#i mean obviously i knew that logically but. i’m so used to going nonstop that i just keep expecting to throw myself back into everything

[greghatecrimes]

so it turns out that it actually does take longer than several weeks to recover from burnout

[fakeloveaskblog]

I do believe it would be for the best for you to have that nice day with Janus that you'd planned to have, Logan. Like you said, you shouldn't neglect your own wellbeing, and your emotional wellbeing looks like it could use the break.

(Words: 3431)

Logan let out a sigh "You're right. Worrying nonstop for Remy won't help them either way"

--

Two days later Janus had a devious smile on his lips as he sat in the passanger seat of Logan's car. His boyfriend had picked him up directly from his apartement. He hadn't said where they were going.

"Let me guess. You are taking me to the woods and surround me by your league of vampires so you can go through with your monthly blood sucking ritual” Janus guessed.

"Oh no dear. That I do with Patty the first thursday of every month" Logan replied druly.

His hands were shaking slightly as he held onto the steering wheel. Every time he looked over to his boyfriend all he could see was Remy passed out with the bruise all around their neck. He could hear every word they'd yelled. His throat tightened.

Logan hit the brake and the car slid to a stop. They were near a park. It was 9 pm and the sky had started to darken.

"We can- We can walk the rest of the way yes? Some fresh air has almost never hurt anyone and the cases where it has are very fascinating" He hoped it would distract him.

“Ah yes because I am so well known for enjoying long walks!” Jan replied sarcastically “Maybe I will if it’s with you”

Logan took out a bag from the backseat. Jan took his boyfriend's free hand and leaned his cheek against his shoulder as they went into the park.

"Is that the bag you're going to hide my body in?"

"I'm afraid the bag is too small for that"

Janus let out an incredibly dramatic gasp while gripping his chest "The rudeness!! Baffling rudeness!!!"

“Yes. I took you here to surprise you with my rudeness”

They went on a path lined with trees until they got to a hill. The trees all but surronded the hill. Aside from some teenagers playing music far away they seemed to be some of the only people in the park.

Once they got to the top Logan pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek “Close your eyes” He murmured into his ear.

His cheeks immediately turned bright red “Well darling since you will now most definitely murder me I am glad your face will be the last thing I see!”

He stood in blindness for at least 3 minutes. His chest was bubbling over with excitement. He didn’t even realize he was shimmying his shoulders to happy stim.

“Alright. My honeysnake you may open your eyes” Logan’s voice was also filled with excitement.

Janus let out a small gasp as he looked. Logan had laid out a star embroidered blanket and sat with his legs crossed on it. He held out a bottle of red wine, his boyfriend’s favorite kind of course. He’d brought several different pastries. Jam drops shaped like hearts, a lemon pie, strawberry bars, 2 cupcakes one with frosting made to look like a snake and one made to look like an owl.

“Oh....” Janus was speechless for a moment before getting a smug smirk on his lips “I see that you’re going in the route of poisoning me through romantic food”

“I am estimating that you will continue with that joke all night, yes?”

“Correct” 

Janus cuddled up to his side. Logan took his hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it before handing him a glass of wine. They clinked their glasses together. The stars had started to come out.

He inspected each and every dessert in an incredibly dramatic fashion before taking a strawberry bar. As soon as he took a bite his eyes went wide.

"Darling which overworked soccer mom did you rob these from???"

Logan triumphantly pointed at himself "This overworked soccer mom. I bake even more than on a regular basis when I am stressed, and I have been experiencing a lot of stress lately"

He held onto his hand harder "My boyfriend senses did go off before. Do you want to talk about it? Or shall I simply push whoever is causing you the stress down a flight of stairs?"

"Oh I wish you would throw him down many stairs" Logan mumbled to himself. ".....It is....quite alright dear. I want this night to be a sort of distraction...for now please dont ask about it"

"My lips are sealed then...but not for the food!"

They cuddled together, ate and drank while looking at the stars. There were no clouds out. No wind. It was like the universe had wanted them to have a good night.

Janus pointed at each and every star constellation he could make out and made an intentionally horrible guess on what it was so Logan could infodump. His eyes were glimmering as he explained it. He looked so beautiful Jan wanted to kiss him endleesly.

“Okay...so..Andromeda was your favorite right?” Janus asked. He had jam on his lips from the sweets (crofters obviously) “Which one is it?”

Logan leaned close to his side and laid his hand on his boyfriend’s chin to move his head to see it “Right there. It’s brightest star is alpha andromedea”

Janus nodded along “Darling what constellation do you think suits me best?”

His expression turned incredibly serious. This was a life or death answer! “Well Patty’s favorite is ursa major aka big bear but you hmmmm Lacerta is a quite obvious once since it’s a lizard...but I think Horologium fits you better"

"Honey all I heard there was you saying ancient latin to summon a demon"

"It’s a pendulum clock! It fits you since they’re mysterious and" He gazed into his boyfriends eyes "They're also very pretty to look at"

Janus let out a pff while shoving his hand in Logan’s face to make him look away "Dork" He chuckled out as his cheeks heated up.

"Oh yes that reminds me"

He pressed a quick kiss to Jan's nose before scrambling around in his bag. He took out a long yellow plush snake. It had a black hat and a red tounge sticking out.

"This was for some reason on my doorstep a few nights ago. It reminded me of you so I thought you should have it"

Janus looked at it with wide eyes "Wait"

He took out a big blue owl plushie from his bag. It had a tiny bow and square glasses. It was incredibly fluffy for an owl.

“This was by my door as well!”

“I am sure there is a logical explanation for this! I am also sure you deserve a snake present”

They switched the plushies. Janus held the snake plushie in his hands and looked down at it’s big kind eyes. He grimaced.

“Darling...I uh already have a snake at home...and  it’s totally not like that owl reminds me of you and I’ve already grown attached to having it in my bed and imagining it’s you or anything...totally not”

Logan let out a breathe of relief “Oh yes! Honey I have been hugging that snake as if it’s my second lung. So I technically don’t need it but it does help me live!”

Janus hugged the owl plushie close to his chest while Logan put the snake around his neck like a scarf. Lo looked over to his boyfriend and got a small smile on his face.

“But my sweet honeysnake you can....slither into my apartement and into my arms whenever the plushie isn’t enough” He moved his hand to his boyfriend’s chin and leaned in. 

Janus flinched away, for a moment there was fear in his eyes.

“I am very sorry” Logan said “I was not intending to kiss you on your lips. I am aware of your boundaries and will not do it until you tell me you’re ready. I was going for your cheek”

“Sorry” He hid his face in the owl’s soft fur so his boyfriend wouldn’t see his embarrassment “I’m sorry”

“There is no reason to apologize here but I will accept your aplogy nonetheless”

Logan gave his boyfriend some time to gather himself, he knew how easily overwhelmed he got. He munched on some of the leftover pie. Janus sunk in on himself. 

“Can I tell you something?” Janus quietly asked while fiddling with the owl’s wing to keep himself calm.

“Of course hun”

“...I contacted Picani..and I have been talking to him. It-it’s only been 3 or so sessions and they’re only like 15 or 30 minutes. It’s barely anything. But I’d thought I’d tell you”

He glanced back up to Logan and was taken aback by the big goofy grin on his lips. It was so unlike him.

“Janus that’s great!” He threw his arms around him and pulled him into a hug so sudden they both nearly tumbled over “I’m so proud of you!”

It took a moment before Janus took it in. He shone up into a smile and leaned into the hug. His nose pressed against the slope of his boyfriend’s neck and the plushies got crushed between them.

"You just sounded uncannily much like Patty" Jan chuckled out.

“I can accept that!” He took his boyfriend’s hand while stimming with the other “Is the therapy helping you progress emotionally? Of course it’s alright if you haven’t yet, asking for help is well enough”

Janus leaned away from him, just a bit so Logan’s arms were still around him but they weren’t pressed against each other. He looked away to the stars and bit the inside of his cheek.

“It’s doing wonders! I don’t have tentacles sprouting out of my back anymore” He tried to joke but it didn’t sound happy “..It is helping...genuinely..It’s just....I think my family might not have been the best. THey weren’t abusive! Not anywhere close! So I am unsure if they really were bad at all, even if Picani says so”

“Oh honey” Logan said it so very softly “They don’t have to have been abusive, or mean to treat you bad. If they hurt you they hurt you. That’s all that matters”

He nodded “Right....right. May I vent about it?”

“Of course”

He moved his hand through the owl’s fur to keep him calm “My mom would comment on what I ate constantly. Anything I ate was too much for her since I already looked disgusting-”

“You don’t. Objectivly so”

“I- I know. But I still think about it every time I eat. And I worry about eating around other people, what if they think I’m gross”

“Then they’re objectivly an asshole and I will kick my knee into their chin. Including your mother!” 

“Logan no!”

“Logan yes!”

Lo knew he had succeeded when Janus let up into a laugh. 

“Oh it was horrible” Janus continued through the last small chuckles “Every time she forced me to go buy clothes with her I would get panic attacks from what she said about my body and I always hid it because I was afraid of what she would say. And the one time she heard me literally sobbing in a dressing room all she said was that I was overreacting and to hurry up”

Logan was very quickly forgetting that the kicking in face thing was supposed to be a joke “Mhm yes that does indeed sound astronomically horrible yes”

Janus wiped his hand over his eye as if to rub memories away “It was....I thought so much of it was normal..I didn’t know-”

“You shouldn’t have had to think like that in the first place”

“I know....I know...They made me feel so much shame...Before I even knew...Just hearing my dad talk about...people like me on the tv made me feel shame before I even fathomed the idea that I could like men”

He let up into another laugh. The kind of laugh that came when he remembered something so bad the only thing he could do to not cry was to laugh.

“I- I’d never heard my mom say anything about it so I tried coming out to her” He chuckled “It didn’t go well! I used a youtube video because I couldn’t physically say the word gay. And then she outed me to my dad behind my back and never told me! I found out through my aunt!”

Logan was moving away from a knee kick and instead thinking of bringing a baseball bat.

“And- And I should have known because right after when- we were on vacation and my dad- I was 14 I think maybe it’s blurry- I-I saw two men hold hands in public and I’d never- I felt so happy- I wanted to run up to them- I couldn’t stop staring and then..and then my dad moved his arm around my shoulders and pointed at them and he looked into my eyes and his voice was so steady” Janus’ eyes had stopped moving, they were staring out into thin air as if he could see it happening again “He told me that what the men were doing was wrong. That We didn’t like that. That it was disgusting. And then he forced me to walk away”

Janus’ hand was shaking as he gripped onto the plushie to keep himself present. Logan gently took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to it.

“You shouldn’t have had to hear that, ever”

“It feels so good to finally tell someone” He sighed “Aside from Picani I’ve held that to myself for so so long....It’s...It’s been so many years. Shouldn’t I be over this. The shame has gotten a bit better...but it’s still there”

“Honey, For how long have you lived without being in contact with those...those wretched humans made out of boiled together pieces of maggot bones?” Logan asked in a straightforward tone.

“Around 14 months? I think? It’s all so blurry. Me before and after meeting you totally don’t feel like 2 different people or anything”

“Mhm. How many times have you gone to therapy?”

“3 times”

“No human being can be expected to recover from several years of trauma, because it is trauma, in such a short amount of time. Especially with such a small amount of professional help” Logan said in a very agressive but somehow also loving voice while smacking his hand to the top of his boyfriend’s head to pat him.

Janus looked at him. He looked at the way he was trying so hard to comfort him in his own lovely way. Looked around at the stars lighting up their date. Looked at the leftover food his boyfriend had spent time to make just to share between them, because he never saw him as disgusnting no matter what he ate.

He let up into a smile before leaning forward so his and Logan’s foreheads were pressing against each other. He intertwined their fingers. He felt his boyfriend’s breathe against his nose. 

Oh he was so alive. He was holding hands with his boyfriend and he was so alive.

“I love you” Janus murmured out.

Logan shone up into a soft smile “I love you too”

He cupped Janus’ cheeks and leaned even closer. Their eyes met so perfectly. Logan could see the stars mirroring in his boyfriend’s eyes, like a small galaxy.

“And honey- Janus, you’re not perfect because none of us are and you shouldn’t feel the need to be perfect, but there is not a goddamn part of you you should ever feel ashamed of”

A warm feeling filled Janus’ chest. He leaned forward and kissed Logan.

His boyfriend’s lips were so soft against his, he closed his eyes and melted into the kiss. For a moment he didn’t even realize what he’d done, all he could think about was Logan’s warm hands against his cheeks and his lips that tasted like strawberries and coffee.

BUT OH BOY THEN JANUS REALIZED WHAT THE FUCK HE WAS DOING.

He practically flung away from Logan just as suddenly as he’d kissed him. His chest was rapidly heaving up and down as he gasped for breathe. He clasped his hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t- I’m sorry- I should have asked you before- Sorry” 

Logan was tracing his fingers over his lips, as if he could barely even believe what had just happened “Honey dear sweetheart beloved you” He let out a small happy sound “I think I’ve made it quite clear I was Very ready for you kissing me whenever you wanted to”

“Oh- Oh okay. Phew”

“Your lips taste like crofters! This is amazing! A scientific miracle! I have to study your lips! In multiple ways!!”

Janus let up into a light laugh “Darling there was crofters in the jam drops you made. Of course I taste like crofters”

“hmm. Seems logical. Your lips are still from here on out classified as a scientific miracle either way”

“Can we...” Janus was full on grinning as he nervously asked “Can we kiss again? Please?”

Logan didn’t answer. He simply squeezed his boyfriend’s cheeks and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him. 

He kissed so hard they both tumbled over. Janus fell down on his back and Logan used his arms to not fall down on top of him. They looked at each other for a moment, cheeks flushed, lips red, eyes wide, and smiled.

Janus tugged at his boyfriend’s tie to pull him into another kiss. His hand was in his hair, the other on his lower back. His thigh was somewhere pressed against Logan’s ribs. All he could focus on was the feeling of his lips. It felt like electricity was going up and down through his body at hyper speed.

This wasn’t exactly Logan’s first rodeo so he noticed very quickly when Janus opened his eyes and started looking unsure. He quickly moved away and laid himself down beside him. His arm was laid out across his boyfriend’s chest and their hands were still intertwined.

“Sorry. This is totally not at all a lot to take in” Janus panted out “I only need a second and a spa bath to process it”

“That is alright dear” Logan was still grinning. His cheeks started to hurt from it. He let up into happy flaps “I have been waiting for this for approximately 12 months and I will have you know it was very worth the wait. You are a natural my love. The first time I kissed Patty I fell off a swing and broke my glasses immediately afterwards”

Janus giggled at his story. He clasped his mouth shut. The giggles sounded so unlike him. They were so light and loud, but he couldn’t stop giggling. It was like millions of small butterflies were finally leaving his stomach and were transforming right into giggles. 

They laughed together, their bodies pressed close together, as they looked up at the night sky. The tree tops outlined the galaxy above them.

“Darling it was a great night to take me star-gayzing” Janus chuckled out.

Logan stared at him as if he’d just thrown a watermelon into his eye “Was that a pun I heard?! I automatically despise you!”

“You love me! You said it!!” He giggled back.

“How do I keep ending up with pun makers. This is highly ridicolous!"

"Muhahaha. It is all in the plan deary!” Janus moved his arms around mysteriously “The great evil pun plan!"

“I’ll kiss you until you tell me all about it”

“Hard bargain, but I’ll surely manage”

Logan pouted while moving to press a kiss to his boyfriends collar bones. He kept littering kisses to his neck and cheek and nose until kissing him on the lips again.

He wished they weren’t in a public space so he could kiss his wonderful thighs, his stomach rolls, his shoulders, every stretch mark on his chest. So he could give him all the love he'd daydreamed about.

Janus looked at him with a sneaky grin and red cheeks "Would it be acceptable to try with tounge now?"

"Incredibly acceptabe"

He gently moved Janus so he sat on top of his hips. His hands were leaned on either side of Logan’s face. 

"Are you sure I’m not too heavy?" Janus mumbled out.

"Honey Patty is about the same size as you. I am Very used to having my pelvic crushed. In multiple ways"

Janus nodded and let up into a nervous smile. Logan moved his boyfriend’s head close and parced his lips. His hand rested against his cheek.

"You're beautiful. You're so incredibly beautiful" Logan murmured before brining him in for another kiss.

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 7)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~5300 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6 Read on AO3!   Disclaimer below the cut! (I updated it actually this time, lmfao)

DISCLAIMER! I’ve split the chapters of as some of them were too long (the last one being +18k, oopz), therefore this comes a little bit shorter than usual! But each of them still should contain a meaningful amount of progress in terms of, y’know. Plot and all. But! It should make posting the chapters more frequently a bit easier. More angst and science here! Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ______ Tobirama couldn’t believe what you had just said. So much so he fell silent after his incredulous outbreak - prompting you to repeat your eerily calm statement. “You need more time. Stretching the intervals will do just that.” His hand on your shoulder gripped it tighter as the message had settled in, slowly, but he retorted before he had comprehend it, really. “Absolutely not!”

You closed your eyes slowly. “Tobirama…”

Your calmness was unnerving him additionally. “Do you even realise what you’re saying?!”, his voice had risen in volume.

Your eyes snapped open again. Your stare was boring into his, the cold hand that had been caressing him fell limply to your chest. “I’m the one who is going to suffer, so I’d say yes,” you stated.

Tobirama’s heart was hammering in his chest again. But this time, it was from fury - the worry from before was shadowed by it easily. The things you were saying - outrageous. “The withdrawal is lethal! I will not allow this, Y/n!”, he was almost shouting now. Hell, were you losing your mind?

Your mien hardened. “It is not lethal right away. The decision to shorten the interval because of potential harms was made by an assumption we have no hard proof of,” you countered somberly. "Maybe it can be stretched."

Tobirama drew his hands back to cross them in front of his chest, causing you to wince as your chakra connection abruptly ended. He merely hissed curtly, but the ire had his chakra swelling already - such a connection would be dangerous to your delicate state now. Besides, it made arguing a lot easier. “We have very good reason to believe stretching the interval is dangerous,” he began, his baritone voice near trembling again. He still couldn’t believe you were even talking about this. “And you are in absolutely no state to take on even more strain, at all,” the sternness was becoming scathing. 

You laid completely still in the bed. His attitude was bouncing off of your stoic demeanour like water on oiled leather still. “Then I’ll need more support. There are ways to do that until the withdrawal becomes too detrimental to my health, then I get the next dose.” 

You made it sound so easy. So simple. Like nothing was at stake here.

Tobirama’s expression fell apart more and more. He could only gaze at you in utter horror. “You’ll suffer miserably, Y/n,” his voice was cracking. Whether it was from fury or shock, he didn’t know anymore. Unable to sit still anymore, he jumped to his feet to stand by your side. “We don't know at all if there aren't more ways in which the withdrawal will harm you! Even  if  we get you through those prolonged withdrawal phases - which we will  not  be having - there is no saying what effects it will have on you - what if you’re taking permanent damage?” He’d never forgive himself if that were to happen - if you became impaired because he did not administer this godforsaken leash on time. 

If you died because of a gamble. He was trembling now.

You gasped almost inaudibly, your facade cracking finally. A wrinkle on your forehead. Tobirama huffed. Just as quickly though, you found your proverbial balance again. “I’d rather become handicapped than dead, Tobirama.”

The statement hit close to home. Only momentarily though for his anger bristled even harsher in return for it. Proceeding like this might just as well kill you, after all. “You’re expecting me to let you undergo additional, intense torment, risk permanent injury, possibly even killing you!”, he intended to make it a question, but as he listed these things, he was almost shouting again. His hands gesticulated out of sheer frustration - every fiber of himself refused even entertaining this idea more; even discussing this was so revulsive he thought he’d stumble over his words until all he’d bring out was ‘no’. “I won’t allow this.” His eyes narrowed as he stared you down, crossing his arms firmly in front of his chest. “We are not doing that.”

Your gaze narrowed in turn. Again, you started to move again to sit up in the bed, each arm by your side hefting your chest up - get closer to eye level with him. Tobirama scowled and took a step closer to your side. “Y/n!”, he couldn’t believe it - just a short while ago he had berated you on resting, and already, you were moving again - plus, you obviously weren’t letting this foolish, foolish idea go-

“Tobirama,” your voice was clouded with fury of your own now. He placed a hand on your shoulder that already wanted to shove you back onto the bed again, but it rested for now. “I know that,” you panted, hissing past clenched teeth. “But you forget that all of that won’t matter if I  die  because there’s none of that damn leash left!”, your voice rose to a shout, hoarse as your vocal chords still reeled from the abuse.

He stared back at you for a moment only, his vision tunneling. The fury was burning under his skin. Each and every single aspect of this proposal was just plain wrong-

“Lie down again,” he hissed strictly, mustering every bit of his control to not shout back at you. Or simply shove you down. Or use more unkind words.

“I will not,” but before Tobirama could shout back at you, your frail hand had gripped his wrist. He felt the tremble in your body from the extortion of sitting up - he knew this must cause you pain, too. But you didn’t give him a chance to speak or start berating you, “Stretching the interval is going to give you - me - us - more desperately needed time, Tobirama. Time is all that matters now!”

He stared right into your eyes which he was positive were glistening now. Distantly, he became aware again of the fact how his heart was still hammering against his ribcage.

“Even if it’s just twenty-four hours, maybe thirty-six,” you finally whispered, letting go of his hand and sinking back on the bed, panting. The little endeavour had visibly cost you quite some energy - but then by now, the delirium phase would start again soon. It was hailed by the weakness. “Think about that logically for a damn second, please,” you breathed.

Tobirama felt the heartache constrict his chest again. Desperately he began to take deep breaths against the feeling, raking a hand over his scalp. Unable to stand still any longer, he turned around. Pacing in front of the end of your bed, his mind was racing while the emotions were surging. He couldn’t possibly allow this. It was foolish, it was unspeakably dangerous for you - and there was no telling if they could extend the interval by a meaningful margin. He’d agree to a terrible amount of agony for you, risk handicapping you - for what?

Time. The reason was time. The one thing he needed. Well, despite the solution to the mystery of the leash. But time would answer that one just as well.

It was a gamble with the highest stake: you. But you were on the line, either way. Either he took the five days he had left and worked nonstop. Or he took this risk, this ridiculously perilous risk, he forced you through a new dimension of hell - and he gained more time. 

He was confident in his skills - but never so arrogant to look in the mirror and think a day - or more - would not matter in cracking the leash. Because they would. Greatly. Maybe not enough to even the odds. But every day you endured longer - he absolutely loathed himself for how logical the whole situation seemed.

Tobirama was seething with rage. Rage about the situation. Your proposal. What this meant for you. Your stubbornness. “Dammit,” he muttered near silently.

Your eyes were on him with a sad look when he gazed back at you, both hands gripping the foot end of the bed. His knuckles turned white. “I don’t want to do this,” he breathed, desperation seeping into his voice, jaw taunt again.

You blinked, a sorrowful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I don’t either, Tobirama,” you whispered, haunted. 

He clenched his teeth. He wanted to say there had to be another way - but he knew, there was none. By all means, if he knew one thing despairingly clear now, unravelling the leash was a staggering task, even for him.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. His head hung low. This was another defeat. “I’ll speak to Hashirama about this,” he finally muttered brokenly, aware of what waited for you next - medically - would well exceed his skills. It wasn’t about mending some damages you had suffered - no, this would be about keeping you stable. Alive. Not that he had the time to supervise you as much as you’d need to, now. Another fact that didn’t sit well with him at all. Not only were you going to very likely be in a critical condition, but he also couldn’t be there all the way through, for every bitter second of it.

He looked back up at you, furrowing his eyebrows forlornly.

“Tobirama,” you called out then, softly. Your hand waved him over, he obliged, slumping down by your side again, still gazing down sadly.

Your hand reached for his and he couldn’t help but notice the fine tremor that shook your arm. It would get so much worse from now on. He took it in both of his, a palm running over your forearm soothingly.

His eye widened slightly when he felt the faintest nudge at his chakra network - you were trying to soothe over his like he had done so often these past few days. The gesture was incredibly touching on the one hand and on the other it was heartbreaking. He closed his eyes and groaned faintly to ease the ache somehow, letting his chakra graze over your network. A chill sensation on his cheek prompted him to open his eyes again. You were caressing his cheek again.

“It’ll be fine, Tobirama,” you whispered.

No, it won’t be. He didn’t respond.

Your mien became more sorrowful again. “Tobi,” you began, the nickname warming his heart like few things could. “Promise me you’ll go as far with this as you possibly can.” Your gaze was piercing. He gasped. “Promise me no matter how much I scream, writhe or whatever - so long as it’s possibly justifiable, you’ll hold off of giving me the next dose.”

His pulse thundered in his chest. This is insane. Nobody should ever agree to this. He didn’t want to. He’d never want to do anything that’d make you suffer.

“Promise me,” you repeated when he didn’t reply right away, firmer now but no less mournful. Your thumb grazed over his cheekbone.

He felt entirely numb when he spoke. “I promise, Y/n,” he choked out, voice broken. His grip around your hand and arm was firm now. Desperate. “But I won’t risk anything,” he added swiftly, “I can’t - I can’t do that.”

“I know. Thank you,” you replied, almost a whimper. Your hand smoothed over his face to reach for the back of his skull, through his hair. With very light pressure, you beckoned him closer. Dazedly he moved again, and a moment later your cool lips were on his in an utterly tender kiss. He couldn’t help the whimper of his own that escaped against your lips. Your hand stroked over his short hair. 

He pulled back only very slightly after, his face hovering over yours. Your eyes were glistening again. His were prickling again, too. “I don’t want to lose you, Y/n,” he muttered.

You gave another smile that tore at his heart. “You won’t. I’ll fight as much as you do.”

He was damn sure you’d fight. In both a sarcastic and wholehearted way.

He closed his eyes and a hand snuck around your chest, under you, while his face buried in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around him. He took a deep breath that nearly turned into a sob.

You kept rubbing gently over his back while he tried to bite down on more tears and sobs. The ache in his heart was near unbearable now.

 _____

As much as he wanted to simply hold you, time was more essential than ever. He mournfully released you not long after and with another warm caress, both inwardly by his chakra and outwardly, he promised he’d be back soon to find his brother and discuss the plan. You on the other hand had become weaker yet again, urging him to hurry even more. The withdrawal would set in soon, and they had to be ready.

Even so, Tobirama decided to make most of the time he had, as well. If you were going to run a high risk, so would he - before he sought out his brother who no doubt was in the Hokage office at this time of the day - past noon - he went to the laboratory again. Three shadow clones - for now. With what little information he had gleaned from Zenji as well as the result from his first experiment, he might as well triple his efforts in trying to recreate the leash. Four times more, once he was involved. Frankly the number was low for him, but they'd be working quite a long time and he well remembered the head-splitting concentration it had taken to even conduct his first experiment in imbuing the basis with chakra.

When he'd let these clones disappear, it'd be tripled. So would the progress, however. He let out a low gruff when they got to work. All he needed to do was remind himself of the strain you'd be shouldering soon. 

He should have done this from day one. But then he didn't have enough information to go with for this to be truly efficient - he hadn’t even known what to do, really. 

Hashirama indeed was in the office, which Tobirama noted was in some disarray. Quite possibly because he had not been here to swat at his brother's hands. His scowl mustered the scrolls that were strewn about, shaking his head.

Hashirama already sighed when he noticed his disapproving glance. "You're not here to berate me I'm guessing," he began, already defensively.

"I have more urgent business, although I will say this office is ridiculously untidy," he frowned, casting a last glance around to find his brother drooping again. Luckily they didn't receive guests in here. Tobirama crossed his arms.

"Yes…?" Hashirama inquired, slumping further into his chair. 

"Y/n … brought up an idea," he began, suddenly finding difficulty in wording this. Proposing this insane plan. His pulse picked up already. He tilted his head to gaze out of the window behind his brother. "We… I need more time, anija. And she thinks we should extend the interval at which she takes what we have left of the leash as much as possible."

Once the words had left him, a weight felt lifted off of his shoulders at the same time it came crashing onto his chest again. His heart. There was no turning back now. He firmly had to believe this was the right thing to do. Like so often these past few days. He simply staggered through the heartache all this caused him and tried to forget about how wrong it was.

Hashirama straightened in his chair, frowning now. His elbows propped up on the desk and he intertwined his fingers. Any of the depressed demeanour was gone. "I hardly think I need to tell  you of all people how dangerous that is, Tobirama."

Tobirama hissed past his clenched teeth. "Tell me something new." He still found himself profusely struggling with all this. "I… even if it's just a day or a day and a half more," echoing your words. He paused, his arms sliding down and fists clenching by his sides. "I can't deny I'd take every damn hour I can get."

Hashirama's gaze was trained on the desk, his forehead wrinkled in fine ponder. "It's that bad," he whispered, half to himself. 

Tobirama remained silent. He needn't supply that statement with more fodder. Him being here - saying the things he was saying - was proof enough of that. Slowly, he crossed his arms again, taking deep breaths. 

That sort of had seemed to become his new mantra. 

Hashirama leaned back in the chair again, turning slightly but still lost in thought. "The withdrawal ultimately is lethal, that much we have ascertained."

Tobirama sighed. The words stabbed at his heart. "Indeed," he replied nonetheless, beaten down. "We have to stabilise her as long as possible-"

Hashirama cut in. "-before the withdrawal becomes too severe. I understand that." He fell silent again.

Tobirama grew uneasy the longer Hashirama did not speak.

When he finally spoke again, Tobirama almost flinched. "I'm not sure to what degree that is possible," he began slowly, a hand rubbing over his chin. "We're already facing the problem of Y/n's chakra overload due to weeks of sloppy care on top of grievous injury, so that is not a good angle to work with. One we will have to use if necessary - even if it means to overburden her - but as a last resort." 

Tobirama listened intently, trying to ignore the rush of blood in his ears. The implications of his brother’s elaborations didn’t sit well with him either, but then what of this did? Therefore he didn’t argue, but just listen.

"It comes down to using every kind of physical aid we have available therefore, mainly medicine. Also other physical aid, but that would be our focus, for now."

"That's not a bad start," Tobirama stated, aware there was more to follow.

Which it did. "Any chakra based methods are our last resort. And we won't be able to do anything for her physical state otherwise, meaning her remaining injuries won’t receive attention." That would set you back yet again - they'd again push the limits of what you could take, even go beyond. And after - after all this was over, you'd face a prolonged recovery to repair those damages perfectly. Tobirama's hands bunched the black fabric of his shirt. 

It was manageable, still. Somehow. Eventually.

Hashirama was not done though. "I'm worried it won't hold very long. The withdrawal effect we have witnessed was intense as such. That was somewhat more than the interval we're at now. And we know the bulk of it seems to stem from the way the victim’s chakra starts to interact with the leash."

Tobirama frowned. Something about that sentence made him wonder - but he stowed it away for later. "So you're saying we can't prolong the dose by a meaningful margin either way?" 

Hashirama shook his head. "I don't know enough to make a prognosis. But…," he sighed. Tobirama knew that sigh. Whatever Hashirama wanted to say next won't sit well with him. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes. It couldn't get any worse at this point, why mince his words? "... there might be merit in sealing off Y/n's chakra, temporarily. As long as the withdrawal sets in worse."

That did strike him harshly. Tobirama sucked in a sharp breath. "That's tantamount to amputation, anija," he rasped out with a slight tremble to his voice, a cold shiver running over his back. 

Hashirama cleared his throat solemnly. "Think of it more as restraining." 

The world was upside down if Tobirama became the one to question Hashirama's methods. "Restraining implies just preventing something - you're talking about taking it away from her completely!", his voice rose in volume as the shock seeped through his veins icily. "A punishment befitting criminals," he added, pained.

It hurt. It hurt so much because -

Deep down, he already knew this was yet another thing they'd end up doing to you, thinking it was best. He'd do better accepting it quickly. Still, in this moment - it was sheer horror. He’d fight it, be disgusted of it… and do it anyway.

Hashirama closed his eyes. " Temporarily, Tobirama. It's worth a try. It won’t stop the withdrawal as it gets worse, because her chakra is just sealed from her, but obviously not gone from her body. But I’m confident it’s going to help prolong the time between the intervals." Of course it was. Logically, he well comprehended this. If he’d sit down calmly, he’d have come up with this on his own, too. It didn't make accepting this easier.

But he had to. 

Defeatedly he heaved a heavy breath. "Very well." He silently hoped you were so out of it by then, you wouldn't feel it as much anymore. 

"I'll speak to Mito," Hashirama announced. "And I will supervise Y/n personally." He rose to his feet already. "When would the next dose be needed?"

"About two hours," Tobirama murmured, feeling numb again. 

"Alright. Then there still is some time." Already, Hashirama began to move for the door. "I'll be in the laboratory. I want to be notified right away if any complications arise," Tobirama announced tersely, “Or when she needs the next dose.” No discussion about this whatsoever.

Time to deal with the problem that was splitting his head, not his heart.

_______     He inspected his shadow clones work when he got back to the laboratory. Not much more than what he had managed before - but they had just started to work. He briefly contemplated visiting you again but decided against it in favour of you resting.

You were in for enough as it was. He resolved to put every single second to use now more than ever given the situation had become as grave. Yet being here again placed him in front of the seemingly insurmountable task again. He still didn’t know how to continue, and what he had gleaned so far served as a vague indicator at best. If he interpreted it wrong, he might end up in the wrong direction altogether. And that meant…

The painful tightness settled in his chest again. He took a moment of gripping the lab bench tightly to breathe through it.

He really only had one shot at this.

Reviewing what he knew so far he was almost completely convinced that the liquid had been imbued with chakra, no particular jutsu involved at all - but rather a complex weaving technique of chakra itself - akin to the way medical jutsu at a very basic level worked. Simply because his first experiment had shown a similar effect in Zenji. Still, he couldn't rule the possibility out entirely, since his experiment hadn’t produced the same effects the leash did. So far concerning the immediate effect of the leash.

But there was also the time component. Because his own experiment had worn off rather quickly in comparison to the original, Tobirama couldn’t help but wonder if maybe a technique was needed after all to make it last longer. A seal, rather, he corrected himself. However that, he judged, would not be as difficult to imitate - it’d have to be a containment seal of inferior quality due to the fact neither he nor Hashirama found any trace of it on the bottle they had brought with them. Anything more complicated would’ve required some ink work.

A relief, albeit a small one.

He still did not know at all how the change of the chakra component between muting and then disrupting the victim’s chakra happened, though. Recalling how different your two blood samples had presented - it made him doubt again if there really was no jutsu involved. This seemed too far-fetched to be accomplished by weaving of chakra alone. Every effect the leash caused - altering chakra flows to a stop, almost, and causing disruption in someone’s network to a point the body reacts, violently and physically - a well-versed medical nin could produce in a like human being with their own chakra. But to imbue a liquid that caused these effects consecutively in a timely manner - for a duration that would kill the victim before they have worn off - it seemed near impossible, the more Tobirama thought of it.

Unless.

He recalled Hashirama’s words from before: the bulk of it seems to stem from the way the victim’s chakra starts to interact with the leash.

Something about that had bothered him. Why would someone go the long way to create a drug that served as a chemical leash due to its withdrawal effect without actually taking advantage of it in interrogation settings? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to let the victim suffer continuously in fact, and not with the belated onset? Sure, the withdrawal effects were lethal at some point - but Tobirama did not doubt for one second that a person who was able to imbue a vial with chakra that changed its effect over time could easily let the uncomfortable feeling of the withdrawal set in sooner and prolong that, shortening the chakra muting phase of the drug. Even scrapping it altogether, really. To immobilize a victim’s chakra was handy for torture, true - it lowered mental defenses. To some degree, anyway - it hadn’t worked with you. Yet… bothering a person with something like the withdrawal effect would do the same just as well. Even for restraining purposes this seemed ineffective: chakra handcuffs or the like would serve the purpose better and longer. A torturer should know how to seal off chakra, too.

It hit Tobirama then.

The leash didn’t change over time. It had not one, but two chakra components: one to clog the victim’s chakra flow, the other to disrupt it.

How had he not realised this sooner? Just as he found a medic-nin might create all these effects in a person, he should’ve realised it would be impossible to do so without actively altering the chakra they were using profusely. Or, multitracking with two different kinds of chakra flows at the same time. He had judged what the leash did was extremely difficult to recreate - but that was because the way he perceived it, it just was not possible. Chakra did not change on its own, someone needed to do it.

He couldn’t help but bark a haughty laugh for being so foolish to think the Stone shinobi had pulled that off. Well, then again he had seen stranger things.

The chakra muting component of the leash settled in and covered up the disruption component until it wore off and the victim began to experience symptoms. The chakra muting component therefore wasn’t intended for torture: it was necessary. Without it, the withdrawal would set in right away, starting to kill the victim. From the examinations he and Hashirama had performed on you during the withdrawal he knew the disruption was incurable in the way toxins might be extracted; that had been a hint to the chakra based nature of the leash. But not just that: it spread through the whole body, seeped through everywhere, making it impossible to be destroyed manually, in a sense. When he examined your blood, he had seen then the correlation of this; the enemies' chakra that had near branded itself to your cells in a most detrimental way. Both the effect it causes as well as your body's reaction were what was killing you during withdrawal.

A cure will have to remove it, Tobirama dismally realised. Somehow.

Though even more dismally he found that new questions arose from these realisations. While he had ascertained there must be two components, he still did not answer the initial question: was it  really  not possible to simply increase the withdrawal effect over time, foregoing the muting component? This seemed extra complicated. There had to be more to it - the only guess he could hazard really was the fact once imbued with chakra, the substance’s effect wouldn’t change. Any shift in intensity in the drug would only happen due to an effect wearing off. And why did the muting effect fade, but not the withdrawal effect? When he first analysed the leash with his sensory skills, the substance appeared so intricately woven, he hadn't even guessed two manipulations happened. Even your blood had not made him guess as much - initially there had been this fuzzy, heavy aspect of it - almost smothering - and in the later sample, it was stingy, like a million hooks that ripped along everything they touched, specifically chakra and its pathways. Why had he not felt both, if there had been two modifications?

Tobirama groaned finally and rubbed a hand over his face. The more he thought about all of this, the more he felt like he was starting to split hairs. He still hadn’t even found out how to weave the chakra in properly. Sighing heavily he released his clones briefly just to let them reappear, equipped with his new thoughts. The exhaustion was bearable as of now given they had not been working long yet, but still, the amount of images, feelings and experience that flooded his mind the moment he broke the jutsu made him stagger a moment.

He was not looking forward to gathering their results for this day.

Cynically he noted more sleep and food might help the issue. But he had no time for that yet.

Time to get to work himself. He began exactly the same as last time; starting to weave chakra he figured would cause the desired effect in a person’s body. Thanks to his added experience the process was a little bit faster, but it still took him - and his clones - a fair deal of time to produce four vials in total. And the concentration required was daunting - he couldn’t allow himself a moment of distraction or the tiny threads might crumble, knot together or frazzle. He might as well try to weave a complex pattern using spiderwebs only, or something of that caliber. The result wasn’t even gratifying: he merely had the muting component woven in, nothing like disruption was added yet. Truth be told, Tobirama was quite worried the delicate structure might crumble if he added more to it.

But he had to, eventually. Still, he had four vials in total now to try it with.

His gaze wandered to the clock. You had exceeded your interval by four hours so far. Which meant right now, you definitely would be suffering - and Hashirama was managing, or else he’d have sent for Tobirama.

If his brother had administered the next dose without him, then so help him whatever power he wanted to place his faith in.

He slipped one of the vials into his pocket. Then, he himself and each of the clones performed a very simple seal to preserve the vials as they were so the chakra woven in wouldn’t diminish over time. With a heavy sigh, he released the three shadow clones - and instantly grasped for the lab bench when the exhaustion hit him. It wasn’t just like feeling tired, worn out. He felt entirely stripped of his last shred of concentration, let alone energy to keep his eyes open. This might as well have been a blow to his head with a hammer, shattering the bone and ringing through his brain. His own chakra levels were not bothered at all - none of this was demanding in chakra quantity. He panted heavily and tried to keep his eyes open forcibly - just a while longer. The experience he gathered was so valuable - he just gained three sessions like this.

The question was how often he could take it.

He lingered a moment longer in order to regain his composure and remember the way to your room again.

Why did he have to remember, though?

Wait. He had his branded kunai in there.

That bad, huh. Tobirama shivered. This kind of blunder really was not like him.

With a low grunt, he placed the vial in his pocket back onto the laboratory rack. He’d conduct his next tests after he rested some. This wasn’t going to yield good results and so he was forced to having only his mood greatly soured by this. He simply had no time for things like… sleep.

Blinking slowly, he forced the last bit of concentration out of him and used the hiraishin seal to teleport to your room.

[residentlesbrarian]

The Fourth Book I Read In the Dark: Of Expectations and Other Relatabilities

Of Gryphons and Other Monsters by Shannon McGee

Hey, guys, sooooo...this is aaaawwwkward. I wrote 95% of this review when I wrote the other Books I Read in the Dark series for the blog, but the ADHD hit me and COVID was still you know...a thing! So I am gonna post this review, finished of course, OH, but also pay extra close attention to the conclusion alright! Hmm...this is a bit like a time capsule...here are my concentrated thoughts from 6 months ago while I was slightly delirious on books and darkness. So go forth and uh yeah this one is...you can just feel the feral “I haven’t had access to proper internet so I’ve been curled in the corner like Gollum with my books” energy coming off it so...enjoy?

Okay, so yeah, I really didn’t have a reason to end my last review that way I just wanted to, so sue me for injecting a little excitement into a series of posts about me literally sitting in my house reading nonstop for 2 ½ days, my reviews my rules. Back to manufacturing my own excitement shall we!

It’s Day 2! I’ve just finished my last library book, whatever will I do! I could always reread The Neverending Story for the 1,273rd time, but I have a need. A need for GAY! I rack my brain, there has to be a solution. My town is without power, my local library won’t be open, but then it hits me. It’s so simple! It’s meant to be really! Like the universe knew this was coming and it made sure I was prepared! Like a prepper stockpiling mental SPAM for my stimulus needing ADHD riddled brain! I have an entire shelf of books that I haven’t read yet! Way back in Clexacon 2019 my best friend (Lookin at you @justalifelongphase) gave me way too much money from missed birthdays and Christmases all at once before the con started because the world has deemed it impossible for us to live geographically close to one another. Anyway, I went a little book-buying-crazy and have not had the time or opportunity to read any of them since then. Their time has finally come!

I figured after going full whimsy with The Lost Coast and sci-fi superhero with Dreadnought and Sovereign why not take a dip into more traditional fantasy, also this one was first in line on the shelf, yay for not having to actually make a decision! No more dawdling, let's get right into the review!

Unicorn Rating:

Blurb: Taryn always loves and hates gryphon season. She finds the lesser gryphons more cute than anything but the ever present fear that a greater gryphon might be just out of sight is terrifying, and this gryphon season proves to be the one that will change her and her families lives forever! Just let a girl herd her sheep in peace!

Disclaimer: I will try my best to not spoil anything from the book, but my book loving rambles may give more away than a traditional review. Here we go! Ramble time!

Review:

I genuinely enjoyed this book. It took me a bit longer to get through it than the others, but I think that was a combination of three things: A. I was starting to feel the fatigue of reading so much in such a short amount of time. B. Our local Wal Mart had power restored on Day 3 and our entire household went on a trip to buy non-perishable food stuffs and I was like a solitary confinement prisoner being let out into the yard for the first time in months when my phone picked up a wifi signal and it was a bit hard to get back into the swing of reading after talking to other humans, even virtually, that weren’t imaginary or in my head. C. Our power was finally restored on the afternoon of Day 3 so yet again I was inundated with the draw of technology and all of my friend-os I hadn’t talked to, but the book had drawn me in enough I did the most unmillienial thing and left my phone in a different room to charge while I finished this book before going back to the land of technology and interwebs. That should tell you something.

McGee was able to write this story in a way that pulls you in so you care about what happens to these characters and this little mountain town. You learn just enough about the world to understand where they fit within the overall weave of it, but you aren’t given a Tolkein-esc dissertation on the world lore. I felt the worries and the fears. I was concerned when the routines had to change. I mean she made me care about the freaking sheep! Sheep, people! One of the reasons I think this works so well is we are so firmly rooted in the head of our protagonist, Taryn. Imma use that lovely bridge I just built to skip right on over the plot section of the review to get to the characters first, don’t worry we’ll circle back round to the plot. I always do, but I just wanna talk about my newest set of brain babies.

Taryn is a character that, if the title of this post is anything to go by, I found very very relatable. Now I know relatability can be pretty subjective, some people can latch onto something with the all consuming, “It me!” While others just stare on dead eyed not understanding the appeal. I feel like Taryn could be that kind of protagonist. You are either going to really relate to her or you won’t understand where she is coming from at all. I obviously fall in the former category. I was the quintessential middle child, still am really, though my relationship with my parents has shifted now that I’m an adult. More mutual respect and friendship than parent to child. I always did my best to pick up the slack, if ever there was any, and just tried my best to be as little of a burden as possible to my parents. I see so much of that aspect of myself in Taryn and how she sees her place at the farm and even in the town, she has her place and her role, but those expectations are heavy. One of those expectations being that she will inevitably get married and help take over the farm from her parents and have kids to continue the line. The fact she finds the lesser gryphons that flock near the farm far cuter than any of the local boys that she will eventually have to choose from to fulfill that inevitable expectation is just...sad at best and down right tragic at worst. And her family doesn’t help matters either. They won’t let her forget that she will have to settle down with one of these local boys, a boy who would make a good husband and take good care of her and the farm. She knows that, logically, but she also wants to be in love, like her parents, and she just doesn’t feel like that for any of the boys in town. She doesn’t know how to make those two things line up. It’s a struggle between her head, the obligation of what she has to do, and her heart, what she really wants for her future, to be happy in doing what she has to do. Wow, I went off a little bit there, but this was my long winded way of saying I have never read a protagonist that really captured the utter confusion of being raised in a heteronormative environment without it being drenched in internalized homophobia and fear. Protagonists like this seem to always know something is off but just don’t have the words for it so they just hide it because they know it’s “different” and out of the norm, but Taryn is just livin’ her sheep herding life and ain’t got no time for these boy crazy fools. She knows her mom wants her to find a good boy to court her so she can marry someday but she’s still young. She’ll think about that tomorrow, and she just repeats that ad infinitum. The thought that maybe she doesn’t fancy any of the boys because well...girls...never even occurred to her. It's not how things are done in this small mountain town, not because of homophobia reasons, but just stubborn tradition reasons. We are even told there is a gay couple living in town who are staples in the overall dynamics in town, instrumental even, but the idea of having a lineage, being able to pass your land down is so ingrained no wonder poor Taryn was so in the dark about her own probable gayness till it slapped her in the face. As someone who was raised in a medium sized Oklahoma town...girl I feel you. I was 22 and in the middle of Appalacia, way up in the mountains for college when my gay awakening popped up and said “Hello!” Everything that never quite made sense in my life came into perfect clarity. Not quite what happened with Taryn, but the arrival of Aella surely helped, as pretty girls are want to do. Oh look a segue, good, cause I could talk about Taryn for literal hours and I’ve already gabbed about her too much for this review.

Aella, you smooth motherfucker. Like I wish I could possess a quarter of the smoothness that you do. Like I’m lucky to string sentences together around a pretty girl, but here you are just strutting about being the smoothest of smooth. Honestly, I just...I can’t with you Aella. On a serious note though Aella is a character that served as showing Taryn a glimpse at the world beyond her small mountain town, as much as she had no desire to leave, unlike her brother. Nope, sit down, we’ll get to you, Michael! Oh, we’ll get to you. She’s traveled and has stories from all over and she is fairly open about the fact that she only likes girls, but she doesn’t have land, responsibilities, and a family line to continue. She just gets to live her life the way she choses. And y’all know I am a sap for the hard dark characters that are totally softies underneath that rough exterior. I think Aella was a great foil to Taryn and great at showing her what she could have if she was willing to leave, to stretch what she was allowed to wish for, but of course the biggest issue with her wishing for anything was...Michael.

Michael was such an interesting character. I loved him. I hated him. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to punch him. Again as with the town and the people of the town I was so deep seated in Taryn’s head and feelings that her conflicted feelings about Michael and how he was acting became my feelings on the matter. Not enough to not separate a tad and see what was coming or at least try to predict it as I always do when reading, but emotionally I was right with Taryn the whole way. The one thing that really pushed Michael from just a character I was conflicted about to one I really wanna give a swift kick in the nads to, is that he knew. He knew all about Taryn’s absolute lack of romantic inclinations toward any of the boys in town and her doubts that she would ever find someone to love and marry to take over the farm. He was the only person she confided these fears in and he still selfishly followed his own pursuits with little regard to her or her worries. You sir, are a terrible brother and overall a shit human, so sit your ass down and shut your mouth.

The plot for this book was so embroiled with the characters and their journeys that I can’t talk on it much but the twists at the end and the final climax was very satisfying for me and left me excited to dig into the next book. Also something of note that I didn’t talk about in the character section cause I felt it was dragging on a touch, I really only talked in depth on our three biggest players but there is a very colorful cast of side characters ranging from Taryn’s nervous pony to the boy-who-cried-gryphon neighbor no one can stand to the troupe of hunters led by Aella’s mother to Taryn’s best friend Nia, all of whom play important parts in building that sense of caring about the people of this town and the town itself, which in turn made me deeply care about the outcome of the plot at the heart of the story. And the sheep! The god damn sheep!

One thing I do want to say before my final thoughts is that whoever designed the cover of this book in a genius because as I dug into the story I found myself constantly closing it to spout off about theories of what I thought was happening on the cover and what it all meant, I was kind of reader fatigue delirious for most of those theories but some of them I was right! I might have reenacted the Captain Holt “Vindication” gif IRL just because it felt too good not to. I just love when a “cool” cover turns out to be so much more than that once you’re “in the know”. So yeah, now y’all know to pay attention for that.

My final thoughts on this book are pretty positive. I can tell the author is building us toward so much more, hence the name of the series, Taryn’s Journey, and it feels like it. This is only the beginning and I honestly can’t wait to take the next steps with her.

Queer Wrap-up:

Hey it’s me from the future...present...whatever...so, this is when I stopped writing the review six months ago and there is a reason for that. I, kind of, agonized over what to rate this book on the scale. Multiple times having to call my brother and go back and forth just to then repeat the same arguments with myself as soon as I got off the phone. Now why was this such a hard terrible no good awful back and forth well...SPOILER WARNING...seriously anything past this point will be spoiling some character beats for the majority of the book...okay? We understand one another. DANGER ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE...or you know scroll on.

So, Taryn is never confirmed to be queer in the text of this book. Now you would have to be wearing the tightest hetero goggles in known history not to see the heavy HEAVY subtext saying THIS BITCH GAY! It’s basically a full grown elephant painted sparkly rainbow trying to hide behind a dead shrub aka not hiding at all. I so desperately wanted to give this book four of those darling unicorns but in this rare case I just don’t think I can justify it. We have a protagonist that is still figuring herself out, which is amazing that we get to see that and go on the journey with her. Some of the things Taryn does and thinks are queer coded as hell, especially if it involves Aella who is explicitly gay on the page, but Taryn herself never express whether she herself is queer. Which, fair, other really important and traumatizing things were going on and I love that about her as a character, she didn’t meet Aella and suddenly that was all she could think about. Aella, of course, is representation who I’m counting because even though she shows obvious interest (you smooth motherfucker) in Taryn she is so much more than just a love interest and her character isn’t just boiled down to her sexuality. Now in this wrap up I’m also including the doctor and his husband in the town. They are very minor characters but they give us interesting insights into the town and the people. They are accepted and treated well in town even if some do almost, pity isn’t the right word, but they seem sad that they won’t be able to have any kind of legacy or lineage. As I said in the review it’s not homophobia it’s being stuck in your ways and it’s an interesting take.

Links:

Shannon McGee Website

The Storygraph

Okay so this one is a bit of a mess. Pieces of it were written 6 months apart and most of it was written while I was kind of delirious but hey at least I can say it’s honest. I still stand by everything my past self wrote and I still really enjoy thinking and talking about this book and am excited for whenever I get around to reading the sequel to continue on Tayrn’s journey with her. This is a book I probably would never have known even existed without ClexaCon and trolling through artist alley for literally every table that had books on them. I guess, moral of the day is maybe you won’t just find great books on library shelves but on unassuming convention tables too and it never hurts to look. Trust me, I’m a lesbrarian.

Oh bet you thought this post was over. I did the sign off and everything but oh no no! I have some info and such to impart. I am WELL AWARE these reviews have been fairly inconsistent to down right sporadic. Well, this is just a little info dump letting you guys know I am gonna be putting up one more review after this one that I wrote ages ago and I mean AGES (think years, as in multiple) and just never got around to posting and then the old blog is probably gonna be going through a PLANNED dormancy while some pretty big stuff is coming down the pike. You may notice visual changes and other stuff before anything else is announced but just keep an eye out. To quote the Fates from Hercules, “It’s gonna be big!”

Okay now for the actual sign off, I got shit to do! No one look behind the curtain, it’s a surprise!

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Part two of the tale! Also, I will do my best to tag who I can, but my browser tends to crash after tagging three to four people. So please forgive me if I don’t manage to tag you, I still love you <3

Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3

Part One

You had to take numerous breaks for the child, the small being clearly not used to this level of 'forced march through uncertain terrain'. "You're going to sleep like a rock tonight, aren't you?" You asked, chuckling when the kid babbled wildly as if to reply. 

Up ahead, you saw the Mandalorian pause once again. "Everything alright?" He called, his hand resting on his blaster.

It's not like I'm going to run away on you, you thought uncharitably, rushing to force a smile. "Short leg syndrome!" You responded loudly, choosing to swing the child onto your shoulders and trot briskly up the path. "He did good, I'd say, but he's getting tuckered out." You continued once you were close enough for the beskar-clad man to hear you without raising your voice. 

He simply nodded, turning and continuing along the well-worn trail. You shifted your attention to the massive trees flanking the path, gawking a bit at the height and lush greenery of it all. Your drifting often brought you to orbital stations or desert planets, so this verdant forest was a rare sight indeed.

"Not used to it?" His voice broke the silence and you glanced at him, a little confused that he was trying to make conversation. He was still staring straight ahead. He must have been watching you out of the corner of that visor.

"Not at all. I'm really familiar with the dust and sand. I mean, these trees are huge!" You exclaimed, humoring him. "Everything looks so alive and...soft, I guess?"

"Foliage alters terrain dramatically. Don't be taken in by how it dulls the edges." He grunted. 

"Yes sir!" You saluted him and he scoffed, waving the motion off. After a few more minutes of walking in silence, you spotted a large structure looming in a clearing to the side of the trail. 

"Be on your guard." Was all the Mandalorian said, tapping his holster. 

It was a settlement of sorts; a series of tents scattered around a towering, ramshackle yurt that appeared to be the central focal point. You did your best to be inconspicuous, but it was an uphill battle when you were walking drag for a Mandalorian in polished beskar.

Upon entering, you realized that the yurt housed a communal area and drinking establishment. The limited patrons of the bar started whispering to one another once the Mandalorian had stalked by, and you found yourself on the receiving end of more than a few inquisitive looks. 

You surreptitiously tried to mask the bruising on the bridge of your tender nose, pulling the cowl of your cloak up until it was just beneath your eyes. 

The Mandalorian settled down at a table with a clear view of the entrance, his head turning lazily slow to survey the area. The lone hostess, stars bless her, approached with no trepidation whatsoever. Clearly she had seen more than her fair share of strange or unusual characters pass through. 

"What can I get you folks?" She asked, wiping her hands off on the dishrag that hung on her hip.

"Bone broth for the little one." The Mandalorian ordered, then tipped his helmet in your direction. 

You hurried to scan the scrawled menu propped up at the bar while the hostess proudly informed the Mandalorian that she had taken down a grinjer earlier, so there was plenty of broth to be had. Mindful of the limited credits you possessed, you selected a dish made up of local vegetables and started to count out the amount it would cost you.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly, the noise almost a sigh. "What did I tell you? Save your damn credits." He muttered. Then, slightly louder to the hostess, "get them a good portion of that grinjer meat to go with what they ordered." He slid his own credits across the table, knocking yours out of the way with his elbow. After the hostess had departed to put in the food order, he leaned back once again. "If you don't eat now you'll be sorry later, stowaway."

"I'm sorry." You whispered, staring hard down at the table. You absolutely were not going to cry in public. You refused to humiliate yourself any more than you already had! Gods, you wished you were back on Nevarro. At least there, things were normal.

His fingers tapped on the table twice, drawing your attention back to him, but he seemed to just be idly shifting his weight. The child babbled at him from their seat, tiny hands waving animatedly. "Is that so?" The Mandalorian replied, sounding for all the world like he was carrying on a conversation with them. "Very interesting stuff, kid." Under his breath he murmured, "we've got eyes on us, stowaway, and not the usual kind."

You went rigid in your seat, unsure why his words terrified you so much. Bounty hunters take down all kinds of desperate people, this is regular for a guy like him. "S-Someone you know?" You stammered.

"No." He answered quietly. Then, "Could be nothing. People who don't know any better stare. Be ready."

The hostess returned with the food that had been ordered (as well as two lurid blue cups of freshly-brewed spotchka, the luxury!) and after ensuring that the child could drink their broth safely, you fell upon your meal with gusto.

"Slow down, you're going to choke." The Mandalorian admonished you, his tone amused. "No one will take it from you, you know."

"Mm, but-" You chewed and swallowed. "But it's really good."

"Savor the taste, then." He abruptly got to his feet. "Watch the kid. I'll be back in five minutes."

"Oh. Uh, stay safe?" You replied uncertainly, blinking up at him.

He paused, and then shook his head like he was dismissing something. "I'll be back in five minutes." He repeated curtly. 

You watched him depart, pursing your lips before turning your attention back to the child. They whined, taking another noisy slurp of their broth. "We'll give him two minutes." You decided, nodding firmly and starting to wrap up the rest of your meal. "Then, we'll rescue him."

…

"You want some soup?" The Mandalorian offered, flat on his back with his blaster aimed at the head of the dark-haired woman opposite him. She was on her stomach, her own pistol lined up with his shoulder. 

You and the child stood several feet away, the child toting their small bowl of broth and you clutching your two cups of spotchka. You had stumbled upon the tense scene once the allotted minutes had passed, following the noises of what sounded like a scuffle between a few of the outlying tents. Your heart threatened to leave your chest when you finally caught sight of the two rolling around on the ground, struggling and swinging at each other with purpose.

The woman sighed heavily, holstering her gun after a moment. The Mandalorian rolled to his feet and extended a hand to her, helping her up off the ground. 

The two of them were covered head to toe in pine needles and detritus from the forest floor, which helped to defang her somewhat as she went on to explain that her name was Carasynthia Dune; she had been a shock trooper and this was her early retirement of sorts. 

You could tell she was former military just from the bold band of tattooing that ran around her bicep, never mind her well-built physique or the confident way she carried herself. The fact that she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian and somehow emerged relatively unharmed was more than enough to earn your silently-awestruck admiration.

"I knew you were Guild. Figured you had a fob on me, that's why I came at you so hard." She admitted to the Mandalorian by way of apology, nodding her thanks when you offered her the untouched tankard of spotchka. 

The armored man grunted, "I assumed as much." He started brushing himself off, leaving Cara to stand there awkwardly. 

"So, what happened?" She turned to you, tapping her nose. "Get a little too mouthy for the tin can?" The Mandalorian's motions hitched momentarily at Cara's query.

"Mouthy?" You repeated in confusion. 

"Yeah, your nose, it's all…" She traced a circle around her nose, pulling a strange expression.

"Oh! Oh, no. I got hit in the face with beskar. Not his beskar! An ingot of beskar." You floundered, chuckling nervously while you readjusted your cowl to conceal your nose once more. "It was all a big misunderstanding."

"Uh huh." Dune didn't sound convinced in the slightest, her eyes narrowed at you.

"Don't appreciate that insinuation, Dune." The armored man snapped.

"Well, I don't appreciate you muscling in on my turf." She fired back airily. "As fun as this little scuffle was, Mando, unless you want to go another round one of us is gonna' have to leave. And I was here first." With that ironclad logic, she turned on her heel and promptly walked away.

The Mandalorian sighed. "Looks like this planet's taken." He shook another handful of needles out of his cape, grumbling to himself. You moved forward without thinking to sweep a few dead leaves from the thick cowling draped around his neck, your fingers reaching out quickly. 

His hand jerked up, pinning your wrist to his shoulder and bringing you to an abrupt halt. You hadn't even had the time to flinch. "You've...y-you've got some leaves under your chin." You managed to stammer, the realization dawning on you that you could be in very deep trouble. He could snap your wrist like a twig, could do much worse than that.

He didn't let go of your hand for a long moment, leaving you to stare up at the blank void of his visor. You had obviously startled him, but despite that his grip wasn't overly tight. Leather worn smooth grazed over the skin of your wrist, his thumb momentarily pressing down on your palm before he released you and took a step back. "Just...tell me where they are." He muttered gruffly.

Through your concerted efforts of indicating around your own neck and his attempts to mirror locations on himself, he managed to rid his gorget space of all the debris. The child began whimpering and whining during the activity, finally plopping down on the ground.

"You all worn out, little one?" You soothed, hoisting the child up into your arms. They rubbed their eyes, fussing until you bundled them up in your cloak. "Shh, take a nap. Close your eyes. You're safe." You assured them, rocking back and forth slightly.

"We're heading back to the Crest. This planet's off-limits." The Mandalorian growled, his words clipped. "I have some repairs that can be managed with what I've got on hand. Leaving Nevarro wasn't kind to my ship."

"Can I help?" You rushed to ask, swallowing hard when he cocked his helmet. "Please, let me help. I can fix things, I'm good at-"

"We'll see." He cut you off, straightening his cuisses. "Can you carry him? I know you managed it all of the way here."

"He's not heavy." You assured him quietly. 

"Let me know if you need a break."

Maybe once you made yourself useful with repairs, he would give a request to return to Nevarro a bit more consideration. With your fingers crossed and your hopes cautious, you trudged along after him back into the woodlands.

...

The Mandalorian sighed for what seemed like the millionth time, sussing out the right spanner to hand up to you. Night had fallen and so the two of you were working by a combination of the landing lights on the Razor Crest and headlamps. 

"This portion is almost rusted through. You're definitely going to need at least one new blade soon." You called, doing your best to coax some patcher over the hole in one of the left engine's anterior rotor fins. "Also might want to clean your bearings more often than normal, what with all the sand." 

"I'll take that under advisory." He replied. "Will it still fly?"

You peered over the side of the fuselage, passing him back the spanner. "I mean, you tell me. You're the one that knows how it behaves." You tapped the roof of the craft and then aimed a finger gun at the armored man. "How do the landing hydraulics look?"

His shoulders drooped. "Not spectacular." He admitted. "Got caught by a ravinak a few jobs back. Didn't get out of it unscathed."

You scooted to the side of the cockpit's viewport, sliding off to land with a thud on the boarding ramp. "I imagine hydraulic fluid is tough to come by on a planet like this." You squinted up at his headlamp, half-blinded.

"You imagine right." The beskar-wearing man heaved a sigh so deep, it sounded like it came from the ground beneath him. "Damn kid, he's lucky he's so cute." He growled. "I'd be well on the way to my next bounty if it wasn't for this."

You tapped your foot while you thought. "Oh! I almost forgot. I…" You fumbled at your side pouch, pulling out the small bundle you had made earlier. "Here, I saved you some food."

"Why?" He inquired bluntly.

"Because you didn't eat and...I mean, you gave me that jerky earlier, and you paid for my food but I couldn't eat all of it, so I wrapped it up and saved it for you to...um...eat?" Your voice faded uncertainly as you struggled to get the words out, hideously sure that you had somehow managed to offend him. Please, please don't be upset, I just want to go home.

He held out his hand after a second that lasted an eternity and you quickly passed the food over. "That was very kind of you." He said quietly. "Thank you. I will eat later." His voice sounded slightly strained.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being shocked that he thanked you, nodding and then resuming your hunt through your tools for your hydroline sealant. With a little luck, you might be able to-

"Um, excuse me sir?"

You jumped at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, whirling and being confronted by two bedraggled-looking men. "Can I help you with something?" The Mandalorian asked, his tone utterly flat.

"Um, well, yes actually. Raiders." The first man began warily. 

The other man extended his hand, the small bag cradled in it serving to illustrate their bargaining power. "We have money."

"You think I'm some kind of mercenary?" The Mandalorian asked sharply, his hackles clearly raised.

"Well, you are a Mandalorian, aren't you?" The first man appeared confused, stuttering, "You're wearing Mandalorian armor--um, that is Mandalorian armor, right?"

"It is."

"So you are a Mandalorian! I told him you were! Sir, I've read so much about your, your people--er, tribe?" This man was floundering worse than you. Your heart went out to him, watching the Mandalorian's posture stiffen more and more with each word out of his mouth. "If half of what I've read is true, then-"

"We have money." The second man reiterated, like he thought the beskar-wearing hunter hadn't heard him the first time.

"'Mandalorian' and 'mercenary' are not synonymous." Oh he was angry, you could feel him biting out his words even through the modulator. But the two men just stood there, looking like kicked puppies until the Mandalorian finally grunted, "how much?"

"It's everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen." The first man said dolefully as the Mandalorian busied himself tinkering with the landing gear.

"Krill. We're krill farmers." The second man clarified.

"We brew spotchka, our whole village chipped in!" 

The Mandalorian paused in his motions, turning and actually looking at the small pouch. "It's not enough." He announced dismissively.

"Are you sure? You don't even know what the job is-!"

"I know that it's not enough. Good luck."

"This is everything we have. We'll give you more after the next harvest!" The second man attempted to wheedle, glancing at you hopefully as if he expected you to help him reason with the armored man. 

You were uncertain of how to inform him without words that it was a lost cause, and your armored companion made his aggravation abundantly clear by activating the hydraulics on the boarding ramp. Steam hissed and billowed outwards, startling the two men into stumbling back a few steps so the ramp wouldn't hit them as it juddered up.

"Come on. Let's head back." The first man said dejectedly, tugging on his friend's sleeve.

The second man started pitching a fuss even as they slowly retreated to their cart, "Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back, with no protection, to the middle of nowhere." 

You saw the Mandalorian straighten up, turning his head slightly. "Where do you live?" He asked suddenly.

"On a farm. Weren't you listening? We're farmers." The second man answered him a little more petulantly than you would have advised.

"In the middle of nowhere." The Mandalorian persisted.

"Yes?"

"You have lodging."

The first man seemed to catch on to the Mandalorian's train of reasoning, excitedly saying, "Yeah, absolutely!"

"Good." The Mandalorian nodded, and then gestured to you. "Come up and help."

...

After a brief detour to acquire Carasynthia Dune (the Mandalorian playing the dangerous game of tossing the proffered bag of credits at her feet and asking her if she was ready for round two), the cart hummed along on the trail through the woods.

"So...we're basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?" Cara sounded unimpressed.

"They're quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that's a pretty square deal for somebody in your position." The Mandalorian reasoned, "Worst case scenario you tune up your blaster, best case...we're a deterrent."

The two men who had hired the Mandalorian (and shock trooper by extension) didn't seem to be able to believe their good fortune. They introduced themselves as Caben and Stoke respectively, and were more than willing to engage in conversation with you about their circumstances. 

You figured it would be in your best interest to make yourself scarce from the Mandalorian and Cara's strategy meeting, and so you plied the two men with questions about the surrounding woods and their village in general. 

You learned that Caben's past relatives had been the ones to start the krill, ensuring that the village would have a steady livelihood through dispensing either the raw material or finished product of spotchka. They were relatively self-sufficient, the woodlands they tended rich with game and plants alike.

Unfortunately, that same richness seemed to have attracted unwanted attention in the form of these raiders. Klatoonians had been harassing the small village for several cycles, stealing multiple harvests of krill.

"So uh, what do you do?" Stoke asked you curiously during a lull in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're traveling with a Mandalorian. You must be pretty tough if you're running with someone like him." He theorized, studying you in the dim light of their lone lamp.

"Oh! No no, noooo. I'm a temporary issue for him, I'm sure. Got tossed into his cargo hold at the last port like so much baggage." You confided with a grimace. "My only saving grace currently is that I can entertain younglings."

"Well, that's great!" Caben exclaimed, though Stoke looked a little less enthused. "We've got a host of young ones that I'm sure would love to have someone new to play with."

"I've bounced around a lot, so I've picked up a variety of different songs and games." You grinned. "Pretty sure I'll have something in my arsenal to keep your kids out of their hair." You continued, lowering your voice as you indicated at the fearsome duo behind you.

On your lap, the child yawned and snuggled into your cloak, clearly done for the night. You followed soon after, bidding the two men goodnight and curling up against the side of the cart. 

…

The day dawned clear, but with a humidity unfamiliar to one such as yourself. Mist danced in rainbow semi-circles through the tree trunks, the sun slowly burning it off as it rose. 

The child bounced in your arms when you carefully climbed off of the skiff to stretch your legs, easily keeping pace with the slow-moving vehicle. 

"How much further?" You whispered to Caben, doing your best not to disturb the snoring Cara and Stoke. You couldn't tell whether the Mandalorian was also sleeping, but it didn't hurt to be considerate.

"Only a few more minutes. Just over that next ridge." The man replied quietly, pointing ahead at said ridge. 

You propped the baby up on your hip and set off at a brisk walk, your body delighting in the fresh air of the forest. It was so strange, having something aside from the blistering climes of Nevarro or the stale, recycled air of hubs in your lungs. Maybe you had been directionless for too long, maybe...maybe leaving Nevarro was a blessing in disguise. 

As you reached the top of the hill, a little gasp escaped your lips. The whole valley was spread out in front of you, the small village dwarfed by the wetlands that surrounded it. Uniform pools lined the outskirts, obviously the krill fisheries the men had mentioned. Despite the early hour, you spotted several people already moving around. 

The landscape was idyllic, almost achingly so, and peaceful. 

Tears sprang to your eyes unbidden and you quickly dashed them away on your shoulder, huffing out a trembling breath. "Well little one, let's see whether your papa can help these people." You mused.

...

Caben hadn't been lying about the younglings. There was a group of eight children that rushed to greet the cart as it arrived, small bodies crowding around you to ogle the tiny being in your arms. Said being didn't appear to mind the attention, waving their little fists in excitement.

The Mandalorian seemed on-edge the instant he moved from the cart. Despite the serenity around him, you could feel tension radiating from his form. He was wound tight and you couldn't understand why. Even if raiders had been known to attack the place, right this minute all was calm and tranquil.

That unease was made abundantly clear an hour or so later, while you were being shown your housing for the foreseeable future. One second, he was nodding along to what the lovely young woman (a widow?) was explaining to him about the large hut being a barn previously. The next, he had whipped around to face the doorway, his blaster already drawn.

Gods, he was so fast.

The deadly would-be assailant was none other than the widow's child, the small girl cowering a little beside the door. 

"Easy." You hissed, surprised nonetheless when the armored man clumsily shoved his weapon back into the holster. 

Cara moved to the doorway, crouching in front of the child. "Hey squirt. You're pretty quiet, huh? Think you could teach me how to sneak like that?" She asked. The child seemed to recover from their scare quickly, pulling on Cara's arm to haul her away for 'training'. "You owe me, Mando!" The shock trooper yelled back over her shoulder as several other children joined in on the 'lesson'.

"I'm sorry, she's just not used to strangers." The widow apologized uncomfortably, wringing her hands.

Seeing how distraught she was, you impulsively decided to speak up. "No no, don't worry about it. We're just a little tired. Jumpy, you know." You explained, attempting to play it off before the Mandalorian could sigh or say whatever he had in mind. "Some of us are quick on the draw. But not here." You muttered the last part under your breath, stressing the final word. 

"I apologize for startling your child." The Mandalorian added stiffly, and you thanked the Maker that he wasn't about to undermine your shaky attempt at diplomacy. 

"She will be fine." The woman assured, giving him a tentative smile and then departing.

"I don't need you to speak for me, stowaway." The armored man snapped once she was (probably) out of earshot.

"I know that, but I wasn't sure what you were going to say and I didn't want you to hurt her feelings." You shot back, "You did kind of, almost maybe, consider putting a slug in her kid." 

"I'm not used to this." The Mandalorian stated bluntly, his honesty shocking you anew. Would the surprises never cease?! "They're respectful but they're not scared."

"Isn't it better that way?"

"Scared people keep their distance. Other people want to get close. They want answers." He shook his head, clearing his throat. "I...should probably take Dune so we can start with our reconnaissance." Despite his words he moved at the barest meander to the doorway, where he proceeded to lean nonchalantly for several long minutes as he watched the children drag Dune around. He finally murmured, "I'm probably going to need assistance when I attempt to extract her from the Fou...younglings. Think you can run interference?"

You cracked your knuckles and then hoisted the child up onto your hip. "Once I get there, they won't know what hit them." You promised firmly.

...

"Can you pay, can you pay, calamari flan? Fly my ship as fast as you can!" You chanted, your hands clapping out a gentle rhythm as you recited the nursery rhyme. "Fuel it and park it, Dropship Three, and leave it in the hanger to be flown by me!" 

The children around you all sang their own haphazard versions of the song, hands clapping and slapping against each other in almost-unison. It was incredibly entertaining to listen to some of the verses they came up with. In your time spent roaming after the death of your parents, you had heard a lot of different iterations of this rhyme. No matter where you traveled, it seemed that kids always gravitated to you. With them came songs and games and sometimes, sometimes, joy.

In spite of that, you still tried to keep everyone at arms' length. You would always have a new planet or station to breeze off to, a tumbleweed through and through. So you clapped, and you smiled, and when it was time to go, you vanished in the night like a wraith. It was better that way. Let younglings come up with their own conclusions.

The Mandalorian and Cara emerged from the forest on the edge of the village, and the man tilted his head at you to indicate you should join them. 

"Sorry guys, looks like duty calls." You apologized to your giggly, rambunctious audience, getting to your feet and dusting yourself off. You then bowed dramatically at the large-eared baby who had been sitting beside you, extending a hand for them to hold. "By your leave, my lord." The child quickly latched on, toddling in the direction of the Mandalorian.

When you arrived at the barn, however, Cara looked grim. "We've got a big problem." She informed you softly.

"The raiders have an Imp walker." The Mandalorian dropped the bombshell on you without quarter, and you took an unintentional step back. "I don't know how they got it, but I've seen those things in action. No matter how good I and Cara are, it won't be enough."

"Wh-What are you going to tell them?" You asked once you found your voice again. Even though you knew it was silly, you found yourself nervously scanning the woods surrounding the village. 

"The truth." Cara shrugged. "I'll give 'em their credits back. Hell, maybe we can help them move. They can't stay here, that's the takeaway. Sooner they come to terms with that, the better."

...

The Mandalorian broke the news to the village much like he had broken it to you, consideration thrown to the wayside in favor of expedience. "Bad news. You can't live here anymore." He addressed everyone bluntly from the front steps of the barn.

"Nice bedside manner." Cara grimaced, shifting her weight awkwardly as the villagers began to stir and protest amongst themselves.

"You think you can do better?" The armored man huffed.

"Can't do much worse." The woman snarked under her breath before stepping forward. "I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options." Cara announced clearly and firmly, the former soldier obviously rising to his challenge.

"But you took the job!" One man shouted.

"That was before we knew about the AT-ST." Cara said loudly. 

"The what?"

"The armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn't tell us!" She snapped, frustration bleeding into her tone. 

Over the building hubbub came the voice of the widow, Omera. "We have nowhere to go." She stated calmly, her child tucked against her side.

"Sure you do. This is a big planet." Cara replied dismissively. "I've seen a lot smaller."

Now emboldened by Omera, several other individuals raised their own voices. "My grandparents seeded these ponds!" Caben informed Cara. 

"It took generations!" Stoke added.

Cara's shoulders slumped. "I understand, I do. But there are only two of us." She said, gesturing at the beskar-clad man. You were more than happy to be left out of this particular equation, your brain still stuck on the fact that somewhere out in those peaceful woods, there was an actual mobile assault tower.

"No there's not, there's...at least twenty here!" Stoke fired back, his arms spread wide to indicate all the people in their village.

"I mean fighters. Be realistic!" Cara protested.

"We can learn!" Caben insisted, starting a new wave of murmurs as the villagers began to nod and agree with him. 

Dune heatedly spat, "I've seen that thing take out entire companies of soldiers in a matter of minutes!" 

That only brought a momentary pause to the debate. "We're not leaving." Omera said, her words soft but firm. Resolute.

Cara's voice shook when next she spoke and you got the impression that she wasn't seeing a village spread out in front of her, but a munitions-blasted battlefield. "You cannot fight that thing." 

You hesitantly put a hand on her arm, offering what little support you could. She shot you a grateful look, her smile thin.

The Mandalorian, who until then had remained silent, abruptly spoke up. "Unless we show them how." He cocked his head in your direction, ignoring the incredulous look Cara was sending his way. "Remember all those crates I had you lift?"

...

Blasters. A multitude of different makes and models, more than enough to arm half the village. You wondered in the back of your mind why the hell he had brought so many weapons.

Targets were quickly thrown together and anyone who was confident was instructed in the art of long range combat by the Mandalorian, his cape billowing behind him as he walked down the line to adjust foot placement.

Cara took over the melee weapon options, setting the rest of the men and women up to defend themselves with long, sharpened sticks and various other methods. You began to understand how she had gone toe-to-toe with the Mandalorian as you watched her cycle through the steps, every motion impactful and economic.

The two ran drills and you alternated between them, the child residing in a back sling you made out of your cloak. Maybe, maybe you could be useful in this type of situation, you hoped. Maybe you could help keep these kind people safe. 

The Mandalorian pawned a spare vibroblade off on you to replace your dull knife and you quickly adopted the techniques he and Cara showed you. You were constantly mindful to keep your fingers well away from the blade after you lost a chunk of knuckle skin when you tried to show off, the bandage you gained serving as a visual reminder to be cautious, that this was not your old knife.

When the Mandalorian finally nodded in approval at the shot you took, you felt proud enough to burst. When Cara grinned broadly at you after you ran through a defense drill, you could have cried.

The plan of attack was simple, as all plans should be: Topple the AT-ST as quickly as possible, use high barricades to divert the Klatoonians into more strategically viable locations and then pick them off. 

And now, up to your knees in mud, you goaded Caben, Stoke and several other villagers on into competition. Which fishery-pit would be the one to render that walker powerless? Whose shoveling would be triumphant in the long run? Bets were placed as the trap holes grew deeper and the barricades were raised on the edges of the village, fortifying the front line.

The rain had started during the afternoon and continued on well after dusk, making the work a thousand times muddier than before. Once you were finally done digging you were a filthy, shivering mess. Waving a goodbye to the others, you slogged back to the barn. Your boots were heavy enough to impede your movement, so your progress was admittedly slow.

"Stay at the door." The Mandalorian ordered sharply when you managed to trudge up to the raised porch and start struggling out of your boots. 

You groaned unhappily but obeyed, wondering if he intended for you to stay outside all night so the rain could rinse off the muck.

He came back with a bucket, his cape hanging over his arm instead of his shoulders. "I'll hold this up so you can clean yourself." He muttered after passing you the pail of hot, soapy water. "Dune is already asleep, so this is the best I can do."

"B-B-But what if you g-get wet?" You asked through chattering teeth, already stripping down to your underthings as he threaded one end of the cloak through the woven twigs that composed the barn wall. You were too cold and wet to be overly worried about propriety.

"I'm going to be wet anyways, I have the second watch. I'm not worried." Even from behind the cape, you could hear the rain softly ping off his helmet and pauldrons. "Blanket is just inside the door, left side. Let me know when you're heading in so I can turn."

You quickly dunked the provided rag into the bucket, scrubbing furiously at the grime on your skin. "W-We think we made them deep enough. We dug a good six extra feet each, I w-would s-s-say." You informed him proudly.

"Good. That's really good." You could hear the smile in his voice, as strange as that sounded. "Means the walker will have a nine to eleven foot drop, which should be more than enough." He then added, "You've done well."

You flushed hotly despite your freezing body, stammering out, "o-oh, I'm just doing wh-what I have t-to-" 

"No. You could have dropped into a funk and refused to do anything once we left Nevarro, but you...you've been good with the kid. With these people." The bounty hunter paused. "I've been thinking about leaving the kid here," he continued quietly. "Once we get rid of the raiders, this village will be peaceful again. And...and he seems to like it here." He shifted his weight, heralded by the clank of beskar. "You seem to like it here, too."

"I do." You replied honestly. "Nevarro was home for a while. I was used to it. It was normal. But this place…" You trailed off, a little perturbed with how much your heart was aching at the idea of having to leave this behind. 

You had never felt any sort of attachment to a location, always knowing that you wouldn't be there long. Nevarro marked the longest you had stayed in an area, sitting proud at a whopping thirty-two days.

"I won't be able to bring you back to Nevarro." He admitted quietly. "I can't...I can't go back there."

What could have gone down on Nevarro that would make a Mandalorian unable to return? Curiosity burned at you and you opened your mouth to ask the question.

"What is the name of that song you taught the younglings?" He inquired before you could get the words out. "The one with all the clapping."

"Oh, that's just...i-it's a nursery rhyme. Originally I think it was something about...baking?" You theorized, rinsing the rag. "Everyone has a different version of it, though."

"It reminded me of home." The wistful tone of his voice took you by surprise. "We would...when you have the armor, to keep time you would rap on your neighbor's. We stomp, clap, slap hands, beat the armor...no matter what we do it's loud." After a brief pause, "Do you have other songs like that?"

"Stomping, I'm not so sure about. See, a lot of flotillas and mining platforms have rules structured around excessive noise. Keeping younglings entertained and quiet...now that is the challenge." You informed him, scrubbing roughly at your elbows and knees. "I have a few others with the clapping. Some of them up the complexity of the motions depending on how long you're playing for, though, so maybe you could adapt one of those for your stomping needs?" was your tentative suggestion.

"Leave your clothes where you dropped them. Omera brought some dry things for you earlier." 

His abrupt shift in topic made your head spin and you panicked momentarily before blurting out, "Maker, please tell me there's pants and not one of their confusing skirts." 

"I didn't look at 'em, stowaway. I just know that she put them with the blankets." The Mandalorian replied testily. "You'll find out soon enough."

Mercifully, the widow had provided a soft, knee-length tunic. Thank the Maker for small favors, you did not want to try and figure out one of their skirts at this hour. Intricate hook-loop closures and trews were great and all, but right now you were exhausted and bed was calling your name.

You slipped the garment over your head, taking a moment to run your fingers along the blanket-stitched hemline. The fabric was dyed a rich teal, a trait shared by most of the apparel in this settlement. One of the krill byproducts was the brilliant blue carapace that gave spotchka its distinct hue. According to Stoke they had to strain nearly half of the unprocessed carapace from the spotchka mix lest it turn unbearably bitter. They then utilized this excess to color their fabrics, bathing the entire village in a myriad of indigoes, teals and cobalts.

The long sleeves of the tunic flopped down over your hands, banishing some of the chill from your body. "Huh. Guess I'm not as tall as Omera." You observed aloud, waving your sleeve-covered hands around to illustrate this incredible fact.

The Mandalorian shook his head at your antics and busied himself tucking his cape back under his pauldrons. "Get some rest, stowaway. As long as nothing happens tonight, tomorrow is when we'll strike. I need you at your best." He said curtly. Then, a little softer, "I need you to keep an eye on the F...younglings." He sounded slightly pained. "They'll need assurance. And if anything happens during the fight, they will need to be defended."

"Of course!" You promised, fisting your hands tightly in your sleeves. "I'll do everything I can to keep them safe. We all will."

Cara raised a sleepy fist of acknowledgment from her own cozy pile of blankets, the soldier mumbling something before rolling over.

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian stated, the black void of his visor boring into you. He seemed to be waiting for something, so you finally bobbed your head in agreement. He then departed without another word, the woven mat over the doorway whispering against the rough-hewn planks of the floor in his wake.

You wondered at the quiet sadness in his voice long after you went to bed, your dreams haunted by glimpses of rain-speckled beskar.

Part Three

[theunvanquishedzims]

Calming my post-election anxiety with sweet sweet logic

So Trump is a wannabe dictator with crazy screaming fans who are headed toward violent armed meltdowns. What’s to stop him from going full dictator and refusing to leave office?

I’m glad you asked!

You see, the major difference between wannabe dictators and actual dictators is ALLIES. Dictators are surrounded with tight security, aided by the military, cheered on by media that they control, and are either helped, encouraged, or just ignored by other countries with the power to stop them.

Trump has charged the Secret Service money for the privilege of protecting him and his family since day one. You remember the first year, when his wife and son refused to move to the White House so the Secret Service had to RENT FLOORS in TRUMP’S BUILDING to be close to them? And how his extended family went globetrotting and the Secret Service had to accompany them? And when Trump himself insisted on hosting people at his golf club, he made the Secret Service RENT GOLF CARTS from TRUMP’S CLUB to follow him while he went golfing?

The end result was that halfway through the first year of his presidency, the Secret Service could not pay their own wages. Because half their yearly budget had gone straight to Trump’s pockets. And that’s just financially. I think we all remember how the White House came down with Covid and Trump still insisted on Secret Service agents driving him around to wave at people. He has not been kind to the people who are sworn to protect him. These people have had a front-row seat to his circus since 2016. When the time comes from Trump to leave the White House and Biden to take over, I doubt they’ll betray the country out of loyalty to Trump. If anything, they’ll be the ones to drag him out.

As for the military, Trump insulted and fired four generals from his administration staff. He said on multiple occasions that soldiers who get captured or killed are suckers and losers. He refused to visit a cemetery to honor the dead because it was raining. He tries to pander to the military by massive increases in defense spending, but that money goes to capitalists who make weapons and war technology, not the soldiers or veterans. (He also hypocritically accused military officials of being in bed with those same companies.) In a poll of 1000 service members 50% said they disliked Trump. Overall, he doesn’t act like a leader, and the way he skirts responsibility (like taking charge during the pandemic) doesn’t appeal to a group that functions on trust in their leadership.

A proper dictator would have spent the last four years cozying up to his generals and making sure they knew the financial and social benefits of answering to him personally, not the office of the President. And while Trump did adhere to the adage “find a foreign foe” to unite people against, he badly misjudged what most US citizens consider “foreign.” He hasn’t found a villain that we would root for the military taking down, and the people he targets (Latinx, Blacks, immigrants, and people in countries our military has already devastated) are not a minority he can turn the majority of the country against, especially with how many of the former two serve in the military themselves. When the time comes for him to leave office, the military might be the first to cut ties with the wannabe Dictator-in-Chief.

Now, the media. They’ve been treating him like a joke candidate since day one, but after he was actually elected and took office they’ve started to take him more seriously. He’s gotten his catchphrase “fake news!” to catch on, but that doesn’t change the fact that under his administration news reporters have been harassed, illegally arrested, and generally poorly treated by Trump, especially if they’re women. He’s trashed talked everyone, with Fox News being the last bastion of semi-legitimate news that openly supports him (and their credibility has taken a big hit over it.)

Despite this support, in recently months Trump has been increasingly dumping on Fox, even throwing the mediator they provided for the debate under the bus, and risking alienating them in the process. If his supporters listen to him and start considering Fox part of Big Fake News, it might possibly be the death of Fox, leaving most of his supporters adrift and isolated from their source of right-wing news, and sending the more extreme fringes into the arms of conspiracy theory websites. (I’m not saying this is bad, being cut off from Fox and its toxic stream of “information” can actually help rehabilitate the right.)

Honestly, I don’t think Trump ever had a shot at controlling the media like a dictator would, mainly because of social media. He’s in love with attention, and Twitter has provided him a nonstop stream of it. No other President has threatened, insulted, promoted, or hinted at war over social media the way Trump has, and he gets so much direct feedback and interaction with the public and the world as a result. He could have leveraged that by buying the company (through a shell corporation, obviously) and setting it up as The One True Source of Information, manipulating public perception of him and his administration by keeping a tight grip on what information he let out.

But he’s just. Not. That. Clever. He blurts out everything that crosses his mind, leaving his administration to play clean-up on his messes, put out fires he keeps pouring gasoline on, and claim he’s joking when everyone knows he’s testing the limits on what he can get away with saying. He took advantage of the direct communication with legions of supporters, but seemed to forget that his detractors had equal access and would absolutely call him out on things he definitely said, it’s right there on his Twitter account, they have the Tweet pulled up on their phone right now. Instead of operating a single state-run media outlet while crushing all free press and limiting internet access like other dictators, he’s mooned the world’s cameras and acted surprised when they put his saggy butt on tv. “Fake news! That’s not my butt! THIS is my butt! [image attached]” he tweets. “Twitter is so biased, they haven’t censored any of Sleepy Joe’s photos!” he later tweets.

And lastly. The key to a dictatorship’s success. To prevent outside intervention, the country a dictator runs must be unimportant and ignored, wealthy and well-connected, or scary and well-armed. Minor warlords are the former, Putin is the latter, Trump might have weaseled his way into being the middle. But at the end of the day, America’s whole thing is new leadership every four years. It was revolutionary to replace a lineage of kings and queens stretching generations with a non-royal elected leader who only held office for four to eight years, but we’ve stuck to that for 200 years and everyone’s used to it by now. It would take a charismatic and powerful person to move the American people towards abolishing such a basic tenant of our democracy, and despite the mob mentality that lead a small portion of his supporters to chant “sixteen more years!” in the heat of the moment, Trump is not that charismatic. He’s not that smart. He’s not that well-connected. He’s not that savvy. He’s not that good at politics. And he’s not that powerful.

(I was going to say something here about him being the laughingstock of the world’s leaders and shouldn’t expect any outsiders to help him stay in power, especially since his tax returns came out and showed he owes people a ton of money that he doesn’t have, but this post is long enough so let’s cut to the chase.)

Trump is a greedy, small-minded man that has clung to power by appealing to the worst in humanity and scraping away at the best. But he hasn’t succeeded. He’s a sad old man who will say anything to be loved, and I don’t think he even knows what love is, so he’ll settle for attention. He doesn’t have money, he doesn’t have an army, and the only allies he has are using him as a political pawn to further their own interests. They will cut him loose the minute he stops being useful.

Now, the bad part: crazy screaming fans. Fringe groups on the internet. Mobs chanting “sixteen more years!” Men with guns and bombs and kidnapping plots, men trying to get into voting centers to destroy the election, men driving trucks with black flags that say FUCK YOUR FEELINGS, TRUMP 2020 (available on Amazon for $11.99, I wish I was joking.) I have no idea how many people in this country genuinely love Trump. It is hopefully significantly less than voted for him. There are some big issues in this country that are make-or-break, and unfortunately by reason of running Republican Trump has aligned himself with some of them.

There are people who hate everything about Trump, but he put a pro-life judge on the Supreme Court so they’re voting for him. There are people who are uncomfortable with Trump, but they’ve forgiven their grandpa for saying worse at Thanksgiving dinner, so they’ll vote for him. There are people who don’t know a single thing about Donald Trump, but they see (Republican) next to his name on the ballot, so they vote for him. None of that means those people will side with him if he tries to make a move towards dictatorship.

Now there are people who love Trump. They’ve heard and seen the vile things he’s said and done, and are genuinely okay with it, because they are full of hate and rage and want to change the world to put themselves on top. I do not know how many of these people there are. I know they exist all over the country, not just in red states. I know some of them have guns and want a reason to use them, because they’ve been talking about it for decades. I don’t know if we can trust the police to side with us over them if fights start breaking out. (And I pray pray PRAY people de-escalate any fights, because monkey see monkey do, and one news report of a MAGA extremist shooting someone can inspire a hundred copycats can lead to full-on civil war like we've never seen.) I know we need to be careful the next few months, to take care of ourselves and watch out for the more vulnerable in our communities.

And above all, I know this: Trump is not going to keep this country. He got it through trickery and deceit and foreign influence and national indifference and people not taking him seriously. We’ve learned. We’ve grown. We’re taking him seriously now, and we will not let him take what we’ve already told him he can’t have. The election is over. He’s a loser. He’d better start packing his bags. Because he’s not staying in office.

[miximax-hell]

Happy Goku Day, everyone!!

I checked and, miraculously, I still have followers on this blog. In fact, I’ve gained some since the last time I posted, for some reason! I’m not going to question it, though. Just... bless. But, hey, long time no see! As usual!

This time, I’m going back to my roots. The first drawings I posted on this blog were meant to show my love towards original Raimon, and it’s never a bad time to remind you all that I still adore these kids. Especially now that my friend @dust-monsters-under-my-bed​ has reminded me of them. Go check her art, btw! She’s not very active on Tumblr, but you can find her art on Twitter right here: https://twitter.com/rachelmonart

Anyway, she’s watching Inazuma Eleven for the first time and she’s made me think again about how much love these kids deserve, BECAUSE THEY SURE GOT NONE FROM HINO. DAMN YOU, HINO. So, today, let’s talk about the one and only IE character whose feet are classified as mass destruction weapons, who decided to borrow power from someone who will make you all question me, my logic and my tastes: Yamhan (or, as he is known in the west, Tiencha), THE FUSION OF YAMCHA AND TENSHINHAN FROM DRAGON BALL.

Introducing ShoYamHan! More on him under the cut.

So, first of all, how have you all been? I suppose many of you, like myself, are being told to stay at home to fight this situation. I salute all of you who do your best to stay safe and not help spread anything. It’s a very necessary fight, even if it can be boring at times. Many of us have friends or relatives fighting on the frontline, though (unless you yourself are the doctor or nurse friend!), and we hopefully know that staying at home is a small price to pay.

As for me, I got a job in December and lost it last month, so... yeah. It’s not been great. Still, something I’ve been working hard on for a while should be released soon and that’s so exciting! MY NAME WILL FINALLY BE ON SOMETHING’S CREDITS AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR IT TO BE UP.

But, anyway, back to business!

Rachel suggested I talk about the reasons behind this particular miximax, and considering it makes for a perfect parallel with my first posts, where I talked about the reasons behind Max’s and Kageno’s miximaxes, I’m all up for it! But, this time, I will have to do something new: explain WHO THE HECK YAMHAN IS. So let’s start with a picture of this handsome devil.

As most of you hopefully know, this project is about miximaxing Inazuma characters with video game characters. No anime, movies or anything else. Only and exclusively video games. Dragon Ball has probably spawned all those things, but it started as a manga, so you’d be right to think it most definitely does not qualify for this project. And, indeed, Dragon Ball doesn't. What DOES qualify, however, are Dragon Ball characters exclusive, or first introduced, in a video game. And that’s exactly the case we’re dealing with here!

Growing up, I loved Dragon Ball games. Even before I watched the show properly, in fact! I would go to my friend’s house, who was a fan of the show, and we'd play the Dragon Ball Budokai games nonstop with absolutely zero regrets. Those were some great times. And once I came to know the source material, the game that blew my mind the most was Dragon Ball Budokai 2. Was it the best one? Not necessarily. Is it my favourite? Not by a long shot. Still, it was the most creative! Most games follow the story of DBZ, which, obviously, is always the same. But Budokai 2 wasn’t afraid to do new things. Its story mode resembled a tabletop game and it was more than happy to deviate from the source material in some really fun ways; most notably, with exclusive fusions.

Budokai 2 introduced us all to Yamhan, the fusion of Yamcha and Tenshinhan, two long forgotten characters in the series, as they (and especially poor Yamcha) didn’t do anything especially relevant past... well, past the original Dragon Ball. As a champion of the unloved, that blew my mind. There were other fun things in Budokai 2, but what fascinated me and stayed in my thoughts for years to come was Yamhan. It was just such a cool concept. Two underdogs who had fallen into obscurity fusing to create a much greater warrior!

Of course, Yamhan isn’t the only videogame exclusive characters in Dragon Ball. He isn’t the first, nor the last. Yamhan isn’t the strongest, nor the weakest. But I haven’t played FighterZ nor Fusions (yet), nor pretty much any game that wasn’t on PS2 or GBA. And even if I had, I doubt Android 21 or any of the HUNDREDS of combinations available in Fusions would captivate me and my imagination as much as Yamhan did back in the day. Yamhan was a fusion, which is something that has always fascinated me to begin with. I MEAN, THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS ABOUT FUSING CHARACTERS, SO I THINK IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS LMAO But he wasn’t just one among hundreds. He was this very specific, never-seen-before, cool as heck and usable fusion. Like, wow. That was wild for me. Sign me up, man.

But, you know, I try not to let that sway me too much. Of course, I wouldn’t likely pick a character I hate for a miximax, but, still, my preferences aren’t everything. And choosing Yamhan begs a question that I have already alluded to: if Yamhan isn’t the strongest game-exclusive DB character out there, then, why him? Well, the answer to that is related to the biggest problem posed by the sheer concept of miximaxing with a Dragon Ball character:

Power escalation.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Goku is, pretty much, the strongest character that has ever played the lead in any manga, and one of the strongest fictional characters ever, period. By the end of the Dragon Ball Super anime, he has EXCEEDED THE POWER OF MANY LITERAL GODS AND IS (or has been) A CANDIDATE TO BECOME ONE. You may prefer One Piece, or Naruto, or anything else, but few things reach the astronomical, reality-bending scope of Dragon Ball. Not to say DB is the best series--I’m just saying that it’s so out of control at this point (and I love it). But, of course, the stronger Goku is, the stronger the villains need to be, and Goku ends up becoming EVEN stronger than said villains. Rinse and repeat dozens of times until you can make an entire universe disappear by raising your hand.

Now, imagine applying that out-of-this-world power escalation to a context where the power balance isn’t so outrageous. For example, Inazuma Eleven.

Goku wriggling in his sleep is more powerful than Zeus, and an accidental sneeze would smash all of Ixal Fleet to smithereens. Do you see what this would do to the balance? It would ruin it completely, as anyone who miximaxed with Goku would be immediately a one-person army able to defeat ANY opponent--and if the opponent were to be EVEN GREATER than Goku, well, the rest simply wouldn’t stand a chance. Ever. Remember: the point of this project isn’t to create perfect and unbeatable players, and I’m not trying to prioritize anyone or make them noticeably stronger than anyone else just because I happen to like X more than Y. That completely ruins the tension and the fun (and my attempts to create justice in this unfair universe). The point is to come up with a balanced team full of players with strong points, but with flaws, too, that complement each other when they play together against stronger enemies.

So, if we go with Dragon Ball, and I love Dragon Ball WAY too much to not include it in this project in some way, we have to be careful and avoid overdoing it. Balance is key. And now that you know why I didn’t just choose the fusion between Beerus and Whis or something crazy like that, I’ll move on to explain what makes Yamhan a very interesting option. I SWEAR THERE ARE SOME ACTUAL REASONS.

First of all, the very concept. You know, Yamcha and Tenshinhan fused to created Yamhan, and now, Shourin is fusing with a fusion. That’s just... hecking cool. I won’t lie--my preferences towards Yamhan didn’t tip the scales towards making this happen, but my preferences towards FUSIONCEPTION totally did. XD But there’s more, thankfully.

From the very beginning, I knew I wanted a fighting game character to miximax with Shourin because it fits his theme best. I’m not big on fighting games, though, so it was quite tough. Especially because just any fighting game wouldn’t do it. Shourin is a martial artist. As I mentioned at the very beginning of this post, his feet are his weapons. His entire body is a weapon, really. If I were to suddenly miximax him with some character who wields a sword or an axe, for example, it would be a complete disservice to Shourin. Original Raimon members don’t have much going on for themselves, and I’m going to cut or ignore the ONE thing that makes one of them special? Not in a zillion years. Shourin needs to fight with his body. That, of course, cuts many characters already: pretty much the entire roster of Soul Calibur, many members of Mortal Kombat, many from games like Skullgirls (which I still want to try to represent here in the future, because @lumaga worked on it and it makes me happy just because of that), etc. For a very long time, I considered someone like Ryu, from Street Fighter, but then it hit me: I have never played Street Fighter and I don’t want to include him just because I know what a Hadouken is. It’d be... cheap. And fake. Thankfully, as I also mentioned earlier, I played LOTS of Budokai back in the day and I am an actual fan, so I don’t have to pretend to know what the heck I’m talking about. XD And, thankfully, most of the characters in DB games fight with their bare fists and legs, so they perfectly fit my needs. Yamhan is, of course, no exception.

Now comes my favourite reason to choose Yamhan and not, well, literally any other DB game-exclusive character. And that reason is style.

Remember that power escalation thing I mentioned earlier? Well, it’s epic, but it comes with a big disadvantage: power ends up becoming much more important than skill. Early Dragon Ball was very focused on fighting styles. There was an ongoing feud between the Turtle School and the Crane School, who taught different martial arts to fight in different ways, and there was a big plot involving which one was superior. It wasn’t just about who was strongest, but about who fought better. With time, that disappeared, though. Even though battles became flashier, aerial and more spectacular, they were much more indistinct. Sure, there were gimmicks like “heh, I have a tail and I will sometimes hit you with it,” or “I will try to hit your face with the palm of my hand instead of my fist for some unspecified reason,” but that isn’t... much. You just see very fast people avoiding equally as fast punches to the face. And Goku, the main character, only shows some style when he adopts a fighting pose BEFORE fighting. Once the punches start flying, it’s all a race to see who can hit the other the hardest in the gut to make them spit blood. Cool nonetheless, but still.

Ironically, though, it’s two of the least relevant characters who never really lost those styles that made them unique when they were first introduced to the series. And those are, of course, Yamcha and Tenshinhan.

Yamcha joins the Turtle School and learns techniques as classic as the Kamehameha, but he had his own style way before that, based on attacking and tearing enemies apart like a wolf would. This is best represented by his signature move, the Rougafuufuuken or Wolf Fang Fist. He never drops this style, but instead builds up on it through his training to make it even fiercer.

Tenshinhan has different things going for himself. First of all, he is a hybrid between a human being and a civilization known as the Three-Eyed People, which grants him powers such as growing extra arms from his back or dividing in 4. Not just moving so fast that it looks like there’s four of him, but ACTUALLY dividing into 4 separate bodies. In terms of skills, he was a Crane School student, but when he realised the wrong of his master’s doings, he decided to start training and developing on his own. Basically, a path that mirrors Yamcha’s, but both lead to unique fighting styles unlike anyone else’s in this universe. And, most importantly, none of them depend on appendixes that are always there, like the aforementioned tail, so they totally work for us here!

Shourin is a proper martial artist. He wouldn’t want to make himself crazy strong as much as he would like to refine his technique and learn new moves and tricks. Martial arts are about discipline, self-control, skill and protection. He would take a cool-ass combo based on a wolf’s moves over earth-shattering strength any day of the week, hence why the fact that these two have so many techniques to offer is so appealing.

Finally, and probably least, is the design idea that immediately came to my mind when I thought of a miximax between Shourin and Yamhan. Historically, I have had to work with characters like Fudou, who are usually mostly bald and they miximax with someone with hair, thus making for some very... difficult things to figure out. But the idea of miximaxing Shourin, who is mostly bald, with Yamhan, who is ALSO mostly bald, was just golden and too good to ignore. And the fact that Yamhan has three eyes GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO ADD A THIRD CROSS-SHAPED EYE ON SHOURIN’S FOREHEAD. IF A MIXIMAX BETWEEN BALD PEOPLE WAS GOLDEN, THIS IS OUTRIGHT PLATINUM.

Shourin would've probably looked a lot less like a joke if he had had hair covering his entire head or if I had at least given him proper eyes... but that would no longer be the Shourin I love. Not to mention that it’s very likely that Shourin willingly shaves his head to begin with (even if the ponytail ain’t doing him any favours--but that’s just Inazuma logic, so let’s not look too much into it), just like Tenshinhan or Krillin do, so he would probably be happier to keep that, uh, advantage. Relative advantage, but still.

As a side note, though, we can’t forget the balance. When Yamcha and Tenshinhan fuse, they undoubtedly become the strongest human being in the DB universe, overcoming the one who is usually strongest: Krillin. A fusion is always greater than its parts individually, and Yamcha and Tenshinhan aren’t so far away from Krillin to begin with, so that’s not even a question. Regardless, they still don’t have that overwhelming and surreal strength from other characters, so we still don’t get into absolutely OP territory. Yamhan is strong enough to provide Shourin with a power that can make a real difference without completely putting him above everyone else.

Sadly, Yamhan doesn’t really have a backstory, as he’s a game-exclusive character that, honestly, was probably only there for a laugh. That means there is no deep connection between them. We can, however, make obvious connections between Shourin, an aspiring martial artist whose dream, as stated in IE2, was to study at Manyuuji (Kogure’s school) for their focus on martial arts, and is now trying to become stronger to protect what he loves, and two skilled warriors who have been training nonstop under different masters and on their own for basically their entire lives to keep becoming stronger and more skilled in order to defend what’s precious to them and, simply, to be the best version of themselves they can be. Upon seeing such dedicated warriors and artists, Shourin would undoubtedly want to learn from them and, if necessary, borrow their strength too.

Or he might just fanboy and ask for their autographs, honestly. I sure as heck want Yamcha’s. And his baseball card.

[taehyvnggs]

Jeon Jungkook // Cold Turkey

Summary: Your best friend, Jungkook, cuts you off--cold turkey.

The thing about Jungkook is that he knows that he's beautiful, and he knows that he is perfect. He knows that he is good at a lot of things. He knows that he's rather smart. He knows that countless girls marvel at his existence. That is why he picked you to be his friend--you never spared him the time of day. He liked that you didn't bat an eye at him. That's his favorite thing about you, actually. You don't bother him like everyone else does. That's why you're both so close. To ignite that friendship, he sat next to you during a lecture one day. You had your notebook prepared with a series of pen colors to categorize every note. You'd just gotten new glasses so your vision of the board was exceptional. Then, Jungkook put a small box on your notebook. After staring at the box of powdered doughnut holes for more than enough time, you looked over at the brown-haired boy; a confused mask consuming your face. He was wearing a vibrant red sweatshirt and black joggers A smile spread over his smooth face as he said, "Doughnut hole? And the rest is history.

This led to you meeting his friends. They weren't complete strangers to you. Actually, you had seen them around the campus several times. Jungkook's choice of friends made sense to you because they all are amazing at something, and it's only logical for Jungkook to befriend people just as talented as he is. Why he chose you is a question that remains unanswered. You actually became quite close with all of them. Besides Jungkook, you spent a lot of your time with Seokjin and Namjoon. They are a goofy duo, and when they aren't telling each other corny jokes, they give good advice. Seokjin knows what to say at the right time and he always reassures you when you are upset. Namjoon often tutors you. This mostly happens when he wants to spend time with you but you happen to be preoccupied with studying. Whenever you don't have a life problem, you would read novels in the presence of Seokjin and Namjoon. Neither of them mind the silence.

Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin quite like partying. Whenever you weren't studying on a Saturday night, one of them would text you and take you to the notorious fraternities. Yoongi knows the hotspots for the rich parties, but Jimin knows how to get into the fraternities. Hoseok knows how to throw parties. Your school is located not far from the beach, and Hoseok owns a beach house. He throws the most legendary parties anyone's ever heard of. Hanging out with the trio gets you some popularity with frat boys, but Jungkook always steers you away from them. Whenever one would walk in your direction while you were with Jungkook, he would lock his arm with yours and pull you away. Taehyung is in your Advanced Poetry class. Before becoming close with Jungkook, you were used to talking to Taehyung and seeing him outside of class.  He asks a lot of questions that get the professor off-topic, so you're very thankful for his curiosity. After growing close with Jungkook, you spent less time with Taehyung, but still manage to meet up at the campus cafe to write poetry together. Jungkook sometimes tags along to your little "dates" (or so he calls them) and reads through your works for any errors. When not hanging out with his friends, you were usually with Jungkook. At first, "hanging out" meant that you two were just meeting up so that you could loan Jungkook your lecture notes. That eased into Jungkook tagging along to slam poetry dates with you and Tae, in which Jungkook began to feel indifferent to your not paying attention to him. He was so used to being admired by others that this injured his ego. Realizing this, he began to hang out with you one-on-one so you were forced to pay attention to him. That's how you two have become so close. And that’s how you fell for him. ~ Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your studying. For the past three hours, you've been rewriting notes for your Advanced Comp class. There's a test in two days and you've been studying nonstop. You specifically told all of your friends not to message you unless it was an emergency. Why you're getting a call from someone right now is unknown to you. You pad across the abstract carpet on the wooden floor of your apartment to retrieve your phone. You sigh as you read the caller ID. JK. As you accept the call, you lean against the bookshelf the phone was once on.  "Jungkook, I'm studying." You look back at the collection of notes and highlighters that lay on your bed. "Hey, so you know how we were planning on going to go see Drake together, right?" he brings up. Of course you knew that. You both had sat in class eagerly waiting to buy the tickets before they sold out. It's in a week and you've both been so excited to go. You even bought matching shirts (Jungkook was reluctant, but he did it for you). "You disrupted my studying to talk about Drake?" you ask. "Jungkook, is now really the time?" "I gave my ticket to Namjoon hyung," he states bluntly as if it was a fact you were already supposed to be aware of. Confusion courses through your body. Why would he give his ticket to Joon? "Wait, why?" You ask. Doesn't Jungkook understand that when you two went for endless drives leading to nowhere listening to Drake songs, it was only between you two? It was a you thing. Did Jungkook understand that? Giving it to Namjoon would throw away all meaning behind your concert experience.  “I’ve been thinking,” he replies, exhaustion clear in his voice, “that maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”  Something in your chest shatters. It feels like dropping a glass with water filled to the brim onto concrete. The water spills everywhere and glass cuts your feet. Why wouldn’t Jungkook want to be your friend anymore? You have done no wrong to him, and you both spend almost every day together. He’s the reason why you haven’t died of boredom yet. He’s the spontaneity you’ve needed in your life, and he’s just dropping you like this?  “What’d I do?” you ask him. “I wasn’t clingy, was I?”  “God no,” Jungkook answers. “I’ve got my own reasons, okay? Don’t come near me anymore.”  Then, he hangs up. Immediately, you call Taehyung. He would know what’s going on with Jungkook. You both were equally close to him, but if Jungkook cut you off for reasons unknown, then he’d have to tell Tae before doing so...right? The kid’s gotta know something. Even the slightest clue might give you the answer.  “Y/N, are you finally done studying?” Taehyung’s voice sounds melodic in your ears. It’s as if he’s been waiting for you to call him.  Despite that he can’t see you, you still shake your head. “No, quite the opposite actually. Have you any clue as to why Jungkook’s just cut me out of his life?” Although you want to cry, you sound as if you’re about to begin screaming.  Obviously you want to scream! You’ve pretty much just been broken up with! That’s a good enough reason to want to start screaming! You’ve just lost someone that means more than the world to you; that’s more than enough for a reason to cry. “Cut you out?” Taehyung repeats. Clearly, he’s confused. That must mean that Jungkook didn’t even mention it to him. That’s rather peculiar.  “Yeah. He called me a little bit ago to tell me not to talk to him ever again.” Still holding the phone to your ear, you get up to go fetch a jacket. If Jungkook doesn’t want you to be near him, then you’re going to be near him. Before you can fulfill his wishes, an answer would be nice. It isn’t every day that someone asks you to leave their life. Especially when Jungkook asks you, it’s something to be concerned about. He loves you--well, at least you thought he did. “He hasn’t mentioned a thing. He left the apartment three hours ago with a suitcase. I thought it was weird but I figured he was going to be with you,” Taehyung mumbles, now realizing that this situation is rather a large one. “Huh, that’s weird now that I think about it. You were studying.” You grab a black jacket belonging to Jungkook and shrug it on before taking your house keys from your kitchen counter. “Meet me outside the engineering buildings in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you in a bit.” Without even saying goodbye, you hang up and slip on the nearest pair of running shoes. After getting them on, you run out of the door, not bothering to check if you’ve locked it.  The weather’s been pretty crappy lately. In fact, it’s been at an all-time low. Yesterday it was storming so you had to cancel your late night food run with Namjoon and remain a hermit in your bedroom. Jungkook seemed fine yesterday. He even offered to keep you company while you studied. Knowing that he’d just distract you the entire time, you declined his offer and continued studying.  Both you and Taehyung arrive at the center at the same time. He sports a bright yellow headband and his bangs are sticking out in different directions. Despite being extremely out of breath, he manages to smile widely at you before crouching over and begins heaving. At first glance, the white baggy shirt and yellow basketball shorts make it look as if he was already ready for a run. After analyzing his appearance further, it’s safe to conclude that he really wasn’t ready to do this.  Not really wanting to wait any longer for him to catch his breath, you grab his left wrist and begin walking in any random direction. Finding Jungkook is your main objective. Who knows where he’s gone in three hours? He could be anywhere! “Where could he be?” you ask Taehyung as you pull out your phone and begin dialing Seokjin’s number. He forced you to memorize it in case you never had the time to scroll through your long contact list.  He answers within seconds. “You should be studying right now, young miss,” he scolds you. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. “Jungkook’s gone,” you say worriedly into the phone. “Is he with you?”  Suddenly, Jin’s tone switches to absolute seriousness. “What? He told me he was with you!” You shake your head. Taehyung stares at you with complete horror in his face after registering that Jungkook could be missing. “Please tell me you're kidding,” you beg. How can Jungkook be this stupid? Didn’t he know that you were bound to ask Jin? What was that going to accomplish for him?  “I’m picking up Yoongi. He and I will look around while Namjoon takes Jimin and Taehyung,” Jin says frantically. You can hear the jingling of metal keys on the other line.  “I have Tae,” you point out. “He and I will look around the campus. We’re here anyway.”  “Okay. I’m leaving my apartment. Call me back in an hour, capisce?”  “Understood,” you reply before ending the call with Jin. Taehyung looks at you with pain in his cinnamon brown eyes. “Taehyung, should we split up? You get the south and east end of the campus and I’ll get north and west,” you suggest to him. The plans allow you both to cover as much ground as you can in as little time as possible. Jungkook could be off doing anything. There are so many places he could be right now.  Taehyung salutes you before running south. He looks back at you and shouts, “Make sure your ringer’s on!” You double check to make sure your ringer’s on its highest possible setting. Before running off, you shove your phone into your back pocket and head in the direction of the library. If there’s any place Jungkook’s likely to be on a Tuesday evening, it’s the library. That kid tries to discreetly play games on the computers but the librarians found out two weeks ago and revoked his computer privileges for the rest of the semester. Still, Jungkook insisted on going in different disguises.  Panting heavily from sprinting for three minutes straight, you find yourself in front of the library’s gargantuan doors. Before pushing through the heavy doors, you peek through the windows to see if Jungkook’s head can be spotted anywhere. You would’ve noticed him in a jiffy, and the fact that you didn’t even get a glimpse of his iconic face disappoints you.  Regardless, you trudge into the room of silence.  Upon entering, you’re stopped by the kind blonde librarian. She adjusts her circular glasses and narrows her eyes at you in order to get a better look at you. Once she recognizes you, she sets down three novels and two textbooks that look like they both weigh a ton.  “Y/N,” she says to you, humming quietly, “what brings you ‘round this part of campus?”  You shift your feet while trying to hide the fact that you’re breathing heavily through your nostrils. “I come here every week,” you reply awkwardly before peeking past the librarian to get a better view of the computers. They’re all empty, surprisingly.  “You don’t come on Tuesdays, darling,” she responds, relocating the books to a beige metal cart. “Have you seen Jungkook perchance?” you ask. You know she’s trying to engage in a conversation with you, and although you don’t want to be disrespectful, you would be more content with finding Jungkook and not wasting any time on people that don’t care about him. The librarian shakes her head and smiles at the mention of your best friend. “Not at all. I would’ve chased him out by now. Those environmental engineering majors are all rascals.” She looks back up at you with a wide smile. “I haven’t seen him in three days.” “Oh.”  “I’m sorry, dear,” she apologizes, picking up another stack of books. “I’m afraid I’m of no use to you.”  You close your eyes and let out a very long sigh. “It’s fine. Have a nice evening.”  Before she gets a chance to lure you into another conversation, you run out of the library and push through those who are suddenly crowding to the lunchroom for the dinner rush. Jungkook wouldn’t be there--he hates any kind of food prepared by the school. The only time he’ll eat is when he leaves campus or when his friends let him take their leftovers--you included. 

You pull out your phone and send a quick text to Taehyung and Jin. Not in the library. Pass this message on.  Taehyung replies in half a second. No trace in any of the econ and math buildings You put your phone away and think of anywhere else Jungkook could be. He’s an environmental engineering major, so maybe he’s at that secluded bridge off campus. You two go there after parties to sober up. No one ever goes there which means the likeliness of finding Jungkook there is...well, enough. Within eight minutes, you make it to the bridge. There’s no sound of people, but only the river flowing beneath the bridge and the shaking of nearby trees. Your sides ache from running so much and your legs are cramping up so much that you wish you had stretched before going on this wild goose chase.  At the bridge, you lean against the old wood railings and take in nature’s fresh air. You stare at the murky brown waters as you regain your composure, letting yourself catch your breath. How can there be no sign of Jungkook? He doesn’t go anywhere aside from his place, your place, and school. Even on campus, he’d only be found in the library and here unless he has class.  And he doesn’t have class.  “Jeon Jungkook, you bastard!” you snap, picking up a twig and throwing it into the water. It plunks into the water and floats away with ease.  “Funny seeing you here,” a low voice greets you.  Excitedly, you look up to see whose voice it is. You’re upset to see Yoongi. He’s no Jungkook. “Oh, hey.” The messy black-haired boy strolls over to you nonchalantly. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his joggers. Yoongi looks to be in no rush to find Jungkook, even though the sun is almost gone and the sky is a platter of blues and violets. This should be a time to worry, not a time to be looking cool. You look like a mess while Yoongi looks like he’s about to go to a party with that black embroidered jacket and matching jeans.  He realizes you’re staring at him with your eyes narrowed into slits, so he looks around as if to look for your friend. “I don’t see him around.” He stops right in front of you, looking down at you while you look up at him in a frustrated manner. Doesn’t he have any anxiety over this?  “Yoongi, where have you looked?” you ask, looking away from the porcelain boy. “Did you check anywhere?”  “Look for Jungkook?” he repeats, staring at the whistling trees. “I looked in one of his Timbs.” “This is a real issue, Yoongi!” you quip. “Jungkook is God knows where and you’re taking your damn time looking for him! He’s making us panic and you’re just staring at a damn boot?”  “Yep,” he answers you, swiveling himself so that he is now leaning against the bridge. “I’m not worried about him. He’s a freshman in college, not a freshman in high school. He’s got some common sense, Y/N.”  “No, he’s acting like a child!” you protest.  Yoongi shakes his head and closes his eyes. You notice the hint of a grin on his face. “Don’t read too much into it.”  “Yeah? Why not?”  “He likes you, Y/N,” Yoongi tells you coolly. “He’s liked you ever since you first rolled your eyes at him. You’re a challenge, and we know that he can’t resist a challenge. You two are the dynamic duo, ready to take on the world’s evil one at a time. You can’t possibly think that he won’t try to push you away to get rid of those feelings--especially when they aren’t requited.” His words take you by surprise, and he knows it by staring at how your face suddenly becomes red. “That can’t be right.”  “Last night, you told him that you planned on becoming good friends with Taehyung,” Yoongi continues, resting his head along the rail of the bridge. “He felt that he wasn’t good enough for you. He suddenly gave up. Came to my apartment with tears in his eyes. You want to replace him.” “That wasn’t my intent,” you defend yourself. “Taehyung and I are collaborating to create a book of poetry for each other. That means I have to get to know him. Yoongi, you know me better than this!”  “Love makes you do crazy things,” the black-haired boy hums. “And you idiot, I know you like him too. Why else would you freak out so much?”  “He’s my best friend.” You realize you shouldn’t have to justify yourself to Yoongi and roll your eyes at him. As much as he is a mentor to you, he knows you are a natural worrier. You worry about grades, you worry about plans, and you especially worry about your friends’ safety--Jungkook included.   “He’s your best friend, yet you didn’t bother to check his Timbs?” Yoongi snickers. “He’s my best friend, too. I wouldn’t be stressing out over this as much as you are.”  “Because?”  “Because I checked his Timbs.”  You huff at Yoongi’s attempt to be funny. It’s not working. In fact, it just makes you feel even more like a bad friend.  “Shut up.” He removes his right hand from the pocket of his pants and a small piece of torn notebook paper is crumpled in his hand. He hands it to you with a smirk on his face and walks off, in his amazingly cocky manner. His head sways from side to side with every step he takes. Soon enough, he disappears with the dinner rush. You straighten out the small paper to figure out what he means.  There’s only one thing on the paper, and it’s a treble clef. It looks as if it’s been doodled in the middle of class because it’s scribbly but still very articulate. It makes you think about when he created it, and whether or not you were nearby when he had done so. Had he mindlessly drawn it? Did he know that this was going to happen?  You glance back at the campus, the music building’s vibrant red bricks catching your eyes. You shove the paper into your pocket and begin sprinting again. This time, you’re headed to the sound of music. Luckily for you, it’s the closest building.  Unfortunately, the music kids are very involved in their own cliques. It'll be tough to enter the building without any ties to a music student whatsoever—outsiders are always given the death glare. It's strange how they haven't moved past this phase in high school. How could Jungkook possibly get into the building without being pushed out by some band geek? It was almost impossible to go anywhere near the building without getting odd glances from those that belong to the music program.  Right as you enter the building, you’re stopped by Mark--a friend of yours through Jimin. “Y/N, get lost?” he asks you. You shake your head, looking down a dark hallway. “Have you seen Jungkook around?” you ask, hoping desperately that Mark has seen him. There’s nowhere else to look if he isn’t here.  Mark looks at the ceiling, as if Jungkook could be there. You look up too, thinking that maybe you’re just lucky this time, but you aren’t. “Haven’t seen Jeon since Yoongi’s party last weekend,” Mark answers after giving it a second thought. A ghost of a smile appears on Mark’s face, thinking about the party that he was piss drunk at. You remember it vividly. “Do you suppose Yugyeom’s seen him at all?”  “Doubt it. The symphony concert is in two days and there's a piece the director handed out just last week. The instrument kiddos have been playing nonstop,” Mark elaborates as he leads you down a hallway. You’re not familiar with it, but he’s probably got a lead on where Jungkook could be. Mark makes a quick left turn and twists the knob of a door. The room he leads you into is bright and the fluorescent light strains your eyes for a second. You see Yugyeom’s lanky legs standing behind a rather large stringed instrument. From what you’ve heard, Yugyeom’s a master cellist and his throne is the first chair. Truthfully, you’ve never heard him play, but from the looks of it, he knows what he’s doing.  “Yugs, seen Jungkook around recently?” Mark asks, taking long strides over to his best friend.  Yugyeom glances over at you two and sets his cello down. He places his bow awkwardly next to the cello and makes his way over to you, meeting you and Mark halfway.  “Hey, Y/N,” he says to you, a small smile on his face as he put his hands in his back pocket. “Have I seen Jeon? I saw him an hour ago at rehearsals.”  Suddenly, you jump towards Yugyeom, instinctively grabbing the collar of his white button-down. “Really?” you exclaim, your voice dancing off of the bright yellow walls. “Where have you seen him?”  The tall boy shrugs like he forgot where he’s seen Jungkook or something. “The concert hall.”  “Why would he be there?” Mark asks. “He doesn’t play an instrument.”  “Do you think he’ll still be there?” you ask Yugyeom, hoping so desperately that his answer will be yes. By the looks of it, you can tell Yugyeom’s taken pity on you. Part of you is bothered by that fact, but if it brings you closer to your best friend, then it’s worth it. “Yugyeom, please.” After a long silence, Yugyeom relents. “Yes,” he replies, eyes closed as he steps away from you. “I forgot I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”  A wave of relief hits you, and then another, and then another. You throw yourself into Yugyeom’s arms and he seems a little surprised by your sudden show of affection. “Thank you so much, Yugyeom!” you cry, squeezing him in your arms.  “You’re welcome,” he says to you after you let go of him. “Just don’t tell Jungkook that I snitched.”  You smile at the boy and take off, bolting towards the concert hall. Doing so, you whip out your phone to call Taehyung.  He answers in less than ten seconds. “Y/N, status?”  “Yugyeom just told me where he was!” you exclaim, leaving the building in search of the hall. “He’s at the concert hall!”  “That’s amazing!” Tae replies joyfully. “Should I meet you there?”  Looking around the dark campus, you spot the building in all its glory. It’s the biggest building on the north side of campus. It’s made of blonde brick and there’s a gigantic glass-stained window right above the entrance doors. If it weren’t for the window, you wouldn’t have guessed that this place was a music hall.  “Perhaps you should let me talk to him first,” you tell Taehyung. “I’ve got something to talk to him about.”  “Okay…” he trails off, probably a little suspicious as to why you’re not having everyone flock towards Jungkook right after figuring out his whereabouts. “I’ll tell Seokjin hyung and the rest of the guys!”  You smile as you push through the doors of the concert hall. “Thank you,” you tell him.  He responds with a cute laugh and hangs up.  The doors close behind you, echoing throughout the foyer. It’s barely lit, but you can still see the entrance to the auditorium in which the symphony likely is. Well, they’re in there for sure. You can hear them from the entrance, and it’s super loud. After entering the auditorium, you’re blinded by the brass on the stage. The director stands in the center, swaying his hands to the music as if he were a ventriloquist.  At first, you look to your right and spot a dark head of hair sitting at the end of rows of empty seats.  Your heart jumps out of your chest. It spins around. It gets so overly-excited that it stops for a bit. Realizing your own hesitation, you speed over to Jungkook as quickly as you can. You navigate through the cushioned auditorium seats and take a stand right behind him. You stare intently at the rehearsing orchestra, knowing fully well that Jungkook’s aware of your presence behind him.  “Jeon Jungkook,” you say lowly, “stop giving me heart attacks.”  “I told you to stay away from me,” he tells you. His voice is as loud as the music being played, so you can barely hear him. You still manage to understand him though. He’s at least that predictable.  You shrug his black jacket off of you and place it around his shoulders. He doesn’t look at you, fixated on the orchestra playing on the grand stage. You walk over to his right and kneel next to his seat, resting your arms on his armrest and looking right at his focused face. Not even a glance.  “You know I can’t stay away from you,” you hum, admiring the way he clenches his jaw upon hearing your words. “You’re my best friend.” You don’t know this, but Jungkook’s heart breaks when your voice trickles into his veins.  “If you’re my best friend,” Jungkook mumbles, “you’d go away, Y/N.”  “Jeon Jungkook, you know that I would never listen to you.”  He remains still, but you notice his hands ball into fists in his lap. Then, you notice the way he swallows his words as if he was going to say something vicious to you. He lets his words disintegrate and leave as shaky breaths from his lips. You expect words, but nothing comes.  “When I met you, I thought you were this self-centered guy with every girl at your disposal. I thought you messed around with them and then moved on. You had a reputation. That alone made me avoid you. Why would I want to associate myself with someone who would drop me in a split second?” you tell him, reminiscing over the days Jeon Jungkook was merely a name to you. “Taehyung always spoke so fondly of you, but I never trusted what he said about you. Taehyung speaks fondly of everyone--that’s why.”  “Shut up,” Jungkook huffs. “I can’t hear the music over your noise.”  His words constrict your heart like a snake. How can he be so cruel? He wasn’t like this yesterday. In fact, the only time Jungkook’s ever rude to you is when you’ve interrupted his sleep schedule. Why he’s acting like this right now pains you. How could he be so inconsiderate of your feelings? What have you done wrong?  “So when you came up to me that one day, I didn’t trust you one bit,” you continue past the pain. “I didn’t know that me accepting your offering of food gave you permission to talk my ear off. At first, I was really cautious about you. Now, I know you. Everything that Taehyung said about you is true. You’re a good person, Jungkook.”  Still staring at the stage, he says, “I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are,” you insist. “All of my previous beliefs about you have been proven wrong. You carry me home when I’m even the slightest bit intoxicated. You carry me home when we go out to fancy restaurants and I’m wearing heels. You tell me that you’ll catch me when I fall--that you’ll be my safety net. You take my phone away from me so that I can do my work. You stay by my bedside when I’m sick and refuse to leave for class until I force Namjoon to take you.  You’ve been the bestest friend I’ve ever had, and I am so unbelievably grateful for you.”  He doesn’t react. He remains still.  “Please, Jungkook. Don’t do this to me. I need you.” Your voice cracks and a single tear maneuvers down your face. “Whatever I did to you--I’m extremely sorry. I’m so used to having you by my side and I don’t know what I’ll do now that you’re gone.”  Finally, he turns to you. His cinnamon irises are black underneath the darkness of the auditorium. They’re glossy and he tries to blink the tears away, but they just slide down his smooth face.  “Loving you is too hard when you don’t love me back,” he whispers.  “I do love you!” you exclaim, just loud enough to match the volume of the music. “God, I’ve been so madly in love with you but you’re too blind to see it! I can’t admit it to myself because why would I be in love with someone so much better than me?”  You stand up, angry that Jungkook would ever make that assumption. When have you ever come off as a not-interested? Can he just not take a hint? You’ve done everything for him and saying “no” doesn’t come easy when it’s for Jungkook. Yet, here he is, trying to tell you that you don’t love him. As if he knew.  Jungkook stands up as well. His jacket remains around his shoulders. You’re lost in his gaze. “You think that I’m better than you?” he scoffs, looking over at the orchestra. They continue on, barely affected by your bickering.  “Yes! You can do everything in the entire world without fail! What can’t you do?” You shake your head, backing away from him.  “Understand you,” he says under his breath.  “And the only way to do that is to push me away?” you ask. “That’s not how you understand me. You know me just as well as you know yourself. Didn’t you think this through?”  He runs a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” “You’d better be. You gave me a heart attack,” you reiterate. A smile grows on his face. You’re familiar with that face of his. “I could make it up to you if you give me just one dance.” He holds up one slender index finger and holds out his right hand. His other hand slides his jacket off of his shoulders and places it on his seat.  “I hate you sometimes,” you laugh, taking his hand and letting him pull you down the aisle.  He leads you all the way to the front of the stage. The lights fixated on the orchestra shine brightly and enough light bleeds onto the floor where you two stand. The director looks back at you two and you expect to be scolded for disrupting a rehearsal, but instead, he continues conducting and sends a wink in your direction. The song continues, slow and melodic as can be. It makes your heart beat rapidly as you stare into Jungkook’s deep brown eyes.  “Are you going to dance with me or do you intend on leaving me hanging?” he asks as he pulls you closer to him. The way he looks at you sets off fireworks in your heart. It’s different now. Before knowing his feelings for you, the fireworks were merely burning. Now, they’re going off.  “You know I can’t dance,” you pout. “They’re playing a slow song. It’s a slow dance,” he reassures you. “I’ll even guide you if you don’t know how.”  “I know how to slow dance,” you tell him. “I’m no good at dancing, though.”  You slide your arms on his shoulders and Jungkook takes this as his cue to put his hands on your hips. Following the tempo of the music, you two begin swaying side to side. It’s not uncomfortable at all. In fact, it feels all natural to you.  Very rarely at frat parties, someone would play a slow song over the bluetooth speakers and everyone would scramble to find a dance partner to drunkenly stumble with. Since you and Jimin were the soberest, you two had decided to pair up. That was a very awkward dance because everyone around you two wa terrible at dancing. Part of you was very grateful to have Jimin slide you away from people falling into you.  It’s different with Jungkook. You two have always been a pair. It has always been you and Jungkook, but never you and Jungkook. “You really did worry me,” you admit to your best friend, continuing to gaze into his eyes.  He laughs and it sounds more like music than the music the orchestra next to you plays. “Forgive me for misunderstanding your mixed signals.”  “Forgive me for misunderstanding yours,” you tease him and rest your head against his shoulder. He rests his head on yours as you both continue dancing. He hums along to the song playing and you figure he knows it because he had been sitting in here for so long listening to them rehearse.  “Thank you for being my best friend,” Jungkook says, “and the most phenomenal person in my life. I don’t want you to leave.”  “Well, I’m in your arms now, aren’t I?” you ask.  “You’re right,” he agrees with you, pulling you even closer as if you two are now just hugging and swaying. “How long have you liked me?”  Your answer is immediate. You could never forget the day you started liking Jungkook. “The first night you slept over at my apartment.”  Jungkook laughs at your answer, reminiscing about the fun night. It was the transition from Friday to Saturday. Both of you had turned down Hoseok’s invite to his house party. The majority of the night consisted of both of you sprawled on your sofa under a heavy blanket in the dead of winter. Jungkook was to your right and his shoulder was pressed to yours. It was movie night and you both had finished watching Corpse Bride and Kubo and the Two Strings. Both movies were very good, considering neither of you had exchanged words while it had been playing. The only noise between you two and the TV was the noise of crunching popcorn.  After that, you had gotten your ukulele and Jungkook listened intently to you. Your back was pressed against his left side and you were playing different songs. You weren’t a pro at playing, but you knew a few songs from being taught them at parties. You were no good, but Jungkook continued to listen, so that meant that he at least liked it. That alone made you feel happy.  Jungkook was drawing on top of your hand. At first, they were little dots, but then they evolved into circles, and then to intricate flowers. They were so pretty, and you enjoyed staring at concentrated Jungkook as he was creating them. Everything he did was pretty, and you were always lost in thought while admiring all of his perfections. Later that night, you settled on Chinese takeout. Just sitting with each other was more than enough for you. That was the night you realized you’d be absolutely content if Jeon Jungkook was the person you’d have to spend the rest of your life with. To be as comfortable with someone the way you were with Jungkook was something you figured you’d never accomplish again. Plus, you and Jungkook had a whole foundation that your friendship was built on. If you had to meet a whole ‘nother person, that’d be so much work. Jungkook was an ideal candidate for a love interest anyway. He’s great at everything! It was then that you realized why everyone idolized the kid so much--he is simply perfect.  You had both fallen asleep while braiding each other’s hair. As you were doing so, you were telling each other about your childhoods. You told Jungkook about your first best friend, who he easily became jealous of. You also told Jungkook about your wet first kiss underneath a weeping willow tree. He told you about his brother and his first girlfriend. Part of you was jealous about that. It was a good night.

“If you like me so much,” you say to Jungkook, “why’d you kiss that one girl last week and then another girl the day after?”  That really upset you. Last week, you two were at Yoongi’s party... Within the first five minutes, Jungkook ran off and you ended up hanging around Jimin for the majority of the time. It wasn’t abnormal to be hanging around Jimin at a party. To be honest, you were more likely to be found at a party with Jimin than you were to be found with Jungkook. You and Jimin were always beer pong partners, and you two would always win.  You were both talking to a frat guy that Jimin knew, discussing majors and such. Jimin was wearing a salmon button-down and a sweater was wrapped around his shoulders. A pair of wayfarers rested upon the top of his black hair. He wasn’t a frat boy, but he sure did dress like one sometimes.  From over the frat boy’s shoulder, you saw Jungkook with a girl sitting on his lap. She had pretty strawberry blonde hair that cascaded a little past her shoulders. Her face was covered in freckles and she had whitest teeth that matched her wide smile. She was the epitome of gorgeous, and you could tell by the look on Jungkook’s face that he knew that as well. You continued staring from across the room as Jimin and the guy became involved in their own conversation. As Jungkook’s gaze averted to the girl’s lips, you took a hammer to the heart. It kept breaking as Jungkook made the first move, closing the space between them.  And that was one of the many times Jeon Jungkook broke your heart. Because you were so used to it, you kept crawling back to him and glued your own heart back together. It’s what you were good at, anyway. Except, this time hurt only a little bit more than the last.  The day after the party, you and Jungkook had been studying at a nearby park. It was a beautiful day and children were merrily running around the playground. You had been revising an article you had written for the school newspaper that Jungkook proofread for you. Jungkook was focused on his Stats homework, so very few words had been exchanged. You had mentally forgiven Jungkook for the night before, reminding yourself that Jungkook is allowed to find other people attractive. At one point, another female student came by and tapped him on the shoulder. Both you and Jungkook looked up at her as if she had tapped you as well. She was slender with a blonde bob. There was a dimple on the left side of her face, and she had beautifully long eyelashes. Jungkook looked back at you, asking if it was okay that he spoke to her for a bit. You waved him off and resumed revising.  When Jungkook didn’t come back for half an hour, you looked up from your work to see where he’d be. He wasn’t very far, really. He was underneath a tree with the girl, hands shoved in his pockets, sporting a large grin. It was cute seeing him so happy, and you smiled at the thought of him so joyful. Then, she cupped his face in her hands and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. Your smile faded in a mere second.  “Well, I kissed that first girl because I was thinking that I could get over you,” Jungkook answers you truthfully. “The second girl I kissed because you kissed Jimin hours after I kissed the first one.”  “Oh, God. You saw that?” Your face becomes a deep shade of red as you close your eyes.  “Duh. I’m always staring at you,” he replies matter-of-factly.  Once Yoongi’s party had ended, you had told Jungkook that you’d meet him outside so that you both could stumble back to your apartment and suffer the next day’s hangover together. Jungkook had gone outside and you had bid farewell to Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin,  Hoseok and Taehyung. Jimin had intended to spend the night at Yoongi’s, and was the last person to say goodbye to.  You had gone up to the disheveled-looking boy and pat his head. He drunkenly giggled at your actions and the next thing you knew, your right hand had slid down to his cheek. He placed his right hand underneath your chin and tilted your head upwards. He brought his face to yours and his soft lips met yours. He wasn’t a bad kisser, but the kiss had a bitter taste to it because he had been drinking.  Needless to say, what happened didn’t affect your friendship with Jimin.  “It was in the heat of the moment,” you explain yourself. “I’m sorry.”  “I’m sorry as well,” Jungkook responds as the song finishes. You step away from him, but your hand finds his. You lace your fingers together. “Do you think Namjoon will care if I take that Drake ticket back?”  “Not at all,” you answer, beginning to walk toward the exit.  Suddenly, you trip over your own feet. You brace for impact, knowing that you’re going to hit the tiled floor. You close your eyes and clench your open fist. It’s normal enough for you to fall nowadays that you already know the procedure. As you begin your descent to the ground, you throw your forearm in front of you.  Instead of hitting the ground, you feel warm arms wrap around you. You open your eyes and see Jungkook beaming at you.  Your heart pounds against your chest as he says, “I told you I’d catch you, didn’t I?” 

[survivorelsalvador]

Richie’s Jury Responses

austin: austin: Okay austin here’s the TEA! Your vote out wasn’t random, it definitely wasn’t because you’re new, and there was a lot of thought and logic and reasoning put into it….. At the one premerge tribal we went to me you ashton lily formed a group and we were trying to decide who to vote out and you expressed disinterest in voting out dana which is cool you said you liked her and that was it because willa got evaced

At the merge boot it looked like it was going to be a 5-5 vote with nicholas/zak/willow/dana/josh voting out ashton and then me/you/chips/lily/ashton voting out josh +kai doing whatever kai was going to do lmao

Veryyyy shortly before the vote lily came to me and said [6/30/17, 9:41:28 PM] Lily Douma: Austin is throwing us under the bus... [6/30/17, 9:41:34 PM] Lily Douma: Told Dana I'm voting for josh

So based on my perception and the information i had been collecting it seemed like you had a relationship with dana and your loyalty to me and “our side” was in question and if 20 minutes before the vote i’m told that youre going to people we weren’t working with and telling them our plan then it would make sense that youre not with us and youre not going to vote with us so a 6-4 vote with me being in the minority was possible and looking more and more realistic.. At that point i knew that i needed to play the idol to save ashton and my reasoning behind voting you out was because all signs were pointing to you were not with me so if you stayed in the game you would not only be a number for the other side but you would be someone who had previously been working with us and had receipts and information that could be used against me so taking you out right then would be smarter so at the last minute i chose what i thought was the most logical game move………….. When the votes were read i saw that you did in fact vote josh out and i had a mini panic attack lmao but yeah there was definitely reasoning behind it i thought you were playing both sides and your actions were making me perceive that you werent committed to working with us so thats why you left… i’m not saying this with any tone btw im not bragging about this being a good move or anything i’m just answering the “why” so that you have the closure and understanding on what was going on in my mind and what went down that lead to you getting voted out

Okay so I know that this was your first tumblr survivor game and im sorry that it ended so abruptly and came so out of nowhere you did deserve better i hope that this experience doesnt spoil your view on tumblr survivor orgs and i know that you need to keep up with wearing your retainers because its important to keep your teeth in tact so that all the money you spent on braces doesnt go to waste learn from my mistakes!!!!!

Josh:

Austin: charlie brown bc nice and genuine but in this game you got shitted on it was very much the defeated womp womp charlie brown 

Josh: Finn from adventure time, knows how to kick ass but still likes to have fun Willow: Rory Gilmore, really nice and smart but more complex of a human than that Zak: tbh anyone from it’s always sunny in philadelphia bc youre hilarious and messy and crackedt but somehow still loveable even though theres no real reason for you to be <3 Nicholas: leslie knope i feel like youre super involved in the org community and youre passionate and a little crazy but still fun loving Dana: Annalise Keating from how to get away with murder, bad ass who will say and do anything to get her way and looks great doing it Lily: this was the easiest one for me the second i read your question this was the first one to pop in my head okay if you’re young you might not get this reference but watch this iconic character in tv history sweet kind adorable but watch out when she’s mad lmao https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsBN9lvmjac

Willow: Hey, Willow! Whatsup? I loved you in one world, but when we got to merge we ended up on opposite sides and during the early stages of merge i tried to keep my distance so that i would avoid being overly deceitful which would likely lead to more bitter feelings of personal betrayal should i make it to the finals. Everything I did in this game was calculated and fueled by logic and reasoning based on my perception, but that doesn’t mean that I played a flaw free perfect game, I’m definitely a self aware bitch and I know that I can be a little cracked’t. Obviously everything worked out to the point where I got to the final 3 so I can’t say that I would do anything differently, however to answer your question, I would say that my biggest mistake would have to be the timing of voting out Austin. There were many things that lead me to making the decision to take him out at that moment in the game, but when the votes were read and I saw that despite all the red flags, he had voted the way he told us he was going to. Okay, now to answer your general questions! This isn’t a good jury favor pageant answer but tbh my favorite part of this game was making the movie poster, I love being creative and storytelling so I just had such a fun time making that. If I were in the jury, so that would make this a final 2 of Chips and Ashton? Right? Is that what you meant? You can’t answer me right now this is a one way conversation I’m having with myself…. But in a f2 of Chips and Ashton, I would vote for Chips.  If I weren’t here and I had to pick only one person to be in the finals, I would choose Dana because I think she played one hell of a game. A minor move of mine was during the premerge one world stage. I made sure to try to make somewhat of an impression of people not on my tribe, like Zak Willow Nicholas and Josh, by having at least one brief conversation that coming at merge we wouldn’t be complete strangers, but not too much that I came off as a strong social threat. Okay, I think that I answered all your questions, I hope I did and I hope that my punctuation usage made this easier for you to read because I’ve gotten so many complaints about this before, I type like I think and speak which is just one nonstop cracked rambling with absolutely no structure asdfdsfhjasdfj i tried really hard for you lmao

Zakriah: ICONIC QUESTION kelly wiglesworth 1-10 jury question teas wow…. Okay 3 genuine compliments about you 1) i’m a self centered narcissistic bitch and i think i’m hilarious BUT when we shared the title for best sense of humor in touchy subjects i was like okay true he’s worthy i’m not mad about that 2) this is like our 5th game together but realistically our second game where we’ve interacted and it’s easy to see that youre a well rounded player who knows how to integrate yourself with people you display game sense and ability without coming off as a big threat that needs to be targeted 3) i literally can never tell if you actually hate me or if we’re friends or enemies or frenemies but despite that i still really like you and want to be your friend even if you hate me and idk why so good job on misting me i guess????

nicholas: Kiiiiiiiiiiiing i cant believe youre making me have to chooose ahhhhhh i mean theres just so many for so many different occasions but wow okay i think nothing has ever been as iconic as this http://68.media.tumblr.com/2da6f1baef40ca34d8d800938ba6e940/tumblr_of3p98IyeO1vzwwmeo4_250.gif

dana: Dana queen legendary icon the night you left i knew you were leaving (despite the valiant effort you put into trying to get me and ashton to vote with you and you almost had ashton so thanks for making me put in just that much more work to talk him down from it) but at that point out of respect for you and your game i just was like straight up ill be real with you because you deserve it… and because i knew you were leaving so building you up a little before you go to jury couldnt have hurt ;) BUT FOR REAL the things you did in this game left me shook over and over and over the way you speak and your ability to lay out valid strategic arguments that make it seem like they dont even benefit you its just all about the person youre talking to’s best interest…. Incredible and mesmerizing i LIVE for a binch that doesnt quit and your stamina and determination is truly incredible and ill say all this to you after the game and forever so dont think this is pandering because youve earned your Bad Ass badge for life

lily: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorry <3

[allmybadmemories-blog]

What a day yesterday. I'm not even sure what to cover. Well. Husband had been having a bad week at work and we decided in advance that Friday night we would just get drunk together for fun. We used to be Mormon so we only started drinking in the past 6 months and i have never been drunk, he has gotten low- level drunk. So we just wanted to see what that was all about. Well i had been working on editing a video in all my limited spare time and it was rough trying to find a video editor for Linux that doesn't crash non-stop but i finally did and worked on this video for like 6 hours over a couple days. Then for the final time i opened it, the video clips were somehow all screwed up beyond repair, so i was pretty frustrated. Husband comes home and I'm like, "can you believe this? Ugh!" just venting. And he says (totally straight) "i guess the world doesn't want you to be a YouTuber." i just stared and said something like "why would you say that" and i don't remember his response because my emotional fog was getting too thick, i just know that he got defensive. I took it all as him saying my aspirations are shit. That i should give up. After a lifetime of the people who are supposed to support me always trying to stop me from trying new things or making any progress, i don't take it well. I cussed him out real bad. He of course got offended and felt like this was an overreaction and an unwarranted attack. I ran away to as far from him as i could get and just crouched down and sobbed and starting having a panic attack. Idk it sounds so stupid but what he said really hurt me. It was so personal. After a while he came out and asked if i was ok, if there was something else going on because this seemed like too much for what had just hastened from his perspective. I told him that it really hurt that he would say i shouldn't do the things I've been trying to do and then doubled down on it when it clearly upset me. He said that he meant it jokingly. since it was a situation where we were so helpless, he always tried to laugh it off when things are like that. Man it did NOT come off as a joke AT ALL. There was NO HINT that it was not serious. Oh well. I have to believe him and if it wasn't quite as joking as he is now claiming to save face, he at least knows i have a boundary around that subject. So i calm down and i think we're ok... But he's getting worse throughout the day. He starts acting like my ex when he was angry depressed. I'm getting terrified. He's not violent but it's that brooding demeanour, trying to be stoic but obviously incredible emotionally volatile underneath. I'm just like TRIGGERED TRIGGERED TRIGGERED and acting half the time like super trying to make it ok and half the time like equally broody and cut off. We took off kid to a park and at some point he (kid) went running off and i just stayed with him, and i looked back and husband's head is on the table, then we go where i lose sight, then we come back to the table and husband is gone. And as a matter of training I'm freaking out thinking about all the places and ways one could kill oneself right here, that fast. And I'm pissed at him for acting like this because i never wanted to be in this situation again. I logically know He's probably not suicidal but this situation is too strong of a replay of weekly occurrences in my fist marriage. Well he had just gone back to the car to be angry depressed in there where no one would see it. He says some vague things about stress and having to make some tough decisions and some of then only have one option. I'm just like wtf he's going to dump me for not being perfect today. Fuck. I'm just sill freaking out inside. I try to apologize for sweating at him. I try to act normal or extra good and caring. And I'm like, is our drunk couch date off? He's like really mad...i was hoping we could get back to normal.. We go home. I'm taking care of the kid. I go downstairs and see husband lifting weights and doing pushups and it seems like he's going hard. Then he goes upstairs and i see him outside a couple times. Eventually he comes back and said he just ran an 8min mile (this it's the 1st time He's gone running in like 6 months at least) and that now that he has physically destroyed his body he's done giving any fucks and can be honest with me. And basically it hurt HIM really badly when i swore at him. But he's a dude and "can't" process and express emotions properly or whatever. Idk basically we both said the exact worst thing possible to each other that day. We rarely fight seriously. Then he decided we should still get drunk so we picked up some liquor and stuf and put the kid to bed. Well we drank too much too fast with too little food so it worked and it was terrible. Absolutely terrible. But anyway while drunk he was telling me about his girlfriend before me that he had sex with (despite ring to bee a good Mormon boy otherwise) which doesn't bother me because i already knew and have no hangups about his part relationships. Or so i thought. But later (still drunk) he told me that while i had fallen asleep for a bit he was talking about this other girl (who he has only mentioned in passing before). He met her on his mission and apparently, they fell in love but were being good mormons, missionaries can't date of course or even pretend to have a life or interests beyond preaching and converting. They would sit by each other and try to hold hands without holding hands. He said "we really loved each other." and that they were REALLY compatible. at first i thought this was heartbreakingly cute and sad. At this point i felt mentally fine, like my brain was rejecting metabolizing any more alcohol and i wad only physically sick. So i was perfectly aware, or at least it seemed like it. It was so sad to me, this person i love so much, in love and couldn't do anything about it. I wanted past him to be happy. I mean I'm not seeing i wish he ended up with her instead of me (though he probably would have :\) but i just like... Really wanted him to have had some good experiences and happy memories further down that path than pretending to hold hands. He also said He would have sex with her note if he had a chance, but only if i gave permission first. (This doesn't really bother me.) But today it is bothering me more. I'm just obsessing over her. It's not jealousy and it wasn't insecurity at first although i think that has started to develop after all day thinking about it. It's just like... My brain is chewing on it nonstop because it's a big new development about someone i love but i don't know very much about it. It's this giant question mark. I know she's incredibly gorgeous (or was at the time) like she is his idea of physically perfect and i know that im not. He says he loves me and is crazy about me anyway but. This isn't negging, i think, though it comes off badly with limited context. Then we talked about it a tiny bit more today and he did that a thing i missed while asleep was his confessing that she is his 'one true love' like if i was gone he would go for her. So i guess that's bothering me without more context or i don't know... Assurance? I am not afraid he will cheat on me. And i know that he chose to marry ME and that doesn't mean nothing. And we got married at a time that we believed in marriage for eternity, so it's not like he was biding his time with me til something better came along. And he has told me a hundred times that i am who he wants forever. And it was fairly innocuous, i think we all have this "i love my spouse so i don't want this to happen, but if one day I'm alone again, if really like to have a chance with " kinda thing. It's just my brain is chewing on it nonstop because it's new info and it's incomplete info. This girl lived across the world but a few years ago we saw her at the grocery store. So i know she moved to here and even lives nearby. But she is married (to a dumpy guy, he says) and "her nose got weird with pregnancy" I'm not worried about her. I'm just having nonsensical stress about this new info i guess. And i really love him and sometimes i think he deserves better than me. I need to be better. I need to be perfect. I should get in better shape. I need better style. He's so gorgeous. I need to match and when people he used to know see me, they think 'that makes sense he would have a wife like that' not 'oh.. How did that happen' I need to show him more that i love him and show him and do more things for him and just be more perfect I guess I'm a little scared he'll one day realize I'm not good enough for him. This feeling has been around before. It wasnt caused by this event, but maybe just brought up again by it. And i hate that i hurt him. And i always assume bad intentions when he does not have them because im just so used to being used or stepped on or derided. He's not like that. I should be past assuming the worst by now. Sometimes he is a little callous or careless though and those scattered instances reaffirm the bad conditioning so much stronger than all the good things.