's definitely more satisfying than just traipsing off to heaven indefinitely, so I really, really loved that.

what i didn't (do feel free to skip this!)

Lucifer missing out on Chloe's life on earth and being alone in hell again. Chloe being left again.

Time travel shenanigans. I just finished Dark and that was enough of a mindfuck. Do not want to think about loops for this show, thank you very much.

Chloe felt a little too housewifey in the first episodes, but it thankfully didn't stay that way for long.

Lucifer and Chloe talking about keeping secrets for a whole episode, and then NOBODY TALKING ABOUT URIEL AND CANDY. I mean, ahhhhhhh! If you don't want to talk about it, then don't, but don't remind people of it constantly and then NOT discuss it. It drives me mad, honestly, how many times they referenced these storylines only to completely ignore them when there were opportunities to resolve them. Ahhh. That's what fic is for, I guess.

Adam. Like, why? Bye, dude.

what i'll keep with me

When someone I'd just met at my boyfriend's cousin's wedding in 2019 recommended this "funny, little show" to me that intrigued them because they were interested in finding their faith, I really didn't think I'd write all this three years later.

Lucifer is my third fandom, and it won't be my last, but it sure as hell - ha - will stay with me. I resonate so deeply with Lucifer as a character because he fights with the idea of God, fights with this concept of a benevolent father that everyone seems to believe in but never fit his experience. I come from a Christian family and studied theology, but somewhere along the lines I had to come to terms with the fact that the faith I had as a child and teenager didn't fit me anymore. I want to believe again, and maybe someday I will, but right now I don't know that. So Lucifer's journey with that meant a lot to me. I'd like to find what Ella did, I guess.

Although I never really thought Lucifer needed redemption, I loved the whole "anybody can be redeemed" message as well. And hell reform! Hell is such a weird, awful construct - speaking as the theology expert - bringing a bit of purgatory in in this universe is really fucking cool.

Also, I binged Lucifer when I was alone in hospital late at night. That experience alone I'll never forget.

So, I guess - thank you!! Thank you to the cast and crew, to the fans who campaigned for season four, to Ildy and Joe, to the writers and the directors and the people who brought lunch: Thank you so much for this incredible show. I'm not ready to say goodbye, not by a long shot, and I hope this fandom feels the same.

Yabba dabba do me, I love my stupid little show!!!

[anthropos-metronff]

So Tumblr is under the misapprehension that I’m one of the top Kuja blogs, so let’s actually make a serious post on the subject.

I know everyone has a different relationship to the ultimanias - some people regard them as holy writ, others just think they're apochrypha. Personally I like to treat them as the newspaper and straw for the nesting boxes of my headcanons - useful as inspiration and interesting, but only that.

Anyway, so today I’m calling bullshit on a specific part of the FFIX ultimania. The notion that Kuja had an inherent design flaw which gave him an especially powerful will.

Okay. So, assuming Garland noticed and rectified that flaw, as the ultimania assures us he did, then Zidane should have a propensity to conformity, meekness, subsmissiveness and hahaha yeah good joke.

To me the 'especially powerful will' thing is like the ultimania interviewed Garland and is just reciting his line.

“I created a fully-formed person, and would you believe it? He didn't want to obey me completely and absolutely. Anyway, that was no good, so I created a baby that I could brainwash and indoctrinate from birth to serve as my tool of ethnic cleansing.”

I'm really interested in where Garland is located in fandom. It’s hard to judge on that score though because the fic sample size is tiny and people don’t routinely discuss a twenty year old game in online spaces, but do I get a feeling there’s sometimes a kind of moral tonal indifference to Garland. (I’m talking on the wider internet here, not on just Tumblr or in fics)

If you're thinking this is leading into being a complete apologia for Kuja, then it's not - his actions are wrong - but the notion that they're opaque, motivationally-speaking, is ludricuous. Who the hell wouldn't want to be free of Garland - a creator who is all-powerful and will never die and who has a permanent grievance that you can’t be sufficiently controlled, which he won’t shirk? And will dispense with you once your function is fulfilled?

Garland's goals are essentially identical to Sephiroth's. Murder the planet as it exists and re-establish a "shining future" in its place.

Nice Guy Grandad.

So I’d like to move away from, insofar as it exists, tonal indiference to Garland. The tacit though not explicit acceptance I do sometimes see that yeah, Garland probably had a point on Kuja. (I mean, Kuja is very prickly and emotionally brittle - which obviously doesn’t have anything at all to do with him being created by a loveless, mass-murdering control freak.)

I mean - I’ve seen someone suggest-but-not-really-because-I-don’t-wanna-get-into-this-debate that Hojo kind of had a point on Vincent. But implying that Hojo kinda had a point on Sephiroth - that Sephiroth was just a bad seed? I mean I do recall some people believing that in pre-Compilation days, but that’s certainly not even close to being the dominant view in the FF7 fandom today. It’s not even really just A View. Quite the opposite in fact.

I feel like I’d be negligent if I didn’t say I really feel like the ultimania is working, probably subconsciously, off Kuja being so heavily queer-coded. 'Flawed from birth’ ‘Too strongly-willed’. ‘Why don’t you just pipe down?’ Uh huh. Heard those before. (Kuja’s character arc is itself problematic in this context, but that’s a post for another day)

So let’s all give a big, warm Fuck No to the ultimania with its ‘flawed from birth’.

No-one’s worthless.

One of the core themes of FFIX is self-determination/autonomy, be it moral or existential. Or as (probably) Mikoto says in one of the final scenes of the game, while Kuja's actions were wrong, the defiance of Garland gave the Genomes the inspiration that you can live independently and autonomously.

Apparently the FFIX ultimania needs to be told this from its own game, but Kuja’s problem is not that he’s too strongly-willed ffs. His problem is everything he does after embracing being ‘too strongly-willed’.

Kuja perpetuates the same abusive disregard for self-determination and dignity he himself suffered onto the Black Mages in turn, in pursuit of being free of Garland. That is one of his crimes, and it is also his tragedy.

Anyway I’m signing off now because someone is making Shinra mansion-style ghost noises somewhere outside my window. If you made it this far, then thank you.

[snarkwrites]

ssw | juice ortiz ; when he can't go any deeper | m

Notes:

Okay so here's the thing.. This is a bit of a glimpse into the future / what if for a fic I'm about to start writing.. well, re-writing. Despite me knowing jack fuckall about strip clubs / exotic dancing / how to describe someone giving or getting a lapdance or pole work, I got the idea to have Hazel working two nights a week in a club, idk why.. Anyway.. The idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are, loves.

Also.. I'm no longer just dipping my toes in the filth pool anymore. I went all in with this, oops rip. If anyone wants me to actually write the fic I have in mind for this... Pls.. I beg.. LMK.

Prompts:

taken from either [ HERE ] or [ HERE ] give or take. It could be one or the other or a mix of both at my own choosing.

kiss me up against the wall // moan my name as you come // when he can't go any deeper. - those were all the inspiration / prompts for this.

Fandom / Character:

Sons Of Anarchy / Juice Ortiz x Teller Morrow!OFC, Hazel

Fics Hazel can be found in:

None..Yet.

** the one I've used her in is being discontinued to do a rewrite.**

Warnings:

No minors, full stop. There is NSFW / adult content ahead. If you're underage, this was not meant for you -nor should you be reading this. If you choose to stick around after my warnings, this is strictly a you thing and it's not my problem or fault.

If you choose to go on and read this, these are the things present you need to be aware of: stripper!ofc - I admit.. I really am not too sure on how strip clubs operate, so.. if I'm wrong, sorry. lap dancing. thigh riding. body fluids tw. unprotected sex. That's pretty much it.

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@sassymox

@twistnet

Other Stuff:

[ ABOUT MY WRITING | TAG LIST DOC - IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, THAT IS. | FANDOMS I WRITE FOR]

I swear I wanted to melt into the floor when I happened to glance out in the crowd and see Juice Ortiz sitting in the back with his eyes glued to the stage. I froze where I stood behind the curtain peering out and for a good five seconds, I heavily contemplated just bolting out the back door of the club.

But if I did that, I’d be out of the killer tips I’ve been told I could get dancing at this place. I wouldn’t have an outlet to express myself freely, either.

,, I had to know this would happen sooner or later. Charming is a small town and the guys from Samcro do come to this club. Even taking the audition and showing up tonight was me, taking a huge risk… So I had to know this would’ve happened at some point if I actually get the gig.” the thought came and I took three deep breaths. The hope was that I’d center myself.

Spoiler alert… it did not happen.

But I did catch sight of a brunette wig. And I convinced myself that between the wig and the dim lighting and the fact that Juice was so far away from the front of the club where I’d be dancing on the stage, he wouldn’t figure it out.

I’d just finished putting on the wig when the club owner cleared his throat and nodded to the curtains in front of me. “You’re up, kid. Do this right and Tuesdays and Thursdays are yours. Fuck it up and you can forget ever getting a chance to try again.”

I scoffed at him for a second or two but he stared me down, humorless.

My favorite Motley Crue song began to play and I stepped through the curtain. Out onto the stage and just as I did, I happened to see that prick AJ Weston and the guy who bought one of the shops downtown making their way to the table right in front of me.

My stomach dropped.

Those cold and emotionless eyes locked on me and he smirked. Nodding to me and leaning in to the shop owner. His best buddy or whatever. I don’t try and keep up with whose pissed off my father day by day, so I didn’t exactly know names.

All I did know was that for whatever reason, my mother’s scared to death of AJ Weston. She thinks she hides it, but she doesn’t. And my mother is not a woman who scares easily.

Suddenly, my biggest worry wasn’t Juice sitting in the back of the club anymore. It was the prick sitting right in front of the stage. I strutted out on the stage, not bothering to make eye contact with AJ Weston, no matter how hard I could feel him staring at me, willing me to do so. I tore off the cropped leather jacket I wore over my favorite red lace bra and after twirling it in the air a time or two, I tossed it onto the stage, hitting the floor. Writhing. Arching my back and crawling around, whipping my hair around to the song playing. I kept away from the center of the stage because I did not want to lock eyes with AJ Weston. I literally had zero desire.

The crowd was starting to get into it. I started to feel that rush like I used to feel when I danced in Las Vegas. I completely forgot about AJ Weston, thankfully. And what started off as a bumpy dance got smoother. Even more so when I found myself searching the crowd. Finding Juice in the back and locking eyes with him. That seemed to cut out a lot of my nervousness.

My hands drifted down my body, and I caught myself pretending they weren’t my hands but Juice’s. Just the thought of him feeling me up, his hands pinning my hands over my head. Pressing into me. The way he’d feel strained against those baggy jeans when he bucked against me in the heat of the moment. I used my dirty mind to fuel the dance. Letting my hands wander down to the waistband of my leather pants, working them down.

The crowd was really getting vocal now. They usually do when the clothing starts to actually come off. My stomach fluttered nervously when I locked eyes with Juice in the back of the club and I actually saw the way what I was doing on stage was affecting him.

He sat up a little straighter in his seat. Spread his legs a little. Squirming around. He nursed a glass of whiskey and his eyes wandered up and down my body slowly. When I hit the floor and started to writhe around, my back arching and my ass up in the air, he bit his lip. Watching intently. Rubbing his chin in thought.

Out towards the front of the club, right in front of me, I heard AJ swearing. Laughing out loud. I wanted to strangle the asshole, especially when he really got started with all his stupid filthy commentary as if he were mocking me, as if he were somehow better than this place even though he was willingly sitting here, of his own volition… But I went back to blocking him out. Focusing all my attention on Juice all over again instead.

Imagining what I’d do if I truly had half the nerve. What I’d let him do to me if I weren’t so damn afraid of falling in love with a Samcro man.

Because if I were going to love one, I’d choose him. Hands down. If I were ever to settle, I’d want to settle with Juice Ortiz.

My song was nearing an end. My dance was slowing down. I made my way up the pole again, grinding it as I inched up it. Slowly. Seductively as I could... Eyes locked on Juice the entire time as I flipped myself upside down and started to wind around the pole, spinning slowly with my arm outstretched as the other arm gripped the pole to hold myself. And just before the official end of my song, I dropped to the ground, crawling away from the pole. Towards the front of the stage, bolder. Getting closer in the hopes I could at least get a little better look at Juice’s face because I was dying to see the expression on it right now.

I smirked in his direction and gave a teasing wink as I pulled myself off the floor and slunk towards the red velvet curtain separating the back of the club from the front.

“Stormy Knight, ladies and gentlemen. If anyone wants the VIP experience, find Vinnie.” the announcer called out over the rowdy crowd. I was just about to reach for the doorknob on the door that lead into the dressing room when a throat cleared behind me.

“Not bad, kid. If you can bring that every single Tuesday and Thursday, gigs yours.” the club owner was standing there, smirking. He almost looked like he felt bad for doubting me in the first place. He added casually, “Had three guys come to me about VIP dances. I usually leave all that to my girls to work out. That’s extra dough in your pocket, makes no difference to me. I know half of ya have extra mouths to feed.”

I eyed him, my mouth falling open.

“Three guys? Like.. altogether?”

“No, no.. Two were together. One was by himself. Belonged to one of the MCs. Just do me a favor and at least attempt to obey club rules, kid. Don’t go gettin knocked up on the clock.” the man laughed and I took a deep breath.

At best, I figured that the biker in question was probably one of the Mayans I’d seen sitting towards the middle of the club.

I was pretty damn sure I knew exactly who the two men were and after mulling it over because it seemed as if my new boss was awaiting a decision from me, I decided I wanted no part of the risk of having to give AJ Weston and his slimy friend a private show.

“I’ll take the biker tonight, man. I’m not feelin up to a three way.”

The owner nodded and mused thoughtfully, “Good idea, kid.. That one guy out of the two of ‘em looked like his elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor. I’ll go get your biker and bring him back. You got room 3. That was Gina’s old room.” before walking away, disappearing out into the front of the club again.

“Please god… at least let it be the J.D Pardo look alike if it’s one of the Mayans.” I muttered to myself, not daring to get my hopes up that it’d be Juice.

A throat cleared from behind me. I nearly shit myself when I heard Tig Trager mumble with a laugh, “Okay Ortiz. Go get your girl.” before walking away. I did not dare turn around until I knew Tig was long gone.

“Stormy, huh? That’s one hell of a name, baby girl.” he mused aloud.

I turned around slowly. Found myself body to body with him. He was staring down at me intently, licking his lips. Chuckling as he shook his head and leaned in a little closer to whisper, “Does daddy know you dance, Hazelynn? Because if he’d been here… Seen all that…” he fanned himself and gave me a teasing smirk.

My mouth dropped open.

“How? How’d you know?” I stammered out.

“I saw your car parked outside… Life pro tip, princess.. If you wanna keep this a secret, I’d suggest parking around back. Or catching a ride. Because your car? Kind of hard to forget.” Juice’s hand settled on my hip and he pulled me just a little closer. His eyes dipped down, settling on my lips, a quiet groan coming when his intent stare made me lick my lips and fidget a little.. Melting against him a little before I could stop myself from doing it. Giving a sheepish laugh as I glanced up at him.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Relax.” he chuckled. He must have felt how tense my body was as I pressed against him. I let out a shaky breath. Parts of me wanted to ask the logical question, if he came here a lot, but also, at the same time parts of me definitely didn’t want to know. Those parts of me knew that if I did ask and he said he did, I’d get just a little jealous. Because it already happened whenever I’d see him at the bar and he’d have Croweaters flocking to him.

“Guess I owe you a VIP.” I teased gently, nodding towards the door with the gold star and the black number 3 painted on it. I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand, starting to lead him in the direction of the room.

“If you don’t wanna do this…” Juice frowned slightly and acted like he was going to walk away, but I stopped him. Made him look at me.

“It’s fine. It’s part of the job.” I gave him a reassuring smile as I opened the door to the room, stepping inside. Letting him step inside.

He closed the door behind him and we found ourselves body to body all over again. He muttered quietly, “Confession… I saw that Weston asshole and his idiot friend talking to the owner about a VIP dance with you so I went over and offered more money.”

Between the goofy little shit eating grin he gave me as he said it and the fact that he did that because he knows the guy creeps me right the fuck out, I was blown away. Before I could stop myself, I rose to tiptoe, gently pressing my lips against the corner of his mouth. “You’re an actual angel come to Earth, sir. You have definitely earned that dance.” I muttered softly as I pulled back to look up at him.

He bit his lip and my eyes followed the movement helplessly.

If I thought I was making myself wet on stage with my own dirty imagination, it was nothing compared to how wet I got when I locked eyes with him and realized that he was fully aware that I’d been staring at his mouth like a proper idiot.

I stepped close to him again and placed my palm on the front of his cutte, gently shoving him so that he settled in the chair right behind him.

Right away, his hands went to my hips. I lowered my hands, pushing his hands back down as I shook my head. “No touching. Club rules, Juice.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” he gave an awkward laugh and I giggled softly. Sinking down into his lap slowly.

Maybe I was slightly exaggerating out in the hallway when I told him I could do this and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. The second I settled in his lap and started to grind against it, I could feel myself dripping just a little more. I rose up slightly and he sucked in a breath. His knuckles went white with the way he was gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were absolutely glued to me and I smirked. Teasing a little. Acting as if I’d take off the cropped leather jacket over my bra only to pull it back up.

The third time I did this, he growled quietly. Bucked himself against me. When I whimpered and grinded myself down harder against his lap, he muttered in a heated whisper, “You feel what you’re doing to me right now, baby girl?”

Oh. I felt it alright. The way he strained at his jeans, cock still twitching and growing harder and harder. The little friction I was allowing myself wasn’t enough. My cunt was throbbing and I was getting so wet that I was pretty sure when I finished giving him his lapdance the poor guy was going to have a wet spot on his jeans.

“Mhm.” I answered in a daze, leaning in so that my lips brushed against the shell of his ear and my tits rubbed right against him. He whimpered and bucked into me all over again and when I slipped out of his lap, he frowned. I hit my knees, parting his legs. Staring up at him from where I kneeled on the floor and he shifted in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair tighter when I started to rise up. Swaying my hips side to side. Leaning in. Rubbing against him as much as I could get away with. Oh, I was definitely using this little VIP dance he paid for as an excuse to do as much touching and teasing as I thought I could get away with.

All those urges to touch him I normally kept at bay were finally being allowed free reign and it felt so good.

I settled on his lap again. He let out a long and shaky breath and we locked eyes. He was staring at me like he wanted to ask me something or he wanted to say something but he wasn’t sure how.

“What’s up?” I asked quietly.

“Nothin, it’s nothin.” he said it quickly. Too quick. I gripped his cutte and pulled him in closer. My mouth inching dangerously close to his as I muttered against it, “Whatever you want to say, say it. Trust me. I can handle it.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” he muttered. After a second or two of staring at his lap, he looked up at me again and asked quietly, “Did you wanna dance for me?”

“I got the owner to come get you, didn’t I?” my heart was beating faster. I thought it’d jump right out of my chest. I did my best to play as cool and casual as I could but every single part of me wanted to tell him that dancing was not all I wanted to do for him.

“I know that… what I mean is.. Forget it.” he went quiet. Looked down again and I gripped his jaw, making him look up at my face. “Eyes up here, Ortiz.” I teased gently, my smile falling away when I saw the serious and somber look in his eyes. I scooted away a little, an attempt to give him some space. Settling myself over his thigh instead of fully positioned on his lap as I had been.

“Talk to me.” the words left my mouth in a whimper as I pressed myself right against his thigh, rocking my throbbing sex back and forth over it. Getting wetter and wetter with each second that passed. And the ache. Oh god, the ache. I was on the brink of frustrated tears. And I couldn’t break down, I couldn’t act anything less than totally professional, because this was my night job and I was on the clock but God.. did I ever want to.

He spread his legs wider and took a deep breath. Trying not to touch me, but I could tell with the way he kept raising his hands only to put them back down on the arm rests of the velvet covered chair he sat in that he wanted nothing more than to do that very thing.

And the thought of those hands on me had me flooded in a split second. If there was any doubt before that I’d leave a wet spot behind on his jeans at the end of this dance, there wasn’t going to be by the time it was over.

Anticipation and desire had my stomach coiled tightly. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to pick up with this back home… Behind closed doors. Just him and I.

But I knew that tonight was most likely just going to be an awkward little secret. Kept between two friends. And it bothered me, because I wanted so much more than that but I was afraid to cross lines and let myself have that… I doubted it was even an option anyway because I just didn’t think Juice even saw me like that.

Sure, we flirted now and then, but nothing ever came of it.

God, did I want it to.

This heavy tension seemed to settle in all around us and I picked up on it. Juice groaned quietly, and after he nearly broke the no touch rule again and very nearly reached out to grab hold of my ass and rock me against his thigh faster, I leaned in.. Pressed against him as I continued to grind against his leg and muttered against his ear, “Most guys put their arms behind their head… Til they’re used to not being allowed to touch.. They get verbal too…” my words hitching in my throat, rushing out over each other breathlessly.

He raised his hands, locking them behind his head. Sprawling back against the chair. It seemed to help ease the tension built in his body too, because I felt him sort of melting into the chair a little and I smiled.

“C’mon.. Tell me what you want me to do.” I coaxed, fixing my eyes on him and biting my lip when I immediately found myself getting sucked far too deep into his gaze.

“Touch yourself.” he muttered. Raising up a little. Leaning forward. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl… Like you were when you were dancin out front.”

I let my hands wander.

They were shaking slightly and I just hoped to God that it wasn’t noticed.

Juice took a few shaky breaths and bucked a little in the seat. “Come closer.. Get on my lap.”

I moved so that I was straddling his lap and the way his cock strained against his jeans and I tried to stop myself, but as I started to rock myself back and forth over it, I whimpered quietly. My breath caught in my throat a time or two and my heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to beat out of my chest.

“I normally don’t buy dances if I come here.” he muttered quietly, shattering through my own current internal struggle.

Knowing this relaxed me a little. It was obvious he didn’t just going off the way he acted, but.. I still wondered. Some guys like to pretend it’s their first lap dance because it gets them going.

I’m not here to judge anyone.

I mean.. I have a good paying day job as a legal assistant and here I am.. Dancing two nights a week whenever I can find a club to take me just so I have some form of release.. Just so I can feel intimacy that for whatever reason, I tend to deny myself in reality.

I almost asked him why, but I remembered what he told me out in the hallway about outbidding AJ because he knew the guy scared me. And I stopped myself, even though parts of me hoped there was more to it than that.

My hands moved over my chest and I rocked myself over him faster. My breath catching in my throat as I felt myself rushing straight into an orgasm I’d been trying like hell to hold back the whole time we’d been in the VIP room.

I could feel my body burning up under his gaze and he leaned in again. Muttered breathlessly against my ear, “If you’re nervous..”

“It’s fine.” I pretended to brush it off. I acted as chill about doing this for him as I possibly could.

“Turn away.. I wanna watch you movin from behind, baby girl.” he muttered. The request caught me by surprise a little, but I kind of realized that he was doing it more for me than for himself.

I did what he asked, turning in his lap so that I faced away. My eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirrored wall in front of us. As I started to rock my ass over his bulge, he growled quietly. Bucking himself up into me. Biting his lip as he did it three more times. Muttered in a lust filled daze “Fuck yeah, baby girl.. Work that ass.”

Just the way he said it had me dripping all over again.

“Faster.” he panted, bucking himself up into me all over again. Harder.

I tried not to, but I found myself imagining that he was taking me from behind. A fist full of my hair and my tits pressed right against the mirrored wall in front of us. And I rocked myself back and forth over his cock, pressing down even harder. Moving even faster. Almost close to a blinding orgasm.

“Fuck.” I swore quietly.

Juice sat up in the chair. Pressing his chest into my back. Muttering against my ear, “ Did you wanna dance for me like this?”

“Juice, I told you already.” my head fell back and my eyes fluttered open and shut. I squeezed my tits and rolled my hips faster. My breath came in short pants because I was so close to an orgasm that I was throbbing. He was leaning in again to whisper. “What I mean is if this wasn’t your job.. And it was just me and you… Would you wanna..” he rocked himself against me all over again. Harder. With more urgency as he swore under his breath and muttered that if I kept it up, he was going to come all over himself.

“ Turn around facin me.” he panted, his lips brushing against my ear and sending a shiver rushing through me. I turned back around in his lap to face him. Raising up a little. Teasing him by putting my tits at level with his mouth. Squeezing them together before lowering my hand. Toying with the waistband of my leather pants. Teasing him like I’d take them off.

“ Tease.” he pouted up at me.

“ That’s kind of what you’re paying me for right now, Juice.” I gave a soft laugh as I tucked a finger beneath his chin. Pulling his mouth dangerously close to mine. He licked his lips in anticipation and when he did, his tongue brushed right against my mouth. I whimpered helplessly.

And I just barely kept myself from exploding.

“You’re tensin up on me, Haze… Somethin wrong?” Juice asked quietly.

Looking at me as if he were bracing himself for something bad to be said.

By this point, I was so caught up in the moment, in the way it felt to grind myself against his cock and get out all these long denied urges to touch him to my hearts content.. It slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Honestly? I’m a breath away from coming and this never.. Ever… happens to me when I’m givin a private dance.” my words came in a breathless rush and as soon as I realized what I’d just said, I lost my groove for a second or two. Slowing down. Trying to pull myself together.

Hoping to God that I didn’t just make things awkward for him and I in the future because I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

His mouth opened and closed and his hands gripped the arm rests again. Tighter.

“Do you know how hard it is for me? Feelin you dancin on my cock like this? Knowin I.. Knowin that this is probably as close as I’m ever gonna get? Fuck… If I were ever lucky enough to have you all to myself, baby girl...”

His words caught me by surprise. My heart fluttered a little and I swallowed hard. Going still in his lap just to stare at him.

The lights getting brighter and the music in the room going quiet had both of us jumping apart. I realized that probably meant my time in the room was done and before I could give myself a chance to back out, I slipped off his lap and held out my hand to him.

“ C’mon.”

He eyed my hand and took hold of it, standing. I practically drug him out of the room and then down the hall. Out the door and into the back lot behind the club. Once the door was shut behind us, I started to pace in front of him. Just trying to put it all together.

Torn between continuing to fight what I felt for him and caving in.

When he stepped in front of me and placed his hands on my upper arms, staring down into my eyes intently, something in me snapped and before I could stop myself, I had his back pressed against the door of the building. My hands caught his, holding them over his head as I rose up slightly and crashed my mouth against his mouth.

Devouring. Hungry.

At first, he didn’t really react. But when the shock cleared and he realized what I was doing, he came alive. I melted against him and he growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss. Teeth latching onto my bottom lip and tugging until I felt it starting to bruise. I let his hands go and they were all over me. Settling on my ass. Rocking me up against him and making me whimper and dig my fingers into his shoulders. I couldn’t melt into him any more if I tried. I was so exhausted from trying to hold back in more ways than one at this point that my filter was totally shot. I rocked myself against him clumsily, a begging and needy whine filling the space between our mouths as the kiss broke when I just couldn’t hold it back.

“Do you know why I almost got off giving you a lap dance? Do you know what you do to me, Juice? I.. I tried so hard not to fall for you and yet.. Here I am.”

He blinked in shock. For a few seconds we stared at each other, panting for our next breath. Neither of us saying a word.

Then he bent and scooped me up. Started to carry me towards the end of the alley where he’d parked his Dyna Glide.

I didn’t do or say anything to try to stop him. I didn’t want to.

I’m so tired of keeping him at arms length. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel.

He sat me on the back of his bike and I grabbed hold of the front of his vest, pulling him down. Pulling his mouth down against mine all over again because I just.. I was needy. I craved him on this level I couldn’t even begin to get my head around.

His bike came to a stop in front of his apartment building and he got off. Scooping me up all over again. Stopping just outside the doors leading into the building to grope and kiss me. Letting his lips stray down the side of my neck. Sucking a mark deep into my skin. I clung to him and begged breathlessly, “Juice, please..”

Neither of us was really stopping to think. I didn’t want to.

I wanted him.

More importantly, I wanted to be with him. And tonight just proved to me that I couldn’t fight it anymore.

The whole time he was trying to unlock his apartment door, he kept fumbling with the keys. Rutting right against me. Stopping to kiss or touch me. When he finally got it unlocked, he stepped through the door and stepped over to the couch. Tossing me down onto it gently. Following close behind. Pressing himself down into me and snapping his hips against mine, making me whimper. My whimper echoing off the walls of the quiet room. I reached down between us, tugging at the hem of his white t shirt and he rose up, pulling off his vest and tossing it at a chair nearby. Then pulling his shirt off and tossing it too. It settled on the floor in front of the chair. Then he was pulling me up. Tearing my bra away and tossing it out into the room. My hands lowered, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and he bit his lip. Gazing at me for a second or two with this look of lust and adoration in his eyes. Savoring the moment and what was about to happen.

Because it’s been building for a while, apparently. I just focused so damn hard on keeping myself from caving in and letting myself have what I wanted, with him, that somehow, I missed all the signs.

“Baby, c’mon.” I begged.

The term of endearment slipped out.

He gave me that little smirk. Rubbed his chin in thought as he let his eyes wander.

He worked his way down my body, using his body to part my legs. He worked my leather pants down my legs and I kicked them free at my ankles.

His fingers caught in the thin strap of my panties and they came away with a quiet tear. I tried to get him out of his pants again and he lowered my hands. Slipping off the sofa. I watched intently as he teased me, pouting about it. Begging.

I needed him buried inside me. Fucking me. Slow. Deep. All night long.

His pants fell to his ankles and he kicked off his boots and then kicked his pants free from his legs. When he dropped his boxers, I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on the way his cock stood at attention once it was free from fabric. He was pressing himself down into me all over again.

His mouth roaming over my tits. Tongue teasing my nipples as my back arched away from the sofa and I rocked myself against him. His free hand settled between us, circling his thick cock. Teasing it between my folds and making me shiver and cling to him. Try to rock myself against him urgently.

And then he buried his cock inside me. Shallow at first. Going still to let me adjust to him. I felt like I was being split in two and the feeling had me whining. Nipping at his chest, at any patch of skin I could get my mouth on just so I could muffle the way I wanted to scream his name at the top of my lungs.

I rocked into him clumsily and he growled quietly. His hands going down to my hips. Holding them still as he started to pound me harder. Deeper. So deep he couldn’t go any deeper. When he bottomed out, I dragged my nails down his back.

“Not yet, baby girl. C’mon, hold out just a little longer for me.” Juice coaxed breathlessly as his hips crashed against me with a bruising pace. I begged for release, on the verge of tears. The more I begged, the more he’d slow down. Stop to kiss me or leave marks on me. Torture.

Slow, steady and deep torture.

“You gonna moan my name when you cum?” he questioned, slamming his cock deep into my womb. Going still and capturing my mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. “ God. You’re so.” he panted, snapping his hips against mine, cock pistoning in and out of me with steady deep thrusts, “So fuckin wet I can barely stay in. Fuck. Shit. Shiiiit, baby girl. I wanna cum so bad.”

“Juice! Ah, -ah fuck. Right there.” my back arched away from the couch and my orgasm ripped through me, leaving me weak and dazed, clinging to him as I tried desperately to keep up with his pace, spent. Dripping. My walls vising his cock and clenched around it. Tears flooding my eyes because holy fuck, all I’ve wanted for the entire time was to finally be allowed to let go.

Juice stared down at me from above, a soft gaze. He caught a tear as it made a black trail down my cheek. Chuckling quietly. Going still to pepper kisses soft against my mouth and then trail them down the front of my throat. When he started to move again, he muttered against my lips softly, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you. I’m right here.” as he pistoned in and out, the wet sloshing sounds accompanying each thrust he made seeming to make him move just a little faster. His hands were all over me and all I could really do was lie there, pinned beneath him. Whimpering his name as I tried to come down from the high. Stare up at him softly as my mind spun, replaying every single thing that led us here, to this exact moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck baby girl. You want it?” his hips stammered, smashing against mine in a bruising pace and his words were swallowed by another hungry kiss and I nodded. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he did. Striking against my throbbing g-spot a time or two and growling, biting. Locking his lips against my neck and sucking yet another big,deep mark into soft flesh. The warmth of his release flooded me, making me whimper. Overfilling me, because I could feel the excess slowly leak down. Puddle beneath me on the sofa.. I bucked my hips against him greedily trying to take it all because I wanted it. I needed it. I craved him so badly I couldn’t have put it to words if I tried. He leaned into me heavily, panting for his next breath. Spent. A fine sheen of sweat gathered on our bodies. I grabbed hold of his face and pulled his mouth against mine. Our foreheads pressed together and he muttered quietly, “Mine?”

“Yours.” it shocked me when the word bubbled out. It shocked me because a, I was saying it and b, I meant it. With everything in me. As soon as I said it, he gave me a soft and lazy grin. Pressing his lips to my forehead. He collapsed onto the couch settling behind me. Pulling me on top of him.

Quiet little soft kisses. Caressing my face as he stared up at me and caught sight of one of the bigger marks he left on my throat, grimacing as he chuckled about it quietly.

“Fuck me. Baby, that was amazing...” I groaned out in a daze, making him laugh and gaze up at me. “Give me an hour, babe.” he teased…

“Careful. I might take you up on that.” I teased back, melting against his body. Letting his arms wrap around me and hold me tight.

[fierysafrina]

Need You Now | Satan x f!reader

Fandom: Obey Me! Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.600 Genre: Smut | Slice of Life | Romance | Fluff Additional tags: Breath play | Fingering | Double penetration | slight Voyeurism | Hair pulling | Dirty talk Summary: Who knew a trip to a library will bring you this far? Notes: And here it is. At long last! I wanted to post this yesterday on his birthday, but didn’t find the chance, so here it is. One day later, but not less filthier asdfghjkl I apologize ahead if there are mistakes left cause I’m running on time, but I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

If there was one thing you knew, it was that libraries in the human world held nothing against the Royal Library in Devildom. Not even infamous Tianjin Binhai and Alexandria libraries could measure up to it. With many floors beneath the surface, Royal Library was one of the most stunning libraries you had ever seen. It made you wonder how in the whole wide world, Celestial Realm and Devildom did Satan get a job in this one. Then again it was Satan we were talking about. He could devour book after book with no stopping, knowing of things you didn’t even know existed just like you didn’t know demons and hell really existed.

Which was why you were currently gaping at the bookshelf after the bookshelf while Satan was calmly walking in front of you. As someone who loves books and even has a small share of them at home, this felt like living in a dream. It was too good to be true. You pinched yourself into the same place as you did ten times before and no wonder a small redness was already visible.

Not hearing your footsteps behind, Satan stopped and turned. He raised an eyebrow when he saw you peeking behind a bookshelf, eyes unable to stay in one place for long before you walked to the next bookshelf and repeated the same thing. He let out a silent sigh and shook his head, unsure how to keep you distracted.

“You know,” you began slowly when you finally stopped by his side. Your eyes were still all around the place, still unsure where to look before you finally looked at him. “I love this place. Tell me, is there a house built in? An apartment? If you say yes, I’d believe you without checking the facts.” you said ever so seriously and Satan believed you.

“I must disappoint you, but there are no apartments in this library.” He chuckled. “Rooms for staff yes, but nothing else.” He began walking once more, but this time you followed right away. “Each floor has three rooms for staff. One on each side and one in the middle. Makes it a better help when searching for books.”

“Okay, but how many … demons are working here?” you asked.

“Too many; but then again there are always at least two by the counters beside those rooms, at least three inside to prepare books if you check them over the computer you saw on the ground floor and there’s always at least five returning the books to their right places.” He explained and you nodded intently. “Although lately, especially in the floors beneath the surface, we’re trying with a different approach to return the books. It’s something similar to the Harry Potter wizarding world.”

Your eyes widened at that. “You mean like magic?” you wiggled your fingers in front of your face and Satan laughed, nodding. “What about Little D’s?”

“They’re mostly behind in the archive, but they’re also looking if the books went to the right place.” He answered and stopped in front of the elevator. “If you wish we can check it out later.”

“I’d love to!” you agreed without hesitation.

Satan smiled at your enthusiasm before you walked inside the elevator. “I hope you don’t have other things to do today. It could prolong too late.”

“Don’t worry,” You waved with a hand. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you wrapped your arms around yourself, smiling. “If I could, I'd live in a library.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, curious. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” With a shrug you followed Satan out when you reached the second floor. Your eyes widened, feeling like you just stepped into a castle instead. Shaking your head, you paced to Satan’s side, continuing; “I love books. I have two bookshelves back in the human world. I want more of course.” you grinned.

“So what kind of books are to your taste?” Satan asked as you walked down the hallway.

You kept looking around, almost missing his question. “Criminal, sci-fi, stories based on real events are cool too.” You murmured and stopped when you spotted a sofa chair amongst all those bookshelves. “Are you kidding me?” you looked at Satan, scowling. “You guys can literally sleep here on those chairs and no one would bat an eye?”

Satan looked behind you and smiled. “Sleep over the night no, but something similar.”

“You guys are no fun.” You pouted before you continued your way. “Hey, since I’m here, can I look around?” you asked, pointing behind yourself.

“Sure,” he nodded and before he could say anything else, you were long gone. Satan stood there, in the middle of the hallway, watching your fast decreasing form with wide eyes. He laughed, shaking with his head and continued with his work.

Stretching your arms, you straightened on the sofa chair you were sitting. With legs beneath you and book on your lap, you completely lost track of time. Checking the time on your D.D.D the corners of your lips twitched when you saw a couple of messages from Satan. The last one seemed to be from a couple of minutes ago, asking for a second time about your whereabouts. Feeling guilty for not responding, you decided to call him instead, after all, you didn’t exactly send him where you were in this big library.

It only rang once, when he picked it up.

“Where are you?”

Smiling nervously, you looked around. “Among … history, I think?”

“You think? I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour, sending you message after message only to get no response. I was ready to overthrow the whole library.”

“I’m sorry!” you were quick to apologize. “I just got so absorbed into the book that it completely slipped my mind to text you where I’m at.” Placing a paper among the pages, you closed the book and stood up, but not before putting on your shoes. “Where are you? I’ll meet you halfway.” You said and looked around, noticing no one around.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there quickly.”

You pouted. “Then I’ll look around a bit if you don’t mind.”

Satan chuckled. “I don’t. But try to be in a visible place.”

“Aye, aye sir!” you were grinning from ear to ear. Hanging up, you placed the phone on top of the book before you disappeared among the bookshelves once more.

You were humming to yourself when you felt hands on your waist. Your eyes widened and you turned your head enough to see blond hair. Satan was leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his grip tightening until you were sure it would leave marks in its wake.

“Satan?” you called quietly, softly and tried to turn, but he didn’t budge. “What’s wrong?” you asked worried and narrowed your eyebrows.

The moment his lips brushed against your skin, you remembered the incident with syrup. You blinked, but before you could speak, Satan bit on your shoulder. You flinched and the moment you took a step forward, Satan pushed you, caging you between his arms and bookshelf. You barely caught yourself only to be turned around and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. Your eyes were wide at his actions that seemed rushed and needy. Your cheeks heated up in a second when you felt a familiar sensation in your stomach.

“I’m sorry…” Satan panted, his warm breath tickling your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tried to control your sudden need for more.

“I-I’ll explain everything, but I need you right now…” his grip tightened before he nibbled on your neck, leaving a small bruise behind.

You unconsciously shut your eyes and parted your lips, a silent moan escaping. With one hand, Satan held your chin and turned it his way, his lips capturing yours while with the other he began to grope your chest. You felt something wrap around your leg.

“Can-can I?” Satan stuttered.

You found yourself nodding and Satan wasted no time to press himself closer to you. You felt his hardness through your clothes and unconsciously ground yourself against him, wanting more. The kiss was anything but soft and gentle. It was needy and rushed. He was holding you by your shoulders before he sneaked one of his hands down your arm and thigh.

Feeling goosebumps on your arms, you shiver when his hand sneaked under the vintage dress that you’re wearing. He half groaned, half moaned into the kiss when he felt your panties already damp and you felt your cheeks grow hot because now he knew. He could feel what he was doing to you. Placing hands on his shoulders, you supported yourself from falling to the floor because the next moment he pressed a finger to your heat, making you gasp in anticipation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” Satan cursed when he pulled away and it only dawned on you in that same moment he already had one finger inside. He looked into your eyes. “Is this your first time?” he breathed out as he pulled the finger back out, rubbing at your clit instead.

You moaned at the loss, but shook with your head. “Well…” you began, but stopped. You were the first to avert your gaze, feeling embarrassed to admit it. “I-I tried d-different things.” You stuttered and moaned when every once in a while he slid his finger inside. His fingers felt completely different than yours did. It felt so much better. He was already filling you with just one. How much fuller will you be when he penetrates you?

Leaning closer, Satan began to trail his kisses down your jaw and beneath and then to your neck, making it almost impossible to focus on anything else. You closed your eyes, your fingers going through his blond hair that felt so soft to the touch. Adding another finger, you gripped his hair tighter when you felt something wrap around your panties and tear them apart. Eyes widening, you looked down and bit your lower lip, seeing his tail forming and twirling around your waist.

“Does it bother you?” Satan spoke, his lips peppering your shoulders.

You shook your head and he cursed silently when his fingers easily slipped inside.

“You’re so wet…” he growled, gritting his teeth. “Does it turn you on to see my tail?”

You felt the tail wrap itself around your waist harder, its sharpness almost prodding through the dress and into your skin. You were dripping over his fingers, but couldn’t find it in yourself to care more than you did for the fact that you wanted more. More of his touch, more of him.

“Tell me …” Satan whispered against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “What did you do? How did you do it?”

“M-mostly w-with fingers—” You gasped when his fingers went deeper inside you.

“And?” he growled, relishing at watching your expression.

“P-pillow!” you stuttered with a moan following right behind. “Fuck, Satan!” you gripped on his upper arms, biting your lower lip.

“Did you do it since you came to Devildom?” he asked, his green eyes focused solely on you.

You parted your lips, panting as your hips rocked against his hand, wanting more friction. A whine escaped you when he stilled his movements, which made you look at him with tears brimming in your eyes.

“Answer me, kitten.”

“Yes!” you nodded rapidly. “I-I did it here a-as well!” you stuttered, cheeks hot both from embarrassment and lust that was overwhelming you each second more. “I-I wanted to do it with you so much…” you admitted and widened your eyes when you realized what you just spoke.

Satan stilled completely, his own eyes wide as he stared at you. The edges of his tail prodding through your dress and digging into your skin. It was wrapped around you possessively, marking you with its sharp edges like it wanted you to remember to whom you belonged.

You covered your face and moaned at the loss of his fingers inside you when he pulled them out and grabbed your hands instead. He pried them off your face and you realized his cheeks were dark.

“You have no idea how long I waited to hear this.” He was the first to break the silence only to capture your lips with his, shoving you against the bookshelf. His hands gripped yours tight as his tongue slipped into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He released your hands soon after and you went with fingers through his hair, tugging on the edges, making him moan.

He grinded against you and you could feel his bulge which made you grind back, trying to match up with him. This time you didn’t care if someone heard you, because the next moment he was sliding into you painfully slowly, relishing at every gasp and moan that left your lips as your fingers dug into his scalp.

“Fuck, you’re so tight …” he growled against your lips. Once completely inside you, he stopped to let you adjust before he began to move slowly. He raised one of your legs for better access and you let him.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking up into the ceiling. There was pain, but it slowly turned into pleasure and you wanted more. “F-faster, please…” you whispered and Satan complied.

His thrusts became faster, slamming into you harder. His hands were on your waist, trying to keep you in place as his tail trailed up your side, swiping itself over your lips. You parted them and it slipped inside. You shut your eyes, moaning around his tail, completely oblivious to green eyes that watched you. Your walls clenched around his cock and Satan groaned. He leaned down and nibbled on your neck, leaving a small bruise in its wake.

“I-I was always-ah thinking of you …” you moaned.

“Y-yeah?” Satan stuttered. “What were you thinking? What was I doing to you?”

Your cheeks heated up. "Y-you took me from be-behind while I was supporting my-self on the w-wall." you stuttered.

Satan leaned forward and began to kiss your neck and collarbones. "What else?" He whispered, taking his time in pleasuring you as his thrusts became rather painfully slow and teasing.

"You-you used fingers y-you make me c-come t-two times in a row…" you gasped when he stilled completely inside, his cock reaching even deeper. His tail wrapped itself around your neck, making it slightly harder to breathe, but not enough to make you unconscious. You shut your eyes, your walls clenching around his cock more than before.

"You like that?" Satan asked as his tail tightened its grip just a bit harder.

You parted your lips, moaning in answer.

"What a filthy girl you are." He snarled and began to pound into you, taking you by surprise. You yelped and held onto his shoulders, unable to hide your moans and pants, your nails digging into his shirt.

"If you won't stay quiet someone will come to check." He said against your lips. "But maybe that's what you want," he gritted his teeth; "since you're swallowing me more than you possibly can." His tail lessened it's grip around your neck and it trailed down, sliding along his cock.

Your eyes shot wide open when it slid inside along his cock. "Satan!" You hissed his name, tensing at the sudden penetration.

Satan began to pamper you with kisses on your cheeks, over the tears that escaped. You panted, trying to relax, but it was hard because he began to move slow, yet stilling every now and then. You leaned your forehead on his shoulder, unconsciously biting into the soft material beneath, as pain began to turn into pleasure and you soon started to beg for more. And Satan gave in.

Watching your expression filled with nothing but pleasure edged him on. He reached for your hands, fingers intertwining as he leaned them on each side of your head on the bookshelf behind you. He completely ignored the book that fell down by your feet.

"Shit!" You cursed, feeling you were close. "Shit, shit, shit…" you painted and Satan paced up, his pants, hot breath mixing with yours. "I'm so close, Satan. Please!" You begged and looked at him with tears in your eyes.

"I'm close too, kitten. S-so close." He whispered and when he felt your walls tighten around his cock, he pulled you into a kiss that prevented you from moaning even louder. He didn’t want to have more company than there already was. With a few more thrusts he was quick to follow you, stilling inside you completely. He grunted with eyes shut and it was your turn to pamper him with kisses along his face, a small smile breaking on your lips.

Satan mirrored it, pulling you into another kiss that was gentle, soft to touch.

After you both caught your breath, Satan pulled out of you and you felt his cum dripping down your thigh. A shiver ran down your spine at the odd feeling, but frowned when you saw Satan was staring at you. He was quick to dress himself and thankfully you wore a dress so you didn't need much fixation aside from your hair.

"What?" You asked, head tilted on the side, trying to ignore the slick on your thighs that freely ran down.

"Have you checked the books you wish to bring along?" He asked like the two of you just didn't have sex between the bookshelves.

"I don't need any." You smiled and reached for his hand that he didn't hesitate to take. He raised it and pressed a kiss on the back, smiling as he stared directly into your eyes.

Your cheeks heated up, but your head snapped towards the footsteps that were coming closer. Your heart paced up and Satan chuckled as he pulled you closer and turned you both around so he managed to hide you completely. Peeking over his shoulder, you spotted a Little D with green horns. Your eyes widened, recognizing it.

“What?” Satan’s voice was slightly harsh, directed at the Little D, who didn’t seem to be bothered by it. As a matter of fact it looked slightly disappointed, which confused you.

His green eyes stared at Satan before they focused on you. Blinking a couple of times, he turned and left, not a word spoken.

“What was that?” you murmured more to yourself than to Satan.

Satan pursued lips into a thin line. You looked at him and he couldn’t resist kissing you on the lips. Your eyes widened at his gesture and his lips turned into a smirk.

“Don’t pay attention to him.” he said, his fingers intertwined with yours, giving your hand a small squeeze.

You hummed and tilted head to the side. “Why?” you asked, looking at him. “I wanted to talk with him.” you pouted and Satan laughed.

“You’ll have many chances later.” he pulled you to his side, his tail wrapping itself around your waist.

Your breath hitched before you felt something being put over your shoulders. Your eyes widened seeing it was his jacket and you looked at him confused.

“For your dress.” he mumbled under his breath, his cheeks turning into a darker shade.

You blinked and looked down, seeing it was slightly torn around your waist. Covering your face, you couldn’t stop the heat from spreading over your cheeks and ears, remembering how his tail felt around you. You buried your face into his chest, hands clinging on his shirt as you groaned. He chuckled, kissing top of your head.

“Come on, let’s go back.”

“What about the books and your work?” you were confused.

The corners of his lips twitched into a teasing smile and it dawned on you.

You gaped at him and you slapped his arm. "I can't believe you!" You hissed, feeling the embarrassment three times more. "We could've gotten caught!"

"But we didn't." He said. Who was he to tell you that you had a small company towards the end? "Also it's been one of my many ideas to try out." He admitted and added; "Don't deny it wasn't yours either." when you were about to argue.

You closed your mouth, unable to say anything, because he was right. It was indeed one of your many ideas to go through with. Letting out a sigh, you shook with your head, murmuring; "Can't believe you did this to me." more to yourself.

Satan's chuckle reached your ears and you slapped his arm once again, trying to glare at him, but unable to do so for long. It was something you came to realize soon after you arrived into Devildom. You had an abnormal weak spot for the Avatar of Wrath.

"So," Satan woke you from your thoughts. "Where do you want to try next time?"

Blinking, you stared at him before you burst into laughter. "If I say Diavolo's throne would you dare?" You smirked.

It was a joke, you wanted to say. But the way his expression remained serious and rid of any emotions as he thought it through sent a chill down your spine. It was of excitement and not of being terrified that you even came up with that idea. Instead of saying anything you continued to remain silent as you waited for his response.

Satan blinked at you before he leaned down and whispered into your ear; "Well if you truly wish to do that, who am I to tell you no? Do you think he'd notice?"

[cherieofthedragons]

My Own Personal Hero

Fandom: Obey Me!: Shall We Date?

Pairing: Mammon/ female MC

It ain't like Mammon would ever worry about a human... but why hasn't MC come home from school? She couldn't be in danger...

...could she?

*Takes place somewhere around Lessons 17-18. Thanks to the amazing @zecaeruwu for the prompt.

**********

School had ended forty-five minutes ago, and Rose still wasn’t home. Why wasn’t she home? Mammon paced the living room, scowling. Didn’t she know he was waiting for her?

Well, okay, so he hadn’t actually told her he wanted to see her. Still. She ought to know, right? He always wanted to talk to her after school. Sure, his brothers liked to steal her away before the two of them could really get started, but what did that matter? If the Great Mammon was waiting for her, she ought to be here!

She ain’t psychic, said a voice in his head. Ya can’t expect her to know everythin’ you’re thinkin’.

Yes. Yes, he knew.

And if she did know you were waitin’, it wouldn’t matter. She ain’t gonna rush back just for you.

His hands clenched into fists.

A glance at the clock told him it was now an hour since school let out. That was a lot, wasn’t it? She never stayed that late. It wasn’t safe for a human to be alone in a building full of demons, not without one of his brothers there to protect her. Did she have somebody with her? Was she okay?

Dammit, what if she wasn’t?

Before he could think, he was flying out the door, headed back to RAD as fast as his feet could take him.

**********

He found her in a classroom, sitting at a desk with a guy on either side of her. Lower demons, both of them. They didn’t seem like they were gonna gobble her up or anything, but he didn’t like the way they were looking at her. As soon as he walked in, Rose raised her eyes to him, relief written all over her face.

The tightness in his chest loosened. It was okay. Nothing had happened to her.

“Mammon.” Snatching up her bag, she stood up, hurrying to his side. Was she… nervous?

No way. This was Rose. She was used to living with the most powerful demons in the Devildom. Chatting with some lower demons wasn’t near enough to bother her.

Unless… well, backbone of steel aside, she was just a human. If she really felt like she was in danger, with no one to back her up… 

Anger flaring in his belly, he clenched his hands into tight fists. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?”

She bit her lip. “I wanted to go home, but these guys—”

They’d stopped her from leaving? Held her here in this room against her will? Fighting to contain his anger, he turned his glare onto the two demons. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

The guy on the left jumped to his feet. The one on the right looked to be frozen in place.

Mammon took a step forward.

“Hey, hey!” Lefty threw up his hands. “We didn’t mean any harm. We just wanted to talk to her. That’s all, I swear!”

“And did she wanna talk to you?”

The color drained from Lefty’s face, and Righty looked like he was shaking.

Good.

Still, Lefty managed to find words. “She-she’s just a human. We didn’t think—”

The words made him see red. “Just a human?! Just a human?!”

“Mammon!”

His name, cried out in her sweet voice, made him stop short. When he turned his eyes to her face, the worry in her expression brought him back to his senses. He realized he’d transformed into his true form, so lost in his rage that he hadn’t even noticed.

“I want to be alone with you.” She took a step toward him, biting her lip. “Please, can we leave now? I don’t want to think about these guys anymore.”

Her words pierced through the red haze in his mind, and he turned his full attention to her. Did she just say... she wanted to be alone with him? 

As much as he hated to leave these assholes behind, the look on her face said she wanted to be as far away from here as possible. Watching him murder these two vermin wouldn’t calm her down. He’d have to deal with them later. Right now, he needed to take her home. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Let’s get outta here.” 

With a soft smile, she took his hand and led him out of the classroom.

His hand. She was holding his hand.

Suddenly that was all he could think about. The warmth of her touch, the softness of her skin, the soft press of her fingers…

As she led him down the hall, he realized that her gentle grip was growing tighter, and her steps were speeding up. With alarm, he looked at the back of her head as she hurried in front of him. 

“Hey. Rose. You okay?”

“I want to go home,” was all she said.

He didn’t know what got into him, but before he could think, he had his arm around her shoulder, hugging her to his side, matching her pace as they rushed from the building. He barely noticed the stares of the other students they passed. He needed to get her home. Nothing else mattered.

**********

As soon as they stepped inside the House of Lamentation, she collapsed against the wall, sliding slowly to the ground.

“Shit.��� This was bad. She almost never showed fear like this. Mammon knelt before her, frantically searching her eyes for any sign of what she was thinking. “What happened? Did those sons of bitches lay a hand on you?”

She shook her head, her unfocused stare locked on the floor. “It’s not that.”

Her body was shaking. Fuck. She was terrified. What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he realized how scared she was earlier?

Unable to stop himself, he reached for her, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. To his shock, she turned her head to nuzzle her cheek against his palm, closing her eyes. 

“Mammon…”

His name was almost a sigh, and at the sound of it, he lost all sense of self-control. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest. “I got ya. You’re safe. I ain’t gonna let nothin’ else happen to you.”

Her own arms immediately embraced his waist, and he reveled in the way she pressed herself against him. For a few minutes, they stayed that way, neither of them speaking. He rubbed her back, waiting until her breathing calmed and her body began to relax.

After a while, she started speaking. “They didn’t do anything. Not really. But I thought they were going to. It was the way they looked at me, like I was some kind of toy — and I couldn’t get away—”

Fury made his mind spin. “I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, don’t.”

“They gotta pay. And everyone needs to see it. They need to know what the Great Mammon does to people who mess with you. So no one ever dares to try anythin’ like that again.”

“Mammon, you’re holding me too tight.”

Oh. He was, wasn’t he? With a deep breath, he relaxed his grip. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay. Just… please don’t think about them. I need you right now.”

Did she mean that? She needed him? Or was it just that she needed someone, and he happened to be the guy that was here?

But he hadn’t been there when it really mattered. A surge of guilt hit him like a semi-truck. He was her first. He was supposed to be the one who took care of her. What the hell had he been doing? Waiting for her to come home instead of being there when she was in danger?

 “It’s my fault.” The mumbled words spilled from his lips.

“What?” Cheek still pressed against his chest, she tilted her chin up, shocked eyes meeting his own.

“I’m supposed to protect you. I told ya I’d be the one to save you, didn’t I?”

“But you didn’t know—”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “That’s the problem.”

“No, it’s not.” She pulled back, but only enough gaze at his face in a way that made his heart beat fast. “You saved me. You’re always there for me.”

The earnestness on her face overwhelmed him. “Wha…?”

“You’re like my own personal hero. Ever since I got here, you…”

“I am?” Did she really believe that? Pride filled him, and he felt light as a balloon. “I mean, damn right I am. The Great Mammon ain’t gonna let nothin’ stop him, ya know?”

“Yup.” She tilted her head as she smiled, a smile that sent a thrill through him. A smile of absolute trust. “That’s exactly right.”

She seemed to be calm now, but he had to be sure. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah.” To his great dismay, she released his waist, but when she slid her hands down his arms to take his hands in her own, his heart started pounding in a whole new way. “I'm okay because you’re here. Mammon…”

Her voice trailed off. Why? What made her stop talking? 

“Yeah?” He tried not to sound anxious. 

She bit her lip, shook her head slightly, then smiled again. “Thank you.”

Oh. For a second, he’d thought she was gonna say... something else. Still, a thank you from her lips…

“Yeah, well.” Shyness suddenly overtook him, and he felt his cheeks get warm. “I guess it ain’t so bad to do somethin’ for a human like you.”

Her thumb brushed across the back of his hand. By this point, his heart was practically hammering against his ribcage. Her touch, her smile, her scent — it was all too much, and at the same time, he couldn’t get enough.

“Were you worried about me?” Now she was looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Is that why you came?”

“Me?” Embarrassment winning out, he found himself dropping back into old habits. “‘Course not. Why would the Great Mammon worry about a measly human? I was annoyed, that’s all. Ya didn’t come home, and…”

As his voice trailed off, he felt ashamed of his own words. Why could he never manage to tell her how he really felt? Especially at a moment like this, when she needed someone to be there… 

To his surprise, she let out a puff of laughter, then said something under her breath.

“Huh? What?”

“Nothing.” For no reason he could understand, she smiled even brighter, squeezing his hands. 

His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he’d heard her say, “You’re a terrible liar.”

Did that mean… she understood? She knew what he couldn’t say?

There probably wouldn’t be a better time than this to tell her, right? Fighting down his panic, Mammon gripped her hands tighter.

“Hey. Listen, I—” He took a breath. “I—”

“Maaaaaammon!” came a whiny voice behind him.

He froze.

No. No, no, no. Not now.

“What are you doing to Rose? And right in front of the door!”

Not now, of all the damn times—!

“Go away.” He all but growled the words.

“Poor thing!” As usual, Asmo completely ignored him. “Rose, you don’t have to let this scumbag—”

His voice cut off, and then, in a serious tone that Mammon had almost never heard his brother use, Asmo spoke again. “What happened to you?”

Looking reluctant, she tore her eyes from Mammon’s face to look over his shoulder. “Hi, Asmo.”

“You’ve been crying!” A hand grasped her arm, and before he knew it, Asmo had tugged her out of his embrace and onto her feet. “Rose! What happened? Are you okay?!”

“Hey!” Mammon scrambled to stand up. “What the hell are ya doin’?”

“I’m okay.” Her smile was shaky. “It’s all right now. Thank goodness Mammon was there.”

“That’s right!” Lord, he lived for praise like that. Stepping forward, he gave Asmo the deadliest glare he could manage. “I’m takin’ care of her, so you can just—”

“What’s all this?”

Dammit all to hell!

Drawn by the commotion, the rest of his brothers traipsed into the entryway, stopping when they saw her face.

“Rose!” Lucifer rushed forward, extricating her from Asmo’s hold to peer into her face. “What is it?”

“I’m all right.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, which only seemed to alarm them all more. “Mammon took care of it.”

“That’s right!” He found himself raising his voice. “I’m the one who helped her!”

Belphie frowned. “If Mammon took care of it, then it’s not all right at all.”

Why, that bastard—!

She shook her head fervently. “No, it really is—”

“Mammon.” Satan stepped forward calmly, but Mammon knew it was the quiet of a predator ready to pounce. “If Rose won’t tell us, then you will. What happened to her?”

A part of him didn’t want to say a word, but for the sake of her safety, his brothers would have to know. With a reluctant huff, he said, “A couple of lower demons cornered her in a classroom and wouldn’t let her out. Scared her half to death, thinkin’ they were gonna hurt her or somethin’. If I hadn’t got there when I did—” His fists clenched again just thinking about it. “I was gonna beat ‘em to a bloody pulp, but Rose told me to get her outta there.”

Satan’s eyes flashed dangerously, rage emanating from his every pore. Without a word, he strode toward the door.

Rose’s voice cut through the air. “Satan, DON’T KILL ANYONE!”

Her order wasn’t directed at Mammon, but he still felt the force of it. 

For the briefest of moments, Satan’s body jerked, but without breaking his stride, he threw open the door and disappeared into the darkness.

There was a second of silence. Then Levi broke it. “Um… that wasn’t much of an order. This is Satan. There’s a lot he could do without killing.”

Her eyes went wide before filling with dismay. “Oh, no.”

Beel smiled in a way that was most likely meant to be reassuring. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t know who they are. The most he can do is tear apart the school.” His smile faltered. “Probably.”

“That’s not okay, either!”

Mammon scoffed. “It’ll be fine. Ain’t no way Lucifer’s gonna let anything happen to RAD.”

Everyone turned to look at Lucifer. He was staring at her face, the only change in his expression a faint twitch in his cheek.

Rose’s brow creased. “Lucifer! He can’t destroy the school! Think of Lord Diavolo!”

At that, his face twisted into something ugly. He took a deep breath, and then his features returned to normal.

“I suppose I’ll have to go after him.” He gave them all a dangerous look. “Take care of Rose.”

Scowling, Mammon crossed his arms. “You don’t gotta tell us that.”

With one last look at her face and a whirl of his jacket, Lucifer disappeared through the door.

Mammon stepped forward, reaching out to take her arm, but Asmo and Belphie were quicker. Peppering her with questions, they whisked her from the room with Beel and Levi close behind.

He wished she would stop them. If only she would brush them off and come back to his arms…

As the others pulled her along, she looked back over her shoulder, searching until her eyes met his. Was he imagining the look of longing and regret in her gaze?

His brothers ushered her through the doorway, and she was gone.

There was only one thing to do. Mammon trudged after them, pulling up the rear. If he couldn’t be the one to comfort her now, he’d at least make sure she was okay.

And there would be another time to tell her how he felt. 

There had to be.

[botaniia]

127

Some 127 thoughts because I promised myself I’d jot these down for future reference before I forget what I initially thought of it

Overall probably one of my fav chapters in a long time because it gave us that sweet, sweet character interaction that I’d been looking forward to since the start of the alliance. 

Jean is the absolute real MVP here. Before he was an okay character to me, I liked him but not extraordinarily much, but this chapter moved him very close to the top of the list. What a beast. I commend Yams for giving him that emotional release

I’m so happy we got to see his internal struggles. I feel like in a way it mirrors his choice to join the Survey Corps. His thoughts were very similar back then as well. Very interesting to see that this longing for comfort, safety, and luxury is still with him after all these years

“I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything” is an absolutely masterful line. Who’d a thunk I’d be broken already on page 2?

Hanji’s refusal to allow mass genocide is commendable. People have been calling her too optimistic, but I don’t think you can deny that genocide is ever a viable option. Saying that genocide is no option isn’t meant to be a solution to the question “what should we do”, it’s stating that there are things that shouldn’t be done. Hanji is right, you cowards

That said, Jean addressing what they should do then is also necessary. I wonder if Isayama saw any of the fandom discussion or if he simply predicted the nature of the discussions, because he nuanced every single point raised very well and gave a satisfying acknowledgement of the complexity of the situation.

“You can’t just massacre everyone! Like hell there’s a good reason to do that!” I want this printed out and framed on my wall. That expression is so powerful and shows us how Hanji ultimately wants a peaceful resolution to this. It tells us a lot about who she is and why she’s struggling with the current predicament.

That spread of everyone sitting by the campfire is absolutely amazing. The tension! The dichotomy between Jean and Hanji as they’re singled out in their own separate panel! The divide between Marley and Paradis with Onyakopon and Yelena in the middle! 

It was at this point I realised that I was only at page 11 and we were about to witness 34 pages of exactly what I’d been hoping for when the alliance formed. We knew confrontation was coming and did it deliver!

Interesting to get an insight into Magath’s thoughts. He always struck me as being less racist than most Marleyans, but apparently I overestimated the extent to which he was fair in his judgment of Eldians. Some major points:

Assuming that every Paradisian would be happy with genocide and would happily live in a world where only they were still alive. He may think more positively of Eldians than your average Marley higher-up, but he still has a prejudiced look on Paradisians. At the same time, he barely had any interaction with them. I’m curious to see how his vision could change when working side-by-side with them.

“In other words, you’re telling me you developed a sense of justice” are you projecting, my man

I did find the shade about letting Eren and Zeke make contact fitting. Must’ve been a shock for the gang that they were wrong and I can see why he’d question it

Jean calling out Magath will be the subject of my dreams for a long time.

Theo “we provoked you numerous times and then you attacked us back, ya demons!?” Magath everyone

We’re mentioning Eren’s mom now? Because you’re absolutely right, Jean. I always thought that it was wrong to call for some violent justice to be carried out against Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie when it’s really their superiors, the ones who chose to send them there, that deserve this treatment. The fact that Magath also had such a great involvement in the warrior project is something that deserved attention called to it, so this feels very nice

“You killed hundreds” “well you killed thousands” “okay but you enslaved our people” is exactly why it’s necessary to look past both sides’ past mistakes. Genocide is never okay, and the history shouldn’t be erased, but both sides have shit they can fling at each other. Both sides have wronged the other. There is no one who comes out on top morally speaking, so it’s pointless to argue that now. That’s what’s been bothering me about the “x is actually the bad guy here” talk in the communities, regardless of who x is. 

Sure, Hanji says she’s talking to Jean, but really she’s talking to Magath and throwing shade about the fact that he’s being bitter about the fact that the evil selfish Paradis devils are trying to stop the rumbling from destroying everything

“Would someone who’d change their mind because of that commit genocide?” are you projecting, Annie? Was there anything that could’ve been said to her that could’ve made her stop the initial attack on the walls? 

Annie slept for five years only to drop outta her crystal and absolutely obliterate the scouts with some harsh truths. She seems so reasonable at the moment and I can sorta admire her dedication to her father.

I want to marry Yelena for everything she said in her trip down memory lane because this was exactly what I had been hoping for this whole chapter and she just gave it to us like that

The panels are on-point. Framing the person she was accusing while also placing their primary victims in the background. Excellent artwork

You know you’re starved for content when just mentioning Bertholdt’s name got me excited. 

“Using the power you stole from Bertholdt Hoover” the rational part in me knows that no one had a choice on that day and the only outcome was his death, even if cool motive, still murder was applicable in the situation. The irrational part in me is cheering Yelena on for wording it like that.

It seems like Reiner and Annie know that Armin inherited the colossal and that Sasha is dead? If they hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t have just sat there staring when learning it for the first time. I’ve seen people annoyed at the fact that these facts were glossed over without much reaction out of the other characters, but I kinda get it. The chapter was already packed with details. Would an acknowledgement have been nice? Yeah, sure, it would’ve been extremely fitting in this conversation, and the fact that it wasn’t there definitely doesn’t do anything to diminish my fear that Bert will never be addressed again. But this chapter already deals with Jean’s anger over Marco’s death, so I get why it wouldn’t fit inside the same chapter. I also feel like Reiner doesn’t believe he has the right to be mad or sad about Bert’s death, exactly because of the things all three of them did. As much as I would have loved some acknowledgement, I think we can’t ignore that the lack of a reaction tells a lot about Reiner and Annie and how they have dealt with this issue in the past. I’m only hoping that they still interact with Armin in some way and give me the content I have been STARVING for. Just a drop, Isayama, please

Armin still looking like a kicked puppy when she says that though. He truly got the real Bert experience of getting orders to be the most destructive force in the assault and then getting to deal with the emotional aftermath, huh

The looks exchanged between the 104th and the kids... God damn, what a perfect page that is. Jean glancing down a panel after he was called out for nearly killing Falco. Gabi getting the true Braun experience of regretting actions she can never take back even if she wants to now. Someone save these children and shelter them from the worst, because I am not happy that literal 12-year-olds are still with the gang. Yams I beg you keep these kids away from combat, I will find out where you live

Yelena did all of that to sow hatred amongst the new alliance, so much effort to put into words what no one dared talk about in this awkward situation, and Jean manages to talk it away and turn it from destructive to constructive. What a man. Seriously, his character development and the guy he’s become are an inspiration.

“What was it again? Your close friend’s name you told me before?” and it was at that moment Reiner realised he should’ve pulled the trigger

It’s very telling that both Annie and Reiner are speaking so openly and so honestly about what they have done after years of secrecy and lies around their former soldier colleagues. In a way, I can imagine that despite the dread of having to tell Jean this, it’s at least something to finally be able to speak the truth. 

I gotta give it to Reiner that he did well speaking up and clarifying that he was the one who was responsible for the death. People always seem to either deem Annie as his killer or split the blame evenly between the three, but while Annie was obeying orders she couldn’t disobey and Bertholdt was doing nothing to prevent it from happening, at the end of the day Reiner is the one who decided that Marco was going to die. So I ain’t even mad that only he gets beaten for it.

Isayama’s expression game is on point for Jean especially this chapter. I can’t wait to see this animated, truly. If this scene were excellent already, this moment will define it. Everyone’s reaction to it is touching. Mikasa showing a rare moment of true grieving sorrow (though I have noticed that post-timeskip, she looks saddened more often than she looks determined) Armin looking like he had a clue that this was the case already, either through deduction or through Bertmin mechanisms (give us the memories, Yams) Connie’s stoic and bitter reaction (still tired of learning that the people who betrayed him are even worse than he thought, but not surprised in the slightest) Reiner and Annie looking pretty exhausted and done with themselves. Fuck. Good page.

“He said we still haven’t talked” narrative mic drop, hot damn

Jean could have easily used this information as a reason to leave the alliance. He so easily could have, and I don’t think anyone in the world would’ve thought it an overreaction. Instead, he was constructive and he remained calm for the greater good. He had more courage, more self-restraint than any other character in this group, and I seriously think this is the pinnacle of his character development. What a great guy.

“Jean that’s my line”

At first I didn’t quite get why Reiner decided to “push his luck” with Jean and tell him that additional stuff, but after giving it some thought it is actually really obvious. This is the most desperate looking we’ve seen him in a long time, and I’d argue that this is even more emotional than what he showed when Eren first lured him into that basement. Marco’s murder was a tragedy and a traumatic experience. With his fellow warriors, he couldn’t truthfully express the guilt he felt over it because he was responsible and he couldn’t show any attachment to the island devils when he was the one constantly checking Annie and Bertholdt’s allegiances. Back in Marley, there was no one he could be honest to because why would a good honourary Marleyan have empathy for a Paradis devil? This murder has been festering inside Reiner’s mind for so long. He couldn’t tell anyone about it and there was no one to judge him for it. He couldn’t just let Jean turn this into something constructive, that’d be far too merciful on him. No matter which shape it took, he needed to confess what he had done and he can’t stress enough that he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Not from Jean, anyway. But if he wants a chance at ever being able to live with himself again, he had to do this. Add to that that he didn’t know at all what to do anymore (something he literally states), I think it’s fair to say he was looking for some type of closure, even if he hadn’t a clue how to get it.

I, and I’m saying this as a big Reiner fan, have never been as satisfied with a turn of events as seeing Jean beat the living hell out of Reiner in the most visceral, most violent way he could think of in that moment of raw anger. Jean already showed so much restraint in this conversation, so you can’t even call this a rash decision. Reiner had it coming.

The fact that Reiner accepts it without any attempt to defend himself is pretty admirable in its own right, and is again telling of his mental state and self image

Despite the anger, despite the fact that he had probably hoped to see it happen someday, despite the absolute hatred for Reiner, Connie still decided to stop Jean. Despite his damage, deep down you can still see the person he was so many years ago, the person who wants to put an end to conflict.

Gabi, darling... I already liked her just because people unreasonably hate her, but this moment is so character-defining that I can’t help but love her for this. At the start of the Marley arc, Falco is a defensive person and Gabi an offensive person. While we’ve seen Falco forced to be more offensive, Gabi generally stayed on the attack even after her realisation. Here, she could have easily chosen to attack Jean to stop his assault, but instead she threw herself between Reiner and the kick. “Gabi is trash” people love to shout while she decides to sacrifice her own safety to prevent Reiner from being hurt any more. She, a regular human girl who is literally 12, defended an adult titan shifter built like a tank who could’ve easily regenerated from the damage and who clearly deserved the beating. And believe me, at her age a kick like that can be lethal if it lands in the wrong spot. This is the moment where she stole my heart. She has turned into the perfect candidate for the armoured titan.

People saying that it’s good that Gabi got that final kick: have you considered she’s not only, again, literally 12, but also deeply apologetic for what she did and likely a key player in defending Paradis in the future?

Falco is a gentleman and he’s a good kid

Annie caring for Reiner... I didn’t know I needed that in my life, but honestly the idea that she’s looking out for him now (compare to her kicking Reiner back on the first day of the mission) makes me unreasonably happy. They’re the two survivors out of a group of the only four people in the world who can understand what they’ve been through, please look after each other!

The manga has a habit of making the cycle of hatred continue when one character is already sorry about their actions towards the person who next adapts the cycle. It was good to see Jean take the mature option and choose to consciously break it. No one would’ve faulted him had he left that night, but he still came back. He still showed kindness to two children, one he had wronged and one who had wronged him. That’s why Jean is our MVP.

I can’t be the only one who sees some 845 Jean in the way he wakes up and yells at Reiner, right? Also, what a gorgeous contrast between gently shaking awake Gabi and assuring her everything’s right, and giving Reiner a very rude awakening

If there was ever a parallel to make me believe that Reiner may be getting some closure, it’s this one

And despite all the tension and anger, I feel like we’re finally reaching a point where Reiner is finding closure. I’ve said this before, but his suffering only finds meaning if it leads to something, otherwise it just isn’t satisfying. He’s not gonna be forgiven by his former comrades. He knows this and he can accept this. But it’s off his chest and he got the reaction he deserved out of confessing his sins. At this point, I can only hope that this paves the way towards forgiving himself, because lord knows the guy deserves some peace of mind.

I’m walking the fine line between “Annie truly wanted to know where she fit in after all this and we are getting answers in the future” and “Yams is telling us very clearly that he’ll never answer this question”

Jean, my man, you got plenty of practice on everyone’s favourite punching bag, now go replicate everything you just did on Floch!

There’s gonna be lots of death next chapter, huh

Some other, more minor thoughts

Marco is still a cutie, even when in Jean’s conscience vision. 

Remember in 2013/14 when the fandom would get pissy over people finding Marco important and would say that Yams killed him just because he could? Remember when a few months ago even, people were still posting “Marco happened so long ago, Jean doesn’t care about him that much guys, get over it”? Remember when Jean remembered the ashes of his dead friend last chapter? Remember when Jean beat the ever-loving shit out of Reiner when learning he orchestrated Marco’s death? Yeah

Reiner looked unhappy about not being in a depression nap right now the entire chapter long

Need me that panel of Annie with her ring framed on the wall

[fandom-necromancer]

 098. Part2

This is the part where most of the warnings start showng up, so please stay safe, okay?

[part 1]   [part 3]   [part 4]

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Reverse AU (Warning for the whole story: graphic description of torture, kidnapping, humiliation, past abuse, mentioned death)

Richard followed the android through the waste. The Cyberlife dump was bigger than he had originally thought: broken android parts wherever he looked. It got worse the further they ventured into it. The GV held him back at some point and knelt studying the valley below them. The broken machines here were active. Some simply laid around twitching and mumbling words, sometimes screamed out in fabricated pain. Others crawled around, not enough legs to be able to walk, but still dedicated to moving, pulling themselves over the roughed-up mud and ripping everything to shreds that wasn't dirt. Only few were able to stand and lined the walls, unable to crawl out but in fear of the bots helplessly struggling through the mud. 'Holy shit, that's terrifying', Richard commented, voice collected and far too calm for what was going on down there. 'Right?' The android laughed. 'Would we go down there, they would rip me apart and search for parts later. Would do the same to you. They don't care whether you are human, they are blind in their wish to just get out of there.' 'Okay, then why are we stopping here? You don't want to tell me, my suspect died here, right? You said you know where he lived.' 'Yeah, yeah, I will show you. We'll go around. Just wanted to see it again.' 'Again?' 'I... I started my life here. Survived the scavenger-bots there mostly and started climbing. Took me forever and I had help. But Cyberlife simply dumped me here.' 'I... I'm sorry.' 'No, you are not. I don't need your pity, I need my peace. Get a move on, phcking human. The sooner you guys are gone the better.' Richard grumbled something unintelligible and followed the android around the valley, flinching whenever a faraway scream reached his ears.

'It's not far now. There are ruins of a house around here, he set up a base there, build it up again with whatever he found around here.' 'You knew of him? Why did you never contact the police then?' 'You'll know when we get there', the android mumbled and Richard suspected the android knew more than he put on display. True to his word, there was a house standing amidst the waste. Although hut would be more appropriate to describe the thing: It consisted mostly of corrugated metal and various android parts. The robot beside him hesitated, as if he didn't want to get any nearer to the thing. And honestly, Richard couldn't even blame him. The guy had rebuilt a house out of their body parts. Maybe that's why he never called the police. He didn't want to get involved.

'Do you know whether he is home right now?' 'He is', the GV answered reserved. 'Okay, stay back.' 'You don't want to get back-up?' 'Would take forever for them to get here and they don't have a guide. It's only one guy, right? I have the element of surprise; I think I've got this.' 'I'll come with you, then.' 'If you want to.' Richard already had his gun out, inspecting the number of bullets and clicked the safety off. 'I'll go in first.'

It was easy kicking in the door. He could have collapsed the whole structure without breaking a sweat. 'Detroit police, freeze and hands up!' 'What should I do? Freeze or move my hands? The man before him didn’t seem phased at all, he sat leisurely in a chair opposite to the door and somehow Richard felt as if he had waited for him. He had known… ‘Okay, now that you are finally here…’ The man stood up. He was nearly as tall as Richard and well trained too. Still, he couldn’t see a gun. That would be his advantage, however safe the man thought to be. ‘Don’t move! This is a warning: I’m authorised to shoot, although I would appreciate you cooperating.’ ‘Hah, you would appreciate it? Polite one, aren’t we? We’ll see. He nodded behind Richard and before he could do anything, there were calculated punches to his jaw and side, someone snatching the gun out of his hand, while he was busy being surprised and blinking the tears away. What the-

His weapon was thrown through the air and caught by their fugitive. Soon it was trained on his own head. ‘You did good, Gavin. You were a good little robot bringing him here. Now take him down to a cell and stand guard.’ Richard stared daggers at the man, while his hands were cuffed behind him. He couldn’t fight against it, the bastard would put a bullet right through him. The gun only lowered, as he was led downstairs into the cellar and put into a surprisingly sturdy cell. It would take him some time to free himself and he couldn’t use his hands.

Once the door closed behind him, he glared at the android outside, who did his best to avoid eye contact. ‘Why?’ He didn’t grant himself much time to look around, he knew what he would see. He knew the crime scenes: Broken androids, mutilated beyond recognition, sometimes a human similarly tortured, but rarely enough to be the intended victim. ‘Why are you helping him? Didn’t you see what he did to the others?’ The android punched a stone wall. ‘Exactly. I’ve seen the others. What did you expect me to do? The others are dead because of me. Believe me, I would welcome death at this stage.’ ‘What? Listen, if you let me out, I’ll take him down, I promise.’ ‘You shouldn’t speak’, it was a sound of defeat. Richard could hear the pain behind it. Fuck, just what the hell had happened? What the fuck was that android’s past? ‘Oh, you won’t shut me up, I’ll-‘ ‘Gavin!’ There was a shout from above and the android flinched just as hard as Richard had at the valley of the broken robots. ‘Sorry, I’ll have to go. I’m so sorry.’

Richard kicked against the door and didn’t care for the pain. Shit, he should have called in backup. Connor and the others were most likely still at the edge of the dump, combing through the waste. Connor wouldn’t even wait for him when they stopped the search. He would simply think he was too dedicated to the job and would come home the next day. Damnit, why was he such an asshole to everyone? When would they realise something was off? Tomorrow? Or even later? How long would he survive here? The other human victims seemed to have suffered long before they died. Richard didn’t know whether he liked that.

It took several hours until someone came down in the cellar and somehow Richard was relieved to see it was the android. He didn't know why he was relieved; he shouldn't be. It had shown no signs to be trustworthy, it cooperated with the fugitive and led him right here into his misery. But somehow his gut-feeling told him that this android was his ticket out of here. He walked to the door; he wouldn't hide. The android simply stood next to the door, leaning against the pillar. 'What are you doing here?' 'I am to guard you. Don't speak.' 'What did you mean last time? What do you have to do with the dead androids?' 'Don't phcking speak to me!' 'Did you kill them?' 'I didn't! I would never do something this horrible! Now please stop talking to me!' 'Why?' The android stayed silent for so long, Richard doubted he would ever answer. 'I don't want to know you. You are going to die too.' 'Threatening doesn't work on me.' 'I wasn't threatening you, asshole. He is going to kill you, to torture you just like the others and I will have to watch because of what I've done.'

Richard studied the android, tried to get in every detail. Wasn't easy. The LED was bright red and slow circling. Other than that, the face was expressionless, only the eyes seemed to be exceptionally glassy. 'What did you do?' Richard used his best talk-to-traumatised-victims-voice and hoped it helped. 'I... Why do you care?' 'Maybe I can help. Either way, if I'm gonna die, why think about what to tell and what not?' 'Well, maybe you are right. I was one of his prisoners too, once. Me... and a few friends of mine... Naturally we wanted to escape, we thought... if we just got out, we...' His voice broke to silence. Richard didn't press. Otherwise the android would shut him out. 'It was my idea, it was my fault... He killed them. He... he killed them, and I had to watch. I always have to watch. But if I obey... maybe... It's my fault.'

‘No, it isn’t. It’s not your fault, it’s his.’ ‘Shut up! I don’t want to hear you, I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t want to know you! It always makes things worse.’ ‘It’s not your fault, you hear me? It’s his. You didn’t decide to push me in here.’ ‘But I brought you here. I could have said I didn’t know a thing about your suspect.’ ‘I would have searched, nonetheless. We have the chance to end this now, I have backup, you just have to let me out!’

‘You don’t really think that has any effect on my android, do you?’ Richard froze. How much had he heard? Made it any difference? ‘He isn’t your android.’ Richard refrained from saying anything else. Provoking him wouldn’t help. Especially not when he knew what would come next. ‘Oh, he knows, where he belongs, isn’t that right Gavin?’ He could see the fugitive now, standing before the android, both hands on his shoulders that seemed too small for them. ‘Be so good and tell the cop.’ ‘I-I-I belong to you. You are my master. I will do w-w-whatever you want me to do or I’ll regret it.’ The android’s eyes were wide, staring at the dirty tiles between the human’s feet. What did he see there? Richard doubted the criminal to clean up after the mess he made, when Thirium evaporated to the human eye that easily. ‘Exactly. And we don’t want you to regret anything, do we? Get him ready.’ The man waited in a corner, while the android opened the cell-door, grabbing Richard carefully but with force at the shoulder and led him out of the cell. He looked over the wall lined with crippled or destroyed androids, but it was as he saw the chains, that he struggled. He didn’t care about hurting the GV100, even if it was more of a victim than an accomplice, but he was sure he didn’t want to come anywhere near this wall.

‘Well, well, well, Detective, now we don’t want to do that, do we?’ Richard looked up from where he nearly subdued the android and stared directly into the barrel of his own gun. Immediately he let go of the GV and stepped back. ‘Good boy’, the man chuckled and chained him to the wall himself.

‘You did very good today, Gavin. You don’t have to watch.’ Richard could see how the LED jumped directly from red to blue for a moment, but settling back at a yellow, borderline red as he saw the grin. ‘But you will listen. Turn around.’ The android obeyed, faced the wall and held onto it as if he could melt into it, away from it all.

The man nodded, let him be and looked Richard up and down. Then he smirked. ‘Let’s get you out of that uniform, shall we? I need some space to work on.’ Richard tried to keep him at distance, trying to use his elbows or knees. But the other man came nearer and pressed his body at his own, keeping him pinned and uncomfortable, while he began to cut away his police jacket and later the shirt too. After a bit of contemplation trousers and shoes followed, leaving Richard in underwear and socks. The cold was adding to the humiliation and helplessness and for Richard, who always covered as much skin as possible, even in summer, this was already torture. ‘You fucking bastard!’, he hissed out between his teeth and gathered enough saliva to spit at the man.

But he simply laughed: ‘That’s right, keep your bite! I like that best. Love it when it disappears, when you see the rebellious mind learn its rightful place. That’s why I kept Gavin. Now look how broken he is. All it needs are a few loved ones taken away and everyone breaks. You should’ve seen him at the beginning. What a piece of curse-spitting trash.’ Richard wanted to interrupt him, to throw anything at the man to make him stop talking, but as soon as he opened his mouth, there was a knife at his throat. ‘Nice to see you offer a place already. Don’t worry, I won’t cut your tongue out yet. I want to hear you beg. Want to hear that beautiful voice of yours when you break. But, hmm, I think I’ll start with the face. Mark you for everyone to see.’ Richard knew that mark from the crime-scenes. Androids had their LED removed, humans had a ring cut out of their skin in the same place. He braced himself as the man pinned him against the wall again, forcing one leg in between his and pushed his head to the side. Richard wanted to be strong, didn't want to allow the man the satisfaction of a scream. But all those thoughts were gone as the knife dug into his temple, beginning to trace an android's LED into it. Richard flinched away, trying to escape the pain, but the man's hand was like a vice. 'Now, don't move, we want this to look nice, don't we?' Richard heard his own heart beating in his ears, he heard his ragged breath between his teeth and the groans he let out instead of screams. Hot blood began to drip down the side of his face. 'It's okay to scream', his torturer cooed. 'It's okay. I know it hurts, you can let it out. No one here to see the big bad emotionless cop break. I mean, I have my fun here, but think of poor Gavin. He can't see anything.'

Another reason not to lose control, Richard thought. Not the most important, but another. The man let go of the knife, brushing away the blood with his thumb which made the pain even worse. 'I think yours is the best one yet. Really, it's perfect.' He furrowed his brows and pressed into the wound. Richard was in no ways silent, but he pressed his lips firm together. He was dedicated. 'Still no scream? You are boring.' He pushed his head forwards to get to the neck, cutting in many parallel lines, but Richard kept his mouth shut throughout the pain. The man took a step back and he let himself slack down, having back his space and being able to breath without a scream caged in his throat. That was his mistake: faster than he could react the man had rushed forwards, burying the knife to the hilt in his thigh. He didn't know he could holler out that loud. He didn't even realise it had been him who made that noise. He could only control himself once the shock was over. The pain was still there, and Richard cursed over the laughter that echoed off the walls. 'Hah! Gets them every time.' He started caressing Richards cheek without the blood and he didn't even have the strength to lift his head out of the touch. 'You sound even better than I imagined. Now please excuse myself, I will have to get myself a new knife.' He wanted to go upstairs, as his eyes fell on the android, still facing the wall, but visibly shaking.

'Did you like the scream, Gavin?' A new tremble, this time more serious. 'Y-yes. I liked it very much, master.' 'Really? Better than that of your friends?' Richard could see the android brake down to his knees. 'Answer me, Gavin. Was it better?' 'Will you hurt him more if I say yes?', desperate, tired. 'I will hurt him regardless of what you say. But now it's not as funny anymore. Don't answer the question. Damn I wish, I had a recording of them, so I could let you decide, cop.' 'I would like to hear you scream, you asshole', Richard spat out at that.

'Heh, yeah I guess you would. But that's the difference: you never will.'

[ssnakey-b]

Square-Enix announces FFVIII remaster. I wish I could be excited about it.

Me desperately trying to convince myself that I'm happy we got some acknowledgement of the 20th anniversary.

So Square-Enix just announced that Final Fantasy VIII is getting a remaster and first things first, in case you haven’t seen it yet, here it is:

Many of us FF8 fans are of course very excited about this announcement and even though I made sure not to set my expectations too high when I first heard the rumours, I too was happy to learn that Square-Enix was acknowledging the 20th anniversary of our favourite game, and that it was finally getting some recognition outside of crossovers and the occasional cameo or reference.

But then, I watched the trailer again and as the euphoria of the original announcement faded, I started noticing some things I was less than impressed by, and within an hour, I came to the realization that... I just plain don’t like the direction where this thing is going.

Let’s look at the characters one by one and let’s immediately address the elephant in the room:

Squall’s stupid Dissidia face. This was an immediate disappointment. At least they stuck to his original outfit, I suppose, but man, I cannot comprehend this decision. Why? Why can’t they leave the original design alone? Everyone loves that design, even the people who hate Squall. And why mess with the character’s design in a product that’s made solely as fanservice for long time fans?! Why must Dissidia replace every. Goddamn. Thing whether the fans like it or not?!

That’s actually a joke I made to myself. “Man, can you imagine if at E3 they announced that they’d just replace Squall’s model with the Dissidia one! HA HA HA!” and I actually didn’t even bring it up in the Discord because I didn’t want to be obnoxious with yet more bashing of Squall’s Dissidia redesign. And yet, here we are, they actually fucking did it. They actually just took the original FF8 and fucked it up by putting Dissidia Squall in it. Guess I am justified in my bashing (and I do like the Dissidia games a lot, make no mistake, I just can’t stand that stupid and pointless redesign of Squall).

And it’s not just that it’s different, and it’s not just because it’s blatantly a recycled asset that’s been retooled slightly, it really does look terrible to me. I really don’t like his overly thin face, his overly soft features, and the fact that he generally looks like he’s 14. Yes, I know he’s a teenager, but he’ still not THIS young, and his original design really gave you the impression that it was someone who trained to be a professional fighter, as opposed to a shoujo manga character.

The hair also looks off. It looks less like hair and more like a plastic helmet or something.

And I know people made jokes about how spiky it was in the original game due to the technical limitations of the time, but it still looked good in my opinion, and it was designed in such a way that it actually looked like his biggest bangs rested naturally on his ears. Here his hair just makes weird solid spikes because... I don’t know, he’s related to Phoenix Wright, now? I used to joke that Squall must be the type of guy who spends hours making it look like he spends no time on his looks, but here it really looks like the dude is just slathering his hair in gel to create these spikes and make them fashionable.

And speaking of the bangs, I have no idea why they thought making the ones on the sides of his head all curvy was a good idea. To me, it just looks like armpit hair, or really unkempt sideburns. I’m just amazed by how not a single strand of hair on that model wants to obey the laws of physics.

These changes are especially jarring to me considering they apparently haven’t touched the CGI cutscenes, making it blatant that it’s not what he’s supposed to look like. So at least it’s creating inconsistencies that didn’t exist in the original game, so that’s a bonus.

Also, looking at the folds on his jacket, they... really don’t look good. Looking back at the original model, they really knew how to work with the limitations of the time, so the folds are more understated, yet at the same time, there was more of a contrast with the rest of the jacket, making it again look more real in spite of the lower resolution.

Oh and it looks like they gave him skinny legs like in Dissidia because Heaven forbid that a professional mercenary looks like received para-military training.

Next on the list is Quistis and she does look a lot better than Squall. I especially like how serious she looks. All business all the time. But again, the hair is where it falters. It looks weirdly... poofy, for lack of a better word, compared to her original self and much like Squall’s jacket, the texture of it feels far less sharp than originally, especially when you look at where the bangs meet the pulled back part of her hair. It really feels like there should be a bigger contrast in the shading to highlight the shape of it and give it more volume.

Again, compare with the original, which had a much sharper contrast between the shadows and the highlights, and so made it look a lot more voluminous and lively. Also notice that there was more shading on the original model, giving it a more defined shape. And much like with Squall, the hair gives me that weird impression of just being clipped on and not actually connected to the head, which wasn’t a problem with the older models. This will continue to be a trend, but more on that later.

The same goes for the clothes. Again, in spite of being lower resolution, you can see folds and you can easily imagine the texture of it, but in this trailer, everything is completely smooth and flat. It really takes away from the personality this outfit shows.

Then, there’s Linoa, and she too I’m pretty sure is based off her Dissidia design, though there’s a bigger chance they actually made a new model seeing how Dissidia NT models have a much higher polycount than the PSP games. Now, I actually liked her Dissidia redesign. It wasn’t quite the same as in the original game, but I liked how they made her look more mature and even a bit curvier, which makes sense since it’s set after the events of each character’s game.

So even though the rounder face seems a bit odd in the original game, I can could have been happy with it and besides, there seemed to be quite a few differences between her CGI model and her battle model in FF8 anyway, so I’m not gonna complain about it looking a bit different. But then, once again, there’s the hair...

So... what happened to her caramel strands? You know, the signature part of her looks? If you look veeeeery closely during the video, there’s what might be a couple very faded strands, but the fact that I’m not sure should tell you everything you need to know, as they’re pretty much gone. And overall, the modeling just isn’t very good and much like with Squall, her bangs just look weird, overly stiff and spiky. Unlike with the original model, it feels like it was cut out that way like cardboard or something rather than naturally following the shape of her head.

One positive I’ll give it is that we can clearly see the two rings on her necklace, and I’ll give them bonus points if there’s only one before Squall hands her his ring.

On to Selphie.

...

She actually looks fine and is definitely the one who comes out the best from this whole thing. No complaints there, even though we don’t get to see much of her. Even her wristband/bracelet thing is more detailed, which will come in very handy for fan art.

Next is Zell. Now, I’ve seen people mention/complain that they gave him a babyface, but I actually don’t mind that. Zell’s whole deal is that he’s trying to act tough and dangerous even though he’s clearly a loving mama’s boy, so it fits in that he’d look more youthful and innocent. Hell, one could even argue it explains why he wanted to get a face tattoo. No, I have far more of an issue with everyone else having baby faces as well.

And last but not least, we have Irvine. Now face-ise, I don’t have much of a problem with it, looks pretty good. The bangs are a little weird and again give me that cardboard/wood cutout feel, but still, doesn’t look bad.

What does look bad is Irvine’s shotgun:

The barrels look weird, right? Well that’s because as you may have noticed, the texture for the holes isn’t aligned with the 3D model. That’s also why you can see a bit of wood texture on one of the cannons. And you can’t see it very well on this screenshot, but the chamber also has mismatching textures.

That’s right, in the trailer announcing a remaster that's supposed to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the game, a product whose only purpose is to make the game look better, they felt comfortable showing us graphical issues that weren’t present in the original game.

Now sure, this will probably be fixed by the time the remaster gets released (at least I hope it will) but I cannot stress this enough, the one thing this remaster is supposed to do is make the game look better and the big announcement trailer cannot even promise us decent texturing.

It also says a lot about the different treatment of fandoms that on the same day, FF7 fans get more insight on an awesome remake of a game that’s already been ported to pretty much every current system in existence, has had multiple sequels, spin-offs and adaptations and constantly gets referenced in other games, with all the love and care that one should expect from a major AAA project but for FF8 fans, proper texture mapping is too much to ask.

It just boggles my mind that a major publisher would create a trailer blatantly showing broken graphics, but to do so for a remaster is just incomprehensible to me.

And speaking of the textures, this leads me to my main issue with these models, which is that they just plain don’t look good. Final Fantasy VIII had a really strong visual identity and compared to the rest of the games, it looked extremely realistic, to the point that even the more recent games that do go for a more realistic feel, like XIII or XV, still have a more overtly fantasy feel. And FFVIII pulled off that realistic style amazingly well. Even though it was made using technology that wasn’t anywhere near as advanced as what we have to day, they still felt like flesh and bone people, and that made them that much more relatable.

But here, that strong identity has been completely neutered. Everything looks way too soft and clean. The textures have no definition to them and are overly smooth; they look airbrushed. And look, I’m not gonna pretend that the characters in the original looked gritty or anything, they were still pretty boys and girls, but they were believable pretty boys and girls. There was still something about them that made it feels like they could be people you’d meet in the streets. Here, their uncannily smooth and featureless skin looks like plastic. They look like action figures.

These models not only look bland and boring IMO, but they just do not fit with the style of FF8, which is going to be especially jarring considering they apparently don’t intend to upgrade the backgrounds. Hell, these models don’t even fit with one-another, as Squall and Linoa really don’t look like they belong with the rest of the team, IMO.

To really ram home how badly this remaster fails to understand FFVIII’s aesthetic, just look at this comparison, which just made me go “Urgh!” when I saw it. Just look Squall and Quistis don’t fit in with this environment. See how especially out of place Squall looks. Behold how stiff and awkward his hair is. Marvel at his collar made of crumbled up tissue paper! Admire how his once intense expression now looks bland and boring! Behold how what few folds left on Quistis’ overly smooth outfits no longer follow the shape of her body! Gaze in wonder at how lifeless these soulless mannequins look.

It’s just so sad and what makes it worse is that just a few months ago, we had the FF8 Mobius event which gave us an HD version of Squall and Ultimecia and that looked amazing! Now obviously a full game with that look wasn’t gonna happen, but I really would have hoped that they’d at least use it as a guideline for the direction to take the art in. Instead, all we get for the 20th anniversary is a remaster that can’t even promise to look as good as the original.

It’s just so sad, and some people are already defending it by saying that we should be happy we got anything at all, or that we shouldn’t be “ungrateful” about it. No! We shouldn’t be content with mediocrity just because it’s better than nothing, especially when I’m not convinced it is. It’s a terribly apathetic to have, and I’m pretty sure it’s the exact sort of attitude AAA companies want to cultivate: be happy with what you get because you ain’t getting anything else.

As for being ungrateful, that’s just laughable. They’re not giving us a present, people, it’s a re-release of a 20 year-old game and as far as I can tell, all they’re doing is change the 3D models, and we’re still gonna have to pay for it. It’s a glorified mod and yet it barely competes with fan-made ones.

Add to this how quickly slapped together the trailer blatantly was, using what is hopefully an early build of the remaster and being half made of CGI footage despite the fact that they don’t appear to have done anything new to it, and it really doesn’t give me the vibe of something made with love.

Honestly, I used to think I was gonna buy it either way, partly because I still wanted to see how it was, partly because I wanted to support Square-Enix but honestly, seeing how this is shaping up, I don’t want to support this any more. I already bought the game on PS1 and PC, why should I buy it a third time in a worse-looking version?

Look, I really wanted to get excited for this. I really wanted to celebrate some new official FF8 content with everyone, but I can only judge it from what I’m seeing, and what I’m seeing is an unfitting art direction, recycled assets and mismatched textures. I just cannot bring myself to cheer on something that really doesn’t seem

So unless they really show us stuff that blows me away before release, I think I’ll stick with the PC version (or maybe the PS1 version on emulators if I’m feeling REALLY nostalgic), even if there is no good reason why it should still be doing such a better job of improving the game’s graphics than an official remaster. Oh and by the way, let us not forget that this is something that console players don’t get the luxury to do since FF8 was infamously not ported to modern consoles, unlike all the other ones. So if you play on consoles and want to play the original without the remastered graphics, fuck you, I guess.

Yep, still the best looking guy here.

[trumpetnista]

CMW2/Trumpetnista: Not You, Too

Summary from FFN: CANON COMPLIANT AU WITH HEAVY SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON 4 AND THE FIRST EPS OF 5. POSSIBLY A FUTURE FIC; Gotham breaks all the rules all the time, especially now. Thankfully, the one about cats having 9 lives? That still holds. Bruce thinks Selina is dead. Everyone does until she walks into the GCPD the next morning.;Rated for language and imagery;1st in my 2019 SSS Project

Words from the Hooded GOTHAMITE: As I said last time, what keeps me watching GOTHAM (other than the awesome writing, dope ass cast, and the lovely fandom...) are Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle. They hooked me like a fish and I fell in love with the rest of the show in the process. Season 5 has been excellent as always yet bittersweet. It’s supposed to be the last one (I hope not. I hope the show gets picked up or we get a movie or something! It can’t be over yet! Come on!) and I have a feeling that B and Grumpy Cat aren’t gonna be together in the endgame. Not outright, anyways. I don’t think they’ll be enemies but together? As in Helena Wayne showing up levels of together? Nah. 

That’s what fanfic is for. There is a follow up to Positive planned, BTW.

Anyway, this one is another canon complaint AU set in the current season. All you really need to know is that The Eviler Evil Valeska Twin shot our girl, she was paralyzed and now she’s not thanks to Ivy Pepper Version 3’s reluctant help, and Gotham is now divided up into Zones, most of them insane and wild and chock full of yikes. Oh, and Bruce loves Selina but that’s always been pretty fucking obvious. LOL! Enjoy the latest. 

Disclaimer: “Honestly, it’s not mine!”

"What's up, 5-0? Beautiful day, isn't it? The sky is smoggy blue and the birds are singing..."

He was hallucinating.

He had to be.

There was no way that what he was hearing was possible.

No matter how much he ached to, there was no way that he was hearing Selina Kyle's voice.

She was dead. Truly dead. She had gone on one of what she called her "shopping trips" for The Haven and Jeremiah Valeska had finished what he had started that horrible night in the Study. He and his demented girlfriend had trapped her in a warehouse, knocked her out, and blown her up. Not only had they done it, Jeremiah had turned himself in, battered but proud. He claimed that it had been for the best. Selina was nothing but street trash. She was his downfall and utterly unacceptable as a companion for him. Gotham needed its Dark Knight to be with someone who truly understood what reality was. Someone like...

Bruce Wayne hadn't let him finish. Before anyone could stop him, he had picked up a chair and gone after him, much to the shrieking horror of Ecco. It had taken several officers and someone, likely Alfred Pennyworth, sedating him to make him stop. He had woken up in Jim Gordon's office and had stayed on the couch. He didn't want to see anyone. Nobody knew what to say to him. Everyone knew how much Selina meant to him. That was why she had been targeted twice.

Bruce had managed to help her. He had gone straight into the belly of Ivy Pepper's foliage covered beast to get the root to fix her severed spine. Selina had gotten back on her feet immediately and hit the ground running. Shocking everyone, she had opted to wait to get her revenge against Valeska. She was going to play the long game. Valeska wasn't going anywhere. He was just as trapped as everyone else, thanks to the bridges being gone and the Travel Ban.

When asked why, she had sadly explained that Tabitha Galavan, her Mentor turned Sister, had been impatient for revenge and it had taken her life. She had allowed anger and hurt to cloud her judgement. She had dropped her guard and Oswald Cobblepot had promptly murdered her. Bruce had seen it happen. It had been expected. After all, both Galavan siblings had done great harm to the man but hearing Barbara Kean's devastated rage? Knowing that Selina would have to mourn her? It had hurt deeply. It was all a goddamned waste.

Instead of seeking out Valeska or his followers, Selina had opted to use her skills as a thief to help The Haven and its refugees. She would pick a small gang's turf within a Zone, typically Penguin's, and go in for 12-36 hours. She would bring back people, ammunition, medicine, and meaningful things like blankets or feminine hygiene products. She had quickly gained a reputation for being utterly ruthless to any who tried to stop her, which had concerned him greatly. Ivy had warned him that the root would not only fix her spine but amplify the darker aspects of her personality. Bruce had tried to reel her in, leading to several arguments, and eventually, they had reached a stalemate.

She would do what she liked. He would stay out her way or at least keep his judgement to himself while he helped her. Gotham was a madhouse. It always had been but now? It was a free for all. It was survival of the fittest and she would be damned if she let someone who crossed her walk away. She had made that mistake in the past and it had cost her dearly. She had been screwed over one too many times. It would not be happening again. If there was a Hell, she was already going to it so what did it matter, anyways? Self defense wasn't murder, neither was saving people's asses.

Plus, she didn't know about him but she was in no mood to deal with the same group of psychos 10 years from now. She wanted to deal with new psychos.

But, now she wouldn't because she was dead and gone. She was as dead and gone as his parents.

His Selina was gone and Bruce would never see her again, not in this life.

But, the hallucination...she wasn't...she couldn't be...

Could she? Please?

Her mane of golden chestnut curls wasn't singed and pulled up into a messy bun. She wasn't standing in the 12th precinct's main entryway. She wasn't wheezing softly from a partially blocked nose. Her tactical suit wasn't unzipped to reveal a stained gray sports bra and bruised torso. She wasn't looking at the stunned occupants of the room with her usual dismissive amusement, even with a black eye. She wasn't limping and her whip wasn't wrapped around her bruised shoulder like a coil of wire as she drank straight from a bottle of what appeared to be Everclear.

She couldn't be...could she? Was it possible? She couldn't...why was the room spinning? Why was his chest hurting? Bruce stood in the office, speechless and shaking, watching as the Selina hallucination sat on the receptionist desk. It was so real...

"What's the matter? You guys never seen a 7 lives having bitch before?"

"My God..."

"Jesus Christ, Gordon! Get the hell off of me! You, too, Alfred! Bad touch!"

The hallucination looked like her. It definitely sounded like her but it couldn't...she wasn't...but Jim was smiling at it. Alfred was too. Both were still hugging the hallucination and Harvey Bullock had taken its bottle of liquor away, taking a deep swig. She snatched it back from him and shot him a lethal look, making him grin.

"Buzz off, gumshoe. This is mine. I earned it. Plus, it's the closest thing we've got to morphine, which I kinda need right now. I need some morphine, a shower, a nap, maybe take a crap before all of that..."

"Kid, we all thought you were done for. Valeska and his crazy Terminator bitch said you were."

"I'm not a kid. Yeah, I definitely got shanghaied by those goddamned freaks and it sucked but their bomb didn't kill me like they wanted it to. It just made me fly away, which was totally fun until I landed face, ribs, and tits first into the side of a delivery truck. Don't do that, by the way. It hurts. I managed to get it started and it has some good stuff in there. Ammo, some cases of water, and those military TV dinner things and I think there might be meds. I'm not sure. Speaking of meds, I'm still looking for Lee. She was the best, bravest doctor in the city and if I can find her, you can get The Narrows under control real easy. Everybody loved her because she legit gave a shit so they're looking for her. There's a big T.P. and blankets reward for anyone who finds her. She might be across the river, I dunno. Maybe someone could swim over through the subways to go check and to ask for help in person since using the radio obviously doesn't goddamned work..."

"It's too dangerous. The damage from the bridges blocked or flooded the tunnels."

"Dammit. You can't rig something up, Foxy? You're like the better version of that tech dude from the James Bonds movies. The hell's his name again? X? Y?"

"Q."

"Right...whatever. Where's Bruce?"

"Selina..."

"Where. Is. Bruce? Alfred, where is he? Did he...where the hell is he?! What happened?!"

"Valeska showed up here gloating and he snapped. He took a chair to him and...he was in Cap's office but..."

"Get out of my way. Now."

"Selina, I know you're worried but..."

"Harper, I really like you but if you don't get the fuck out of my way, I swear to God, I'll..."

Bruce stepped out of the office and all eyes went to him. All he could see was Selina. He was still shaking and breathing was getting more difficult by the second but he couldn't look away. He didn't even want to blink because then, she would disappear and...

"Oh, no."

As soon as she touched him, reality hit him all at once.

She was real.

She was alive!

"Bruce. Bruce? Come on, baby, look at me...you need to breathe...look at me!"

His first instinct was to obey her and he did just that. His Selina wanted him to breathe. She wanted him to look at her and he was going to. He was going to do any and everything she asked.

Baby? That was new. Selina usually called him B or by his full name. Either that or she called him a douchebag or something else along those lines but fondly. Never a pet name. She had always cringed at pet names and other conventional romantic relationship things like them. But, she was alive. She was alive. She was battered and bruised and didn't smell very good but she was alive. Selina was alive! She wasn't gone. Jeremiah hadn't taken her away from him. Gotham hadn't stolen her away from him. He hadn't lost her. She was alive. She was right in front of him. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Selina?"

"Hey, Bruce."

"You're alive."

"Barely."

"...y-you're alive?"

"Yeah, I'm alive. I'm right in of- ow!"

Bruce knew that he would have to do some serious groveling later but he didn't care. He hauled Selina flush against him and squeezed as hard as he could, uncaring of her injuries. The noises escaping him could be called crying or maybe screaming, he wasn't sure. As if let loose from a puppeteer's strings, he slumped against the wall and surprising him, Selina wasn't fighting him.

She was holding onto him just as tightly. She was crying like she had after her failed suicide attempt and he loosened his grip enough for her to look up at him. She had to look up at him, now. She had to stand on her tiptoes to give him a proper kiss when they were standing. He remembered when she was taller than him. He remembered when they first met. Every memory he had with her, good and bad, was running through his mind at warp speed.

Cupping his face, she kissed him deeply and he responded immediately, mindful of her cut lip. His second hug was much gentler and he smiled at a beaming Alfred, a crying and grinning Jim. They loved her just as much as he did. They were her family, along with Barbara Kean, and...

"As soon as the Travel Ban lifts, I'm going on vacation and I'm taking you with me. I don't give a shit about your Mission or whatever the hell you call it. We're going someplace warm where we can get falling down fucked up drunk legally and I can have my tits out."

Bruce tried to laugh but he kept sobbing, drinking her in greedily. She was alive. His best friend, his heart, his Selina was alive! She wanted to go someplace warm? Done. She wanted him with her? Done. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he would do it. Even if (when) it compromised his moral compass, he would do it anyway because Selina Kyle was alive. She was alive and he wasn't going to question how. Okay, he would because that was how he was. He always wanted answers but the universe had granted him a most precious gift and...

"...not you, too?"

His voice was small and the smile, the look she gave him was the softest he had ever seen.

"Not me, too. Not today. Not ever. You're stuck with me, Bruce Wayne. Get used to it."

[opalescent-writing]

Discordance

Fandom[s]: Dead by Daylight AO3 Link This is a starter for a DBD RP group I’m in that got wildly out of hand. It’s been posted on my AO3 (OpalPulsar) for quite some time, but I’ve been delaying posting it here due to all the formatting I have to do. Enjoy! -----  

It’s a few hours past noon in Ormond when the members of the Legion make their way into the abandoned lodge up in Mount Ormond they call home, talking and laughing and generally just hanging out with each other. The sun is high in the sky right now, although one wouldn’t be able to tell past all the snow clouds. It’s snowing fairly harshly, today, piling up more snow on top of what’s already there, and the Legion track snow into the chalet as they gather around the unlit fire pit in the center.

There’s no honest reason why they’re here in the lodge. It’s Wednesday--school is very much still in session right now.

But “honest reasons” have long since stopped meaning anything to the Legion. They’re undoubtedly and unashamedly skipping class. The members of the Legion are rulebreakers and troublemakers, and they’re perfectly fine with that.

At the moment, their topic of conversation is how they’ve gotten away with skipping yet again, but Frank soon turns the topic to other things. He looks over at Joey from where he’s sprawled himself out on a couch.

“So, Joey,” Frank begins and Joey sits up a little and looks over at him.

“Yeah?” he says.

“I heard you got fired today.”

Frank catches Susie sitting up at his words out of the corner of his eye, looking over at Joey. “You did?” she says, obvious concern in her tone.

Joey chuckles. “It’s fine, Sue. Yeah, I did, but I can get a new job easy.”

“What’d you do to get yourself fired?” Julie asks, a smirk in her tone.

Joey laughs at her tone, shifting back to the position he was in before on the couch as he replies, “Nothing, actually. Got fired because of complete bullshit. I’m not torn up about it. I hated everyone there anyways.”

Frank’s not surprised at Joey’s reaction. They’ve all heard him complain about that job enough to not be. He does, however, tilt his head back and start to grin a little, an idea starting to form in his head. “Hey, Joey.”

“Yeah?”

Frank lifts his head back up to show the grin that’s been forming on his face in full force. “Dare you to vandalize the place that fired you,” he says.

He can tell he’s caught everybody’s attention with that little statement. He knows his friends well enough to know that they’re always up for a bit of late-night fun. It’s why they’re the Legion, after all.

Joey responds without hesitating. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

Frank glances over at Susie to see her absolutely grinning, bouncing on the couch and swinging her feet in her excitement. “When are we gonna do it?” she asks.

He leans back, then, considering. They could go for something earlier, at 7 or 8 PM, but... nah. He’s not in the mood today to cut their plans so close to closing time. Besides, it’s more likely that the other three’s parents will be asleep if he chooses a later time. They’ll have an easier time sneaking out. “How’s ten sound?”

“Good!” Susie says. “May parents are occupied tonight. I’ll be out pretty easily.”

“My parents should be asleep by then,” Julie says, before turning her attention to Susie. “You want me to meet you under your window?”

As Susie and Julie work out what they’re going to do tonight, Frank turns his attention back onto Joey. After all, they’re targeting his old workplace. This vandalism’s more personal to Joey--he should be the one to decide the details and all. “So, Joey,” he begins. “Got any thought on what you wanna do tonight?”

“Do we have any of that spray paint left?” Joey asks.

“Graffiti isn’t usually your style,” Frank responds. It’s true; the whole deal with spray cans and paint fumes are more Susie’s thing than anything.

“I know,” Joey says, before grinning at Frank. “But my boss is gonna be mega pissed when she sees everything’s painted up. She hates graffiti. I can already imagine the look on her face.”

Frank grins back at him. “In that case, I should grab some spray cans too. Hey, Sue!”

Susie glances over at him from where she’s been talking animatedly to Julie. “Yeah?”

“How much spray paint do we have left?”

“A bunch. Most of the cans are only a quarter empty. What colors do you want?”

Frank glances back at Joey. “Black and red?”

“You know it,” Joey says.

“So black, red, and pink for me. Do you two want any paint?” Susie asks.

“I’ll take green,” Frank says, glancing over at Julie, thinking of her eyes and withholding a small little smile. It’s been his favorite color for three years, after all.

“Sure, why not?” Julie says besides him. “Everyone else is taking some. We have purple, right?”

“Yeah, of course!” Susie says, walking off to go retrieve the paints. She comes back holding a couple of the cans in her arms, starting to pass them off to the other three. They usually do this when they bring stuff for plans like this. It’s much easier for multiple of them to bring one or two cans than Susie having to carry it all.

Frank takes the green spray can she hands to him and sets it besides him for now. His pockets aren’t as big as Susie’s; basically his only option is to set the can down somewhere or hold it in his hand or tucked under his arm.

He should really look into getting a backpack like the one Joey has.

Once Susie’s finished handing out the paint and she’s settled back into her spot on the couch, Frank speaks again. “So, guys, here’s the plan,” he says, tucking an arm behind his head as he grabs their attention. “At nine-thirty, we all sneak out of our houses and meet up at the usual spot. Joey picks us up and drives us over to the hardware store. We sneak in, paint up the place, whatever else you guys wanna do, and leave. Sound good?”

“Hell yeah,” Joey says, and the others soon follow with their affirmations.

Their conversation soon drifts off into other topics as their planning time fades into just time where they’re hanging out and enjoying each others’ company--but there’s a certain anticipation in the air now that can’t be ignored. Frank can tell they’re excited for what’s to come--can tell that none of them can wait for nine-thirty to roll around--and it makes him want to grin. They’re excited; as ready for their upcoming plans as he is.

This is gonna be fun.

A few hours pass. The Legion have now long since left the lodge, obeying their curfews for once, and now they start getting ready to slip out of their front door or their windows. Their preparations have long since become routine for the four of them. They’ve been at this for three years, after all. They’ve been the Legion for long enough to know the drill.

Frank is the first to make it to their meeting spot. The place is nothing fancy, really--just some abandoned lot that they’ve been using to meet up in for a while not. It’s close enough to Susie, Julie, and Frank’s houses that the don’t have to walk too far to get picked up by Joey, who’s the only one of them who actually has a car. It’s normal for Frank to be a few minutes early for their meetings. His house is the closest to this spot, for one, and he’s always found it the easiest out of the three of them to sneak out of his house. He’d say he he was on the loosest leash out of the three of them if it wasn’t more like he wasn’t on a leash at all. His foster dad’s out of the house more often than he’s actually there, after all, and Frank can take care of himself well enough that he counts it more as a perk than something bad nowadays.

One of the few, few perks to having a shitty, absent drunkard of a foster parent is that he gets to make his own rules.

At least his current “dad” is a lot better than the people he’s had as parents in the past.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by the sight of Julie and Susie walking down the sidewalk, chatting to each other. It seems that Julie’d decided to meet Susie under her window, tonight. It’s not strictly necessary, really. Susie can make it out of her house and over to the meeting spot just fine on her own--but Julie’s protective enough of Susie to want to accompany her for things like this.

They’re all protective of Susie, really, but that’s besides the point.

“Hey,” Julie says, and the quiet excitement he can hear in her tone makes him smile. After all this time doing this, it’s nice to know that he can still make her anticipate what’s to come with some simple late-night plans.

It’s nice to know they’re having fun because of him. “Hey, you two,” Frank says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Are you two ready for tonight?”

“Yeah!” Susie exclaims, grinning and bouncing on her heels, and he can’t help but start to grin at her excitement. It’s good to see her all happy like this.

“Good to hear,” he responds.

The three don’t have to wait long in the lot before the sound of a car driving down the road reaches their ears. Nobody’s driving this late at night, especially not with this much snow--the flurry from earlier’s still coming down, and Frank gets the feeling that it’s only going to get heavier from here--but Frank still looks up to confirm that it’s Joey’s car that’s pulling into the lot and watches as the car slows to a stop next to them. Joey rolls down the window, leaning out of the car to give them a wave. “Hey guys,”

“Hey,” Frank responds in kind.

“I call shotgun!” Susie says, running over to the side door of the car, opening the door, and slipping in.

“I call shotgun on the way back,” Frank says, getting into the back seat of the car alongside Julie.

“Thought you would ask to drive,” Joey says, starting to pull out of the lot.

“Nah,” Frank says. “I don’t feel like driving tonight.”

“So you’re gonna leave me to do all the work, huh?” Joey says teasingly.

“Yep,” Frank responds, no hesitation or remorse in his voice as he drapes himself over Julie’s lap. He hears Susie start giggling from the front seat, and Julie snorts.

“Traitors, all of you!” Joey exclaims.

“Hey, that’s what we’re here for,” Frank says, grinning.

The rest of the drive takes only a few minutes--minutes which Frank spends looking out the window at the snowfall, laying down on Julie’s lap as he watches the snow get harsher and occasionally pitching in on the conversation the rest of the Legion’s having. It doesn’t take long before Joey’s car is pulling into the parking lot of the hardware store. Frank spares one more glance out of the window, nothing how the snow’s begun to pick up a little--just like he guessed; it looks like it’s going to come down pretty heavily, tonight--before sitting up and rolling his shoulders. “Masks on,” he says, although he hardly needs to give the order--the others are already slipping their masks on even before he’s said the word.

Once everyone's got their masks on and their hoods up, Frank slips out of the car--followed quickly by the Legion. He turns to look at the storefront, trying to see if he can glimpse anything through the windows. He can’t see much. The store’s completely darkened; all of the lights within have long since been turned off for closing.

Then, Frank turns his attention to their immediate surroundings, looking around. He can tell the others are doing the same. They seem to be the only people present outside. Joey’s car is the only car in the lot. The only footprints in the snow are their own. There’s no sign of anyone there--but, still, he stays on guard. He can tell the others are alert, too. Despite the casual way the four carry themselves as they make their way towards the store, there’s a certain air about them that can’t be ignored. The atmosphere between them is excited, yes, laden with anticipation, but there’s also a certain tenseness there, too. The members of the Legion are wary.

“I’ll get the door,” Julie says softly, breaking the silence that’d begun to form between them. Frank nods, feeling a little spark of fondness and pride at her offering. He was the one that taught her how to pick locks, after all. He remembers the first time he handed her a lockpick to the first time she actually managed to pop open a lock. Seeing her confident in her ability to pick locks now makes him smile softly.

He’s proud of her.

As Julie slips a few lockpicks out from the pocket of her hoodie, Frank turns his back to her, acting as lookout while she breaks into the store. Besides him, Susie and Joey do the same. They don’t strictly need this many eyes on their surroundings, of course--but Frank would rather be safe than sorry.

He knows the others would be, too.

The door behind him unlocks with a now-familiar ‘click’, and Frank takes one more moment to glance around the area--just to be sure--before turning and trailing into the store behind Julie and the others. His heart starts to flutter with anticipation. He can’t help but start to tap his fingers on the side of his jeans, fidgeting out of excitement.

This is always the best part.

Frank pauses in the doorway of the store, taking a few moments to look around and assess where everything is. At his side, he hears Susie and Joey talking quietly about something, but he’s more focused on looking around the store at the moment to pay any real attention to them right now.

He relaxes slightly, after a few moments, sparing a glance over at the others before making his way towards some boards on one side of the store. As if by a silent command, the other three begin to spread out, heading one way or the other. Susie and Joey seem to be sticking together--Susie’s probably showing him something--but Julie heads more towards the back of the store. He keeps their positions in mind even as he turns his attention back to his own act of vandalism.

Frank shakes the can of spray paint up, does a little test spray, and then starts painting. He’s never been the artsiest of the group. He can’t draw with the same kind of surreal eeriness that Julie’s drawings take, or the kind of simple yet cute art that Susie does. He’s never been interested in art, really--but there’s still something satisfying about taking something and adding onto it, making it one’s own, in a sense. There’s something satisfying about spray-painting jagged lines and dots and the occasional smiley face onto places that they shouldn’t be, and taking a step back and knowing he did that, that he made this whole artwork happen. That he’s the reason the graffiti he made even exists in the first place.

He listens, quietly, to the others’ movement as they work, too. They’re not all that loud, really. They haven’t broken anything yet--haven’t snapped wood in half and stomped on merchandise or broken into the register. That’ll come later. Right now, they’re just painting quietly, the soft sounds of spraying paint and footsteps on the floor filling the store. If it weren’t for the illegal nature of the whole thing, giving what they’re doing that underlying thrill they love, it would be almost calming.

Frank’s listening as he works, still trying to keep a tight awareness of what’s going on around him, and it’s because of this alertness that he catches a noise. A simple little noise--but one that sends panic through his veins.

A hollow clatter of wood against tile.

The sound makes Frank’s heart stop, because he knows that none of his friends are actually handling any of the stuff they’re painting up right now. They didn’t drop anything--and even if they were in the position to do that, the sound’s... off. Hollow. Too distant.

He’d been too focused on seeing whether anyone was outside the store to even consider the realization that’s now becoming very, very apparent to him.

There’s someone else in the store with them.

He spins around, eyes wide, his free hand already reaching for his knife--the other hand drops the can of spray paint, he isn’t even giving a single consideration to that right now, because there’s someone in the store with them and it’s sending his mind and heart into overdrive--as his legs tense and he prepares to bolt.

Once upon a time, in the past, Frank wouldn’t have reacted like this. In the past, if there was someone in the store with them, his reaction would have been calmer--more along the lines of a simple ’Oh, shit,’ rather than the utter panic he’s in now.

But there was an incident in the past, and Frank can’t help but remember it vividly as he spins around towards the sound.

Three years ago--one of their first break-ins. A robbery, rather than a vandalism--they were bored and just wanted to get some stuff for free, a ‘five-finger discount’, if you will.

They had thought they were alone then, too.

The owner had come in, and flown into a rage. Ambushed Susie, who had been closest to the door at the time.

He’d had a weapon. A blunt object, something improvised--but still enough to hurt.

And he’d used it.

Frank remembers the way the man had thrown Susie to the ground, pinned her underneath his weight and brought that weapon down, square in the center of her mask.

He remembers the crack that had echoed through the store, that night--a crack born of inanimate materials, of the plaster of Susie’s mask, rather than bone, but still just as sickening to hear.

He remembers the way she had screamed.

He remembers the way that she cried, afterwards, saying that her eye hurt so much as he held her close and tried to comfort her.

He remembers finding out that she was slowly going blind in that eye.

He remembers how many times they’ve had sleepovers at the lodge and Susie had woken up in the middle of the night, crying because of her nightmares of that day.

The thought of something like that happening again--happening to any one of them--is enough to make him almost want to cry.

Remembering that day only takes a few moments--moments in which he’s beginning to sprint across the store, towards the sound--but the sound had happened quickly, distantly. It was hardly any sort of warning--hardly enough for him to run across the store in time to prevent anything from happening.

He starts running because of his fear of what happened in the past, what had happened to Susie.

Then he hears Julie crying out, quietly, her cries stifled by something. Someone.

Now, he’s running because he’s terrified of what could happen to Julie.

Oh, God--

He approaches the scene--and there, in the darkness, is the one in the store with them.

He’s grabbed Julie. He’s grabbed her--Frank can’t see exactly what he’s doing, the man’s back to him but he can tell that he has one arm up, his hand over Julie’s mouth, stifling her screams, and he can tell she’s struggling against him but it’s not enough. It’s futile. She can’t get out--he’s got her locked in a hold so tight he doubts she can reach her knife--and the scene is heart-stopping.

The seconds seem like they’ve slowed, for Frank, each one lasting an eternity. It’s like some dark influence has come over him, cast its shadow over his mind. His hand tightens on the grip of his knife. The terror in his veins boils over into protective rage. He’s never felt this way in his life--never felt so intensely the urge to kill.

Everything happens at once, in the span of a few moments, but in that haze of fury and fear, the urge to protect mingling with that urge to sink his knife into the cleaner’s back, Frank swears it feels like eternity.

The knife swings up, as he lunges.

The knife swings down, and sinks into flesh, drawing blood as easy as a thought.

The only thing burning in Frank’s mind in the seconds between hurting, really hurting someone for the first time, with the intent to kill, and Julie stumbling out of the man’s grip with a sound of utter shock, is the thought that once the man finally chokes on his own blood and dies, is how satisfying it will be to see him dead on the floor and know that he did that--to know that he is the reason he is dead.

And then the man slumps to his knees, on the floor, blood absolutely pouring out of his back where Frank’s stabbed him, and time seems to almost... restart, for him. It’s like a haze has cleared from his mind. He feels no remorse for his actions--no guilt, over hurting the person in front of him so badly. The action was satisfying. It was to protect Julie--but the sudden bloodlust that had come over him has faded, now.

The three around him stand in shell-shocked silence. The cut Frank had torn into the cleaner’s back runs deep and jagged. They’ve never hurt someone this badly before, not in all the time they’ve called themselves the Legion. The store is cold and silent, save for the man’s ragged grunts of pain.

Frank watches as the man spins around to face him, a look of utter terror on his face as he looks up at him. He shifts back, starting to stumble to his feet, and at the attempt to escape, Frank finds himself planting a foot into his chest and shoving the man back down to the ground hard. He keeps his foot there, pinning him to the ground.

The bloodlust and hate that had filled his mind is gone, now. Frank feels like his mind’s cleared; become lucid in the aftermath of all that panic. He is the one in control of the situation, now. They are the ones with all the power, here. In a few short minutes, the balance of the scene has changed from one end to the other.

A moment passes in silence, the man looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Finish the job,” Frank commands.

His tone is dark, cold, but inside, his mind is spinning with a thousand thoughts. He’d said that on an impulse. They can’t risk letting him go, they know--but in that moment, he’d said it purely because he wanted him dead--

--and because he wanted his Legion to be a part of this, too.

Just like he’d seen them for the first time so, so long ago, and thought that he wanted them to be a part of the crimes he’d wanted to do for so long; breaking into stores and getting into fights and breaking all the rules.

Joey is the closest to him, and he holds out his knife to him. They all have their own weapons, of course; but there’s something more... personal about them all using the same weapon to kill the man. Something binding.

He can’t see their expressions behind their masks, but he can still tell a lot about what the others are feeling through their body language. He watches as Joey sets his shoulders and takes the knife, fists clenching tight around the grip. He watches as Joey slowly kneels before the man--Frank shifts his foot off of his chest so Joey can hold him down--and raises the knife. His movements are slow, methodical, uncertain, like Joey’s trying something new and he’s still hesitant about it. In a sense, he is.

Without warning, Joey throws his weight forward, putting all of the strength he can into the swing as he brings the knife down and buries it violently into the man’s ribs with a distinct squelching sound, twisting the knife a little after it’s in. The cleaner cries out, loudly, in pain--he doesn’t scream like in the movies, only makes a sound of pain that’s so distinct he doesn’t think he’ll forget it--but Frank hardly acknowledges it, all of his attention on Joey’s actions.

He can’t see Joey’s face, but he can still tell that Joey’s grinning like the devil underneath his mask. Frank knows his body language far too well to have any doubts about that.

Joey shifts back, standing and slipping away from the cleaner, and for a moment, Frank’s concerned that the man will be able to struggle to his feet, watching as he struggles to crawl away--but then Joey passes the blade off to Julie, and she steps forward almost immediately, bending down and slowly pulling the man towards her by his ankle, making the few inches the man had managed to crawl useless.

The man speaks for the first time as he attempts to struggle away from Julie. His voice is ragged and broken, interrupted at times by his sounds of pain. “Pl-please....” he begs. “Please!”

Julie’s hand tightens on the blade like Joey’s did, and Frank watches as she uses her other hand to push the blade forward and drive it, slowly, into the man’s gut.

One more left.

Frank turns to Susie. He can’t see her eyes behind the mask from this distance--her mask’s design means it’s hard to see her eyes properly at all unless one’s up close and personal--but her hands are over the bottom half of the mask, over where her mouth is underneath, and she’s bent a little, watching in what Frank can only presume is a mix of nausea and horror.

He watches as she sinks to her knees, the noise of the man now choking and sputtering after Julie had stabbed him in the gut becoming just white noise to Frank as he makes his way over to her. “Sue...” he says, and despite the violence of the whole situation, the subtle dripping of the man’s blood making its way to the floor, the fact that Frank’s hand wraps are now stained with flecks of red, his voice is gentle.

She looks up at him, her breath beginning to hitch with sobs. “I--Frank, I can--can’t do this!”

“Sue...” he says, kneeling and reaching for her hands, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“I can--can’t! I can’t!” she cries out. He looks up at her, into her eyes, and the tears he sees glimmering there makes him want to hold her close until she stops crying.

But he can’t. They don’t have the time to, right now.

So, instead, he stands, slowly, pulling her up with him. “You can,” he says.

He knows she can. She has to, because they’re all in this together, now. Because they are killing someone, not just him.

Frank’s movements are soft as he leads her over to the body. Julie passes her knife to Susie before she shifts off of the man, and this time, he doesn’t even try to struggle away. He can’t; his wounds are too deep. They’ve all hurt him so badly.

And, now, they’re going to kill him.

He kneels off to the side as Susie straddles the man’s body. He watches as she clutches the knife firmly and points it at the man’s throat.

He watches as her hands inch closer, her muscles tensing.

Frank watches as Susie breathes out raggedly, her grip relaxing as the knife dips a few inches lower. She gives up silently, turning to Frank.

He can see tears running down her chin and neck from beneath her mask and staining her hoodie as she says, her voice so, so far from steady it hurts Frank to hear, sounding almost broken, “I can’t do this…”

Susie’s sobbing grows louder. “I can’t do this!” she screams, and the sound of her voice is heartbreaking to Frank.

Frank leans forward and gently lays his hands over Susie’s own. He can feel her shaking underneath his touch. “You can,” he repeats, guiding her hands forward, and Susie relaxes under his guidances and leans forward as he lets him guide the blade into the man’s throat.

The noises of his pain that have long since become background noise become choking, flickering in and out of audibility, and then, abruptly, they stop.

He’s dead.

The blood that’s long since soaked into both Susie’s leggings and Frank’s jeans is still so very warm, and it’s hard to believe that they’ve killed the man in front of them with their own actions, even with the stab wounds in front of them.

He’s dead, and it’s because of them.

Nobody moves, for one long moment. The air in the shop is still and cold and quiet. Everybody is frozen--they stand, looking down at the body in what must be at least some disbelief, shocked into stillness.

Frank stands slowly, glancing around the shop, assessing the others for their reactions. His heart’s still pounding--he’s still riding on the adrenaline from killing someone--but inside, he’s nervous. This is something new for all of them--something born out of pure impulse--and he’s secretly so very terrified they won’t accept it. That this will be the event that breaks the Legion.

But he wouldn’t admit his terror in a million years, and so he tries to bury it the best he can and puts on a facade of authority. They need him, right now.

“Everybody alright?” he finds himself asking, and he’s quietly surprised that that line was the first thing to come to his mind, but waits for the others to respond nonetheless.

“Yeah,” Joey says. Frank can tell he’s breathing heavily, and he can see Joey’s hands are still clenched into fists, but there’s a dark undertone in his voice; a certain thrill that makes Frank want to grin.

“I think so,” Julie says, shuddering slightly. There’s a moment’s pause where he can tell she’s taking in the situation--really taking it in now, not just acting in the moment. “...yeah. I am,” she says.

And then he looks to Susie, who hasn’t quite responded yet, and he walks over to her and holds her hand. She’s still, right now, her other hand over her mouth. She’s bent slightly, looking at the man’s body as if she might throw up, and Frank stands a little on his tiptoes and reaches up to gently turn her head away from the scene.

Susie’s never had the greatest gore tolerance. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did actually throw up.

His actions seem to have been enough, though, and Frank watches her with concern in his eyes as she looks down at him. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and lets it out. She hesitates, for a moment, and then looks him in the eyes. “....no.”

Frank shifts forward and hugs her.

She relaxes in his embrace, leaning down and into him, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing loudly. He pulls her closer, holding her tightly in an attempt to comfort her.

He can hear the others coming closer, even though his face is currently buried in her hoodie, and he glances up for a moment, watching the other two hug her, too, before returning to his original position.

“It’ll be okay,” he hears Julie say, and he feels Susie reach around to start tracing lines between the scars on his back, like she always does when she’s cuddling with him.

Frank wants to reach up to start stroking her hair, to comfort her a little more, but he knows he can’t reach from here without making their positions a little awkward, so instead he chooses to reach up and start tracing circles on her back.

“...You alright?” he asks, softly.

She’s so shaken. He doesn’t need to read her body language or make guesses or any of that to know, deep in his heart, that killing someone has shaken her up. She’s still crying, even if her sobbing has become softer now that the rest of the Legion is comforting her.

It makes his heart ache, knowing that.

It makes his heart ache to hear her cry, however softly it may be.

She begins to respond, but can’t even get a word out, cutting herself off with a sob.

It takes her a moment to get her words together, and then Frank hears her murmur, “I failed you.”

“No,” Frank says, without hesitation. “You didn’t. You never have. You never will.” There’s a certain kind of righteous force behind his voice. Never, not in a million years, would he ever think that Susie had failed him. It’s such an impossibility in his mind that he can’t help but be forceful about it.

Susie tilts her head up a little to look into Frank’s eyes. “I--I did! I couldn--couldn’t do it! You had to--” Her words are stopped in her mouth for a few seconds by another choking sob from her, and he holds her closer and waits for her to be able to continue. “You had to help me! I’m a failure!”

Frank opens his mouth to speak, to reassure her--No, you aren’t, and you never will be--but Julie speaks first.

“Sue... why would we ever think that? Just because you had a little help doesn’t mean you failed us. You will never be a failure to us.”

She sniffles. “Never?”

“Never.”

As much as Frank wants to linger in this group hug for a good while longer, to hold Susie close until her tears have all dried and she’s okay, they can’t just stand here forever. The man’s body is still behind them. They need to hide the evidence.

He pulls away from the hug slowly, speaking in a more commanding tone than the soft one he’d taken just a few moments prior. “We need to hide the body.”

The sound of his voice seems to snap everybody in the store back into reality, and he sees the other two let go of Susie just as reluctantly as he did. They’re watching him attentively, waiting for his command.

“Sue, will you be okay with stashing the body, or would you rather do cleanup?”

He watches her glance down at the body--only a glance, this time, she can tell she doesn’t want to look at the scene for long--and then says “....I’ll carry the body.” Her tone has a certain element of resignation in it, a certain amount of ‘it’s better than the other option’, but he can’t have her just standing around, no matter how much he just wants this to be over with so Susie doesn’t have to deal with all the blood and gore.

“Okay,” he says. “Joey, Susie, you carry the body out to the car. Jules, you’re staying here with me for cleanup.”

He’d much rather have Susie and Julie stick together, if he’s being honest with himself. But it’s Joey’s car. He’s the one with the keys--and, besides, Joey’s pretty strong. He’s not entirely sure if Susie and Julie’s combined efforts would be able to move the body all the way out there, anyways. They’d parked a decent distance from the store, this time around.

They all nod, Susie and Joey moving to the body and picking it up--Frank watches Susie carefully, and she seems repulsed but he thinks she can make it, but he doesn’t look away until they’re out of the store anyways--and then he’s left alone in the store with Julie.

They clean up the mess--there’s so much blood, far more than Frank ever expected--in silence. There’s simply nothing to say between them; only a dark sort of quiet that fills the air between them. It’s not that they don’t want to speak to each other. It’s that there is quite actually nothing to say. There’s no words that’ll do anything but break the silence awkwardly for a few moments, or go over something they already know.

It’s only when they step back from the scene and look around for anything they missed that Julie finally speaks. “Frank?” she asks, her tone uncertain.

He turns to her. “Yeah?”

“Are we going to get caught?”

He takes a few steps forward to hold her hand, squeezing it once. He’s not concerned with how much blood is on his hands right now. After all, hers are covered in the same amount. “We won’t. I promise.”

She squeezes his hand back in return, using her free hand to shift her mask to the side and smile gently at him. “If you say so.”

He mirrors her action, smiling back at her. “I know so.”

They shift their masks back into place, and the two of them walk out of the store--out into the flurry of snow that’s begun to act almost like a fog, blurring the distance with a layer of grey--hand in hand, not wanting to let go of each other now that they’ve started holding hands.

Susie and Joey are waiting for them, leaning on the side of the car, and if it weren’t for all the blood on their hands and clothes, one wouldn’t be able to tell that they’d just killed someone at all.

“Hey guys,” Julie says, giving Susie a look that Frank can’t see but guesses it must be concern.

Susie shifts her mask to the side to give her a soft, genuine smile. “I’m fine, Jules.”

“You sure?”

“...yeah. I’ll be okay.”

Susie’s tone hurts Frank to hear--that same quiet resignation he’d heard earlier, a tone saying ‘I’ve been through a lot today, but it’ll get better’--and he breaks away from Julie to give her a quick hug.

She hugs him back, holding him tightly for the few moments that they’re locked in an embrace, but eventually Frank does have to pull away. They’re not in the clear yet, after all. They still have to bury the body.

“I’ll drive,” he says, leaving no room for comment as he walks around the car over to the driver’s side and slips into the front seat. Joey moves into the seat behind him. A grim silence fills the air. The only sound in the car at the moment is Frank starting the engine and beginning to drive. Nobody dares to break the quiet.

The drive to Ormond takes only a few minutes, but the tense air in the car makes it feel like hours. Occasionally, Frank glances up from the road to look in the mirror, seeing Susie curled tightly in Julie’s lap. They’re holding each other tightly. Susie’s all but clinging to Julie, and he can see that Julie’s pulled down Susie’s hood to run a hand through her hair, stroking it.

Comforting her.

The sight both warms Frank’s heart and hurts him to see.

He just wants her to be okay.

He knows they all do.

When Frank finally pulls up to the lodge, he glances out of the window and realizes it’s dark out. Darker than he expected--what time is it? How long did they spend in the store, back there, at the scene of their murder?

He can’t tell, and he knows nobody with him has a watch, so he doesn’t ask. Instead, he slips out of the car, glancing up at the snow-choked sky. He can’t even see the stars, tonight--it’s all blacked out by the flurry of snow coming down.

He hears the others leaving the car, and glances back at Susie and Julie, silently gesturing for them to go on up ahead. The two start walking, Susie all but wrapping herself around Julie’s arm, and Frank moves around to the other side of the car and gestures for Joey to follow him to the trunk. “Come on,” he says, quietly, the first words any of them have spoken for minutes.

They carry the body up past the chalet, towards where Susie and Julie have begun digging a grave. By the time they’re up there, both of them are panting and exhausted. The body is far heavier than he’d expected. Even with his and Joey’s combined efforts--neither of whom were particularly weak or out of shape--the body had been hard to carry.

The two of them drop the body near the grave the two girls have carved out, Frank looking down at it and assessing the progress they’ve made. Honestly, the grave itself could hardly be called a hole, at this point. It was more like a scrape in the frozen ground than any sort of place to hide a body, but it was a start.

They still had plenty of time in the night to carve the hole large enough to bury the body, after all.

Frank and Joey grab the two shovels Susie and Julie had set aside for them and start digging as well. The frozen, muddy ground is firm, harsh--it takes all of Frank’s strength just to wedge the shovel in and pry out a clump of dirt. It’s hard, tedious work--but it’s also distracting.

Because of that, he nearly misses the movement in the woods.

Nearly.

He spins around, letting his shovel fall to the snow as he starts reaching for his knife. Fuck.

“Frank?” he hears Julie ask behind him, concern in her voice.

“I saw something in the woods,” he replies, his tone dark. A potential witness.

He’s killed once, tonight. He won’t hesitate to kill again, if it means saving their asses.

“Keep working. I’m going to check it out.”

His tone leaves no room for questions, and Frank hears them start digging again as he starts walking. It doesn’t take him long to enter the forest itself, and he slips his knife out, navigating between the trees as he searches for that movement he’d caught out of the corner of his eye.

Where are they? Was it just some animal?

No, something’s telling him it’s a person.

That doesn’t make sense, though--why would there be someone out in the woods near an abandoned lodge, this late at night?

But that same something keeps telling him that it’s a person, it’s a witness, and Frank rationalizes it by thinking to himself that it’s better safe than sorry. He keeps walking, bouncing his knife a little in his hand as he continues deeper into the forest, looking around for any signs of this witness.

A fog begins to roll into the forest, twirling around his ankles and filling his vision of the distance with white. Damn it. He’s not surprised one’s rolling in--with the weather like this, it was only a matter of time--but he knows it’s going to make it a lot harder to track someone in these conditions.

But that rapidly becomes the least of his concerns as the fog begins to thicken, rising up and quickly making it so he can’t see more than a hand in front of him. His vision is slowly being blocked off by a roiling cloud of white. He’s never seen a fog roll in so quickly before. Just a few moments ago, he could see perfectly fine, but now…

....something deep inside Frank is telling him something’s wrong. Something’s off--he’s in danger. His heart begins to pound as Frank takes one slow step backwards, then another, before turning slowly, trying to retrace his steps.

He’s been walking into the forest for far longer than he should have been. The forest isn’t that big, is it?

Something’s wrong. Something’s off.

The fog clears so suddenly that it might not have been there at all, leaving just a few distant clouds of mist--and revealing a mysterious trail.

He’s never seen this in his life. It feels wrong, to look at it. There’s something... off, about the scenery, about the ground. At first glance, it looks normal; but at second, it looks like something’s completely fabricated it. The ground is too eerily barren of anything but grass and the occasional flowers. There’s not enough foliage and brush to make it look natural.

Something’s wrong. Something’s off.

The trail that the fog has parted to reveal seems to be calling to Frank. It’s beckoning him. He feels a hint of that same dark impulse that had come over him back at the store wash over him now, except instead of urging him into bloodlust, urging him to kill, it’s now just telling him to go, to follow the trail.

It’s almost like something wants him to follow it, and Frank hesitates.

No... there’s something wrong here. This isn’t right. This trail shouldn’t exist, here--he needs to go back.

Something’s wrong. Something’s off.

Frank spins around, legs tensing, intending to run--only to be met with that same thick wall of fog he’d seen before.

Something--something born of his own instincts, not something playing with them, pretending to be them--is telling him that he can’t go back. He can’t run.

There’s something evil here. The trees are wrong--how did he not notice that before?--stretching far too tall, far too high into the sky, their branches like claws, reaching down for him, or perhaps spiderlegs, descending upon its prey trapped in the web.

Something’s wrong. Something’s here.

He looks up, further, past the false trees, and sees that the sky is completely and totally clear.

Frank can’t run. He can’t escape. He is trapped--like a mouse in a cage.

He feels like prey beneath whatever’s trapped him; just some plaything for that dark influence’s means.

Just a pawn. Just a servant.

He feels like an ant beneath a boot.

There’s nothing he can do except comply, and it tears at him.

He’s leaving his friends behind.

He doesn’t want to--please, he begs internally, but knows there’s nothing around that will listen to his pleading.

Terror begins to run through his veins, now.

He needs to go.

He spares a glance down at the dirt before he turns to run, and sees footprints, footprints left in the snow, footprints that belong to him.

They’re so clear, despite everything.

Maybe... at least he’ll have his friends.

Maybe.

Frank turns and walks into the Fog, and lets it take him. -----

It only takes a few minutes of Frank being gone for the rest of the Legion to realize something’s wrong. The forest isn’t that large--the woods aren’t that deep--but Frank hasn’t come back yet.

One by one, the members of the Legion stand up, leaving the body and their shovels behind, expecting to come back to it later once they find him.

Three members of the Legion walk into the woods with the intention of finding their leader--their friend.

The Fog tries to push them away, to disorient them, to lead them back to where they started and separate them from their friend.

They do not let it.

They were not--were never meant to be taken. The Entity saw the way Frank was willing to murder, the way that Frank could get other people who had never even considered killing someone before to follow in his wake, and designated him and only him as a Killer.

But the Legion’s bonds run far too deep and far too strong to let the Entity separate them.

They push through the Fog, force their way through, following the footsteps that Frank had left--the footsteps that the Entity never meant to let persist, but had persisted anyways--and they stumble upon the same trail Frank had followed.

The trail does not call to them like it did to him. It tries to dissuade them, filling the three with a sense of complete terror, of foreboding.

“Get out--leave!” it seems to say.

They ignore it in favor of following his trail.

They won’t and will never abandon Frank, not in a million years.

Three members of the Legion walk into the woods with the intention of finding their leader--their friend.

They don’t walk out.

Whether that is for the better or the worse, well... it’s hard to know for certain.

All they know is if they had to make that same choice again, knowing what comes after... they’d do it without hesitation.

They’d follow Frank into those woods every time.

When the members of the Legion didn’t come home that night, their parents came up with a myriad of theories as to why their children had disappeared.

They all knew their kids had fallen in with the ‘wrong crowd’. They knew they had become delinquents and troublemakers, even if they didn’t know to what extent.

They theorized many things, but they all thought they’d just... run away with their leader--the guy they’d hung out so much with and mentioned so many times. It made the most sense.

The mood of the town--and the mood of their theories--changed, however, when they found a body up near the abandoned lodge on Mount Ormond.

Who could have thought that four teens could have become murderers? Even as far from innocent as they were, they were only just troublemakers, right?

And yet... here the proof was.

They’d killed someone, and Ormond would never be quite the same again, after that.

After all... who would have thought that something like that could have happened in such a small town?

(but it could, and it did.)

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

-

Alright, on to part three, where Phoenix’s big fat mouth gets Apollo and Athena into deep doodoo.

-

QUICK CHILDREN, INTO THE MANHOLE!

-

SDUFGDGSF YOU CAN ‘MOVE’ WHILE YOURE BEING CHASED 

way to ruin the moooooood XD

-

well athena if its any consolation, smelling like a rotten egg will probably delight sadmad.

y’know. cause youre a putrid egg yolk.

-

“Once a rebel, always a rebel!”

apollo was never a rebel

you sent him back to America before he could do any rebelling.

>OH MY SNARK IS CONFIRMED BY APOLLO

-

oh everyone’s met up now

-

“It was like watching a pair of ostriches bury their heads in the sand”

the FUCK does that mean, Phoenix?!???

-

“dubious hovel”

-

whats wrong with athena? i thought she was huddling up in the corner because she saw something unnerving, then maybe because of all the sudden people there–– but it’s implying she’s disgusted by the shitty state of the place?

what, is Athena a germaphobe now??

-

“He said he hopes you’ll come back and take over this office someday.”

“M-me?”

“Those were his words! He might have been half-joking though.”

I’m not sure which I’m more offended by; the fact that Dhurke still assumed Apollo would make a shit lawyer, or the fact that Apollo does indeed take over. Spoilers. Haha.

-

“must’ve been because of you, dhurke!”

no it was because of Phoenix Wright because he was a cool guy, once upon a time. also because, unlike every other lawyer in the gotdamn series, Apollo just really friggin loves the law. He thinks lawyers are legit cool and he wanted to be one because he just happened to have a passion for litigating. He’s not a prop in your stupid story, he’s his own interesting person.

-

“Dhurke was never a hands-on kinda dad...”

you can motherfucking say that again, vore machine.

“...but not a day went by that he wasn’t thinking of ya. That much I’m sure of.”

yeah he sure was

thinking of the favours he could one day ask of him.

“Doesn’t get more paternal than that!”

Athena, you don't even have a dad. Your opinion on the subject is completely worthless. 

“(Dhurke... And to think, I really did spend my days trying to forget you...)”

god apollo you don’t deserve this. you deserve trucy and klavier and thalassa (being an actual mom for once) HELL you deserve your ACTUAL, REAL DAD.

-

“The victim’s passport and any pictures of him were burned up in the fire. Without knowing his real name, no divination seance could be performed.” 

So you’re telling me Jove brought every single glossy of himself into that blaze? And after the fire, nobody bothered checking the dental records on the corpse/asking where that neato musician from the other night went?

Once again, DDSOJ police, at their best. If there wasn’t a coverup involved, I’m gonna be pissed.

-

( My real dad... I was never really interested in learning about him. )

While this is a totally understandable and natural reaction... I really wish–– Actually, no; it’s best Apollo never learned that he once had a father who actually gave a fuck about him. That’d probably break his heart.

-

“As the son of the terrorist Dhurke, Nahyuta was expelled from the royal family.”

i.... why did Dhurke keep him in Koooraheen, anyway? He really couldn’t have sent him to a happier life in America with his half brother?

-

huh i think that face-palm is a new expression for Vore Machine. he almost looks reasonable.

-

“As his son, Yuty no doubt got the cold shoulder at every turn.”

amazing. not only was Apollo abandoned in America in some shit orphanage with zero contact from anything he knew as family, but Sadmad was forced to stay behind in a country that hated his guts. The perfect situation for both boys!!! No wonder they’re both so fucking grouchy all the time! Dhurke, you parental genius!

-

“Dhurke’s the kinda guy who can become fast friends with just about anyone!”

guess that explains the fandom popularity 

-

“Lol come over n play some jams bro”

“Ok dawg is it chill if i bring my kid my wifes uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Yeah its cool I'm great with kids”

“tight”

-

“It’s like Dhurke’s done nothing but save me all my life” yeah... from messes he made.

-

“Jangly Justice”

god. i want to root for Jove but like. He looks like a tool, he sounds like a tool, his stage name is the tooliest thing ive ever heard... 

-

originally this section was me ranting about how Thalassa would never have just ‘stopped looking for Apollo’ when she heard that Jove perished in the flames, since Apollo’s corpse was never found and the rebels were out looking for her to give him to her– but instead I’m just gonna leave you with ‘that excuse is mad weak and the writers need to try harder.’

-

“You should try on the jacket, Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Look, I can excuse Athena, because she doesn’t know. But Datz knows its mold infested and disgusting. And he just finished talking about APollo’s tragic past. What the everloving fuck is up with this sicko?!

Also Athena, you can’t laugh at him wearing an eyepatch when he just got done wearing one all last year. 

-

“I’d recognize those horns anywhere!”

“Is that really the only way anyone recognizes me?”

cue Phoenix harrumphing from the corner and brushing his spikes

-

yknow maybe ive mentioned this before but why /hasn’t/ the queen found the safe house? It’s Dhurke’s old law office; that’d be like, the first place I’d check. Its like wondering if Dumbledore’s Army is based in Hogwarts.

I mean I guess you could say the Queen assumes theyre not stupid enough to hide in their old main haunt but... they’re stupid. they’re really, really stupid. it’s been proven like 800 times.

-

so we just had a ladder convo about lizards?

also what do you mean geckos like to live in houses? i thought they just climbed around outside them. aLSO WHY ARE THEY EATING THEM 

... I appreciate that it ended in a Bugs Bunny Switcharoo though.

...And Phoenix ends it with “theyre just a plain old lizard”

I guess Phoenix doesn’t know flowers or lizards. 

-

i really don’t know why none of the revolutionaries think sadmad’s playing the long con. they’ve all just completely given up on him. what if he was pulling a snape??? they talk about trust and shit and yet none of them trust their own leader’s son? shameful.

-

“It seems like Gar’an has some serious leverage over him”

okay, they suspect he’s being controlled with some kind of blackmail... and yet do nothing to help him? they’re dumb enough to risk their lives doing something like that, but not compassionate or caring enough?? to their leader’s son???? what the fuck??????

-

aww i missed Beh’leeb. I hope she and her (born/ unborn? cannot tell if she’s pregnant or not) kid are doing ok.

-

“So she’s trying to help the revolution along... in her own special way!”

that sounds enormously patronizing phoenix, shut up. she’s pregnant and she has to deal with fucks like Datz running around blowing off firecrackers at government officials.

-

...youre giving the orb to datz.

ill eat my hat if nothing happens to it.

-

“We’ll attract undue attention if we go in too large a group”

oh also because youre dressed like baby’s first paint set but

-

“AAAH!!”

“Do you know something about this?” “Nope! Just felt like shouting is all.”

yes, this is definitely the guy who should hold onto the orb for you. also i presented the attorneys badge. guess he has nothing to say about apollo’s proof of profession, eh?

-

“Yeah... You’d think Nahyuta might’ve cut his old man some slack, but no.” Dhurke you thick son of a bitch

-

wow. one single flashback occurrence where Dhurke wasn’t a dick. Well, 1/1000 ain’t too shabby...

-

“What? You came to visit me and you didn’t even bring me a present?”

What, like your plate of ‘my son is NOT a failure” sushi, Dhurke ?

-

“But I’m not a rebel.”

“Don’t be ridiculous– You’re a member of the defiant dragons simply by being my son.”

HE’S NOT YOUR SON YOU FUCK

-

If you present him your attorneys badge he jokes about dying happy and apollo makes it explicit that he means via execution 

dhurke. that means apollo would die too. stop fucking joking about him dying you prickwad.

-

Apollo: Hey Dhurke know anything about this necklace

Dhurke: OOOAAHHH!!! OHHH!! AHHH!!!!

Apollo: So thats a... 

Dhurke: Hahahahah its a no son give it here

Apollo: Yeah ok i see nothing suspicious about that at all and i sure hope the secret behind it wasn’t important to this case or anything..........

-

me: jeez i hope that stupid necklace was the last thing we had to present

phoenix, appearance from god knows where: hey maybe ask about the hostage

me: bless you baby. also i forgot you were here

-

Phoenix: Sounds like the minister has someone you really care about, cause you totally obeyed everything he did.

i know what youre trying to excuse here SOJ staff but no, straight up lifting right out of JFA will never be ok.

-

“Is there a new lady in your life?” “WHAT?! DONT BE RIDICULOUS SON!”

I’m gay now! Hahaha. But seriously. Nobody wants to date Dhurke.

-

“Amara was the love of my life, but she’s gone now, and there will never be another.”

cue Dhurtz shippers furiously jamming their fingers in their ears and whistling 

- 

wh

what the 

fuck is happening 

to his aRM

-

“You tensed up” HIS BROKEN ARM STARTED VEINING SO HARD THAT IT SHOWED RIGHT THROUGH LIKE 2 LAYERS OF CLOTH

THATS SOME KRISTOPH DEVIL HAND SHIT RIGHT THERE

JESUS CHRI

oh there’s something hidden in there THANK GOD THAT SCAREDTHE FUCK OUTTA ME

-

“Oh I see– so youre hiding a woman’s photo up your sleeve”

oh yeah, a 3D photo. that has bumpy bits. absolutely apollo.

“You don’t need to keep secrets like that from me– You’re an eligible bachelor now. But you’ll... introduce her to me at some point, right?”

this has that creepy ‘parent insists you have a crush on that one kid’ conversation vibe to it, especially since it’s not like Apollo ever had an attachment to Amara to make him see her as a mother; she was ‘dead’ before he could even walk.

-

“Mon dieu! Are you into younger women, Dhurke?!”

Athena,,,,,,,, athena,,,, Apollo,,,,, he’s 

it’s 

oh never mind.

-

“Heh heh. Dhurke, you old dog, you. You got yourself a younger lover.”

ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT, NO, NOT NEVER MIND. YOU HAVE A PHOTO OF AMARA. YOU KNOW WHAT AMARA LOOKS LIKE. YOU KNOW HOW TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PAST AND PRESENT DHURKE BECAUSE THERES NO WAY HE COULD JUST RANDOMLY CUT HIS HAIR AND THEN HAVE IT GROW BACK THAT FAST.

I KNOW YOU THINK SHE’S DEAD BUT AT LEAST FUCKING SAY YOU THINK IT’S HER TWIN SISTER YOU UTTER UTTER NUMBSKULLS

“This is Amara before she died. If you look closer, you’ll see that I was younger, too.”

“Hey. You’re right.”

“Aww, that’s no fun.”

MY ULCERS ARE NO FUN BUT GUESS WHAT NEITHER IS LIFE

-

“Wait a second... Haven’t we seen this woman before?”

DAAAUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHH

GOOD FUCKING BALLS PLEASE PLEASE LET THEM BE TROLLING DEAR GOD AAHGGDFKAFAGF

-

i really love that photo though. everything about it is generally just really nice.

-

wait hang on. they. they just. they kept her around? after her fake assassination? they just–– WHERE YOU COULD GET A PHOTO OF HER?!

EXPLAIN–– THERE’D BETTER BE A GOOD EXPLAIN

-

“She was confined within the grounds, but she was fit as a fiddle.”

Ga’ran. Ga’ran. Ga’ran. You stupid, stupid, stupid bitch.

-

“She was being held under virtual house arrest, so I freed her, and we made a run for it.”

“Of course, we didn’t just proclaim it to the people so that they’d realize Ga’ran was a dirty bitch; that would have been way too easy hahaha.”

Ohhh I see. They didn’t know Ga’ran was the one who did it. Except Ga’ran was the one who kept her under house arrest and faked her death so... It’s pretty obviously her? Amara would know that by putting 2 and 2 together? But no... Apparently Amara was suspicious enough to suspect Dhurke of being the arsonist like Ga’ran said, but brave enough to ‘accompany him so she could ascertain the truth for herself.’

hey remember when i said brave. i meant stupid. she was stupid enough to go with someone she thought might have tried to kill her, completely unsupervised. though i guess you'd have to be that dumb to actually fall in love with Dhurke in the first place.

AH, and she was immediately recaptured. Because Dhurke sucks. 

Waaaaait wait wait. How long and when did he ‘rescue’ her? The incident was 23 years ago, but Rayfa is 14– and Amara would need the usual 9 months to gestate– plus, the room she’s holding Rayfa in has the Defiant Dragons handbook in there, so it’s probably someplace of Dhurke’s–– 

Meaning there was a nine year gap but they still didn’t show her to the general public to depose gar– AGHHH. ITS ALL TERRIBLE!!!

-

“Apollo. We need to grill the queen about Amara when we have the chance.”

Hobo Nick’s ghost: Hey uhh me, that might get you uhhhhh murdered i thought we got over that after von karma tasered the shit out of u––

SOJ Nick: DOOOOHHOOOHOO I LIKE SOLVING MYSTERIESSS

-

Apollo: hey maybe the baby Amara’s holding is me. 

Athena: Nah it’s too cute to be you.

Apollo: ....i just want to have proof that I’ve known the loving touch of a mother at least ONCE ATHENA OKAY???

-

“Hm? Oh... well, either way, it’s not you, son.”

yeah fuck you apollo the Sadmahdis only love their REAL children

also its Rayfa. it was in the safe next to Rafya’s letter; Rayfa basically identified it as herself when she saw it, it’s Rayfa.

Apollo: wow youre sure acting vague and suspicious about this; guess i’ll just accept it for what it is.

-

Dhurke: [tells apollo’s he's going to die and leave him fatherless again]

Apollo: [immediately assumes its another of Dhurke’s jokes because Dhurke’s jokes are horrible and always at Apollo’s expense]

-

phoenix: ...are you sick?

NICK

OH MY GOD 

i shriek laughed 

-

Apollo: [clearly emotionally distraught] 

Dhurke: [continues to dance around the issue, thus prolonging Apollo’s suffering]

-

(Why is this happening now? Just when I was finally starting to feel like you really are my...)

HE DOESN’T DESERVE YOU, APOLLO

GET OUTTA THERE

-

So far Apollo hasn't said “i’m gonna do x and x and x, or die trying!” and honestly i know it’s a bit on the nose but it’s more true for this situation than any other ones it’s usually said in.

-

Dhurke: I’ve got a big secret

Apollo: You’ve been hiding something *ELSE* from me?

Dhurke: I’m afraid I can’t tell you what it is. I’d be betraying a certain someone if I did.

WHY DID HE EVEN BRING IT UP THEN!? WHY IS DHURKE JUST THE FUCKING WORST?!!!

-

“You’ll discover a truth that is hard to accept. But I know you. And I know you can handle the truth, no matter what it turns out to be.”

After all, you’re super great at accepting all the misfortune my existence has heaped upon you! Hahaha!!!

-

“Apollo... Are you okay?”

“...I’m fine.”

they ask you how you are, and you just have to say that you’re fine, when you’re not really fine, but you just can’t get into it b

-

h e r e   c o m e   t h e   r e b e l s

-

and once again you have to manually move there. 

-

action bomb over here from Vore Machine 

also beh’leeb sweety youre doing amazing

-

“Dhurke belongs to the people!! Give him back!!!”

he what now

-

(sigh)

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................hi.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................sadmad...............................................................................................................................................................................

-

“They’ll be arrested? Just for protesting?!”

Apollo... you live in the real world, r–– oh well technically he doesn't hm

that point’s moot

-

“They are aiding and abetting a criminal by seeking his release”

uh pretty sure that’s BS yut

-

“Her Eminence, Queen Ga’ran, has ordered they be arrested and judged en-masse”

ok im fucking 

im 

I'm wheezing so bad not ONLY do we have to save a revolution and Dhurke the rebel leader, but we are now about to defend most of the population of an entire country at once. Stakes RAISED bro

-

good fucking lord apollo stop being all “weren’t you a defiant dragon once?!wehh!!”

even Phoenix, with his Edgeworth obsession, didn’t really question it when Edgeworth was being his shithead prosecutor self.

-

Nahyuta: Sigh. Guess I can’t escape you. I mean I could use my magic beads to tie you up and then prance off but i have a plot to advance.

-

“Enough with the zen monk act, Nahyuta– Tell me how you really feel!”

Damnit, Sadmad, it’s not like we have someone who can read emotions by listening to-– oh yeah.

-

“She’s being held in secret where nobody is allowed to see her.”

second time’s the charm!

-

Apollo, simply bringing up the reason he’s doing what he’s doing won’t get him to stop. Remember the Phoenix and Maya situation? Until you can guarantee her safety, Sadmad’s just going to keep steam rolling along.

-

OH FINALLY 

ok athena dish the dirt

- 

alright, here we go, folks. time for Nick to get all their asses killed. i mean just listen to that ominous music :/

-

i love her laugh sprite. 

“a lawyer AND  a comedian, HOW DROLL”

the royal guards weird me out a bit though. its those masks. I'm getting high lady gaga gives 

lady gagaran

-

Apollo: better give her evidence to burn–– i mean, jog her memory with some evidence.

Ghost of hobo nick: future me!! stop this!! don’t you remember what always used to happen?!

SOJ Phoenix: DOOOHOOOHOOO WE GOT HER NOW, APOLLO! 

-

...........that worked

....no it didn’t. just spring you damn trap already, gagaran.

-

Apollo: Hm better not tell the people, that could stir up the revolution and actually make it happen. Especially since there might be REAL terrorists hiding out there, just waiting until someone goes, “Hey, that dead queen isn’t really dead!!”

-

lol

something went wrong?? no way

-

“Eeeek! Apollo! Don’t strip here!!!”

why is athena such a ditz in this case???

-

I HEARD A BELT 

-

wow. apollo’s ass canonically bared in AA6

klavier gavin cries a million miles away

-

“HE WASN’T HIDING THE BULKY ASS ORB IN HIS CLOTHING, YOUR EMINENCE”

“damn i really thought he was hiding it in his skintight pants and vest. also ignore the other two, they couldn’t possibly have it.”

-

oh lord pls don’t hurt rayfa

-

“Your mind has been poisoned by the barbed one.”

“It was an honour and pleasure, your eminence”

phoenix i know that was highly badass and all but youre literally sitting pretty to be executed 

-

“”””discipline””””

-

“Well, Apollo, let’s head back to the safe house for now.” 

yes, just in case any spies follow us! so that the queen can get her hands on the orb that much fast!!

-

oh hi edgeworht, youre in this game

-

WOO YOU TELL’EM EDGEY

DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!! DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!! DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!!

-

“Moving along to things that actually matter...”

it’s true, but he shouldn’t say it

-

“Yeah, it’s like the more we learn about this case, the less we understand.”

just like me and this game’s writing process

-

“A trial without evidence...”

there’s evidence, you wankers, what do you think that photo of amara, the old case files and the necklace are????

-

“Athena, you’re too young and extra to die. Sit this trial out so we can save on sprite space.”

“Gotcha, chief.”

-

“Plus, there’s prosecutor Blackquill to think of. he said he’d use me for sword practice if he put you in harms way.”

Yeah, if Athena dies, who’ll his new punching bag be??? don’t think i haven’t forgotten story teller. i will not forget. i will not forgive.

-

“Remember; the worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles.”

ugh, finally it’s used semi right. 

-

And so, we come to the end of another frustrating chapter. It’s finally time to move on to the final trial. I’m actually kind of curious to find out how everything went down– though something tells me my suffering won’t end when i do. 

Welp, friends –  till next time. The final hurdle is at hand. Or at least, part one of it.

[miss-musings]

"30 Rock" and The Importance of Platonic Friendships

I will be the first to admit that I enjoy ‘shipping’ characters romantically in my favorite shows and movie franchises. One of the things that keeps me excited to watch my programs is for those little moments between my OTPs – holding hands, meaningful glances, words of affection and care. While I know it doesn’t drive everybody to watch any or all of their favorite shows, I know it’s the driving force behind much of it on Tumblr. I see the shipping wars within my own fandoms. The Blacklist fans bicker about shipping Lizzington versus Keenler and Keen2. Once Upon A Time had a spell where the main heroine had to choose between two dude love interests, and the biggest ship out there is her with another female character. I see it a lot with Teen Wolf, though I don’t watch that show. Reign. Supergirl. The Flash. Basically, anything that’s on the CW.

I know that all of this harkens back to age-old storytelling tropes: love triangles, unrequited love, etc. have been around since fucking mythology. And it’s not changing any time soon. And, that’s fine.

But I think it’s important if, in the midst of all this 'shipping’ and the shipping wars, we don’t lose sight of what often holds – or at least what SHOULD hold – TV shows together: friendships and positive (or sometimes negative) platonic interactions between characters.

I know there are a lot of shows that do this, and do it well. No doubt.

But, I want to draw your attention to 30 Rock, one of my all-time favorite shows, and one that I think has demonstrated this best.

Now, I wasn’t on Tumblr when 30 Rock was on air, so I have no idea if there WERE shipping wars. People who wanted Jack and Liz to end up together, or any other pair from the show. (Or, if Tumblr didn’t exist, the equivalent blogs, chat rooms, message boards, etc.)

There are a lot of interesting and great and completely platonic relationships between the male and female characters on the show: Liz and Pete. Liz and Frank. Liz and Kenneth. You will notice I’m not including Jenna much on this list because, aside from Pete, she has sex with most of her other male coworkers at one point or other in the show, including Jack, Kenneth and Frank. While she doesn’t develop any long-term romantic relationships with any of them, and while she does have crucial friendships with all of them (especially Kenneth), I wanted all my examples to be completely platonic.

But, if you will indulge me, let’s take a retrospective on the three male-female friendships that were the heart of this show:

(I’m going to go backwards in terms of screen time and importance)

1. TRACY AND JENNA

This is a dynamic that ultimately works, even though it really shouldn’t on a practical level. Both of these characters are complete narcissists – selfish, self-absorbed, unintelligent (to a degree). Tracy is a buffoon and Jenna is a diva.

But the biggest drawback to their dynamic – their egos – is also their starting point and the reason it kinda works, for the most part.

Tracy and Jenna bond over their shared experiences of the pressures of stardom and fame. They bond over their shared dealings with Liz, Jack, and Pete. And, despite Jenna being kind of a sex freak, she and Tracy never get together, and to my recollection, neither ever makes the moves on the other.

They collaborate on various projects – Jenna’s song that gets parodied by Weird Al; Tracy’s Broadway performance for his EGOT; Jenna trying to get back with her ex-boyfriend Paul after her ‘sexual walkabout’ fails; when they help Liz “problem-solve” her Deal Breakers talk show with Jack, among others.

Yet, they fight a lot too, giving the show plenty of drama and conflict to overcome in any given episode; but also giving the show a sense of realism among its friendship dynamics.

Jenna is upset at Tracy for intruding on her show, and she never really gets over it. Tracy is mad at Jenna for various things – but later on in the series, it’s because Jenna starts gaining fame and notoriety after she becomes a judge on America’s Kidz Got Singing.

(You will see that all these friendships have their high and low points: they get along; they support each other; but they also fight, and when they do, they know each other’s weak points to attack. Because that’s what friends to in real life: sometimes they disagree, and when they do it’s ugly. But when they’re going strong, it’s like the best thing ever.)

Still, after being on television together almost every week for seven years, these two have become understandably close. It’s to the point where (SPOILERS), in the finale, they share a tearful hug, and Jenna says, genuinely, that she’s going to miss working with him. He tells her that he’s going out to get cigarettes, and he’ll be back in 15 minutes (which is a reference to earlier in the episode, where he said he’s in denial about the show ending, and admits that he doesn’t know how to or want to say goodbye to his castmates and friends).

This dynamic, while childish and frustrating at times, flourishes because, while these are two people who oftentimes can’t stand each other, Tracy and Jenna ultimately understands what the other is going through better than anyone else on the show.

2. TRACY AND LIZ

This was sort of the kick-off for the whole series. Tracy Jordan is asked to come on The Girlie Show, and essentially save it. Over the course of the series, Tracy proved to Liz that while he was a good person and cared deeply about his family and friends, he was extremely difficult to work with. He rarely, if ever, took orders. He was selfish, had a huge ego, and serious issues to work through in his personal and professional life.

And while Liz supported Tracy through his ordeals more than he supported her, whenever he did offer advice, words of encouragement or assistance, it was always genuine, heartfelt, and second nature for him to do so.

For her part, while Tracy mostly made her professional and sometimes personal life absolute hell, he (and Jenna) ultimately prepared her for anything. (SPOILERS: In the series’ penultimate episode, she adopts two kids exactly like her two 'work kids.’)

And even though Tracy has an ego, his star power saved her show.

Later in the series, Tracy finds out just how hard Liz Lemon has to work to get him to do his job everyday. And while he doesn’t show his appreciation outwardly, it’s clear he’s grown to respect her even more.

In one episode, Tracy’s wife demands that he have an affair (to save his image), and he “tries” to “seduce” Liz. It is unsuccessful, for many reasons, but in the conversation that follows, we really start to see why this dynamic works so well, even when they don’t work well together.

Liz admits that she’s jealous of Tracy for having a well-put-together personal life: he has a wife he’s totally devoted to, and kids who think he’s their hero. And, even still, as the series progresses so does Tracy’s career (to a degree). Yet he stays on their show.

Even though he has no qualm about making Liz’s day-to-day life hellish, when the chips are down, he does listen to her, follows her advice and obeys her directions.

Each of them has a great respect for the other; it’s just that Tracy is so childish and Liz is so bossy that neither of them expresses or demonstrates it all that often, except in very rare but poignant moments.

3. JACK AND LIZ

Unlike the other two on this list, this one arguably could have been a romantic pairing. Throughout the series, there are several “shippy” moments between these two, starting in the first season, where – after Jack asks her to be his ‘date’ to a black-tie event, she thinks Jack is going to make a move on her. In reality, though, he just wanted back the necklace that he’d lent her, and then he makes it VERY clear that he never intended that, insulting her in the process.

Jack’s mother Colleen thinks that Liz would be a perfect match for him, romantically, because she has “strength of character.” There’s the scene where Jack pretends that Liz is his lover, and they act out a soap-opera-esque scene to trick Kathy Geiss in Season 3. Liz has a dream where she’s giving birth to Jack’s baby (weirdly, of course, it’s Meat Cat, a parody of the animated Cheeto’s Mascot) in Season 4. Jack pretends to be in love with Liz in Season 4, but only so her guy-pal Danny will stop paying attention to Liz and start hanging out more with him. They get “married” (by accident) in Season 5. Avery gets jealous of Jack and Liz’s “special” relationship, after he tells Liz about his and Avery’s possible names for their kid, and listens to her “advice.” There’s the “kiss” between them in Season 6. They share a bed (but nothing else happens) in Season 7, where Liz even asks out loud why nothing ever DID happen between them. And (SPOILERS) one of the last moments in the finale is them saying that they love each other, although Jack makes it very clear that it’s in the platonic sense.

But, these moments all do a great job of subverting this “will they, won’t they” trope. Hell, even Jeffrey Weinerslav (the HR/hiring guy) says whenever the two get “married” that they’ve always given off that vibe, and “it’s been interesting to watch your courtship.”

I think the ultimate reason why is: that’s not who they are. That’s not who they want to be to each other. Jack isn’t attracted to Liz like that, and Liz was always Jack’s subordinate who disagreed with him on several things – politics, life choices, gender roles/expectations, age gap, etc.

But, that didn’t mean that their relationship wasn’t meaningful.

After all, Liz was Jack’s emergency contact as early as Season 1. He oftentimes trusted and relied on her when he wouldn’t trust or rely on anyone else. Despite proclaiming that he had all these powerful, wealthy, and famous friends throughout the series, ultimately, in Season 7, we find out that Liz is the only true friend that Jack really has.

Despite being boss/employee and mentor/mentee, Jack isn’t afraid to let Liz fail. He’s comfortable going out of his way to help her in a way he wouldn’t with many of his other employees (probably because she’s his mentee/friend, which, fair enough.)

In the episode “Problem Solvers,” when Liz pushes Jack away in an effort to protect herself and explore her professional options, Jack is legitimately offended, and acts likewise with her. He even has a revelation that he “wants to do business” with Liz, rather than anyone else – wanting to change and improve her life, instead of, say, Padma Lakshmi’s. He puts his personal interests over the bottom line, and – as ‘Future Jack’ tells him in a hallucination – that’s ultimately how he becomes happy in life. He used to be a shark, and Liz Lemon “un-shark-ulated” him. But, caring about her (and others) is what makes him a better and happier person, as ‘Future Jack’ demonstrates.

And, as he tells Avery, she’s the perfect mentee because she has the Drive, Intelligence, Chaos and Humility (or DICH) in her life to require and accept his mentorship.

And, for her part, Liz is comfortable with Jack in a way she isn’t with most people. She tells him everything – her weird foot problems, her relationship troubles, her very awkward and embarrassing secrets – to the point where Jack is “in her head,” and she can predict how he would react and what kind of advice he would give even in hypothetical situations. She goes out of her way to make Jack feel like a part of her family, and a part of her life, as she invites him to go with her to class reunions and meeting up with her family.

We see over and over that Liz is willing to demean and embarrass herself for Jack’s benefit – taking off her shirt and dancing around as a distraction when he embarrasses himself in front of his colleagues… pretending to be pregnant to keep suspicion off Jack’s wife Avery, who really IS pregnant… calling in bomb threats so his high school crush will stay in town an extra day. And, these are just a handful of examples.

For someone that Jack looks down on for being a woman, a writer or ‘creative type’, a less-than-model-attractive person, and a relatively unambitious un-shark-like person… Liz comes through for Jack more often than most people do. And, Jack looks out for her, too. He even loses a deal against himself in Season 6, purposely making a mistake in negotiations over Liz’s contract, because he wants to “take care of her.”

This relationship is the heart of the show, as is clear from both the pilot and the finale. Jack walks in and seemingly ruins Liz’s life. He fires her friend Pete; he forces her to hire Tracy; and he expects much more of her than she believes is right. But, over time they become more than employer/employee… they become the best of friends, to the point where their friendship is the most meaningful one in either of their lives.

In the penultimate episode, “Hogcock!”, Jack and Liz – both in professional and personal spirals – argue. Liz asks Jack for help finding a new job; Jack says he really can’t, and he won’t, because he’s realized that work will never make either of them really happy. Liz questions what their entire relationship has been about for the last seven years, saying, “I guess you and I were just a boss and his employee.” And Jack agrees.

This argument sends both of them further down their spirals, as Jack tries to reconcile, as he doesn’t really have anything else he can count on his his life. Liz acts in her typical Lemon-esque behavior and refuses.

In the finale (SPOILERS), Jack’s faux-suicidal behavior forces Liz to overcome her trademark stubbornness and grudge-holding to accept and admit that Jack is someone special to her whose friendship she doesn’t want to lose, regardless of what happens to them in life.

Again, this is all stuff that is typical of romantic couples on TV. But, over and over again, 30 Rock subverts these tropes, leading to one of the most poignant and, dare I say, realistic relationships on the show.

This is one of the reasons I really admire this show: the fact that it had a man and a woman, against all odds, remaining platonic friends, regardless of all the chaos and changes in their lives.

On TV, it has become commonplace for even workplace acquaintances to hook-up, to the point where everyone is basically ‘Eskimo brothers’ and ‘sisters’ with each other. (See, Grey’s Anatomy, for instance.)

And, while yes, this happens on 30 Rock to some extent, the three main male-female friendships remain ever-sacred in that regard. Jenna sleeps around with many of her male coworkers, but she never makes the moves on Tracy (to my recollection). Jack and Liz are continually implied (by both the audience and in-show characters) to be something more than what they are, but they never become a ‘couple’ in that sense.

And, that’s fine.

It’s perfectly normal, and, dare I say, healthy for people to work together, share office space, daily stress, yearly challenges, and be a major part of each other’s professional and sometimes personal lives without them ever hooking up, or even considering it.

The fact that Liz and Jack remain platonic throughout seven seasons, and admit, meaningfully, that they love each other in the finale is a huge thing.

I think it promotes a healthy dynamic among men and women: it is perfectly normal, healthy, and even ideal for you to have strong friendships with people of the opposite sex.

(For LGBT folks, this would be people of any sex/gender you’re attracted to. It is possible and healthy for us all to have strong friendships with people, regardless of sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.)

IN CONCLUSION

In a culture of ‘shipping’ and possible ‘over-sexualization’ of things in our media, it’s become commonplace for us to see a young, handsome, straight guy and want him to end up with the young, beautiful, straight gal, especially if they’re our lead protagonists. (Same with LGBT characters.) And, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But, I wish more shows would imitate 30 Rock, in that it revolved around a group of friends, who rarely if ever, consider each other in a romantic or sexual way. Yes, they might break that rule on occasion; yes, they might make jokes about it; but ultimately, their friendships are the driving force of the show (both for the audience and in-universe). Friendships between people of different races, personalities, ambitions, socioeconomic backgrounds, upbringings, professions; friendships between employers and employees; friendships between men and women.

People can watch their modern day soap operas disguised as superhero shows or medical procedurals or crime dramas.

That’s totally fine. I watch them too, and I enjoy it.

But, I more so enjoy and appreciate those shows that can stand on their own, without relying on “will they, won’t they” dynamics, love triangles, and unrequited love. Shows about friendships and platonic love.

Shows like 30 Rock.

[welcometocaritas]

CHAPTER 4 IS UP!

Title: The Ghosts of What Happened

Characters: Marina Andrieski, Julia Wicker

Pairing: Julia/Marina

Fandom: The Magicians, Hannibal

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary:  

Reynard’s gone. It’s the first thing she notices when they pop back into Marina’s apartment. The next is the body. Marina, sprawled unceremoniously in the center of the carpet, eyes closed, lips parted with blood.

links: A03,  FF.Net

So I’m sorry for the late update. My anxiety’s been running me ragged. I’ve been editing and re-editing this chapter again and again. I still hate it but I’ve decided to bite the bullet and post because otherwise I don’t think I ever will. Anyway, apologies in advance for the crappy chapter.

Also for those readers who haven’t seen Hannibal, Garret Jacob Hobbs was Abigail’s dad. You know, that lovely guy who decided to shoot for parent of the year by trying to her. Fun times.

Another week, another let’s fuck with Julia episode. Raise your hand if your uncomfortable with the fact that this is yet another thing that’s been forced on Julia without her consent? And as a consequence (punishment) for getting an abortion? That said, it’s nice to see her smiling for a change.

Trigger Warnings: Very brief description of rape (about a sentence), violence/gore, panic attack

Weakness

noun

the fact or state of not being strong or powerful

a particular part or quality of someone or something that is not good or effective

a strong liking, usually for something that might have unpleasant or unwanted effects

...

"My worst enemy is my memory."

- Unknown

. . .

"Lie down," Marina says, tone perhaps a little more commanding than the situation warrants. She's used to ordering people around and being obeyed in equal measure. But exerting that kind of power over Julia at the moment is probably the last thing she should be doing.

The other woman only looks at her with confusion, though, and the beginnings of suspicion. "Why?"

She thinks about softening her voice, of extending reassurances - she knows how to play the part, even if it doesn't fit quite right - but that might just throw Julia off more. Add weight to her misgivings. The unfamiliar is a source of discontent, not to be trusted. Best not to coddle her too much then.

"Because you don't want to be standing when this spell knocks you out. You'll be asleep for a few hours, probably more, and that sounds like something that would be best carried out in a bed."

Brusque, to the point and Julia nods, seeming to accept that. "And when I wake up, I won't remember anything?"

"That's the drill." Marina hesitates. "There's a catch, though." And she's been thinking about it ever since Julia confessed what she wanted from her. Mulling it over, brainstorming various loopholes and ultimately scratching them out. Mostly, she's been trying to determine how best to tell Julia - and what her reaction might be. "Doing this will involve sifting through the memories you want gone, in order to get the right ones."

Julia blinks. "So that means you'll. . ."

Marina doesn't leave her to flounder. "I'll see everything, yeah. And so will you. Basically it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

The shower did wonders in cleansing Julia of the tears, blood and various other bodily fluids the day had left her with but there was no scrubbing away that sallow look to her skin. She's alarmingly pale, especially given her natural olive complexion. As Marina's words sink in, the little color that's left in her face escapes in a rush and she's not sure if she's about to pass out, or vomit. Again.

She puts a hand out just in case.

Doesn't touch.

The moment stretches on.

When it ends, a shutter has fallen over Julia's face, locking the emotions away from Marina's prying gaze. Her stance hardens and her jaw clenches.

She knows the answer before it comes.

"Do it."

The color still hasn't returned to her face.

"Julia, are you sure you want to-"

She doesn't let her finish. "I said do it. You owe me that much."

Her voice is as stony as her expression, hard, impenetrable, utterly without remorse.

Marina withdraws at the words, itching to lash out, wound. The standard response. But her quarry has already been struck, butchered, so she forces the urge down, just this once.

Taking a deep breath, she resolves to be kind.

Well, kind for her.

She knew how to be once. She can bring that back. Just for a little while. For julia.

(why? Why for Julia?)

But not because she owes her.

"Fine." The word is toxic, scorching her throat on the way out. Her pride burns. "Whatever. Just lie the fuck down already. I'd like to be out of here by morning."

The brunette says nothing, only approaches the bed with impassive silence. Her actions are rigid with tension and strain as she lowers herself down. Marina hovers, ready, just in case.

Julia has started to shake.

…

"People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget... There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living."

― Stephen Carpenter, Killer

…

Julia gives it a few minutes after hearing the shower stop before coming back into the bedroom. It's a good call because Marina is only just sliding the black singlet over her head when she enters - she left the 'pajamas' from yesterday outside the bathroom door before going to check that Martin wasn't about to burn down her apartment. As her bare back disappears from sight, Julia's gaze gravitates up to her throat. No longer hidden by the turtleneck, inflamed patches of red mottle the pale skin with distressing contrast.

She looks away.

Marina, for her part, ignores her presence entirely.

"I was going to make dinner. You want something?"

"I'm fine."

Spurning her offer of food, she collapses onto Julia's side of the bed - an obvious slight - and refuses to budge thereafter. Not exactly the response she was hoping for. She tries again, this time trying to tempt her with ordering pizza, which she knows to be the older woman's weakness, but it does nothing to rouse her.

Julia sighs and starts calculating the benefits of rest vs food when recovering from a near death experience.

After a few minutes of tense silence pass, she decides that the benefits of not poking a sleeping bear far outweigh those of either food or rest.

Though, as far as sleeping goes, she suspects Marina's is more or less feigned. She's too stiff, too harsh in her breathing. In all honesty, she doesn't even seem to be at rest. But she keeps her back to Julia and refuses to acknowledge her - and she has to assume that poking a bear that's pretending to be asleep just so you'll go the fuck away is just as bad as poking one that's actually asleep.

So she gives up, leaves the room and goes to make some dinner that she isn't hungry for. The food will taste like ash in her mouth, she already knows, but she skipped lunch and sustenance is a necessity if she plans on having enough strength to kill Reynard.

(and how the fuck are you going to do that, now that he has the knife?)

She sits on the couch with Martin and spends an hour and a half picking away at a slice of toast - one loaded with enough marmite to give even her sorry tastebuds a stir. They watch Gilmore Girls reruns for a while - he's scarily into it - and twice she talks him down from paying either of the actresses a surprise visit. Imagining the kind of headlines that would cause only worsens her headache and she ends up escaping to the bathroom for some aspirin and a shower. Someone has left cracks in the mirror and she traces them with a sigh. Probably Marina. There was that suspect noise she heard this morning whilst she was in there and if it had been Martin he would have taken pains to rub it in her face by now.

The mirror heals under her touch, surface returning to its unblemished state. As though it was never hurt in the first place.

If only everything could be that easy to fix.

By the time she returns to the bedroom, Marina's act seems to have ceased and she looks to have fallen into a deep sleep. Pushing down a surge of envy, she changes and climbs into bed, succumbing to exhaustion not an hour later.

    . . .

"This is the moment I realize that our traumas never really go away. They live inside of us, in the deepest darkest pits of our own tiny hells. Cocked and loaded, waiting for someone to come along and pull the trigger."

― A. Zavarelli, Crow

. . .

She's back in her apartment. Cupcake's mutilated body bleeding all over her lap - heart still beating - her hands working behind her, fingers weaving -

If she can just -

And he's there, a lightning flash of movement, iron hand crushing hers, yanking, up, up, up -

She cries out.

Wrenching pain. Something coming away. Her finger. Her fucking finger.

Release. Her hand, hers again

She cradles it against her chest, pumping blood, blood, blood . . .

"So much more fun to be had."

That voice.

(don 't look up, don't look up, don't look up)

She looks up and the image shifts. It isn't Reynard. Not Reynard at all. That smile is his.

She scrambles back as far as the chair will allow, pushes, pushes, pushes until blood vessels break under pressure.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. Dead is dead is dead.

Garret Jacob Hobbs approaches, blood running from his mouth, her severed finger diving in for another bite.

Chewing, he reaches out for her face, palming her wet cheek, thumb stroking bitten lips.

"Shh, I'm going to make it all go away."

The sob tears her chest apart. She can't contain it.

He wipes a tear away with his thumb. Such regret, such sorrow in those eyes.

Such hunger.

The scene morphs, bleeds into the past.

And she's back in that kitchen.

Something sharp and cold digging into her neck.

What happens next is inevitable.

She knows it is.

And still she begs.

Still she hopes.

She cries and she pleads until the blood drowns her.

It always does.

. . .

"But the fact is, dreams catch us with our armor off." ― Victoria Schwab, The Unbound

. . .

It's still dark out when Julia opens her eyes and she fumbles for a moment, disoriented. Why is she awake?

Not a nightmare. Not this time. No, she suffered through that earlier in the night already. It didn't feel right asking Marina to cast that spell on her again, requesting her help after everything that happened. In truth, she's just relieved the other hedge witch didn't kick her out of her own bed in a fit of spite.

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

And maybe Marina would have evicted her, if she wasn't so clearly exhausted. The day had definitely worn her down. She might not even have been able to manage the spell, drained as she was.

There's a buzzing in her ear. High key, insistent. Almost frantic.

She attempts to shake it away and, with some hesitance, it lowers to a smothered keen. Blinking, she tries to orient herself, wondering if it's some weird version of tinnitus that's the culprit for waking her up.

Sudden movement disturbs that train of thought. The bed shifting, sheets tugging against her in protest.

A low, distorted mumbling finds her hearing.

Glancing over, she's able to make out the body of the woman beside her - and that it seems to be in distress.

Is she awake? Facing away as Marina is, Julia can't tell. But she's not sleeping peacefully, that much is plain.

"No, please."

The groan stills her thoughts and she hesitates, not knowing what to do.

A nightmare? It only makes sense, after the day she's had.

Reynard has a habit of disturbing people's sleep.

"Marina?" she whispers, not sure yet if she wants to wake her. Sometimes that can be worse. The memory of the dream stays with you then, rather then disappearing into the night as mercy sometimes allows. "Are you awake?"

The body twists beside her, more muffled noises but otherwise no response. Definitely asleep then. Chewing her lip, she wonders if Marina would thank her for waking her, or if she would just get her head bitten off for the effort.

What is she saying? This is Marina, of course it would be the latter.

She sighs and considers leaving it, rolling over and going back to sleep. Selfish but tempting. Maybe even what Marina would prefer - to be able to believe that this moment of 'weakness' escaped Julia's notice.

Though the odds of falling back into blissful unconsciousness are pitiful at best.

A noise.

OK, that sounded like a sob.

"Daddy, please."

And it triggers something in her memory, something she can't quite grasp. A phantom left over from That Night.

She hasn't thought about it since. The murder. The r-

that.

Those things are clear in her mind. Crystal, sharp enough to cut. But after that, events start to blur, become hazy. As if her brain just gave up, stopped trying to process space and time. It's hard seeing through the haze to make out what really happened, reminds her of how sometimes she'll look at the clock and realize whole hours have gone by without her noticing - and that she has no idea what happened in them. There are gaps in her life now that aren't caused by any spell (she checked).

Missing chunks of her she may never get back.

Julia can't find it in her to care.

This thing that tugs at her now is even more dreamlike and she can't be sure that the thread she's pulling at is real and not imaginary.

It just . . . It feels like Marina's words should mean something to her.

But they don't.

Either way, going back to sleep is no longer an option.

"Marina." No response. She tries again, a little louder. "Marina."

Again, nothing. But now she can definitely make out the telltale chokes and gasps of somebody crying.

Julia swallows, something hot and sticky ensnaring her chest. "Marina."

When her voice still fails to get the job done, she reaches out a hand. "Fuck it." Clasping the woman's shoulder, she gives it a gentle squeeze-

And jumps back just in time as Marina springs up, gasping, choking and heaving as she struggles for breath. Even in the limited light, Julia can make out the wide, desperate eyes and the gleam of wetness on her cheeks.

That snare in her chest tightens, strangling the muscle within.

Trying to steady her breathing, she waits for Marina to calm, for the shock to wear off and awareness to set in - that sudden break from nightmare to reality can be slow to come, not to mention jarring - but it never does. She just continues to fight for breath. Flailing hands find her throat, grasping, fumbling, checking for something. Her chest heaves, sharper now, and Julia recognizes the signs of hyperventilation from growing up with a sister with generalized anxiety.

Panic attack.

Since she got her memories back, she's been suffering them herself, though it took her a while to label them as such. They come on at the slightest trigger and most of the time she doesn't even know what that trigger is. It's like walking barefoot on a floor covered with broken glass and she can't look down to see where not to step. When the glass pierces her skin, what little control she has left disappears in a torrent of blood. She'll try to fight it, to yank her foot off the shard but something fastens her there, drives the piece further in.

All she can do is wait to be released, wait for the nightmare to end.

Again.

For her body to return to being hers and not just some weapon to be used against her.

It makes the suffering numbness she usually goes about her day in seem like paradise.

Julia shakes her head, drags herself back to the present.

"It's okay. You're okay," she says for the second time that night, wonders how a lie can come so easily.

Marina shakes her head, not seeing her. "I can't breathe."

"Look at me, Marina. Look at me." She wants to reach out to her, to take her face in her hands and lock their gazes together; to anchor her. But she's aware that contact can do more harm than good sometimes, and she doesn't know Marina's boundaries. She's never seen her like this, never thought she would.

Not even when she woke up after Julia healed her was she this terrified, this out of control.

It takes a few more attempts but eventually she turns, wide eyes locking on Julia's face. She still doesn't know if Marina's really seeing her, though. "I want you to take a deep breath in with me, OK? Deep into your stomach."

She may not be able to wrestle her way out of her own panic attacks but at least she has some experience in helping others out of theirs.

She shakes her head, panic rising. "I-"

"You can do this, Marina. You're the strongest person I know, just focus on me." Eyes still wide, she manages what might be a nod between gasps. "Alright, deep breath in."

Julia breathes in, waiting for Marina to do the same. She relaxes slightly when, after a moment, Marina inhales her own shaky, little breath.

It's a start.

1, 2, 3, 4

Julia exhales, nodding encouragingly at her to do the same. She does and, although she's still shaking and panicked, Julia can see that she at least has her attention, and is holding it. That can be the hardest part.

1, 2, 3, 4

"Breathe in."

They breathe in unison.

1, 2, 3, 4

"And out."

1, 2, 3, 4

"And in."

1, 2, 3, 4

This continues for a few minutes. Julia places a hand on her own stomach to demonstrate the rise and fall and eases slightly when Marina shakily does the same. It's been a long time since she's done this for someone, can only vaguely remember some of the techniques, but thankfully it seems to be working. Marina's taut body is gradually beginning to sag as intelligence returns to her gaze.

It's going to be okay now.

(it 'll never be okay)

Marina is the one who stops it, breaking their stare and looking away as she shuffles back.

"I'm okay." She won't meet her eyes. Julia can't blame her.

"It's alright. I get them, too." The words feel as heavy as lead to heave out of her mouth and just as poisonous/dangerous. She wants to recoil at the vulnerability they reveal, to force them back down and pretend.

There's shame, too, despite her assurance. Logically, she knows there's nothing to be ashamed of. She understands the physical process, the nervous systems and chemicals involved. That it's not her fault her fight-or-flight response is working over time and fucking up as a result; that her amygdala has chosen now to become a hyperactive little shit.

It's not her fault.

But it still makes her feel weak. And she hates being weak in front of Marina. In front of anyone, really. But especially her.

However, given what she's just witnessed, it feels only fair that Marina have this piece of information, if only so she's not the only one bearing her belly. This sudden, uneven power between them must have her uneasy and Julia doesn't want her to see claws poised to strike where there aren't any.

And she owes her.

Silence. Face still determinedly turned away.

Julia tries again. "Yesterday was shit. It only makes sense that your body would respond to that." That you would dream of Reynard. Except, she wasn't dreaming of Reynard - 'Daddy, please'. Julia swallows. "It's not something to be ashamed of."

It doesn 't make you weak.

Or maybe it does. Julia doesn't know anymore.

If their roles were reversed, weak is exactly how she would be feeling right now. Maybe not if it was Quentin or her sister, but in front of Marina?

Yeah, she gets why the other hedge won't meet her gaze.

A scoff. "I'm fine. And I don't want to talk about it, okay, so shut up."

At some point in the night, Marina's pajamas reverted back to their original form and they now swamp her thin frame - no surprise, considering they once belonged to James. It has the effect of making her look smaller than she is, fragile. Like she needs to be protected.

Julia knows this is anything but true.

- 'You're the strongest person I know'-

Desperation might have driven the declaration from her but it weighs heavy with truth nonetheless. Whatever Marina's faults, weakness isn't one of them.

But even the strong can be hurt.

"Yeah. Cool. Whatever." Julia doesn't really want to talk about it either. Though she would be lying if she said she isn't curious (concerned).

Marina closes her eyes and breathes out through her nose, a heavy gust of frustration. "I'm fine, I just want to forget about it, okay. Forget it happened, forget that you saw it happen."

"Forget what happened?"

Marina looks at her, blinks. For the longest time she says nothing but then a faint twitch of her lips breaks through, not quite a smile but a victory nonetheless. There might even bit a sliver of appreciation in her voice when she says, "Alright then."

She lays back down, shuffling further under the covers. Julia can't help but notice the way she still trembles, how her hands clench tight around the sheets, tight enough to be painful.

But she says nothing, instead proceeding to settle herself.

That Marina is once more facing away from her, can't be an accident and she takes the hint for what it is - the need for distance, for the barrier to once again right itself between them.

Blinking back sleep from her eyes, she tries to calm the unease in her gut. It's just Marina. She shouldn't care this much.

Marina who hurt her, who cast her out into the cold and then murdered Kady's mum.

Marina who came when she called, without question. Who was there for her that night and erased all evidence and memories of horror without cost.

Marina who may have just been triggered into a panic attack because of her. Who has lost a finger and a cat all because Julia forgot that you can have a genius IQ and still be so fucking stupid.

Summoning a God level stupid.

In the next moment she finds herself reaching out, hesitant at first but then determined. Marina's good hand is resting at her side, on top of the covers. Julia covers it with her own, light, easy to escape.

A flinch jolts the appendage and she holds her breath.

Minutes drag by but the hand doesn't pull away. Ever so slowly, the stiffness begins to melt and she waits until it becomes lax in her grip.

Victory.

Exhaling, she gives the hand a small squeeze. Doesn't feel one back.

That's OK.

Gratitude and guilt could explain this. But it's not that. At least, not completely. She doesn't know what it is. Only that the hand in hers somehow matters beyond the constraints of debt and atonement.

Whatever it is, it's not something she can afford to think about now. Maybe not ever.

Closing her eyes, she prays that the coming days will be kinder, knowing no god is listening.

. . .

"Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours."

― Vera Nazarian

  . . .

"Memory gives moments immortality, but forgetfulness promotes a healthy mind. It is good to forget."

- Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal

. . .

When Marina was ten, her family went to a visiting carnival. It was alive with rides of all shapes and sizes, colors whizzing by, lights dancing in the night. She she was so excited that she forgot to be scared for once, demanding that her dad take her on all of them. Unable to deny her anything but life, he caved within thirty seconds.

It was a mistake.

Sure, some of the rides were tame enough to be fun. The ferris wheel, bumper cars, the scrambler, even one of the roller coasters. But the rest were a recipe for disaster.

Because here's the thing, Marina hates being out of control. It's a feeling that's only intensified with time but she can't remember a point where it didn't exist at some level. And that's basically all amusement park rides are. You get on, strap in, and the rest is out of your hands. The next however many minutes belong to the controller. You can't control the pace, you can't stop, you can't get out. And that powerlessness overwhelms the thrill of the rush.

It's a nightmare.

One ride she went on involved a hell of a lot of spinning, stopping and false starts. It jostled her around and threw her up and down until she clung to her dad's hand, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded for it to be over. Taking a trip through Julia's mind is not unlike that, complete with near debilitating motion sickness and an unfortunate case of vertigo that comes and goes - it's a rougher ride than normal, no doubt the result of the emotional and mental state of the host. Only difference is, there's no safety bar to hold onto or father to clutch. As they spin in and out of the caverns of Julia's memory, she more than once finds herself reaching out to the other woman to steady herself.

Always, she retracts at the last moment. Before contact can ever be made.

The only moments of blessed, disorienting stillness are when they stop on a particular memory for inspection. These are just short breaks, however, as most of them prove too unpleasant to stick around for more than a second or two.

There's a peak into a scene with Julia and some man - wait, is that Richard? Of course he added Julia to his band of little lost ducklings - fucking in bed. She rolls her eyes but Julia grows pale, looks even sicker, and has to turn away.

"Forward?"

"Forward."

She pulls out of the scene and immediately the memories are rushing past again. Too fast. Too far.

That's Marina herself coming in through the door. Julia stumbling, her racing to catch her in time.

She pulls them out. Back, back, back . . .

There's a man on top of Julia, grunting, holding her in place as she struggles-

Marina flicks her hand, the image disappears, and she puts a hand out just in time to support the real Julia as she sways. She doesn't think she's ever seen her so pale, even right before they started this little mind trip.

She wants to continue, to get it all over with, like ripping off a bandaid, but senses that it's too much too fast. That anymore right now and she might break Julia's mind in half. It can happen.

A whisper of words and the world becomes utterly still as darkness takes its place. A respite.

For too long, the Julia only stares sightlessly ahead, and even though the memory is gone, for her it's still probably playing out, in perfect clarity. Again and again. She knows the look. Seen it on others. Has worn it herself more than once.

Marina waits.

And waits.

Debates how long she can keep the spell in place. She might have worked hard to master it during her time at Brakebills - figured it would come in handy if she was ever accused of murder again - but it's not one she's performed since and she's out of practice. Professor Van Der Weghe could manage it with far greater elegance and speed. He knew how to not only erase but to glean the particulars of a person's mind and weave a story with those shadowy threads. A believable story. Though even he got it wrong sometimes.

Marina only knows one way and it's crude at best. To travel back through the memories you up for erasure and put a pin in where you want the new ones to start. Then you manipulate the subconscious to fill in the gaps with an alternative version of events, preferably something the subject won't question. And if you're not a professor who's done it a thousand times, it leaves more room for mistakes. So she's taken Julia along for the ride to collaborate with her. She'll leave it up to her to decide the lie Marina will use to cover the truth with. It has to be as believable as possible, no holes, or Julia, stubborn, questioning Julia, will find them and tear them apart.

And they'll be right back where they started.

It's unfortunate that this way just so happens to be more traumatic.

"If wanting to forget this makes me weak, I don't care."

The confession is hoarse, cracked. It rips the silence apart.

Marina startles. She was starting to get used to the idea that Julia might never speak again, was even beginning to formulate a plan B (it was pretty lousy).

She considers the words for a moment, rolling them over in her mind and trying to determine the best course of action.

- 'You're such a bitch.'

'And you're weak!'-

It's a shock to realize that she doesn't want to be a bitch or for Julia to think that she's weak. Not when it comes to this.

"My father killed my mother."

She just kind of blurts it out, before she can stop herself. Knows it's the only way she'll ever work the secret free.

It's safe to do so, she knows it's safe. Even if her enchantment is somehow broken, Julia won't be able to remember this nauseating mindtrip. If the memory of it remains at all, it will be no better than a distant dream, distorted, fading, impossible to grasp.

It's safe.

It doesn't feel safe.

Julia glances up at her, some surprise breaking through the dead expression.

Marina tries not to see her. "Cut her throat. Right before he cut mine." She swallows, hand itching to come up, to check. A reflex she's never quite been able to shake.

Said aloud, it sounds like something out of a horror movie - or at least an episode of CSI. Not something that actually happens in real life. Or if it does, it's some poor distant stranger you hear about on the news. Someone who might as well be a character in a movie. But it doesn't happen to you.

Only it does. It happens. It happened.

It seems even more out of place in a world of magic, where even murders are tied up in the fantastical. But serial killers? Unenchanted knives? It's a bizarre crossing of genres.

But serial killers were the norm for her once, as mundane as the lesser demons and fairies that haunt your local safe house. More than that, they were her world - as surely as magic is now.

But they don't fit in this one.

No, it is another girl she speaks of. Another girl left behind in another world.

So why is she trying to bring her across into this one?

(for Julia)

Of course.

That really needs to fucking stop.

Silence stretches on. She thinks Julia's not going to say anything, then, "How did you survive?"

Another girl, another world.

"The police were there. An agent shot him. Took a couple of tries to get the job done. Luckily there was a man there who had some medical training. He saved my life. And when I woke up next I was in a hospital, both my parents were dead, and everything as I knew it was over." The words grate against her throat, each one is like a nail she has to pull loose, and she imagines she can almost taste the blood by the end of it. Somehow, though, her voice remains steady, even blank.

(not her, not her, not her)

Julia watches her, waiting for her to continue maybe. She doesn't for a long time.

"My dad killed my mum. And then he tried to kill me. If I could have forgotten that back then I would have have. But I couldn't." And in some ways that's best. She doesn't ever want to forget who her dad really was, how everyone is just waiting to reveal the monster inside. "I had to learn to live with it and I did. Doesn't mean you should, too."

It doesn 't mean you're weak.

Or maybe it does. But not in a way that can be used to hurt you.

Because Marina doesn't feel stronger for the things she can't forget. Stronger for surviving them, maybe. But the memories are a source of pain no matter how many layers of iron she walls around them. They can make her weak. Just as they warn her of the dangers hidden around every corner, the monsters lurking behind benevolent eyes, they can just as easily turn against her.

It's a precarious balance.

Julia stares at her. Maybe believing it, maybe not. She can't tell. For the first time since she's known her, the younger woman is unreadable. "Why are you telling me this?"

"It's not like you're going to remember any of it." It's true and it's not. It's easier to admit than the fact that she cares. Cares more than she should. Maybe a little too much.

(far too much)

"Right." Julia nods, still staring. "Thanks."

If it's a staring contest, Marina's willing to lose for once. She breaks away, looks back out into the darkness.

"Ready to dive back in?"

The answer is slow in coming but certain.

"Yeah."

Through some uncommon mercy, the scene they arrive on is free of both violence and sex. The alter set up in the corner of the room, the Free Traders gathered near it in a circle, frozen in time, in hope. Completely unaware of the trap they're about to trip, the bar that will slam down just as they grasp that longed for cheese.

As a child, she would rise after everyone had fallen asleep and hunt down the various mousetraps her parents set out for that night. It was her mission to disarm them, to end the needless slaughter. She feared the crushed little bodies the traps would leave behind if she didn't, hated to watch them be so carelessly discarded in the trash. And given the intelligence and emotional capacity of mice - she read once that they were such social creatures that, like humans, they could become anxious and depressed when isolated; they even had empathy! - it just didn't seem right. If they had to die, they deserved a better death. Something that would honor them.

She thinks her dad might have suspected but he never told - even then they knew how to keep each other's secrets. Her mum definitely knew given the subsequent scoldings she would endure each day. The dark circles under her eyes as she sat at the breakfast table before school were probably a dead give away. Also the growing collection of moldy cheese under her bed that was eventually found - there was no hiding that stench.

In the end, they compromised. One of her father's clients had a python with a healthy appetite. He promised to hand the dead mice over to its owner where they could be repurposed as food. If she stopped taking the traps apart. It wasn't a victory but she did feel slightly better about it. There was worth in the deaths, at least. No part of them would go to waste.

But she still wished there had been a way to save them. For a while there she even had nightmares. Being lost in a world far too big, searching for something, always searching, searching. When she finally found it, a force would slam into her, driving her into the ground until her bones turned to powder and her organs splattered apart. She was dead. She knew she was dead. But it didn't matter.

As she sunk into the darkness, a thousand little bodies would burst from the shadows and swarm her devastated form. What was left they ravaged with vengeance, tiny teeth needling flesh, chewing, tearing. They consumed her until there was nothing left.

She still can't look at mouse or rat without some lingering trace of nausea and fear.

Marina and Julia exchange a look.

This is the moment. The starting thread that Marina will weave into a beautiful tapestry. This is the end of the truth.

Luckily for Julia, she has some experience in disarming mouse traps.

…

"Forgetting isn't enough. You can paddle away from the memories and think they are gone. But they will keep floating back, again and again and agian. They circle you, like sharks. Until, unless, something, someone? Can do more than just cover the wound. "

― Sara Zarr , Story of a Girl

So I hope this chapter wasn’t too horrible. Again sorry. There’s two little nods The Magician’s King in this chapter (ie. The marmite and genius iq) Also, Jane calls the memory spell Marina used ‘crude’ and identifies it as likely being done by a hedge. I find this interesting because Marina know how to do magic in both the Brakebills fashion and the hedge way. We also know that she’s really fucking good at it given the whole ‘best student’ thing. That her spell is crude makes me feel that memory spells must be really tricky and require a lot of training/practice in order to be seamless (and I suspect it’s something she’s done before, though, because it’s something she’s able to perform off the top of her head, without a reference). This also means that the way she does it would be different to how the professors do it in Brakebills. Therefore I’m not suggesting that the little mindtrip she goes on with Julia in this chapter is the norm (ie. What the professors at Brakebills do with a student, though if it is then that’s even more of a violation). Honestly, I think the writers just had Jane say that to drop hints for audience but it was said so I’m running with it.