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cmyknoise · 3 years

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"i will keep silent bc people dont like it when i dislike these two" i mean. who cares, its ur blog. do what u want! also theyre shit characters so 💖 speak ur mind

sajdd... they infuriate me. more than any other character.

uh, below! (this took extra long because lmao i was in call brr brr barking w/ a friend who missed the stream and we were both just, so mad at phil & techno)

they've never once lost, in so many definitions of that word. the closest techno has ever gotten to losing anything of value was ranboo, and the way that was treated pisses me off, but i digress for now.

i've watched almost every single dsmp lore stream since august of 2020. i've especially watched every single one for SBI. i want to note rq that this is nothing against c!phil or techno, because they're lovely people.

their characters just infuriate me.

i have gone on about c!phil before- about how you can trace almost every single problematic behavior that c!wilbur has back to his upbringing with phil we know about. the way phil has spoken about wilbur as a child is reminescent of a neglectful or misunderstanding parent. the fact that it was HIM who drove the sword through wilbur's chest, no one else, but he blames everyone else- and to this day hasnt apologized for it or even said he did it. he blames anything else.

we know they have a rocky relationship, its brought up constantly. wilbur put phil with schlatt when he talked about liars. he lied to him about his success- and yet he always goes back to him. he wants that validation from a father, and he never gets it.

c!phil gives out advice that is surface level decent advice to give people, but it ends there. i dont know if it's because he's incapable of reading the room, or if he's really that dense, or just doesnt care about anything but his own morals, or all of the above, but thus far he's given advice to c!tommy and c!wilbur, both times when they looked to exclusively him for advice, and in return they were both told they need to either change fundamentally, or accept it as entirely their fault something happened and apologize to everyone else. for tommy it was his fault that he got exiled and thats because he puts items above people, despite the fact that as a viewer we know thats false, but EVEN from phil's perspective he's never ONCE seen tommy do such a thing. actually, phil has witnessed tommy on multiple occasions have absolutely NOTHING and still defend people. but no, things like being exiled was because of the discs, not because of dream.

phil even has the forsight to admit that dream is creepy, that he's off, that he's no good. he said so! he said so after doomsday, that it was 'just business'. phil was one of the very few people to see tommy during exile, shortly before his party, he gave tommy boots. he saw the state tommy was in, ripped clothing, missing shoes, he saw the holes everywhere. the tent. the fact that dream was there.

so when he heard dream was in prison??? no bells went off? and he broke techno out because techno is a friend and that was a favor- EVEN THOUGH we also know their bond isnt completely solid because phil keeps secrets from techno! such as michael! phil has known about michael for over a year, he met him! he even knew that ranboo was at the very least, hanging out with tubbo. but he didnt tell techno because he feared how techno would react. thats not good. THAT IS NOT A GOOD THING.

but no he listened to techno to break dream out despite feeling 'off' about it. the syndicate makes me mad. for something that is supposed to be a community where they make decisions together, no members wanted to speak up that they didnt want to do the prison break out? feels off.

but THEN. right after the prison break out, when tommy came running to him he has the audacity to be mad at dream for going after tommy right away, calling him a wrongun or whatever the fuck. NO SHIT? ever think maybe there was a reason he was in prison???

but god even when tommy was under his "protection" phil like, made it painfully obvious that he's just tolerating tommy, going along. he had to point out that the walls wouldnt work. mind you, he did this WITH ghostboo, meaning he absolutely KNOWS ranboo is dead. he kept brushing tommy's concerns off, even when he SAW the fall pit.

this isnt even onto wilbur yet. ive made posts before, phil has been and has always been a shit father and grandfather. the way he treat fundy too was just, utterly inexcusable and awful, even despite the whole butcher army thing. he forgave tubbo, but wouldnt even give fundy the time of day to step on the property. and when they finally DID speak, he accused fundy of misremembering or lying about l'manburg and manburg, despite fundy having LIVED THROUGH IT, just because it didnt match his own perception of believed events.

just, oh my god i'd go into more detail if i could think coherently but i am just tired and enraged at an old man.

it hurts so much with wilbur you know. just. he has his son, someone he killed before, in front of him. there should be red flags and alarm bells ringing about the way wilbur spoke of himself. it should be familiar, you'd think, of wilbur's final moments with him. the way he speaks and thinks of himself. and all phil can offer is cookies and 'maybe you should distance yourself from everyone you think you've wronged'

and oh my god the way he treated tommy. "the child". hitting him away. not giving him snacks until wilbur insisted

and i've not even SPOKEN about c!techno man.

c!techno genuinely- im sorry pogtopia? he wasn't used as a weapon. he was an ally. i utterly hate the whole 'the blade' thing, thats his nickname, hell, its his last name he signed legal papers that way!

in pogtopia they all had fun moments. maybe in the end, he was a good ally because of power, but NO one ever asked him to make the armor and weapons. never. he was only ever asked to make a potato farm. no one asked him to gear everyone up.

would they have lost the battle? maybe! though in the end it was everyone against only a few.

i just... techno has never given an apology to someone that mattered, not a full apology, and his apology the tubbo was never full.

but he expects apologies from everyone else. he for some reason, cant be viewed as an antagonist, even though he is literally the antagonist for over half the server and has been since november 16th.

people have apologized to him time and time again but he doesn't care. he wants more.

and today when wilbur apologized his first thoughts weren't anything about wilbur, it was once again about himself. was anyone else against him? wilbur said he didnt know and techno would bring it up again. wilbur apoogized again and told him to ask them.

and techno just went 'yeah okay' and forgave him, but wilbur never needed forgiveness from techno, that's one of the last people he needed it from.

it beyond pisses me off that c!techno and c!phil can over and over again hurt people, and cause pain, but then avoid the blame. sure it was sam who drove a sword through ranboo's chest, but that would've never happened if techno and phil didn't break dream out of prison.

and dream never needed broken out. phil didnt even want to, but he did for techno. which. mind you, hot take? the c!emerald duo friendship is lowkey toxic.

phil cant trust techno enough to tell him about michael. he feared he'd 'do something' and so he lied to him about tubbo and ranboo for months.

phil also can't seem to say no to techno, ever? he cant ever say 'this isnt a good idea.', even if he thinks its not. because in his minds eye techno is either always right, or the ends justify the means just because its techno.

and there's the 'for you the world phil' thing, but have we ever been shown that? and has techno EVER asked phil his opinion about things because i cant recall a time.

but no, phil will criticize tommy for his friendship with tubbo, because he put 'discs over his friend', even though that isn't true, and phil wasnt even there to witness the disc confrontation, and has never seen any evidence of tommy doing that, but can make a basis to claim 'maybe tubbo wasnt much of a friend'.

the difference is tubbo and tommy both have the gall to say 'this is a shit idea' and either go along with each other, or stop one another from doing something. they had their ups and downs but they chose each other and would ask each other their thoughts. they have their faults but emerald duo is NO better, and maybe even, in my opnion, a little worse. but clearly im a bit biased.

this is literally just me ranting & rambling, because i have no uh, time rn to do an analysis and point out every thing that they've done, even though i could. i have done quite a bit with phil and his treatment towards wilbur, its somewhere on my blog.

they're at the very least antagonists and it just, upsets me greatly that they're framed as the good guys, that everyone needs to forgive or ignore their wrong doing, even though they've hurt so many, even those they consider 'friends' (niki & ranboo).

c!phil is a neglectful father and grandfather who is so stuck in thinking he's right that he cant see red flags and alarms of his son being suicidal again.

c!techno is so full of himself that even when he loses someone he cares dearly about, he cant bring him up more than once and is 'done' with it once he's 'completed' a task of saving his son, leaving a widowed husband and his son to be on their own.

whatever, i dont like them, ive not liked them for a very long time and every time i think 'maybe ill give them a chance' it always disappoints.

#dsmp #dream smp #c!techno crit #c!phil crit #<- i tagged them i literally dont want to hear anyone complaining #i wont change my mind until their characters change and do something proving they have #maybe ill do a proper analysis later but im too fired up rn #rant #lemon answers #ask #sajdd

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demonxlove · 3 years

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【character analysis ― douma】

✎ just wanna start this by saying this is sort of both an analysis but also my own personal portrayal on douma’s character based on what we see from canon, so it definitely has a lot of my own opinions on it. & and it also sort of shows how i plan to write him if/when i get requests for him. you don’t have to agree with any of my thoughts but ya know i wanted to share them since douma is my fave character!

✘ warnings before you read: cults, mental illnesses, mentions of death and trauma, especially childhood trauma (that partially stems from neglect) - also not so much a warning but this is very long and obviously contains manga spoilers.

⇢ let’s be completely honest here, douma is an extremely complex character. and while we know a lot about him, at the same time, it’s almost like we know barely anything. we don’t really know an extreme amount of what goes through his head, but it’s kind of just assumed he’s a completely emotionless character, usually stated to be a psychopath because of this.

⇢ i really, really urge anyone labeling a character with a mental illness to do research on it before even considering to use the term, i should mention. and it’s very important to mention mental illnesses are very different to how they effect each person. but from what i understand, both psychopaths and sociopaths (just in case that term gets thrown around too) feel emotions, just very differently to how someone not suffering from the mental illness does. now since i don’t have either illness i’m not gonna say douma is either one, as i personally don’t feel comfortable diagnosing characters with mental illnesses i don’t have or haven’t very clearly been stated they have in canon, but it’s very important to have a very clear understanding of those illnesses if you’re gonna say douma is one.

⇢ but regardless of how you see douma mental illness wise, i personally think he does have emotions, they’re just obviously not as clear as others due to his upbringing. and we do see he has emotions as a kid, shown very clearly by him crying due to everything these grown adults were piling on to him.

⇢ he’s very obviously upset. and why wouldn’t he be? to hear such things from adults day in and day out as a child, being expected to be the one to solve their problems? it’s stressful. it eventually leads up to what we see of his parents death. he’s not upset. he doesn’t really feel any sadness for the two. but that can be explained.

⇢ his parents never acted as parents to him. from the moment of his birth douma was just an object for them to create this cult. i don’t really know what they wanted from it: money? fame? who knows. but it doesn’t really matter. douma was just something for them to use in order to gain what they wanted. even if they did genuinely believe he was a special child, their actions sure didn’t show that. and while douma said that he felt sad they believed he was special, douma was a child. his parents had no reason to show their genuine intentions to him, so we’ll never really know what they thought. but as i said, they didn’t seem to care much how messed up he became as long their cult was in place. douma never had a chance to live a normal childhood, he was placed on a high pedestal from birth and never got to be child. never got to really understand things he should understand. he couldn’t understand actual genuine love from his parents or if he actually loved him. sure, he could feel things such as happiness and love and all of that, but if he did feel it, how could you ever expect him to know? he was in such a constant horrible state, how would he ever know how positive emotions even felt?

⇢ to go back to his parents deaths for a second, even if he didn’t feel anything, it didn’t mean it didn’t cause him any suffering. he was a child, that sort of thing you don’t come out from without trauma. especially since he saw it happened with own eyes. and that probably significantly worsened his already poor mental state. but that also means he was raised from that moment by the cult, and his chance of every coming out okay was straight up zero. let’s be real, the only reason douma has any sort of hold over the cult is because he is their object of worship. they didn’t treat him like a child or even a human being. he was nothing more than someone for them to worship and believe in that they would be blessed. of course, it’s a cult, so most of these people are victims much like douma himself, but the fact there had to be people at the top that were raising him and used him to accomplish their own goals. to use his influence as they saw fit.

⇢ and it was never ending cycle, he never got out of it. all he did was learn to keep the cycle going since he couldn’t simply just leave. and maybe there were moments where he thought himself to be happy due to having so many people worship him, but it wasn’t true happiness.

⇢ maybe the first bit of happiness he got was from being a demon and getting to interact with other demons? unclear since it’s not like we really saw it. but it was different. it was a small crack in the cycle. but those demons all ended up hating him due to his attitude, that despite no one liking he still kept up. why? why didn’t he just act in a way to make others like him?

⇢ maybe it’s a reach, but to me personally, it’s a mixture of how he desired to be - carefree without any troubles - mixed with how he imagined a child to act. like i said, he had basically no childhood, and it’s not uncommon for those who never get to experience a proper childhood to act more childlike later on to my understanding. he even uses terms like “bully” to describe people much like a child would.

⇢ however, this brings me to what i truly believe was one of the few happy times in douma’s life: kotoha.

⇢ i don’t think he realized it himself, because why would he? but he cared for a lot more than one would believe capable for him. i’m not sure if i would call it romantic or purely platonic, but kotoha was genuinely important to him. i mean, what purpose would he ever have to say he didn’t plan to hurt her? he wanted to keep that small bit of happiness in his life, maybe in somewhere deep in his heart he even believed they could be their own happy little family to break this never ending tragic cycle he went through.

⇢ but he lost that happiness. she grew scared of him and basically hated him in his eyes upon finding out the truth. and the cycle of tragedy continued once again.

⇢ and to really come to my last point: we’ve seen douma mad.

⇢ and i suppose some could write this scene off as him continuing to be emotionless, but it doesn’t explain the way it’s drawn. the shading on his face that is usually used to show anger. or why he would ever really care about what kanao said in the first place if it was actually true and it didn’t hurt him in some way. the reality is douma does many things that can’t be explained for someone who supposedly has no emotions. and a lot of these details about his character are more subtle, so maybe they mean nothing at all at the end of the day, but in my personal opinion this is how i interpret them.

✎ but that’s really how i see douma, another demon with an extremely tragic story, but one that doesn’t come to light just how tragic until you think more on it. and that is how i do plan to portray him when writing for him personally! maybe i’ll do this more for other characters at some point, but he was the one i wanted to talk about the most since i just have so many thoughts on douma.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #douma #kny #kny douma #doma #kny doma #demon slayer douma #demon slayer doma #character analysis #demon slayer spoilers #kny spoilers

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smp-live · 3 years

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Was scrolling through c!Wilbur crit blogs again and it got me thinking about why exactly I argue in favour of him so much so here’s a random ramble (that got long) about it:

Most c!Wilbur critics (at least, in the tag, not directly post-lore stream. The ones that do actual analysis on him) are like... really reasonable about it, actually, lmao. Like it’s mostly just calling him a bad person because of power hunger/manipulation/being a bad dad/whatever else. (Not talking about antis. I mean people who are really critical of him, but recognize that he’s a well-crafted character with nuance.)

Which I agree with! I consider myself an apologist, my writing and analysis leans really sympathetic, and I still agree that he’s a shitty rat bastard that I would run far away from irl. Even at the beginning of the story, he’s very morally grey, sometimes using underhanded persuasion tactics, doing ehh things like stealing, and it only gets worse from there.

But on the other hand, he’s... not that bad. Like I saw one person say about c!Dream, “My reaction to most critique of him is... so what?” and that’s how I feel about c!Wilbur, I suppose. Yeah, he tried to rig an election - but it was a last-ditch effort at not going full dictator, he didn’t follow through, and later on he - in part - decided to blow it up because they couldn’t get it back while being democratic. And yeah, he manipulated people - all in all, it wasn’t really really bad things, mostly to paint himself in a better light because of his insecurities, and people sometimes fall into manipulative language without even outwardly realizing that it’s a shitty thing to do. Of course, that shows a bigger underlying problem in their mindset and the way they interpret relationships and possession, but then that’s a different discussion - and definitely one that applies to c!Wilbur.

(Not saying he doesn’t ever intentionally manipulate people. I think that a. sometimes it might be accidental, (”If you wanna be President you’re gonna have to get on my good side,” mans was Not thinking straight,) and b. other times he falls into old habits/coping mechanisms that happen to be manipulation, (Tommy at Las Nevadas.) Other than the election and maybe some times in the early founding of L’Manberg, I can’t think of any moments where I’m like, “Yeah, he is Purposefully Manipulating here.” And even then, it just doesn’t strike me as a terrible thing. People manipulate, it’s a thing they do. That’s it. A morally grey action.)

And I think the majority of the reason I make more posts painting him in a positive light and don’t really discuss my critique of him is because it feels like the fandom has an overwhelming bias of hatred/crit, even if a lot of that isn’t, y’know, proper analysis of his character. I instinctively want to balance it out for this character I love/relate to, because a lot of what I see straight-up ignores the lighter side of his moral-greyness.

Like, a while back, I posted a couple clips from late-election arc, of Wilbur talking about how he feels about Fundy siding with Quackity and against him. And the way I initially saw it while watching was, “Okay. He feels betrayed by his son who disagrees with his politics - and thus, him as a person, because your politics are a reflection of your identity, especially in Wilbur’s mind - and it’s perfectly understandable that he’d want to vent about that in private to a close friend. On the other hand, he should be able to recognize that Fundy’s allowed to be his own person and shouldn’t be babied. Fundy is in the right, here, but Wilbur’s feelings shouldn’t be dismissed.”

But then 90% of the tags were just straight-up hate for c!Wilbur, going as far as to say that he should die again. (And this was after we found out how bad the afterlife was for him.) That fucking floored me. I just couldn’t understand how they took this nuanced character aching for ‘the son he knew’ back (hm. very similar to c!Phil, actually) and turned it into ‘wow. This suicidal man sucks and should maybe die.’ I was so close to making a post defending him before realizing - I was letting fandom bias against a character push me further onto the sympathetic side.

And that’s such a fuckin’ weird thing to have happen, because you’d think that exposure to negativity about a character would make you feel more negative about them? But without fail, every time I scroll through the crit tag, or read a critical post about c!Wilbur/L’Manberg, I maybe lean a bit more towards that side for a few hours before swinging back hard onto the apologist side. Because a lot of the critique, to me, is really just, “so what?” after I let it stew a bit.

Then there’s the whole mental health issue. Obviously it doesn’t excuse the shit he did - I know people who have been in the middle of breakdowns and the stuff they say still fucking hurts, even if they didn’t truly mean it. But recognizing that he needs help? That for pretty much all his time on-screen, he was depressed and paranoid, which obviously affects the way he acts? That’s obvious. And were he in the position to get professional help - which he deserves - everything would be much better off. That’s the root of my apologism, I think: He deserves to get better. He’s not inherently evil, or bad, just a fucked up little man who’s ruined his own life and needs help. I want to see him, specifically him, get better.

Narratively, his punishment has been extreme and disproportionate. Every mistake, every choice - good or bad - has led to suffering, on his part. Start a fun little rebellion, maybe to gain some power? War and betrayal. Declare an election to consolidate said power? Lose, and get exiled. Blow up a nation? Die, and even in the afterlife, he can't catch a break. Purely as a sympathetic human, it feels like he deserves to rest. Deserves to heal.

But even medicated and less anxious, or going to therapy for his neuroticism and depression, or whatever, he still would be quite morally grey. A lot of his manipulation, his power hunger, comes from this neuroticism; from needing to feel safe and needed, (just like Quackity.) Not all of it, though. He’d still have his unhealthy ideals about relationships and possession, for example. Less prominent, sure, but still there. Some people, I feel, discount how tied up with his mental illness it is, while others don’t really recognize that it’s also a personality problem. Like, changing those beliefs is changing part of who he fundamentally is, as a person.

Actually, I think the c!Wilbur apologist community, in general, tends to scapegoat his mental illness a little too much? Not in that we explain his actions with it or ask people not to villainize it, (although sometimes I feel that what we call villainizing mental illness is a bit excessive, but it’s not my place to talk about that as someone who doesn’t really relate to Pogtopia!Wilbur,) but in that we use it in discussions a lot. Which is fair, because it permeates every single aspect of his character, but even without it he’d have toxic traits? Like his possessiveness is not purely a byproduct of his mental illness, imo. Nor is his treatment of Fundy. It’s amplified by it, surely, but that little seed of it is there in the first place. Just as c!Dream’s abuse needs to be addressed as a central part of his character, c!Wilbur’s possessiveness does too - and also outside of the context of their mental health, because they’re both brought on by an internal personality flaw, some fucked-up belief, if that makes sense.

As I said before: c!Wilbur is a mess of a human being that I would hate if I actually met. (irl I would’ve been a SWAG supporter, based on policies, but since this is fiction, I was POG.) But because he’s a character, that flies out the window, and I can love him - not even just as a character, in the sense that I appreciate he’s well-crafted, but in terms of personality and all that shit, while recognizing he’s a kinda crappy guy. Because he’s a character. That’s the fun of it.

#Enderspeak #idk just musing and working out thoughts that got long but I actually kinda like #I think I'm gonna try to not let that bias sway me as much anymore. write more crit posts even if they're made with love in my heart <3 #I might have to stick a disclaimer on them though because each time I get a pure hate comment part of my soul shrivels #You can also tell I've been reading a lot of books/treatises written by old white guys recently because I feel like my opinion #on everything is needed and wanted lol #Also on the villainization thing: if someone who does feel okay talking about it could write a response with their thoughts #that'd be neat #Because I. don't know how to phrase what I'm thinking in a way that feels right & not like I'm butting in somewhere I don't belong #But I'm not saying it's a bad/wrong thing. Sometimes I just see a post of someone complaining and I'm like #''Is it really?'' but I don't really have a personal frame of reference to know so #take my words with a grain of salt - I will defer to those who know better #Actually take this whole post with a grain of salt I might hate it in a few hours #Update from a few hours later: well I don't disagree with what I said but it's a bit more extreme than I'd put it now so

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cornappreciation · 3 years

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It's been a while. Episode 40 discussion post below! Spoilers, obviously.

hi! wow! its been a while! sorry about that, brainrot said i have to think about nothing but warrior cats for like six months straight so ive been busy with that. but im back, hopefully? not sure if anyone really recognizes my specifically (or if they ever did), but anyways. since i didnt make an analysis post for the past,,, two (?) episodes, some of my cited evidence will just be "trust me bro" as i dont have notes to look back on, only my own memory. now! episode 40!

this episode was very corn-heavy, so that's gonna be the focal point of this post. ok, time for a quick recap. ive already established in my previous episode analysis / theory posts that corn is almost definitely been *replaced* by xolotl, not possessed or altered. its also likely the beast in the cave near metztli is quetzalcoatl (though this could be a manifestation of xolotl as well), and xolotl is trying to rid of him (this is why im working on the assumption is it quetzalcoatl and not xolotl in the reflections, however this could be some amalgamate of the two "getting rid" of xolotl….. who knows!). im going against my previous theories here! i said in a previous post the shadowy figures were likely xolotl, but im leaning towards corn here in the replacement theory, ill detail why later in this post. he also said at some point in episode 40 that he "got rid of his negative traits" (paraphrasing) which could be a reference ot getting rid of his twin. As for the evidence for replacing rather than possession: mind the difference in hairstyle in his human form, difference in facial markings, and his lack of transformation back into nagual form (likely because it would be markedly different. it could be that xolotls nagual form is reminiscent on corn's dream self with the face covered in hands? yall know what im talking about, ill cite the episode later. but this is unrelated).

All of this happened directly after he failed to shoot the mercy bow. Not sure if the mercy bow or the town is relevant here, but i figured its worth bringing up. This scene in episode 35 is the last we see of regular corn. He has been in human form since this point. He seemed to panic while holding the bow, which could be a mark of his personality in general, *or* something to do with being in metztli, bringing us back to the monster in the cave the citizens of metztli keep at bay with blood. This beast is likely xolotl (although as ive outlined above this could be an incorrect assessment) when the gang first enters the town, and has perhaps "switched places" with corn, leaving quetzalcoatl trapped in xolotl's reflection. This ties back to episode 40 itself, with xolotl (im going to be referring to the impostor as xolotl from now on, its easier for me) requesting that the nurses remove the mirror from his room and give him a wooden spoon rather than a metal one (that could give off his reflection). I'm not sure what this means for corn himself, perhaps xolotl just doesn't want to look at and be reminded of him, or this could be a strategy for getting rid of him? if anyone has any ideas feel free to tell me lol. Not super clear here. Maybe it can be explained by the mythos?

back! to! the! mercy! bow! which isnt really relevant to episode 40. most of this post isnt relevant to episode 40! because i think this episode mostly served to build tension and let us get to know xolotl a little better. but why not give myself a refresher and go back into some of my old stuff? just to get the ball rolling again. ive said in previous posts that i thought the reason the quetzalcoatl and xolotl,,, "thing" happened was because of the mercy bow presumably being destroyed or lost during the eruption of the red tezcatlipoca, since it isnt seen on screen after this happens. im going to tentatively retract this! i dont think its right (though it IS still a possibility….. maybe xolotl was able to take over bc corn disappeared WITH the bow??? but im not sure if the fact he was never able to use the bow disproves this……. hm.) we know *corn* is the proper wielder of it, yes, but i honestly think its more to do with the spooky cave than the bow (something i overlooked previously). its possible the bow being destroyed allowed xolotl to take over? honestly kind of stumped on xolotls method here. its also possible that my replacement theory is totally off mark and theres something im missing!

heres a timeline rq, starting with the gang entering metztli. corn and others enter metztli. they make their way to the temple with the mercy bow. corn attempted to use it, but is scared off by something or otherwise flys away for an unknown reason. this is the last we see on him. he appears only in human form from here on, with his altered facial markings and hairstyle a mark of him being changed. my theory explains this as xolotl pretending to be quetzalcoatl, from some point after corn left the temple and the red eruption. xolotl is likely the creature in the spooky cave the citizens of metztli keep at bay with blood. somehow, xolotl trapped corn in his place (his reflection), while he roams free, pretending to be corn. he avoids reflections of himself (as a shadowy figure is seen on them. This figure is likely corn. Others can see this reflection, as we see a guy at Blackwell drop his spoon after noticing it), and is "maliciously compliant" (uncooperative) with authority. It's likely he purposefully "got rid" of corn, as he says in episode 40 that he got rid of his "negative qualities". spooky! but this episode did not bring a lot of answers. great way to build up tension though! loved the constantly clock ticking as a buildup. cant wait for the next ep :)

apologies if anything ive stated has already been speculated on or confirmed otherwise ! like i said, i havent been active in a while (i even stopped using my main blog, so i dont use tumblr too often), so for all i know i could be the only person left in the no evil fandom on tumblr. feel free to add onto this or correct me or anything ive gotten wrong! ive missed interacting with yall on these theory posts :) might add on more later if i have any revelations.

#No evil #No evil Betsy Lee #Betsy Lee no evil #Corn no evil #Quetzalcoatl no evil #No evil corn #I forgot what tags I used to use AAA #Xolotl no evil #No evil quetzalcoatl

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caseyah · 4 years

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.flow

I just finished playing through .flow, so I think I’ll try to give my full thoughts and interpretations on a lot of I found and experienced in the game (in the form of a series of points, because my thoughts are scattered even at the best of times).

for now I will be just be tackling characters roughly in order of how relevant I believe them to be to Sabitsuki’s life and experiences, while I will talk about Sabitsuki (and, by extension, Rust) at a later time.

CHARACTERS:

Black-Haired Girl / Onigo: Sabitsuki’s life began with a death. Specifically, the death of her mother. Onigo represents the very few things Sabitsuki both remembers about her mother (her distinctive long black hair and blue dress) and what she was told by the hospital staff (the fact that she died giving birth to Sabitsuki). The reason why she dies so often in the game itself (childbirth event, every time you encounter her as Rust) is because thats all Sabitsuki can relate her with. Sabitsuki also likely feels guilt in relation to "causing” her mother’s death, as she manifests the idea in the form of the incredibly visceral Childbirth Event.

Oreko: Sabitsuki’s childhood friend, another child who either “lived” in the hospital like Sabitsuki or simply another kid who met Sabitsuki during a time she was in the hospital. Oreko would grow interested in technology and machines as she grew older, eventually becoming something of a mechanic/scientist (though Sabitsuki likely never exactly understood what Oreko’s machines were, which is probably was she internalized them as looking quite bizarre and scary). She also likely had a very big interest in the seas, explaining why she wears the divers helmet and why Sabitsuki associates her with the ocean. Oreko was Sabitsuki’s only companion in any sense throughout the majority of her life, someone who was there for Sabitsuki no matter how much abuse Sabi sustained from society or no matter how bad Sabi’s illness got. Unfortunately, Oreko’s life would eventually be cut short. Sabitsuki most likely never figured out how her best friend perished and was likely in denial about it for some time before making peace with it (Finding Oreko’s ghost requires interacting with her “alive” self a decent amount, and the area her specter is found in is relatively calm compared to most other areas containing significant characters). Oreko’s final appearance to Rust in deadhole could be the last remaining shred of “normal” Sabitsuki having one last memory of her best friend, before she disappears and only Rust remains.

School Girl/Kaibutsu Sabitsuki: Sabitsuki’s manifestation of what she once was/fears she could become again, the one who was harmed by and later took revenge on Smile and the one Sabitsuki is always running from to some extent. School was likely a very, very bad time for Sabitsuki on a personal level, possibly due to Oreko’s death (though there isn’t anything that really indicates when Oreko’s death happened in relation to Sabitsuki’s life so it could be for any currently unknown reason). Kaibutsu Sabitsuki is what Sabitsuki remembers herself as during that time: a violent monster who hurt the only person Sabitsuki was even remotely close to at the time.

Smile: Though Smile is obviously a very significant person in Sabitsuki’s life, exactly what their relationship was and Smile’s history in general is very vague. His appearance in Disposal is likely a representation of his first meeting with Sabitsuki, as he isn’t wearing his usual outfit and lacks his tattoos (their appearance while as Rust may just be because Rust always sees Smile as his “true” self) and seems to react to Sabitsuki’s presence with mild confusion more then anything else. They later met properly during school, where by this point Smile had gained his tattoos and they obviously had formed a relationship of some sort (whether it was just an acquaintanceship, a friendship, or something more significant isn’t exactly clear but Smile was at least comfortable enough around Sabitsuki to have her visit his house and meet his sister). Unfortunately, their ambiguous relationship didn’t last. Sabitsuki’s corrupted school event shows what I believe is likely the end of their relationship and the last time they ever interacted with eachother. For one reason or another, and I suspect the cause was likely Sabitsuki herself, Smile attacked Sabi in the basement of the school. On a personal level, Sabitsuki likely viewed this as an injustice against herself (even if Smile was likely only doing what had to be done) which is why Rust later imagines herself getting revenge against the boy.

The Cleaners: The Cleaners are people who “clean up” (i.e. kill) those with the illness Sabitsuki suffers from. At some point in the past, they massacred the residents of the hospital Sabitsuki was staying in (as seen in 0.16) but left her alive for whatever reason, taking her away to live an actual life beyond the hospital walls. Why they spared Sabitsuki specifically isn’t something I can explain really, but its possible she was simply much less far along in her illness compared to the others and had the potential to be “saved”. Sabitsuki likely doesn’t view the Cleaners as a threat or “enemies” as it were and rather seems fairly neutral about them despite understanding what they do on some level (as seen by obtaining the limbless effect from one’s chainsaw). The Cleaners also had a second purpose asides from their main directive: working at the Sugar Hole (or whatever its “real” equivalent may be). Given Sabitsuki’s fondness of the place (it being one of very few areas in .flow that aren’t directly threatening or foreboding in some way), its possible The Cleaners brought her to the Sugar Hole shortly after leaving the Hospital with Sabi.

The Girl In The Yellow Dress: Buried far in Sabitsuki’s subconscious are the few memories focused on a mysterious girl known only for her faded, dirty yellow dress. Though not strictly always buried far beneath (being seen in Deterioration very easily while smoking in the hall) and never reacting to Sabi’s presence, she is clearly someone Sabitsuki lost tragically and has done her best to bury all the remaining memories of. So, who is this girl? Though my theory is abit shakier thanks to just how vague a character she is, I believe the Yellow Dress Girl to have been a sex worker who briefly acted as Sabitsuki’s caretaker before she somehow met her end. Maybe through knowing the Cleaners somehow or just being in the right place at the right time, this girl ended up as the guardian to a young Sabitsuki. Working as a prostitute (either already her job or something she took up to support Sabitsuki), the young Sabitsuki grew to genuinely appreciate this girl as a motherly figure and they briefly shared a legitimately nice life together (as seen in the “sugar float days” event). However, it didn’t last, and thanks to the darker side of her job creeping up and taking over her life, the Yellow Dress Girl ended up separated from Sabitsuki and possibly even dead. Sabitsuki, unable to properly deal with the trauma of losing someone who did so much for her and she held so dearly, repressed the memories of her and pushed the Yellow Dress Girl into the furthest points of her mind, where memories of the good times were fleeting and brief while memories of the end lingered unchanging.

Little Sabitsuki: Little Sabitsuki is fairly self-explanatory: she represents how Sabitsuki remembers herself as a child, either weak and bedridden (hospital), or lost and forgotten (snow world). Little Sabi’s condition worsening as regular Sabitsuki’s does could represent just how sick Sabi truly believes she is, unable to see even her past self as anything but diseased and broken. Sabitsuki never got to experience a “proper” childhood, she has no memories beyond the hospital, the overgrown halls, and the cold.

The Inner Demon: Underneath it all, this is how Sabitsuki truly sees herself. A bloody, diseased demon who exists only to cause suffering to both the world and people around her, aswell as her self. A manifestation of all of Sabitsuki’s sins and wrongdoings in the form of a dark mirror, buried so far deep within Sabitsuki’s subconscious the idea of confronting it leads Sabi to vomit her own blood in anxiety and terror. Only once Sabitsuki sheds her sense of self and becomes Rust can she properly confront her demon. The years and years of self-loathing building up from her birth, to her disease, to the loss of her friends, to the loss of control, to the loss of her self, leads Rust to perform a metaphorical suicide as she beats the demon to death as the final action taken in her own subconscious.

Kaibutsu: What Sabitsuki fears she will become should her illness completely take over. They take the form of grown-up versions of her fellow children at the hospital, possibly meaning that she believes all of them would be doomed to become a Kaibutsu, or perhaps that she saw multiple children become Kaibutsu at the hospital.

Fetuses: Sabitsuki’s physical manifestation of her illness, only appearing by the time Rust takes over (as while Sabitsuki rejects and is terrified of the illness, Rust embraces it).

Takibi-san: A homeless girl Sabitsuki spent a small amount of time around after leaving the hospital. Sabi mostly remembers her thanks to Takibi’s distinctive pink hair, a very uncommon trait in .flow’s world.

While this is all for now, I do plan to do a similar analysis for Sabitsuki and Rust. If that goes well enough and I still feel up to it afterwards, I will do another two analysises for the maps and the effects.

#.flow #smile #oreko #smile (.flow)#analysis #.flow (game)#sabitsuki #rust #.flow spoilers #spoilers #theory

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inu-fiction · 6 years

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PSA: Stuff You Maybe Didn’t Realize You Can Back Up To AO3, And How To Tag it

Tumblr seems to be in potential death throes or at least, incredibly volatile and unreliable lately, but we’ve done some pretty good and informative work on canon analysis and reference guides so I was looking for ways to back it up without losing it...and the solution became obvious to me: Archive of Our Own, aka AO3. “What?” you might ask if you are less familiar with their TOS. “Isn’t that just a fanfic archive??” No! It’s a fanWORK archive. It is an archive for fanworks in general! “Fanwork” is a broad term that encompasses a lot of things, but it doesn’t just include fanfic and fanart, vids etc; it also includes “fannish” essays and articles that fall under what’s often called “meta” (from the word for “beyond” or “above”, referencing that it goes beyond the original exact text)! The defining factor of whether Archive of Our Own is the appropriate place to post it is not whether or not it’s a fictional expansion of canon (fanfic), though that is definitely included - no, it’s literally just “is this a work by a ‘fan’ intended for other ‘fannish’ folks/of ‘fannish’ interest?” The articles we’ve written as a handy reference to the period-appropriate Japanese clothing worn by Inuyasha characters? The analyses of characters? The delineations of concrete canon (the original work) vs common “fanon” (common misconceptions within the fandom)? Even the discussion of broader cultural, historical, and geographic context that applies to the series and many potential fanworks? All of those are fannish nonfiction! Which means they absolutely can (and will) have a home on AO3, and I encourage anybody who is wanting to back up similar works of “fannish interest” - ranging from research they’ve done for a fic, to character analyses and headcanons - to use AO3 for it, because it’s a stable, smooth-running platform that is ad-free and unlike tumblr, is run by a nonprofit (The OTW) that itself is run by and for the benefit of, fellow fans. Of course, that begs the question of how to tag your work if you do cross-post it, eh? So on that note, here’s a quick run-down of tags we’re finding useful and applicable, which I’ve figured out through a combination of trial and error and actually asking a tag wrangler (shoutout to @wrangletangle for their invaluable help!): First, the Very Broad: - “ Nonfiction ”. This helps separate it from fanfic on the archive, so people who aren’t looking for anything but fanfic are less likely to have to skim past it, whereas people looking for exactly that content are more likely to find it. - while “Meta” and “Essay” and even “Information” are all sometimes used for the kinds of nonfiction and analytical works we post, I’ve been told “ Meta Essay ” is the advisable specific tag for such works. This would apply to character analyses, reference guides to canon, and even reference guides to real-world things that are reflected in the canon (such as our articles on Japanese clothing as worn by the characters). The other three tags are usable, and I’ve been using them as well to cover my bases, but they’ll also tend to bring up content such as “essay format” fanfic or fanfic with titles with those words in them - something that does not happen with “Meta Essay”.

- I’ve also found by poking around in suggested tags, that “ Fanwork Research & Reference Guides ” is consistently used (even by casual users) for: nonfiction fannish works relating to analyses of canon materials; analyses of and meta on fandom-specific or fanwork-specific tropes; information on or guides to writing real-world stuff that applies to or is reflected in specific fandoms' media (e.g. articles on period-appropriate culture-specific costuming and how to describe it); and expanded background materials for specific fans' fanworks (such as how a given AU's worldbuilding is supposed to be set up) that didn't fit within the narrative proper and is separated out as a reference for interested readers. Basically, if it's an original fan-made reference for something specific to one or more fanworks, or a research aid for writing certain things applicable to fanworks or fannish interests in general, then it can fall under that latter tag.

- You should also mark it with any appropriate fandom(s) in the “Fandom” field. Just like you would for a fanfic, because of course, the work is specifically relevant to fans of X canon, right? If it discusses sensitive topics, or particular characters, etc., you should probably tag for those. E.g. “death” or “mental illness”, “Kagome Higurashi”, etc.

Additionally, if you are backing it up from a Tumblr you may wish to add: - “ Archived From Tumblr “ and/or “ Cross-Posted From Tumblr ” to reference the original place of publication, for works originally posted to tumblr. (I advise this if only because someday, there might not be “tumblr” as we know it, and someone might be specifically looking for content that was originally on it, you never know) - “ Archived From [blog name] Blog ”; this marks it as an archived work from a specific blog. And yes, I recommend adding the word “blog” in there for clarity- Wrangletangle was actually delighted that I bothered to tag our first archived work with “Archived From Inu-Fiction Blog” because being EXTREMLY specific about things like that is super helpful to the tag wranglers on AO3, who have to decide how to categorize/”syn” (synonym) various new tags from alphabetized lists without context of the original posting right in front of them. In other words, including the name AND the word “blog” in it, helps them categorize the tag on the back end without having to spend extra time googling what the heck “[Insert Name Here]” was originally.

Overall, you should be as specific and clear as possible, but those tags/tag formats should prove useful in tagging it correctly should you choose to put fannish essays and articles up on AO3 :) Oh, and protip sidebar for those posting, especially works that are more than plain text: you can make archiving things quicker and easier for yourself, but remember to plan ahead for tumblr’s potential demise/disabling/service interruptions. The good news: You can literally copy and paste the ENTIRE text of a tumblr post from say, an “edit” window, on tumblr, straight into AO3′s Rich Text Format editor, and it will preserve pretty much all or almost all of the formatting - such as bold, italics, embedded links, etc! But the bad news: keep in mind that while AO3 allows for embedded images and it WILL transfer those embedded images with a quick copy-paste like that, AO3 itself doesn’t host the images for embedding; those are still external images. This means that whether or not they continue to load/display for users, depends entirely on whether the file is still on the original external server! As I quickly discovered, in the case of posts copied from the Edit window of a tumblr post, the images will still point to the copies of the images ON tumblr’s servers. What this means is that you should back up (save copies elsewhere of) any embedded images that you consider vital to such posts, in case you need to upload them elsewhere and fiddle with where the external image is being pulled from, later. Personally, I’m doing that AND adding image descriptions underneath them, just to be on the safe side (and in fairness, this makes it more accessible to people who cannot view the images anyway, such as sight-impaired people who use screen readers or people who have images set to not automatically display on their browser, so it’s win-win)

#signal boost #psa #archiving #fanworks #archive of our own #ao3 #the great big migration to ao3 #how to #inuyasha #how to tag

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profitinaecho · 4 years

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So You Wanna Spin the World Around ch2

You have got to be kidding me, Liz thinks. She flushes and looks around disoriented. Licking her lips nervously, which Max follows with his eyes fascinated, Liz takes his hand. “Hello, Max. I didn’t know you were a detective here.”

Her mouth suddenly feels dry and her nipples harden as she is flooded with memories from their night together. He is such a sweet, respectful man. Until you get his clothes off and it becomes a completely different story- one she would love to visit again.

“Is that a problem?” Max’s chocolate brown eyes search her lighter ones like they hold the secret to the universe. His dark bangs hang boyishly over his forehead from the angle he has to look down at her because she is so much shorter than he is.

Liz shakes her head in answer and gently slips her hand from his. “I’m here to see Sheriff Valenti. She’s pairing me with a detective to work on a case.”

Max eyes her speculatively then jumps when he hears his superior's voice cut through their conversation. “Detective Evans! Stop boxing the forensic scientist in so she can come join us in the conference room.”

Michele Valenti became the sheriff of Roswell in the election after her husband passed away. She is a short latino woman who worked her way up the ranks and expects no nonsense. Her voice booms and is assertive, largely to ensure that no one questions her size or authority. She is clearly the one calling the shots in this precinct.

“Did you bring your crime scene analysis for those four Jane Doe’s to discuss and see if they were related?” The sheriff asks Liz, looking at the folders Liz is holding.

“Of course- with a few extra copies for the meeting. I also ran the DNA and are ready to discuss the results.” Liz follows the sheriff to the conference room confidently with her shoulders back while Max follows closely behind them, trying and failing not to check out Liz’s ass.

“This is Detective Evans. He will be the detective you are paired with to work on this case.” The sheriff gestures back towards Max.

Liz wills herself not to react to that news as if it is a shock to her, and nods in agreement. This will not be awkward at all, considering she has already seen him naked in all sorts of positions. “We just met in the lobby.”

They enter a conference room with a handful of officers already seated. Max sits down in the front row next to the wall and the sheriff sits in the middle in the back to oversee the meeting. Handing out the folders of preemptive tests she ran on the cases that were sent to her, Liz makes eye contact with Max as she hands him his folder and gasps out a breath when their fingers brush and electricity shoots straight to her clit.

His lips part and tongue peaks out to lick his lips as if he feels something too. Liz can remember vividly how it felt to have that tongue circling her bare nipple, among other places, during their night together and is entranced. A sound- part groan and part sigh- escapes her lips watching his tongue.

Max’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush at the sound. She’s still holding the folder and he discreetly tries to pull it from her grip on it. It only takes a couple seconds but Liz is convinced that if the sheriff could read their thoughts, they would be fired on the spot. His deep baritone voice feels like a caress across her skin when he rumbles out a quiet thank you to her. Maybe she should request a different officer? But what would she say? I’m sorry, I can’t work with this officer because I am intimately acquainted with his cock? Not a good career move.

As she goes to move on to the next officer to pass out the rest of the folders, Max’s fingers wrap around her wrist and slide something small into her hand. “Hold on. You dropped something.”

He can quite clearly remember being on his knees between her legs and the way she tasted. Based on the way she is shifting nervously and the flush in her cheeks, she can too. She left without leaving him her contact information and he needs to talk to her as soon as possible about that night to make working together less awkward. Some closure would also be nice. He has been worried that he did something wrong since that night to not deserve a goodbye. On his end, it was the best sex of his life and she seemed to enjoy it, so why did she leave?

Liz almost drops her folders at his contact against her bare skin and he discreetly hands her a folded piece of paper. She mutters thank you and his fingers slide away from her wrist. There’s no way she dropped anything since Liz is still holding all of her folders. Liz gives him a strained smile before moving on to the next officer and handing him his folder. She passes out the rest of her folders and then goes to the front of the room.

“As you can see from the autopsy done on Jane Doe #1, the victim died of strangulation by some sort of ligature. Semen was found and DNA tested- more on that in a little bit. The victim was 18 years old and latina.” Liz confidently states her findings. “Next page, we have Jane Doe #2, a mid 20s woman listed as a transient. She also died of strangulation with a ligature and had a semen sample to be DNA tested.”

Taking a deep breath for the next part, as it greatly frustrated her, Liz continued. “On the next page, we have Jane Doe #3. As you can see, she also died of strangulation with a ligature and was also a mid 20s latina. However, the DNA sample you gave me came back as having three different people’s DNA present in it- the victim, an unknown male and an unknown female. Usually this means that the sample was contaminated and the evidence would not hold up in court. In the future, I need to be the one to take samples to ensure it is done in a way that isn’t cross contaminated with the officers like Jane Doe #3. I would be happy to teach all of your officers to collect a proper usable sample, Sheriff, so that we do not lose DNA in the future. And if at all possible, I need access to that body to get another sample.”

To Max’s left, an officer scoffs and rolls his eyes. He is pretty positive that is the officer that found Jane Doe #3’s body and took the contaminated sample. When he mutters something about not needing to be told how to do his job, Max discreetly kicks him under the table. “So sorry.” Max whispers, although he definitely did it on purpose.

“Jane Doe #3 was cremated a month ago, unfortunately. We will have to make due with the sample we have. And what of Jane Doe #4?” Sheriff Valenti steepled her hands under her chin, watching Liz speculatively.

“On the 4th page, we have Jane Doe #4. She was an african american female in her early 20s and died of strangulation with a ligature. Her DNA was able to be tested. Interestingly, all four victims’ samples contained DNA from the same unknown male perpetrator. I need to have a detective run that DNA profile through CODUS to see if there is a match to a known felon in the system. And I need to cross reference the missing person’s reports around this time period to the victim profiles to see if we can ID some of these women and notify their families.”

“I’ll get right on that, Ms. Ortecho. I’ll move that to the top of my todo list.” Max gives her one of those half smiles that pops his dimple and tips his hat slightly at her.

Liz pauses for a moment and flushes before coming back to herself. “And most importantly, there appears to be enough evidence to suggest that all four cases might be linked. We might be dealing with a serial killer here.”

___________________

Entering the bathroom after her presentation, Liz unfolds the piece of paper Max gave her. It simply says “We need to talk” in his neat scrawl along with his phone number. She sighed and slipped it into her purse to deal with later. After doing her business and washing her hands, she jumps when she exits the bathroom to see Max standing there.

“I was just going to put that sample into CODUS. You want to be sure I do it to your standards?” He teased her.

“Sure. But Detective Evans, you’ve never had trouble doing anything to my standards.” As soon as she said it, Liz covered her ruby painted mouth. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I said that. That never happened.”

Max chuckled at her slip and winked conspiratorially. “I didn’t hear a thing. Follow me, my office is this way.”

Liz follows him closely to his office and wills herself not to check out his bubble butt as he walks slightly bow legged to his office. Max playfully covers his keyboard while he enters his password to hide it from her. Then he pulls up the CODUS database and asks Liz to read the numbers on the DNA samples to him to cross check with felons in the database to try to find the perpetrator. The computer soon bings with no results found.

“Try searching for relatives of the sample.” Liz suggests, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. Max feels like he is surrounded by her desert rose scent and briefly blanks out on what he was doing. Taking his hand on the mouse when he doesn’t move fast enough, Liz moves the cursor to the part of the screen to check to also check for relatives. “The square is kind of hidden if you haven’t used it before.” She explains, before flushing realizing her hand is still over his and quickly moving it back to her side.

“No results detected.” Max reads on the screen. “Huh. So the perpetrator’s DNA was found on all four samples but is not someone yet known to the system. We have our work cut out for us.”

“We will catch him.” Liz reassures him.

“We have to before he kills again. Ok, so lets try the Jane Doe’s to see if we can find a match in the system. Read Jane Doe #1’s barcode number for me?” Max waits for her to start reading the long number out with his fingers poised over the keyboard and types as she reads it to him.

They do this for all of the Jane Doe’s and manage to identify Jane Doe #3 as a mentally ill woman who was in and out of jail just before her death. Sighing, Max tousles his hair in frustration. “Ok, if I pull the missing person’s reports for the last three years to try to match the characteristics with any of the victims, will you help me sort through them? It’s going to be binders full of people.”

“Ok. And we can cross check anyone we flag to see if we agree.” Liz suggests, flopping in the chair across from his desk while she waits for him to go pull the files they need to go through.

“And then, I’m taking you to dinner. We have a lot to talk about and we will both be starving by then.” Max adds, popping his head back in his office. When Liz opens her mouth to suggest that going to dinner alone maybe isn’t the best idea, he holds up his hand. “On me. Don’t argue.”

Max returns with six binders full of missing person reports. If any of the characteristics match a victim, they will then need to find a family member to test for DNA to match them to the victim and positively ID the victim. After hours of flagging missing person’s reports of early 20s women, it is 6pm and technically time to clock out.

“I’m going to stay and finish these. We only have two binders left.” Liz tells him, picking up another 3” binder full of papers to sort through.

“I’ll stay with you to finish up. We can order take out while we work. Do you like chinese food?” Max sits down on the floor leaning against the wall closest to Liz with the last binder. All of the previous binders have dozens of little flagged pages in each of them. Identifying the victims will be a lot of work and this is just the beginning. Max grabs one of the neon pink sticky flags Liz brought and puts it on the report he is reading because the report is about a latina in her early 20s.

“Of course I eat chinese food. What kind of soulless person doesn’t?” Liz laughs, flipping the page she was reading. “Oooh do they have teriyaki chicken with noodles?”

“I’ll make sure to find a place that has what you want.” Max assures her. “We work well together.” He looks up at her shyly through his bangs sitting on the floor by her feet.

“We do.” Liz agrees, smiling warmly at him.

When her stomach growls loudly, Max laughs. “Ok, ok, I’m calling. Your food will be here soon.”

#Ficlets? Ficlets?#so You Wanna Spin the World Around #rnm echo #rnm fic

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tackyink · 4 years

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The making of Anomaly, chapter 3

Link to chapter 3

I’ll openly admit that, at this point, I had no idea what I was doing, but I was in a YYH mood and Makoto seemed to have piqued people’s interest, so I thought I might as well keep going.

The chapter opens with Makoto and Yuusuke trying not to die as they run laps around the lake. That’s Amemasu’s home, so when she sinks her head in the lake, there’s a good chance they saw her for the first time in many years.

I didn’t know yet what lived in the lake, and neither did Makoto, but Amemasu had been aware of Mako as early as Nana first brought her to the temple and was shown around the lake. At this point in the story, she hasn’t been in the forest in a long time, so Amemasu probably had a very confusing moment as to who this young Nana lookalike with youki was.

"There is something odd about his aura. I cannot pinpoint it, but it's there."

"As I understand, he died and came back to life."

This is Makoto actually sensing Yuusuke’s weird wavelength that almost got him stuck in the afterlife. Genkai offers a passable explanation, but what Makoto’s picking up isn’t due to his resurrection, it’s the budding demon genes that are still obscured by Yuusuke’s very human… everything.

He wasn't supposed to be there. That's why Kurama's death had been so clear to her, it had to be. Her prediction hadn't accounted for this guy because he just wasn't supposed to be there, wrecking everything he came in contact with. He was tearing down the very paths of fate.

Plucked from the river of life and thrown back in without a care, the ripples he caused were affecting the people he crossed paths with.

The mother of all anomalies. The source of her headaches for over a week. It had been his fault all along.

I cannot stress enough that this wasn’t planned and I was just following Makoto’s thoughts to their logical conclusion. Luckily for me, Makoto turned out to be a very reflexive character, and I think a lot of Anomaly’s charm is due to this: we as fans know the story in a way that is hard to be surprised anymore, but re-experiencing these events through the eyes of someone with inside knowledge of how things work in-universe and no idea of how events will play out opens up many avenues for analysis. She notices things that our familiarity or ingrained first impressions make us overlook. At least, that’s how it worked for me.

And Anomaly could very well have ended here, with its main mystery resolved, but I was having way too much fun to let go yet.

I didn’t expect Mako and Yuusuke to get along so well. I honestly thought she’d just write him off as dumb and loud and he’d think she was off-putting and had a stick up her ass. I didn’t realize until I had them alone in the same room that Yuusuke and Fumiko are not so different, and Mako was used to dealing with her more than with anybody else. I think she finds some comfort in people who are so radically different to her, who’s always gone through life restraining herself. And after his trip through the afterlife, Yuusuke is not the judgmental type, so when he brings up her oddities, he does so in the same straightforward way Fumi does, with no ill intent. She knows how rare that is and appreciates it.

The other thing that I cannot stress enough is that Kurama is a nightmare to write. Their little back and forth after school was torture to write because I can never figure out what is going through his head. Rereading this with some perspective, I’d say that he found her funny and he was very curious about Makoto’s power. He’s taken a liking to her, of course, since she was worried about him and his mother back at the hospital, but at this point she’s a bit of a sociological experiment to him. Though, to be fair, all the connections Kurama forms along YYH have that feel. Human World relationships are a novelty he hasn’t experienced much.

"I'm sure you look fantastic when you exercise. Not a hair out of place, all prim and proper with your clothes neatly pressed."

I just want to point out that I share Makoto’s saltiness regarding this matter.

"Good morning, Makoto," he said amicably.

She refused to take her eyes off the road. "Are you a stalker?"

It’s fun to write people with little regards for social conventions.

At any rate, the entire conversation they have during the run was me trying to set the inner workings and limits of Mako’s ability for my own benefit as much as for the readers.

By the time Mako’s back to the temple, Yuusuke has surpassed her, maybe not in energy reserves, but 100% in technique. He’s a prodigy and she’s slow, she’s assumed that there are some things she simply cannot do, and this is why she won’t catch up to the others in terms of battling skill for the rest of the fic.

Mako’s habit of counting to three fit so well with it being a habit from training as a child, like a ballerina counting steps, that when I thought of it I was like, ‘Oh, so that’s why she does that!’

Genkai hummed and, after a few seconds, she said, "You should also know that you are always welcome here."

This small remark was, in the end, what decided Makoto’s fate at the end of the fic. I kept coming back to this sentence, thinking of how Genkai wanted the temple grounds to become a refuge for non-humans. She knew that Makoto was bound to feel out of place no matter where she went and wanted to help with that in her own way. It sort of worked, in the sense that it became Mako’s home down the line, but Makoto never felt it hers. She always felt like she was just the keeper of the grounds, waiting for the true master to come back, and she sticks to the philosophy of welcoming everyone, first to honor Genkai’s wishes, later on because she realizes that it is important for everybody to have a place like that. This is something I would love to explore in the sequel, if I ever get around to writing it.

As for her parents, they are just regular good people. They aren’t very interesting, nor were they meant to be. Mako’s home life is the model of what a nuclear family is supposed to be: happy suburban couple with a kid, a two story house, stable jobs, a nice car, and not a worry in life other than doing too much overtime. Makoto is weird enough for all of them, so her family didn’t need to be.

#making of anomaly

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kiroiimye · 6 years

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Why I Think Bakugou Katsuki Should Be The Number One Hero

So after reading the many arguments on whether Bakugou is the best written character and such, I decided to throw my own hat into the ring.

Keep in mind, I’m an anime person! I didn’t read the manga, but I kinda know what happens in the manga, so anyone who is ANIME ONLY, this may have spoilers.

With my extremely limited knowledge and other people’s opinions in mind, let’s go!

***

Without my bias for Bakugou, I can tell you as a fan and avid lover of the series, that I really think he deserves that number one hero spot.

My reasons are as followed:

He’s a hard worker.

It’s known to everyone that Bakugou probably has the worst personality out of all of Class 1-A (except maybe Mineta). He’s brash, ill tempered, ridiculously aggressive, and a bully towards Midoriya. But he’s got character development (which we’ll touch up on later), and is shown to be hard working.

It’s said somewhere that Bakugou knows exactly how his Quirk works, how to best use his Quirk to maximize his attacks. This can only come from practice and analysis. This shows that possibly since he was a kid, he’s been working on Quirk, analyzing himself, and fixing the flaws. He’s been working for that number one spot.

In Season 3, he’s even got his special moves all planned out.

And hell, one look at his body and his movements and you know he’s been working for it. He’s muscular and he’s toned, since his first appearance in middle school. And his movements, copied by Midoriya in the episode 33, shows that Bakugou is quick and light on his feet. There’s no way Bakugou can be this strong without putting in some proper practice.

If he didn’t put some work into it, he would be just some guy with a flashy Quirk that he hopes would have a strong blast every time he uses it.

Also a quote I read online:

“I’ll break myself and break myself again and again! I’ll twist myself all up to win the way I wanna win.”

He is fucking hardcore guys. Bakugou shows so much dedication to improving himself to be the best and number one hero. This is major evidence that he will do anything, work as hard as he can. It’s, as Kirishima would say, hella manly.

2. He’s got a strong moral compass.

alright I know this one could get some questions. But seriously, he does. Despite being a dick to Midoriya, when it comes to heroism, he’s got his heart in the right place.

For one, at USJ, when Kurogiri comes around, Bakugou’s the first to jump in. Some people may see at as an impulsive act to fight and prove that he’s the best and powerful, but I see it as his mindset of: villain. Take that bitch down.

He wants nothing more to be a hero and he wants to be the best he can be, which equals number one.

Adding to this, during Bakugou’s kidnapping by the League of Villains, they play up his desire to win and to be the best, but he doesn’t buy it. His first reaction is to blast them in the face because he knows what he wants, and that’s to be a hero.

In the OVA: Save! Rescue Training, when All Might as the villain comes out, Bakugou blatantly tells Iida to get the rest of the class out, while he distracts the villain. This is huge, because as far as we can tell, Bakugou thinks very little of his classmates. He uses crude nicknames for each and every one of them, save for Kirishima, and doesn’t seem to respect them as much as he should. However, at the moment, Bakugou throws his own life on the line, just so his classmates could escape safely.

Hell, even as a kid, it’s stated outright that Bakugou fought off a bunch of older kids with his Quirk because they were bullying his friends.

If that isn’t a hero, I don’t know what is.

3. Character development

Although it hasn’t been shown all too much in the anime, Bakugou has clear character development. In the beginning of the series, he’s rude, arrogant, and outspoken about his greatness (not to say he’s not like that now).

However, as the series progressed, he’s toned it down quite a bit. He’s become more self aware about himself, that he’s got more work involved for him to become the best.

Especially in these two scenes, where Bakugou at the beginning of the series would’ve taken the compliments and added his own boasting in there, he’s a little more subdued; he knows that he’s not at his best yet and is less arrogant and full of himself.

***

So this is as much as Bakugou analysis I’ve come up haha

But I still stan by him because he deserves that spot. He’s worked his ass off for it.

Also, included are short, non descriptive reasons as to why Midoriya should not be number one hero:

He’s overpowered. As far as I’ve heard, he’s got eight different Quirks, and he doesn’t know how to use any of them for shit; even his original One For All he can barely use without hurting himself.

He’s still intimidated by Bakugou. He admires, yet is intimidated by his childhood friend. Seriously, we love Midoriya, but he can’t be number one and be scared of one of his colleagues.

Midoriya’s got everything handed to him. Sure he’s a great analyzer on Quirks and he works to improve himself, but when he was told he didn’t have a Quirk and therefore couldn’t be a hero, he didn’t find other ways to be one. All Might literally just handed him One For All. He’s improving yes, but compared to his classmates, he’s still in the kiddie pool when it comes to his Quirk’s abilities.

I’m not trashing on Midoriya’s character (he’s a sweetheart), but if anything, Bakugou deserves that number one ranking.

Also a few other explanations I’d like to make:

I think Bakugou is justified for getting pissy when he wins against Todoroki in the Sports Festival. Remember, he says he wanted an indisputable victory. He wants a true, solid win, no holds barred. And then his match against Todoroki doesn’t prove that. In Bakugou’s perspective, he sees it as Todoroki looking down on him, deeming him not good enough to use his full strength on. He sees Todoroki’s use of just his ice powers as a half assed win; he didn’t get the full strength and therefore didn’t receive that indisputable victory (Reminder: indisputable means “unable to be challenged or denied). With Todoroki half assing that fight, it’s still up in the air as to whether Bakugou can really, truly defeat Todoroki in battle.

As supported by Aizawa, he has every right not to hold back on Uraraka in the Sports Festival. You do not underestimate your enemy, no matter what or who it is.

Bakugou’s fatal flaw is his pride, which I believe comes from his prodigy complex (as someone else stated in an argument). He’s raised on the shallow compliments that people paid him when he was a kid, and so grew up believing that he was the best, meant to be the best. When it comes to playing with kids who’s on equal terms with him in Quirk abilities, he doesn’t know how to react and therefore ends up blowing up all the time because in his mind, he’s thinking, what happened? I’m superior, aren’t I?

A lot of his antics in the anime are for comedic relief. There’s really nothing to it. And as time goes on his character does get better

Ahh to end this post, these are reasons as to why Bakugou isn’t that bad of a character; in fact, he’s got a deeper story than we thought. He deserves that number one spot more than anything, so please Horikoshi, give it to him.

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dovesdanceatdusk · 6 years

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Long post reply ahead:

@dreamsfrozenincandyland-blo-blog, I had to give your response some thought because I could be riding the high of 14x08 like I did in season thirteen and I don’t want to do that. What I mean is, I enjoy the episode on first watch/premiere airing, only to be confused and disappointed if and when I rewatch.

I was upset Jack and Sam didn’t hug. I could chalk it up to Sam being less tactile than Dean, but then I remember all the times Sam hugged friends and family members in his inner circle the past three seasons and I’m left coming up short on that theory.

He watched Jack, his kid, die when Castiel and Dean walked out of the room. As painful as that was, I was happy Sam didn’t leave. I normally see symbolism when it’s not there, so forgive a young bird of doing so, but Sam sitting by Jack’s side and not leaving tells me Sam cared for Jack more than the scene let on. Sam didn’t leave, abandon, or write off Jack in season thirteen. He didn’t leave Jack when Jack was about to die. He stayed by his side, even if it killed him inside.

To me, Jared’s acting was pretty good, not subdued. [Reasons why, I saw how Sam tried to keep it together, how Sam held back tears when Jack and he talked right before Jack died. How Sam left Castiel and Dean after Jack died after Dean talked about making a pyre, abrupt, determined, and hurting. When Sam tried to chop down a tree to make a pyre, only to strike hard enough to break the ax.

I saw Sam’s sorrow when he told Dean he couldn’t even build a proper pyre for Jack. His determination to help Jack by agreeing to Lily’s deal--and the desperation to try when Dean didn’t think the deal was a good idea. His outburst when Lily retracted her end of the deal (”He’s our kid!”). Holding Jack and telling him to read the spell to activate the angel magic and save his life.]

I saw all of that--Sam’s grief, his helplessness, desperation, determination, relief, and elation. I mean, I could have ridden the live-blog high, too caught up in the feelings to register that maybe what I saw was more muted than I realize (hence why I dread rewatching sometimes). But that’s what I got from it. The subtleties in Jared’s acting, as well as the overtness, led me to believe Sam’s actions, feelings, and behavior last night felt real.

But then those thoughts led me back to your response again, and I thought some more. I thought of Dean’s reactions to Jack, including that hug, and yeah, I wanted that for Sam.

I could see Sam laugh with tears spilling out of his eyes, holding Jack tight after the spell was complete and Jack was saved. I could see Sam hitting the tree after he broke the ax, pounding the side of his fist on it and crying until he didn’t have the strength anymore; and after he would walk over to the Impala and sit by her tires lost and hurting because his boy died and he couldn’t do a flying fig about it. I could see Sam rest his head against the table’s surface in the library after the failed attempt to get Anubis to help Lily. He takes a deep breath, then we hear that shuddering exhale--I could see that too. I could see him shoving Dean a little after Dean tells him the deal is too sketchy to try--then again I couldn’t, not after watching the later seasons. Would that make me happier? Would those theoretical examples fill up the drying pool of want and Sam wishes from this old horse of a show? I don’t know. I would be more satisfied, yes.

Which brought me to my response to your first reply last night. In comparison to what I saw in previous episodes this season, 14x08 gave me more Sam feels and Sam and Jack feels. That was why I was satisfied. Not, “I’m over the moon, stop the online presses,” joy, but I’m glad I saw Sam’s grief instead of him burying it down deep into the abyss for others. How I saw it, what Sam did to bring Jack back was because of his grief, his frustration he couldn’t do anything for him before (I chalked ‘before’ up to Jack’s terminal illness). Sam made calls, got Lily Sunder to help because he was desperate to help Jack, to do something. Sam chopping a tree for Jack’s pyre, only to break the ax, was his desperation, his grief, his loss bleeding through. I remember reblogging a post last night pointing out the reason why Jack is alive was Sam, Lily, and Castiel. It was Sam who got the ball rolling. Sam reached out; he found Lily and came together with a plan. From there, Castiel, 100% on board, agreed to carry out a key piece to the plan: go to heaven, find Jack, and send Jack’s soul back to his body. Sam went to lengths to get Jack back, without having to make a crossroads deal.

There’s not a lot of Sam and Jack moments in season fourteen. When I do get them, somehow it gets nuked and destroyed in the next episode like it never happened (Looking at you, Bucket of Lemmings, and maybe the Singer-Dabb duo of questionable decisions). In comparison, season thirteen was the opposite. There were a lot of Sam and Jack moments, enough to warm my theoretical house. Only a handful of last season’s episodes had Sam and Jack more distant with each other.

That’s the problem I’m facing with season fourteen in regards to Sam and Jack’s relationship. For Sam and Jack positive people, all of those moments we saw in season thirteen, those moments that warmed our hearts--at least my heart if yours melted or burned the good burn--is barely even noticeable this season. There’s an imbalance. If the writing team played their cards right, the Dean and Jack bonding moments wouldn’t be so glaring if they included some Sam and Jack bonding moments. Anyone out there who believe the Dean and Jack bonding moments were okay is another sliver of pie that must be accounted for as well. So, perhaps a slower bonding progression, easing into the Dean and Jack bond instead of, “BAM, they’re thick as thieves. Dean is Jack’s other father and the rest is shredded grass.”

The progression would be more organic, but Dean and Jack’s relationship needed to happen quickly in order for the writers’ plans to come together. Dean needed to have a closer relationship with Jack in order for his actions and reactions in 14x07 and 14x08 to play out the way it did. That’s what I’m getting from it. I don’t like it, but that’s what I’m reading. Add in the fact you have a writing team that needs to not only work together but needs to work with the showrunner’s (showrunners’) vision. That’s a tough cucumber if you were a writer rallying Sam and Jack’s relationship.

I also read a discussion a few days ago pointing out side characters’ relationships with the brothers.

Analysis: missjackil(.)tumblr(.)com/post/180864904367/captainsteelandsunshine

The last comment of the thread gives a different perspective on the matter. I found it to be an interesting read, but your mileage may vary on the topic. I’m putting this here to widen the net a bit on this topic. Take away the parentheses before using the link.

I hope my response makes sense. You’re not wrong, and not alone on your thoughts on 14x08. On my dash, I saw some Sam and Jack positive viewers just as disappointed. My attitude toward the episode might change if I can get myself to rewatch. The downside is I don’t think what the show is doing is going to change. I could be wrong.

(What will sting is if the deleted scenes of the season were Sam and Jack moments. Boo.)

Note to anyone pointing out Jack and Castiel scenes: I’m only addressing Sam and Jack and Dean and Jack in this post.

#14x08 #thoughts #long reply #sam and jack #sam and grief #sam and loss #all grammar mistakes are mine #dean and jack (mentioned)#spn analysis #long post #spn s.14

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gurguliare · 6 years

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Anyway I finally finally finished the TM post-mortem so have one last rundown

Really loved: Signet’s stupid relics runway show, Ali describing the Mirage/Splice resolution as “the most amazing Gift of the Magi fuckup,” and, oddly, Keith’s reflections on anarchism, though idk if enough of that made it legibly into the season---which is one of the ways Gig was underserved, I guess.

I also enjoyed and appreciated the discussion of TM’s utopianism as monumental artistic challenge. I obviously have criticisms wrt execution and I disagree with some of their analysis of TM’s failures and shortcomings, but I thought everyone was refreshingly honest about the sheer scale of the task, in a way that I often missed during the series proper---when the tone sometimes tended more toward “we’ve set ‘depicting a utopia’ as our goal, and of course we share a coherent (static) vision of what that entails, and know exactly how to get from here to there.”

I was dissatisfied at best with the conversation about redemption vs rehabilitation. I might be more convinced by the distinction if Austin had ever stopped saying “sin”... which, among other things, helps to selectively blur together abuse and other forms of violence. (I’ve given up on even dreaming of a world in which FATT covers its ass better in re: Christian-centric, frankly Catholic-centric readings of both morality and faith, and maybe it’s for the best that they lack the wherewithal to mask that.) That said, I think it’s very striking that Even Gardner’s violence and militarism seems dealt with in-story almost exclusively as a form of trauma and a thing that happens to Even Gardner, while Fourteen’s history with Castlerose is discussed (up to the time of the finale) almost exclusively in terms of Sins Fourteen Committed. I’m not saying those framings are ~flipped, but the ratio does seem off. Even has a fuckton of choices at every step of the way and experiences basically no material repercussions or visible change of heart, other than “once there are no Advent people left I’ll stop targeting Advent.” He’s also, notably, “brought back from the edge” by a played-straight romantic relationship, for some reason. Fourteen has like... half of a narrative about turning bad habits and even obsolete ideas to constructive ends, and half a narrative about reclaiming agency once safely away from your abuser, even at the cost of losing access to huge swathes of your life... but it’s an arc that goes so unacknowledged or unseen by the other characters that it never connects back up to the idea that, well, bound up in the problem of rehabilitation is the problem of forgiveness---or if we don’t like that language, then acceptance. It’s never clear on what terms Fourteen is judged and reintegrated into their community, and how and where their self-image aligns with others’ view of them.

Which is very, very lonely, and raises huge questions for me about the whole issue of Fourteen as ~disability representation and specifically as a test case for what terminal illness might look like in a utopia. It is just not clear what anyone’s goals were, as far as showing Fourteen supported in a systemic way and not just on the level of relationships. It’s very odd. I’m still puzzled by Jack and Austin’s remarks on this, especially the focus on what Jack had or hadn’t done with Fourteen in play. Literally every NPC (who has a stance on the issue at all) responds to Fourteen with undisguised horror at their memory dysfunction---the most sympathetic version of this is a lecture about integrating assistive technology into their daily routine! and the least sympathetic is the point-blank statement that Fourteen not remembering who they’ve killed is worse than killing those people in the first place. Like, what the hell? That’s a vision of morality that is entirely premised on repentance, and on the idea that expiation for a crime only comes with appropriate helpings of guilt. And it never really receives an in-universe challenge.

It was also weird to me that Grand didn’t come up at all in that part of the discussion. But then again it seemed like no one wanted to comment seriously on Grand’s arc in general; maybe Art was making really sad faces on the call or something. It’s a shame though, since you’d think it would be a good opportunity to go on some bullshit about “salvation NOT through good works,” or rather, salvation definitely through good works but everyone feels a little weird about it. Three bombs? Three bombs?

Finally, it is important that I dissect all remarks on shipping. I was a little perturbed by the discussion of Fourteen/Tender; I thought Ali’s IC reasons were perfectly valid but I found Jack’s slightly suspect, because I don’t think, uh, “this person flirts all the time but is too busy dying to pursue new romantic projects” really jives---either with Fourteen’s profound, active engagement with others (more active and deeper engagement the longer the season went on) or with Jack’s stated goal of presenting a dying person who, without being embroiled in regret or bitterness in the face of death, still loves their life. Obviously I don’t think romantic relationships are a requirement for that, but the blanket statement that Fourteen is Not That Person gave me trouble. Also, I just don’t think you can drop the “platonic relationship representation is so important” line in there without a LOT more unpacking of the pros and cons of that---who are the characters involved in that relationship, and are they people for whom nonsexual relationships are a top-of-the-line representation deficit? Also, is nonsexual vs sexual really the paradigm you want to cleave to here, in a discussion of the chemistry between an internet goddess and a hunk of data?

I’m a hypocrite though bc when they got to echogrand and went on about how it was important that Echo’s arc not center on romance I was like RIGHT ON

...

Okay. One more thing. Janine shooting down Signet/Blueberry; I was fond of this, though I obviously do not care about her opinion and will continue to do what I want---I don’t like “parental” as the trajectory for a dynamic whose foundational moment is the younger weaker party saving the older, that doesn’t do it for me. Of course children can save their parents, but they shouldn’t have to, and that certainly shouldn’t be the pattern that defines the relationship. And for Signet and Blueberry I think it really is; Signet offers Blueberry apologies, Blueberry offers Signet things Signet actually needs. That’s not parental. Nevertheless, I was fond bc it made me think about what a wealth of fun mentorship dynamics this season offered otherwise---with Tender and Morning’s Observation, and Fourteen and Sho, there are these really precious internal movements, or moments of slippage, from distrust to empathy and from faith to disillusionment, that I treasured as real, organic, slippery pieces of character writing and of writing about growth... My favorite example of this is when Morning’s Observation is FURIOUS with Tender after the fucking... rooftop debacle early on in the Wind’s Poem arc. And then again, more seriously, later, after he’s been essentially abandoned and has to save the day by drawing on parts of himself he wanted to give up. That feels like a moment of roleswap between “guardian” and “child” that is presented as appropriately bittersweet, pivotal, and rupturing, and which therefore preserves the logic of the original relationship even as it expands it. And I also love Grand’s awkward interference there, haha... esp in the context of Grand managing to disappoint Morning separately later on, when by that point it’s lost most of its oomph just because Morning has learned not to have expectations of these fucking geniuses. Which is its own mixed result.

(I wish there had been a bit more followup with Morning in the finale, actually, I don’t think he really got resolution on some stuff and I think “happy at the Brink with his moms” is more avoidant copout than anything, though not implausible or unreasonable avoidance from a character perspective. But like, the fucking... part in the Feast of Patina where it becomes increasingly apparent, throughout Morning’s glad monologue, that he did, in fact, do many of the same things as Grand? He betrayed former allies for an enemy faction in the name of convenience! That’s not all Grand did, but it’s not nothing. And everyone has to fall back on “but the Advent Group are fascists! Morning didn’t turn coat and join fascists!” when it’s like, well, would he have, if they had offered him spaghetti?

Not that I think Morning’s and Grand’s choices are remotely equivalent. But it was a very funny parallel for them to try to wriggle out of on the fly, and I wish they hadn’t---I wish they’d leaned into Morning’s lingering doubts, which would if anything have served to highlight that he does have good reason to stay. It’s just that those reasons don’t cancel out the doubts.)

#friends at the table #twilight mirage #ok i said last but i already feel another post boiling up in me about some comparisons austin made between c/w and tm but #i think i'll save that #for another time.

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maevefiction · 6 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 12

Sleep eluded me after our parking lot conversation. Tom and I had taken a long bath together, during which neither of us were injured, surprisingly, then went down to the beach so we could listen to the waves crashing on the rocks prior to retiring for the night. Luke and Simon had popped out for a quick hello and a late night swim, then disappeared again into the privacy of their suite. I was beginning to think they might have us beat as far as incorrigible went, then quickly stopped myself before my mind wandered into what-has-been-seen-can-never-be-unseen territory.

Tom was out like a light in a matter of minutes, while I tossed and turned like a dog with a bad case of fleas. I knew it was pointless to continue to try and doze off, so I said fuck it and decided to get up and attempt to get some work done. I wormed my way out from under Tom’s leg, climbed out of bed, put on some shorts, grabbed my laptop and headed for the door. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, and I waited until he was silent again before I opened it, padding in my bare feet through the soundless house and out onto the lanai.

After trying to determine whether to go with a horizontal or a vertical menu on Tom’s site for forty-two minutes, I called it quits and perused Twitter comments instead. Alani’s tweet had amassed the most, and screenshots had spread to Tumblr. Honestly, I was glad of the way she’d mentioned me in such a specific context …there was very little, if any, speculation about whether or not I was, in fact, his girlfriend. Everything was out in the open, which I always thought was the best choice. Though the initial negativity was far worse than if the topic’s legitimacy was in question, it would likely die down much more quickly. That’s how it had worked for clients in the past, anyway. Hopefully my methodology would apply to my own situation as well.

My revelation regarding my weight plagued me…I replayed what I’d said over and over, and I wished I’d gone into greater detail. I hadn’t meant to impose a blanket statement that being overweight was unhealthy, or that it made one unworthy of attention from the opposite sex – or the same sex, or both, whichever was personally preferable, of course. That’s not what I believed, at all. Quite the contrary. Beauty comes in all shapes, colors and sizes and is entirely dependent upon the eye of the beholder, and if said beholder opts to eliminate certain sizes from their pool of eligible candidates, that’s their choice. And their loss.

And as far as health was concerned…illness doesn’t discriminate based upon the number on the scale. It can strike anyone, at any time, and originates from a multitude of factors that are more often than not out of our control entirely. Unfortunately for me, a poor genetic inheritance and horrifically nutritionally deficient diet, combined with an excess of weight and my wickedly sedentary lifestyle had compromised my health considerably. Losing weight seemed to be a better option than medication, though there were many, many days on which I questioned that choice. Usually while sweating my ass off, literally, on the treadmill in some hotel gym. In all honesty, if I hadn’t been diagnosed with early stage diabetes, I probably wouldn’t have changed a thing about the way I lived my life.

“Maude, think about something else, you schmuck. This is a rabbit hole you do NOT want to go down at 2 AM.”

I sighed. Too late.

I’d told Tom there were reasons for me putting on a significant amount of weight, and my sleep deprived brain decided that this was the ideal time to refresh my memory as to what they were. I tapped my finger on the table and quietly ticked them off out loud.

“Let’s see, we’ve got… pain, anger, grief, depression, replacing one addiction with another, self-medicating, a convenient excuse that allowed me to reside in my fortress of solitude without constantly having to justify it to everyone because they’d be inclined to think ‘oh, she’s alone because she’s fat, you know, the poor thing’, and, my favorite, to spite my mother. Okay, maybe that’s not my favorite. Because food is fucking delicious. That’s my favorite. Plus, cardio sucks balls.”

Groaning, I crossed my arms on the table and rested my head on them, intending to collect my thoughts and get back to work. I woke up four hours later in a puddle of drool with Simon yammering in my ear.

“ ‘ello, Polly. Wakie Wakie!”

I raised my head and wiped the saliva off my face with my forearm.

“Ewe, Maude, that is so thoroughly vile. Were you out here all night?”

I nodded. “Don’t you even dare to ask me if I’m doing yoga with you today. I feel like grim death.”

He patted my head. “You look like it, too. But your excuses mean nothing to me. Shut up and go get your mat.”

I lowered my chin to my chest, peeled myself off of the chair and shuffled into the house, nearly smacking right into Tom as I opened our bedroom door. Brows raised, he pulled me inside and into his arms.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” I shook my head. “Want to talk about it?”

I shrugged, wishing I could talk about it, but knowing that anything I’d say would require additional context that I was not willing to supply. “Just another bout of insomnia brought on by chronic over analysis of every minute detail of my existence.”

“Oh, that’s all, is it?”

I feigned surprise. “What, that doesn’t happen to you?”

He grinned. “It does. Quite often, actually. But the sheer physical exhaustion that results from your incessant attentions seems to have solved that particular problem for the time being.” He ground his erection against me. “This problem, however, persists.”

“And it’s such big problem, too.” I bit his shoulder gently, then pulled back to look at his face. That beautiful, talented pink tongue was peeking out just the slightest bit from between his lips and I damn near lost my shit. He winked at me.

I poked him in the chest. “Well, Thomas, since you’re…up…why don’t you join me for some yoga?”

He rolled his eyes. “You mean you and Simon. I abhor doing yoga with Simon.”

I tilted my head. “Seriously? Why?”

He pinched my nose between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, shaking gently. “Because he’s so much better at it than I am, that’s why.”

It was my turn for eye rolling as I walked to the wardrobe to grab a bra, pulled off my sleeping shirt and slipped the bra straps over my hands, up my arms and backed towards him. “Hook a sister up, wouldja?”

He lifted the cups up over my breasts, tweaked both nipples, then wrestled them back into place and licked my neck as he connected the clasps. I moaned and pulled away. After putting on a fresh shirt, I turned around and walked past him toward the door, slapping him on the ass as I went.

“Nice try, Thomas, but we’re still doing yoga. Now you put on a fucking shirt and get that ass moving.”

He followed me. “Sorry, no.”

“Fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

“You won’t.”

I sighed. “No. I won’t.”

Simon’s snarkiness was at orange alert status due to Tom’s presence, and watching the two of them compete was wildly amusing. Tom was right, Simon was better, but watching Tom do yoga shirtless was better than any porno I’d ever seen. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin, and when he moved into camel pose I made a…sound. A gasp? A moan? A dying whale noise? I honestly couldn’t label it properly.

Simon turned his head to the side so he could face me without breaking his pose.

“What the hell was THAT, woman?”

“Nothing. Got a cramp. Just a little cramp. I’ll be fine. Carry on.”

He moved his arms above his head, brought them forward and sat on his haunches. He looked over at Tom, then back at me. “Mmm hmm. Cramp. Thomas, if you wouldn’t mind concealing your torso beneath some clothing next time so your girlfriend won’t blow my focus with her inappropriate vocalizations I’d be ever so appreciative.”

Tom chortled. “I’m rather fond of her inappropriate vocalizations, especially when she’s blo…”

Simon put is fingers in his ears and chanted loudly. “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA…”

I grabbed my iPod and put my earbuds in, hoping music would distract me. It was a successful strategy for the most part, and I felt myself shifting into the transcendent space that was the reason for me deciding upon yoga for both physical and mental fitness. Tom almost ruined it when I caught him staring at me during my easy plow pose, but I managed to breathe through it. While doing my cool down stretches, I wondered if the intense sexual chemistry between us and the overwhelming desire it fostered was because we were so new to each other, or if it was always going to be like this. I smiled, recalling Diana Gabaldon’s brilliant prose in Outlander, when Jamie is addressing Claire.

“Does it ever stop? The wanting you?“ "Even when I’ve just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.”

When I’d read it years ago, I thought it was beautifully written, but, you know, fictional. Filed under ‘shit that never happens in real life’. For once, I was totally okay with having been wrong about something.

We discussed our options for the holiday over a breakfast of the most mouth-wateringly delicious sausage, egg and cheese burritos I’d ever tasted. I wanted to work for a while, but that was shot down in a chorus of noes and ‘but-it’s-a-holiday’s. Our final destination of the evening would be the Nawiliwili Tavern, which was back on the other side of the island near the Marriott. It so happened that this was the first Saturday of the month, and that’s when Kaua’i’s gay community gathered there to celebrate with drink specials and, much to my wicked delight, karaoke. I needed to see Luke doing karaoke. It was inexplicable, but I just knew I NEEDED it to happen or I couldn’t go on with my life.

Since I’d yet to park my ass on a proper beach after an entire week on the island, I offered it up as my next suggestion. It was well received. Kalapaki Beach was a 14 mile ride from the house, but less than a mile from Nawiliwili Tavern. Available activities included volleyball, surf lessons, catamaran cruises, stand up paddle boarding, kayaking and body and boogie boarding, none of which I was interested in but were certain to keep my companions occupied if sitting on a lounge and reading all day wasn’t their idea of fun.

Simon got to work assembling a picnic lunch, Luke and Tom each had another burrito, and I hit the shower. Afterward, I sat on the bed wrapped in my towel as I waited to air dry enough so I could squeeze into my bathing suit. Tom walked in, bent down to kiss me, rammed his tongue in my mouth, then dropped his shorts and paraded around the corner for his turn under the spray.

I packed a small bag before dressing since we wouldn’t be coming back home…black Birkenstocks, a pair of hiking shorts, a black V-neck tee shirt, underwear, a bra, hair ties, my beach towel, Finders Keepers, Neuromancer, my iPod, my phone and my glasses. Just in case.

My bathing suit was still buried at the bottom of my suitcase, but it didn’t look any worse for wear when I shook it out. It was black, halter style, with cutouts along both sides and a built in strapless bra so I wouldn’t look like Saggytits McSaggerton. Anyone who claims to have natural double D’s with nipples that point anywhere other than down is utterly full of shit. Or maybe that should be udderly. I was still giggling to myself when I heard the shower turn off, and I quickly tossed my gauzy black cover-up over my head and slipped on the pair of flip flops I’d also unearthed from my suitcase.

Tom came out, dripping wet, towel slung low around his hips. I told him I’d meet him in the living room and used the half bath in the hall for my last pee so I wouldn’t have to watch him dress, then helped Simon gather beverages and put them in the cooler. We decided to take the car instead of the Jeep as it had actually room for all our stuff, including the folding lounge chairs we’d found in the garage. Luke volunteered to drive on the way there if I’d be the designated driver on the way back home tonight, which was fine with me since I knew I’d be sober. I figured he did as well and hoped he’d keep it to himself, then wondered how the hell I’d handle it when the subject finally came up. Because it would. It always did.

************************************************** The beach was surprisingly empty…by my standards, anyway. Try the Jersey Shore on July 4th…you’d have to get there at the crack of dawn to get a decent spot, and someone would fucking steal it if you went to get a snack or use the restroom. Perhaps it was because there was a lot more beachfront to choose from here, or maybe everyone was boating or something, but I was thrilled that I wouldn’t be spending the day elbow to elbow with strangers.

We managed to get everything in one trip and set ourselves up about twenty feet back from the shoreline. I unfolded my chair, pulled Neuromancer out of my bag and set it gently on the sand, then relieved myself of my cover-up. Simon whistled loudly when he saw my suit.

“Maude, you look like a 1950’s pin up model in that thing. Those cutouts…va va va VOOM!”

Tom had his back to me, but spun around upon hearing Simon’s comment. He looked me up and down, then again. And again. I made a mental note to do some lingerie shopping ASAP, then plopped down in my chair with all the grace of a drunken hippo on rollerskates as I released a long, triumphant sigh.

“Ass in lounge chair. Goal achieved. Sand trophy awarded. Beach level unlocked.”

Tom leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I have my own goal to achieve, you know…and it also involves that luscious ass of yours. What’s the optimal way for me to go about unlocking it, Maude?”

I closed my eyes, hung my head down, shook it, then looked up and spoke through gritted teeth. “God, do you have any idea how much I hate being beaten at my own game?”

“I do now.” He grinned, then ran down the beach and into the ocean.

Over the course of the day I read most of Neuromancer, and Tom bought a copy for his tablet to read along with me. We paused after each chapter to discuss, noting the parallels between Gibson’s text and modern technology as well as how much the Matrix had liberally borrowed from his work. I was coerced into playing volleyball, despite citing that my bathing suit and my boobs were not meant for such activities. My refusal to jump led to a stunning loss, at which point Luke and Simon decided to go paddle boarding. Tom and I walked the shoreline, quietly enjoying each others company as we left our footprints behind in the wet sand. He ran in front of me, squatted down and drew a heart with an arrow through it and our initials in it. I rolled my eyes, squatted and drew two stick people fucking doggie style. We giggled like ten-year-olds as we ran away from our creations.

Luke was sitting on one of the lounges scrolling through his phone, and Simon was setting up lunch on a blanket he’d spread out when we returned from our walk. His culinary skills were mind-blowing…pesto, tomato and fresh mozzarella sandwiches served on toasted garlic bread, a platter of paper thin prosciutto, and little cups of mascarpone and dark chocolate cream topped with white chocolate shavings for desert. I glared at Luke, who had eaten his entire meal with his phone in his hand.

“Um, are you working over there, Luke?”

He looked up, frowning slightly. “I know, I know. I’m the one who said ‘but it’s a holiday’. We’re still getting lots of queries from prospective clients, though. And I’m not sure how to handle them all.”

“I’ll help you with it, if you want. Tomorrow. Now put that away and enjoy the day.” I laughed at my unintentional rhyme. “Damn, I’m funny when I’m not even trying.”

Simon grunted. “If you say so.”

I flipped him off, got up from my spot on the blanket and returned to my lounge chair, Tom already draped over the one to my left. He took my hand, I closed my eyes, and dozed off straight away, wiped out from my lack of sleep the night before.

My nap was rudely interrupted by Tom, bent over and shaking my shoulder gently.

“Maude, love, wake up.”

My eyelids fluttered open and I smacked his hand away. “Yeah. Fine. Awake. Why?”

He tipped his head back and to the right. “We’ve been spotted. Just fans, probably. No paparazzi yet.”

I yawned, stretching my arms above my head as I sat up to look and take a head count. Five, so far, about twenty feet away, phones raised. Three adults, two children. Adults were women, children a boy and a girl. Luke was in front of them, back to us, holding up his hands, saying something that I couldn’t quite make out over the roar of the waves. Simon was hovering nearby, watching and waiting.

I hoisted myself out of the chair and stood next to Tom. I elbowed him in the side.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s go do this.” I rooted in my bag, searching for my phone.

I felt his hand grasp my forearm, and I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, eyes wide. “Really? This is all right with you?”

I shrugged. “They’re just people. One smile from you will make their day, and then some. So, why not? Spend a few minutes, they’re happy, they leave, it’s done and we’re back to being beach bums.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What? Is it really so shocking that I practice what I preach?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I’m just not used to…?”

I interjected. “…having someone around who doesn’t think that they’re several rungs higher on the social ladder than the folks who are a huge part of what makes your successful career possible?”

“Oh, I like that. Let’s go with that.”

Twenty minutes later, the crowd had dispersed, Luke had informed me that I was a natural at wrangling fans as well as Tom and that this was my one true calling, and Simon was itching to move on to Nawiliwili Tavern before the crowds hit the beaches in hopes of getting a better view of the fireworks. I’d forgotten that sand was so intrusive and decided to shower before changing in one of the stalls provided, Tom keeping watch for me. I did the same while he rinsed and dressed. Simon and Luke were wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, which I thought was adorable, though the shirts themselves were hideous. Tom emerged wearing a tight white V-neck and tan shorts, and I wondered how in the hell I was going to make it through the evening without spontaneously combusting.

Simon, several yards in front of us with Luke as we all walked back to the car, began chanting, fists in the air. “KARaoke, KARaoke, KARaoke!”

Tom gave me a lopsided grin, eyes alight with mischief. “Care to wager on Luke’s participation again, Maude?”

“What stakes?”

“A late night dalliance of the oral persuasion, underneath the moon and stars? Winner is the receiver.”

“You’re on. Though that’s not really much of an incentive.”

His mouth dropped open. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll enjoy it just as much whether I win or lose.”

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, then flicked it repeatedly with his tongue. “Are you certain that’s the case?”

“Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom. Terms?”

“Guess how many alcoholic beverages he’ll need to consume before he’s loosened up enough to sing in front of an entire bar. We each pick a number, one closest without going over wins. I choose five. Absolutely NO coercion or interference from either of us.”

“Fine. I’m going with two.”

He laughed. “Luke needs to be intoxicated in order to sing, period. He doesn’t even sing in the car, to the best of my knowledge. So very many drinks would be required for him to perform in public that he’ll likely pass out first. You won’t win.”

“Yes. I will. I’m already plotting all the things I’m going to make you do with that tongue of yours….”

“Damn.”

“Damn right.”

************************************************** From the outside, the Nawiliwili Tavern is an unassuming white building with green and red accents. Inside, it’s a quirky, homey, wood-laden watering hole with televisions everywhere, a horseshoe shaped bar, a Foosball table, a pool table, lots of neon and local artifacts aplenty. Karaoke happened right smack in the middle of all the action, and when we walked in the place was packed, with a grey-haired gentleman in a white tank top and Bermuda shorts belting out Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’. There wasn’t an official dance floor, but that didn’t seem to hamper the crowd’s enthusiasm as they moved and shook in place.

Simon turned to me and grabbed my hands, shouting above the din. “Maude, I have found my people. And if they’re my people, I’m thinking they might just be your people, too. Are they your people?”

I nodded as he dragged me closer to the sound system speakers, still shouting. “LET US DANCE WITH OUR PEOPLE!”

Luke and Tom joined us after the song had ended and things quieted down as the next person browsed the available selections. Luke had two Blue Hawaii drinks, one for himself and the other for Simon, and Tom had something that looked like orange juice in a hurricane glass and what I assumed was a Coke for me.

He smiled widely and handed me the tumbler. “Nice moves there, darling. Since you’re the designated driver I brought you a soda. They don’t have Coke, only Pepsi. Hope that’s acceptable.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to make do.” I kissed his cheek, then pointed to his drink. “Thank you. Now, tell me what the hell that thing is.”

He caressed the side of the glass, running his fingers over its curves. “This is a Tropical Itch. Rum, vodka passion orange juice and orange curacao. Bamboo backscratcher included at no extra charge.” He took a sip, then offered me one.

I shook my head. “I’m driving, remember?”

He pouted. “So there’s no chance of me getting you snockered and having my way with you?”

I snorted. “Riiight. Because you haven’t had your way with me already.” I grabbed his ass and he emitted a low hiss.

“Minx.” His tone seemed…off. I looked up at him, noting that his expression didn’t quite align with his words, either. He met my gaze, then shifted his eyes to the side for a moment, then back to me as he smiled softly. I knew instantly that the topic of my lack of participation in the consumption of alcohol had reared its ugly head while he and Luke were ordering drinks, and that he’d offered me a sip and posed his suggestive question in the hopes that I’d volunteer an answer to another question…the one he’d rather not have to ask.

It wasn’t as if I’d never been down this road before, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. And this time, I actually gave a shit about the reaction I’d get, which was terrifying but I decided it wouldn’t get any less awkward as time went on. And if I was lucky, he wouldn’t press me for too much background information.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. “To answer your question…no, Tom, I don’t drink. Historically, alcohol and I make incredibly poor bedfellows, so I’ve made it a point to abstain. Hope that doesn’t pose a problem.” I swallowed and cast my gaze downward as he put a hand on my shoulder.

“How did you know…I…lord, you…I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you seemingly reading my thoughts, though I certainly do adore it.” He kissed me briefly, his lips soft and warm, slightly sweet with orange and passionfruit juice. “I’m very sorry, Maude. When we were at the bar I initially ordered two Tropical Itches and Luke looked at me as if I had three heads and said ‘don’t tell me you’re such a dolt that you haven’t noticed that she doesn’t drink’, and apparently I am such a dolt because, I hadn’t. I asked if you told him why and he said you hadn’t even told him you didn’t but unlike me he actually possesses observational skills so he picked up on it and that it wasn’t anyone’s business but yours and if you wanted me to know you’d tell me, but…”

He paused, waiting for a response from me. I met his gaze but remained silent.

“I…Maude…of course it’s not a problem for me, not at all…but…is it a problem for you that I do drink? I suppose if it was you would have mentioned it or run for the hills already…shit, I…please, say something before I make an even bigger arse of myself, won’t you?”

“You aren’t making an arse of yourself, Tom. That’s an odd word, isn’t it? Arse. Doesn’t sit well on the tongue.” He raised his left eyebrow, smirking just the tiniest bit. “Other people’s drinking preferences are of no concern to me as long as they don’t impact my own existence in a seriously detrimental fashion.” I patted his bicep. “For the record, abysmal drunken singing is not automatically considered to be seriously detrimental. That’s a case by case basis kind of thing.”

He crossed his hands at the wrist and put them on his chest, right above his heart. “I am deeply offended that you believe my singing will be…abysmal.”

I shrugged. “I was actually referring to the lovely woman currently butchering ‘We Built This City’, which is bad enough when sung on key. But if you think the shoe fits, prove me wrong, Thomas. Get in the karaoke line.”

He leaned down, frowning as he touched his forehead to mine. “You okay?”

“Good, actually. I’ve been dreading that whole conversation. I always wind up feeling like a freak show because the general consensus is that if you don’t party there must be something really, really wrong with you.’”

“Again, my apologies. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Someday. Thank you. And no need to apologize. By our own admissions, there’s still a ton of shit we don’t know about each other yet. Please, never be afraid to ask me questions, Tom. I’ll always answer as best I can.” I chuckled.

“What?”

“At least you didn’t ask me if it was because it’s against my religion.”

“You’ve been asked that?”

“Yes. Yes I have.”

“Might I inquire as to what your reply was?”

“Let’s just say the conversation went sideways. And that the person hasn’t spoken to me since.” His brow furrowed. “Turned out they didn’t appreciate being lectured on the impact of religion on personal freedom and how it was engineered from the start as a means of controlling the populous…”

Simon came bounding over and put his arm around my waist. “Time for singing, Maude. Let’s go.”

I raised both eyebrows and handed Tom my soda. “Um, okay…mind telling me WHAT it is we’re singing?”

He poked his index finger at my chest. “We will be performing one of my personal favorites – ‘It’s Raining Men’ by the Weather Girls.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed, then fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Film away, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back in the habit of tweeting more than once every hundred years.”

We sang, we danced, and by the end of the song most of the bar had joined in. After enjoying a round of applause, Simon and I found Tom and Luke in the crowd and pushed and shoved our way to them. I sucked down my entire soda and set the glass on the nearest table while Luke handed Simon a Tropical Itch. He was still nursing his first Blue Hawaii. Simon kissed his cheek.

“Your turn, love. Come sing with me.”

I grinned evilly at Tom. He shook his head. Luke handed me his drink.

“Watch this for me, will you?” I nodded, and Simon passed off his beverage to Tom. I pulled out my phone since I had a hand free, then realized I was way too fucking short to be able to get anything other than the heads of the people in front of me. Tom had set the rest of the drinks on a table, and took Luke’s from me and put it there as well. He held out his hand, palm up.

“May I do the honors?”

I handed over my phone. “Please do. I can’t see for shit.”

He took my hand and worked his way to the front of the crowd so he was directly in front of Luke and Simon, then moved behind me. When the first notes of the song hit my ears and I realized it was ‘I Got You Babe’ I believe I may have actually squealed with delight. Luke did Sonny’s parts, and Simon did Cher’s. It was adorable, the depth of their feelings for each other so blatantly apparent that it moved me to tears. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, followed by him kissing the back of my neck. Looking around the room, I saw that nearly every other couple was entwined in some way, swaying to the music. Tom managed to capture it all, and as soon as the song ended I grabbed the phone and logged into Twitter.

My boss, Luke. My co-worker (and Luke’s fiancé), Simon. Karaoke USUALLY only makes me cry because the singing is SO very bad. #happytearstonightthough #igotyoubabe #tooadorable #thisjobgetsbetterandbetter

Tom whispered in my ear as he slowly lowered his hand from my waist to my belly. “Well, it appears you’ve won again, Maude. I’m anxiously awaiting the settlement of my debt.”

“You should stop talking, Thomas. Rest that tongue.” He pressed me back against him and I could feel him hard against my ass. I clenched, knowing his hand was in just the right spot to feel everything tighten. His groan almost made me come right there, in the middle of the bar.

“Maaaaauuuuddee.” He bit my neck, and as I turned my head to the side to allow him better access I noticed a woman a few feet away with her camera pointed in our direction. I waved, hearing her gasp as she quickly turned around. I chuckled, and Tom mumbled into my neck. “What’s funny?”

“Prepare yourself, dude. I just caught some woman taking pictures of us…which are totally going to show up on Tumblr any second now.”

“Good. I want the world to know you’re all mine.” He growled and laved the spot he’d bitten with his tongue, then released me as Simon and Luke approached us. “I do believe it’s time for my abysmal performance.”

I rolled my eyes and burst into song. “Let it go, let it GOOOOO…” He blew me a kiss and began perusing the song catalog.

Simon crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “He’ll do Piano Man. I guarantee it.”

I shrugged. “I have no point of reference for his karaoke habits, so I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

When Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’ began to play, Simon’s jaw dropped and he patted his pockets frantically as he tried to locate his phone. “Well, fuck me. This is definitely not ‘Piano Man’! Shit, where is my phone?!”

I handed him mine. “Will you film so I can watch him, please?”

He pinched my cheek. “No, let’s make Luke do it. I can’t stand still during this song.”

Luke sighed, but obliged. Since Tom had taken center stage, so to speak, more people began to recognize him. Cameras were raised all around the bar, some patrons standing on tables to get a better view. I heard him singing, and was surprised at how good he sounded, but the majority of my focus was directed upon watching him move. His hips gyrating, pelvis thrusting, spinning with his arms extended, jawline and cheekbones so perfectly shadowed in the dim lighting of the bar. I was sure I heard ‘get Loki’ from somewhere in the crowd a few times, which made me grin like an idiot. It was all over before I could truly process what I’d just witnessed, the sound of the crowd clapping and cheering snapping me back to reality as I watched him bow deeply several times. As he strode toward me, everything else faded in to a blur, and all I saw was Tom. He picked me up and spun me around as if I was as light as a feather, then set me down and dipped me as he kissed me. His smile as he set me upright again nearly made me swoon.

“Well? Was it as terrible as you expected?”

I punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. You’re well aware that you were fucking amazing.”

Simon gave my phone back. “Post it, Maude. POST IT.”

Oh look, it’s this guy again. Karaoke. Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’. You’ve never seen it done like this before, trust me. You’re welcome. :) #upallnightforgoodfun? #indeed

Luke’s phone dinged. He checked it, and suddenly his head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth open and tongue protruding.

Simon snorted. “Whoops, I think you finally did him in with that one, honey.”

Tom peeked at the screen over my shoulder and cackled. “Since it’s entirely your fault I expect you’ll be covering all of the funeral expenses?”

I wiggled my fingers and tickled Luke just under his armpit. He tried to maintain his composure but was unable to resist, finally dissolving into a puddle of giggles.

Simon shouted “IT’S ALIVE”, which earned him a huge hug and a rather lengthy kiss. I looked up and Tom, who firmly planted his hand on my back and walked me to the laptop that contained the song list.

“Your turn, my love.”

The left corner of my mouth turned down. “Um, you’re kind of a tough act to follow, you know.”

He shook his head. “I’ve heard you sing. No one will even remember what I did when you’re through.” He kissed my cheek and went to rejoin Luke and Simon, his phone in his hand, ready to record.

I considered Blondie’s ‘One Way or Another’ but decided it was a little too high for me in spots, thought about Adelle’s ‘Skyfall’, which was well within my range but not really a crowd pleaser, and then I found it. Amy Winehouse, ‘Back to Black’. A little raunchy at times, brutally honest and incredibly dark…rather like me. Perfection. It had been at least fifteen years since I’d sung in front of an audience of more than a few people in public, and they were forced to listen to me because we were in the grocery store or on a plane, but I was incredibly calm. I’d sung this one more times than I could remember, and I knew it inside out and upside down. I hit the button and grabbed the microphone, ready to roll.

Halfway through I noticed that the room had gone quiet, not a single sound to be heard other than the music and…me. I knew if I looked at Tom I’d fuck up royally, so I kept my eyes on the screen. When I finished the silence continued for what seemed like an eternity, broken suddenly by thunderous applause, whistles and cat calls. I bowed, then searched the faces around me, trying to find Tom. I saw Luke and Simon, but he wasn’t with them. I made my way over, head tilted, questioning.

Simon pointed to a nearby table. “Honey, you were so good the man had to go sit the fuck down. And I got it all on video. Luke filmed you, and I filmed Tom watching you. Your grandkids will thank me. Or throw up in their mouths a little. Something.”

I followed Simon’s finger, and there was Tom, sitting in a chair, legs spread wide, hands on his thighs, head down and looking at the floor. I approached him slowly, coming to rest between his legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head, stroking his hair. I heard the first strains of Rick Astley’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ and turned to see Simon, mic in hand, doing his best impression of Rick’s dancing . I gently pried Tom’s arms from around me, slid down and squatted in front of him. His eyes were still directed at the hardwood floor. I leaned my head in and under in an attempt to get him to look at me.

“Hi there.” He raised his head ever so slowly, mouth turned up at the corners almost imperceptibly. His eyes wavered from angry to pained, aroused, and then to adoring as his emotions cycled. He stood, taking my hands and pulling me up with him, then let go so he could place them firmly on my shoulders as he stared at me.

His words came out haltingly, but firm. “I. Love. You.”

I reached out to cup his jaw and ran my thumb along his cheekbone. “And I love you.”

“That was both beautiful and terrible all at once, Maude.”

“Okaaaay…”

“There was so much pain in your voice…raw, naked, real pain.”

“Maybe I’m just a top-notch performer.”

He took two steps towards me, closing the gap between us, his hands still on my shoulders, eyes ablaze. “Is it wrong that I want to decimate whomever is responsible for that pain?”

I shook my head, wishing it was that simple. He let his hands slide down my arms until they were clutching my elbows.

“In addition to that, I’m overwhelmed with pride, joy, and, more than anything else, desire. Everything I’m feeling is a jumbled, incoherent mess and I need you in order to sort it all out. Right now. I need to be inside you, to feel you all around me, your skin against mine, flushed red by the pleasure we’re giving each other, enveloped by your scent…” His hands were shaking, eyes full of desperation. “I…I…just…I need you. I need you, lest I lose my fucking mind, Maude.”

It took all the willpower I possessed to not fuck him senseless right then and there. I felt in my pocket to make sure the car keys Luke had given me when we arrived were still there. Check. The vehicle was roomy enough, I thought, and the windows were darkly tinted to ensure the occupants could remain relatively anonymous. I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Simon, who was just finishing up and basking in the accolades bestowed upon him by the bar’s patrons.

We’re taking a little ride. Won’t be long, about thirty or forty minutes max. Everything’s fine, Tom just needs some air. - XO, M

Talk about uncharted fucking territory. I pushed any negative thoughts aside, telling myself that yes, it is perfectly normal and absolutely possible to grow to love someone so deeply in such a short period of time that you began to need them as much as you needed…well, air. I took Tom by the hand and led him out to the parking lot, and he hesitated when I opened the door for him.

“Maude?”

“Get in the car, Tom.” He complied. I hopped in, put on my seat belt, turned the engine over, put it in reverse and backed out of the parking space. I forgot to brake as I tried to shift it into drive, corrected myself, and headed down the road to find what I was looking for. Two miles down, there it was. A large office complex, dimly lit and completely deserted as it had been when we passed it on the way to the bar. Since it was a holiday, I was reasonably sure it would remain that way. As I pulled into the lot Tom finally realized what I was up to. He unbuckled his seat belt, leaned into me and began licking the hollow between my collarbones as he wriggled his hand under the waistband of my baggy shorts.

“You need to stop that or I’m going to wind up driving the car right through the fucking building.”

He ignored me and began rubbing my mound with the palm of his hand while he slipped three fingers inside me. I drove around to the rear of the property and parked as far back as I could, right next to a privacy fence. He climbed on top of me as soon as I put it park, devouring my mouth, his free hand in my hair as the other worked me into a frenzy. I rode his hand, fingernails raking up and down the back of his white V-neck, screaming his name as I came. He opened the driver side door, rose up off of me and gracefully exited the vehicle, hand extended. I took it, and he helped me up. Neither of us spoke.

I opened the trunk, searched for our beach towels and spread all of them across the back seat, tucking the edges into the space between the top and the bottom of the bench. I didn’t think it was nearly long enough for him to stretch out, but we’d most likely be able to fit without having to leave the door open. I turned around to find him completely naked, cock standing proudly erect. I yanked my T-shirt over my head while he unhooked my bra, taking a breast in each hand, bending to suck on my nipples in turn as I wiggled out of my shorts and underwear. He stood back to look at me in the moonlight, fireworks sounding off in the distance and reflecting in his eyes, then moved closer to touch my face with his fingertips. He pushed me backward gently, motioning for me to lie down on the seat. I squirmed as I did, struggling to find a comfortable position, and when I finally stilled he bent over, entered the car headfirst, closed the door behind him, then crawled between my legs and up my body like a cat. He looked as if he wanted to eat me alive, and I was SO totally fine with that.

I could feel him hard against me, poised at my entrance. He stared at me, unmoving, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. His voice startled me when he spoke.

“Will you let me make love to you, Maude?”

I raised my hips, shifting so the head of his cock slid into me. “Please, Thomas. Fuck me.” He pulled back and out of my reach.

“No. I don’t want to just fuck you. I want to make love to you. Pleasure your body with the reverence it deserves.”

The realization that I had no idea what that actually meant hit me like a freight train. I panicked, then decided to opt for honesty.

“I don’t think I know how that’s supposed to work.”

“You let go and let me love you. That’s how it works.”

I frowned. “Still not getting it.”

He resumed staring at me, and it slowly dawned on me that what he so desperately needed was not just a physical connection, but an emotional one as well, wherein we focused on the way our bodies came together, instead of them just…coming. Two people becoming one. Possessing each other fully, completely. I twined my legs with his.

“Take me, Thomas. Make me yours.”

He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he sank into me, his lips finally closing over mine, our breath mingling. He propped himself up on his elbows, raised my hands so they lay beside my head, then wrapped his fingers around mine as he rested his full weight on me.

Our tongues danced around each other, pulling back, pushing forward, licking, mouths sucking, teeth biting. He lifted his head so he could meet my gaze as he began to move, a fraction of an inch at a time at first, finally pulling nearly all the way out then sheathing himself fully over and over again. I was panting, and the urge to clamp down on him was overwhelming, but I breathed deeply and concentrated on the way our bodies joined, fitting each other so perfectly, the way his cock felt when it was completely buried in my cunt, the way it dragged against my walls as he thrust in and pulled back again and again. This beautiful man above me, looking deep into my soul, making me feel like I was his entire world. And he was mine. There was nothing else, just us, skin on skin, pleasure emanating from where we connected, and I never wanted it to end.

I felt him twitch inside me, and our eyes locked. He sped up, full weight still on me, hips undulating like waves. My breasts moved with him as he rocked us, nipples rubbing against the hair on his chest, his pubic bone pressing deliciously against my clit with every thrust. The tension in my belly rose, setting me alight, the fire spreading throughout my entire body. When I began to shudder, he let go of my hands and slid both arms underneath me, raising my upper body to him, cradling me, one hand buried in my hair and holding my head, my name an invocation on his lips.

I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if I were drowning and he was the only one who could save me, staring into his eyes as I…let go. It was almost an out of body experience, an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, involving every molecule that comprised the shell that housed my spirit. An explosion, bathing me in warm, bright light. And he was right there with me, coming and coming deep inside me, anointing our union with his essence.

I burst into tears, overcome with emotion. He moved his hands to my thighs, lifting me, and shifted us, still joined, to a sitting position so I was on his lap, holding me and rubbing my back as I sobbed against his neck.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, I’m here.”

The minutes ticked by, and as my storm subsided I lifted my head and brushed away my tears with my forearm, then placed my hands on either side of his face, leaning in close.

“I love you, Thomas. Sorry for falling apart. I…it’s…I…I’ve never experienced anything like what just happened before. Ever. Not even close. Thank you. For that. And for loving me.”

He rested his forehead against mine, eyes wet with tears of his own. “And oh, how I do love you. Please don’t be sorry, Maude. The fact that your feelings about me, about us, are so intense means…well, everything. And I’m the one should be thanking you. You gave me what I needed. You let me in. You let go. You gave me you. All of you.”

We held each other until I began tittering softly.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Nothing.” He raised his brows at me. “Fine. It’s just…we’re having, like, this MOMENT and then I remembered that we’re naked in a fucking rental car in a parking lot on the 4th of July in Hawaii and that we totally ditched Simon and Luke at a bar like we’re a couple of fucking horny teenagers and…” I was laughing so hard that I thought I was going to pee my pants, and then I realized that I wasn’t wearing pants and that pushed me over the edge and I was crying again.

Tom’s laughter began as a low rumble in his chest, then escalated to full on guffawing, and soon enough we were both weeping and clutching at each other.

Once we could look at each other again without losing our shit, he grabbed the towel nearest to us and slipped it under me as I lifted myself off of him, then opened the car door to gather the clothes we’d strewn across the macadam. He dressed me, kissing me everywhere as he went. My ankles, the backs of my knees, my belly button, up and down my spine, my eyelids. When I wanted to return the favor he refused.

“If your lips even so much as graze my skin, we’ll never make it back to Nawiliwili tonight.”

Since he hadn’t even finished his first drink, I let him drive while I checked my phone. There was a text from Simon, sent five minutes ago.

Your forty minutes were up ten minutes ago, girlie. I’m a total slut for karaoke, but I don’t think my voice can take much more. Get your asses back here, please. – XO, S

I texted him back.

We’re on our way. Be there in two minutes. I’d say I’m sorry, but…I’m really not, so… - XO, M

He replied immediately.

Bitch. ;P – XO, S

We parked and walked in, hand in hand. Simon and Luke were chatting away with another couple, and as we approached them I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the woman from earlier who’d been taking pictures of us. Tom looked at me, and I nodded and let go of his hand so he could go join Luke and Simon.

“Um, hi. I’m really sorry to bother you but I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about before. It was really wrong for me to take pictures of you guys when you’re just living your lives. That was a totally private moment. I mean, I wouldn’t want a stranger taking a picture of me and my boyfriend like that…anyway, I didn’t post them online or anything, and I deleted them off my phone. I was just really excited because I’m a big fan and…so, yeah. Sorry for being an asshole.”

I patted her arm and smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. And since you didn’t post them, you are absolutely not an asshole as far as I’m concerned. I completely understand how it happened. He’s just so damn beautiful, how could you not, right?” She laughed. “Want to meet him?”

She blushed and held up her hands. “Oh, no, no…I couldn’t, not after what I did, I feel like such a shit.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on. And sorry, I forgot to ask…what’s your name?”

“Samantha.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Samantha. I’m Maude.”

Her blush deepened. “I know.”

I brought her over to Tom, introduced her and took their picture, and when I told her it was fine to post it online she said she’d think about it but would probably have it printed instead. She thanked us and went back to her group of friends across the room. As Luke took a handful of glasses back to the bar, Simon pointed at me accusingly.

“You’ve had your fun, now I want mine. For the love of Christ, let’s get OUT of here already. And please tell me you’re a fast driver. Please.”

I nodded. “I am. But I’m not driving. Tom is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oy. He drives like my grandpa. We’ll just have to fuck in the backseat on the way there then, I guess.”

Tom snickered, and I pretended to smack the back of his head.

Simon’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You didn’t. Did you?” I shrugged. “You did!”

Luke returned, brow furrowed. “Did what?”

Simon shook his head. “You don’t want to know. All I’m sayin’ is that I’m putting towels down before I sit in that car.”

I held up a finger. “Yeah. About those towels…”

#your light in the mist #chapter 12

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