#it gets gayer and gayer with every passing moment

[ravenrambles6229]

to whom it may concern, im on a short break from wax and wane. i've been working on another fic with a friend. it's a much smaller fic, a chatfic, for red vs. blue. once i've got a good bit of that done, i'll be going back to wax and wane. just needed a break after the monster that was last chapter. hoping to get a chapter out by the end of the year. dunno if that is going to happen

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Another thing I love about season 2: getting to see Taika act without the beard!!

I knew that the beard prosthetic prevented a lot of facial movement, and I also knew that this meant we'd get to see some excellent Ed action that utilizes all parts of his face. We all know Taika is amazing at having eyes, I'm not disparaging his acting in s1 in any way, but I was excited to see the lower half of his face join the party. And man. I was ready but I was not prepared!

First of all, he is so pretty. Every second I look at this I can feel myself getting gayer.

But we also get to see his blank despair at the start of the season...

Which makes these sweet little smiles seem all the sweeter!

And a few more subtle moments that might not have worked as well with the full beard covering up so much of his face - it was sometimes easy to miss Ed's little glances and small expressions in s1 with the beard. His acting in s2 feels a lot subtler as a result.

Not to mention the amazing underwater acting!

And even some really cute awkward moments. He literally says 😬

I think my personal favorite Ed full-face acting choice is how he kinda purses his lips and juts his chin out when he gets mad. Like sorry Stede but if my boyfriend looked at me like this I would simply pass away on the spot.

It's so good! I love Ed's beard but being able to act without it leant Taika's performance a lot of vulnerability that I absolutely adore.

[alarrytale]

He's sending out mixed signals. Since he's not naturally stereotypically gay presenting, like Louis is for example, he's not even recognised as gay by his own community. It's his own community calling him out. His fellow queers.//

That’s exactly why I will always have doubts about his sexuality while Louis is basically my comfort person because no matter that he has whole ass kid as his stunt for years, I have never questioned his sexuality because of his flamboyance and mannerism. When I’m worried about H, I look at Louis and his “I love him, I hate it” or just seeing him performing his love songs about H and it immediately comfort me that everything’s alright and they are alright and still the same. But when I look at H himself, he’s just too straight passing to make me stop wondering and questioning about his sexuality. And makes me worry what kind of stunt shenanigans he’s willing to do to keep appearing straight to gp. And even when queers, his own community, is feeling like they need to call him out, that’s just something…idk, but I would expect at least them to some kind of protect him. Please don’t come at me for this, but I’m someone who’s larrie for short time and before that I never thought about H other way than that he’s simply straight and just into extravagant clothes. Diving into main larries’ blogs and Harry’s sexuality tag caused some sort of revelation for me and it was like 5 mins before I became Louis’ fan and slipped into the larry rabbit hole at the same moment. I understand that H and Louis’ closets are very different because their careers and fame is different, but I’m just worried that altho H might fought to be where he is with his queercoding and being himself, I’m still skeptical about him and worried that he will go into some lavender marriage etc because it will be easier and better for his career than idk be officially “single” for at least an year without having rumours that he hooks up with every woman in his 2m radius.

Being new larrie will always have 2 layers of worries for me. 1st layer if they are still together and 2nd layer if they aren’t together, what if H actually end up with some woman as a way of giving up after year and years of fighting and staying in his closet until the end of times.

Ugh, I’m sorry if my thoughts are all over the place but I hope you’ll understand what I wanted to write.

Hi, anon!

I think it's so funny because i feel like most of this fandom has the opposite problem in reading H and L's sexuality. They read H as gay/bi no problem (even non-larrie harries do!), but they don't recognise it as easily in Louis.

I've said this before, but Louis has naturally stereotypically gay mannerisms, but he's masking it by presenting an overly masculine and laddy persona. With Louis you need to catch him unawares and in comfortable settings for him to relax enough to show himself as he is. He can also get away with singing i love him i hate it, without it being tabloid fodder. The gp won't know.

With H he needs to put on an exaggerated flamboyant persona to make people get what he's trying to put down. He's straight passing, so he needs to double down on the queercoding and femininity for people to get the picture. Some people read his doubling down as him being gender non-conforming or a very femme gay man sleeping in silk negligees. He might be, but i just read it differently.

I think they're together and have been all this time. I don't know how to assure you other than showing you the repeated patterns of behaviour and try to make you see past the stunts and heavy gaslighting. They're both proud gay men trying to survive and be themselves as much as possible in a hostile environment trying to surpress their real personalities to make their label money. I don't think H and L will ever stop fighting, or making their work environment better for themselves. Harry has gotten gayer and gayer on stage. So has his songs. I think his next album will be assuring to you. There will most likely be songs in respons to fitf there. It will be fun hearing his side of the story!

[shazzeaslightnovels]

Lycoris Recoil: Ordinary Days

Author: Asaura

Illustrator: Imigimuru

Label: Dengeki Bunko

Release Date: 9 September 2022

My Score: 4/5

Content warnings: parts of the book are told from the POVs of the customers of LycoReco. Most of them are adult men and this leads to some of the descriptions of the girls feeling a bit icky. There’s a particular part where Takina and Chisato mention that they have night work leading to the customers wondering if they are engaging in sex work and Chisato’s chest is mentioned in relation this. This is a fairly minor problem but I thought it worth mentioning because gross. Also, the final story is very dark with depictions of bullying and attempted sexual assault.

This is a short story collection for the recent anime Lycoris Recoil. I really enjoyed the anime so I was eager to read this and, for the most part, it didn’t disappoint. The short stories here are intended to show the daily lives of the main characters and there’s a good variety of tones and themes explored. While I didn’t like every story, I did enjoy seeing more of the characters and the simple writing style made it a breeze to get through. The focus of this volume is purely on Chisato and Takina. The other staff members of LycoReco do appear but they’re not given much focus and characters like Fuki are only mentioned in passing. I thought this was a shame as I was hoping for a story about Mizuki or Fuki to give them more exploration that they were missing in the anime. That being said, I love Chisato and Takina and this book definitely delivered on the ChisaTaki moments. At first, I thought it was a bit lacking but the stories get progressively gayer, especially in the third and fourth story. They are very cute and wholesome. Judging by the state of their relationship, the appearance of Kurumi and the lack of mention of Yoshi or Majima, I’d say these stories take place after episode 4, with the aquarium, and before episode 6 as that’s when they first directly encounter Majima. Overall, I thought this was a good short story collection that was easy to read and gave some satisfying fan service. I don’t recommend it if you haven’t seen or enjoyed the anime but if you have then it’s a real good time.

Now I’m going to go into further details on each of the stories and my opinions on them below the cut. There will be spoilers, especially for the last story so be warned.

There are five short stories and between each story is an Introduction chapter. These are used to introduce the topic and tone of the following story. They also feature the plotline of a journalist who wants to write an article on the LycoReco Cafe. I thought these were good breather chapters and led to a good payoff at the end of the book but I didn’t care for the plotline much.

The first story follows a new customer who is retired early at the age of 55. Takina seems concerned about him so Chisato thinks Takina’s in love with the guy and puts all her effort into getting them closer and convincing him to see Takina as a serious romantic interest. This is of course a misunderstanding and Takina actually hates him. She hates the gloomy atmosphere he brings to the cafe and hates that he always only orders coffee and no food. While I had a bit of a chuckle at this one and it was in character, I did find myself annoyed about the misunderstanding and I didn’t care for the older man character.

The second story entitled “Gun Fight, Coffee, and Chisato’s Red ‘That’“ is the shortest one and the one that I disliked the most. It’s pretty much one big action scene with a lot of descriptions of gun that bored me to tears. It tries to explain how various gadgets in the show worked, like Chisato’s non-lethal bullets (the red “that” in question) and the parachute bag seen in the anime’s opening but I didn’t care. I forgot almost everything about it as soon as I finished it. Probably the most interesting thing about it is how Chisato’s bullets are described as looking like flowers blooming when they hit which was not how they came across in the anime. If you like guns, you might like this one more than I did.

The third story, “Takina’s Cooking”, was one of my favourites. Takina’s starting to adjust to life at the cafe but struggles when it’s her turn to cook lunch, leading to her just making protein shakes. Chisato of course makes it her mission to fix this disatrous state of affairs. The comedy in this one was great and the ending was so sweet and adorable.

The fourth story, “LicoReco of the Dead” was probably my favourite. In this one, Takina and Chisato wake up to find themselves alone at the cafe and that a zombie infection has happened while they were asleep. They quickly conclude that this is a dream and the story is about their survival. The reason why I loved this one is because of Takina’s reflection on her relationship with Chisato. Chisato asks Takina whether she would like to be together forever with her and it leads to Takina doing some overanalyzing on her question and it’s great. This is what I mean by this volume getting gayer with each story: we started with Chisato thinking that Takina was in love with an older man and we get to a story where the highlight is Takina having gay thoughts.

The fifth and final story, “What Would You Like to Order?” is very bleak. It’s about a middle schooler named Kana who has found solace at the cafe. She lives with her dad and step-mum but has complicated feelings because their relationship started before her dad and birth mum seperated. She hates her dad and step-mum for this. She’s also getting bullied at school and is blackmailed by her bully who took a nude photo of her while she was getting changed for gym. The bully blackmails her into spending her afternoon with the bully and her boyfriend who try to get Kana into sex work. When she escapes, the bully spreads the nude around and then her teacher tries to sexually assault her. To escape, she pulls out a gun that she found and was planning to use to kill her bullies and parents. Like I said, this is a very bleak story and I had to skim through most of it because it was so depressing to read. I did like that it explored why someone might be driven to the point of murder as the anime dealed with very black and white cases of terrorism and this was a more complex case but I found it a let down as the final story. It does have a happy ending but I found it unsatisfying and it didn’t give me as much catharsis as I needed after reading such a depressing story.

Thankfully, it was followed with the outroduction and a bonus very short story to end the book on a happier note. I think it’s testament to the writing that even though I only really enjoyed two out of five of the short stories, I still came out of it thinking that it was a positive experience. Despite not liking every story, I still had fun reading most of this book (except the last story) and I hope we get more spin-off novels in this vein. Maybe one focusing on other Lycoris? I can only hope. Given the popularity of the anime, I think this one has a good shot of getting an English release so here’s hoping.

[dirtbagbabyy]

times Taylor’s work made me, a lesbian, feel gayer than before

(a list that could be understood by non swifties):

Wonderland:

- haven’t you heard what becomes of curious minds?

- too in love to think straight

Mine:

- I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter

- she is the best thing that’s ever been mine

Seven:

- i’ve been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted. your dad is always mad, and that must be why. and i think you should come live with me, and we can be pirates. then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.

-our love will be passed on

Lavender Haze:

-no deal, that 1950’s shit they want from me

Welcome To New York:

- you can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls

Maroon:

- so Scarlet it was: the mark they saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the Lips i used to call home

Tolerate It:

- my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

Right Where You Left Me:

- you could hear a hairpin drop

So It Goes:

- cold cage, hostage to my feelings

- wear you like a necklace

betty: (seriously??)

- slept next to her

- betty, right now is the last time i can dream about what happens when you see my face again

- will you have me? will you want me? will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?

- if you kiss me will it be just like i dreamed it, will it patch your broken wings?

- i miss you, standing in your cardigan, kissing in my car again

Dress:

- secret moments in a crowded room

- all of the silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

- pining and desperately waiting

- i don’t want you like a best friend, only bought this dress so you could take it off

- carve your name into my bedpost, cuz i don’t want you like a best friend

- everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing

- i can’t explain this

Dancing With Our Hands Tied:

- i loved you in secret

- people started talking, putting us through our paces

- dancing with our hands tied

- i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us

Hits Different:

- it hits different this time

- moving on was always easy for me to do, it hits different, it hits different cuz it’s you

- i used to switch out these kens, i’d just ghost, rip the bandaid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw. freedom felt like summer then, on the coast. now the sun burns my heart, and the sand hurts my feelings.

- dreams of your hair and your stare and sense of belief

- bet i could still melt your world, argumentative, antithetical dream girl

Willow:

- every bait and switch was a work of art

Gold Rush:

- what must it be like to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into place like dominos

- i can’t dare to dream about you anymore

- gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. so inviting, i almost jump in.

I Know Places:

- you stand with your hand on my waistline, it’s a scene and we’re out here in plain sight. i can hear them whisper as we pass by.

- something happens when everybody finds out, see the vultures circling, dark clouds

- they got the cages, they got the boxes, and guns. they are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run.

- baby, i know places we won’t be found, and they’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

- i know places we can hide

- lights flash and we’ll run for their fences

- let them say what they want, we won’t hear it

- loose lips sink ships all the time, not this time

Treacherous:

- this slope is treacherous, this path is reckless

- this slope is treacherous and i like it

- i can’t decide if it’s a choice, getting swept away

- nothing safe is worth the drive

- this hope is treacherous, this daydream is dangerous

How You Get The Girl:

- i want you for worse or for better, i would wait forever and ever. broke your heart, i’ll put it back together, i would wait forever and ever. and that’s how it works, that’s how you get the girl.

[captnjacksparrow]

Hey, do you ever just laugh at the blatant lies that NH/SS stans tell? Like them saying that there's no romantic context to anything involving Naruto and Sasuke.

I just know those bitter ppl are lying because had that "holding hands but not because our hands are gone so this heart shaped blood will symbolize it" thing happened between Naruto and Hinata or between Sasuke and Sakura then they'd never shut up about it. Just like how they never shut up about... Sasuke poking Sakura's forehead or Naruto saying holding Hinata's hand over Neji's dead body.

Had Sasuke saved Sakura from falling in the volcano or insisted that he had to kill her so he'd officially be alone or been drawn to her, SasuSaku fans/stans would go nuts.

Had Naruto seen a shooting star and thought of Hinata or chased after her for years or passed out at the thought of others trying to harm her or willingly let Kurama take over just because someone else mentioned her possesively or- you get the point. Had Naruto done any of that in reference to Hinata than naruhina fans/stans would go crazy.

But alas, Naruto and Sasuke are two boys and it would be gay to see anything between them as romantic. So, every single thing about their relationship is 1000% platonic and familial. Or just plain toxic if they can't bear to say that the two guys liked each other at all.

Oh Yes.... All the time!!! 

Back then, I used to get angry when I was new to this fandom because of those lies... I would've respected them had their lies were atleast convincing and believable at best. But their Lies are all such a poor quality which repulsed me even more.... My thoughts were, “Can you please lie better??”

But then after getting over that Angry phase, their lies started to become hilarious... I mean more than their lies, I find their coping mechanism to be extremely funny. For every single SNS scene they have a reason as to why it’s not Gayer. They started to spout some shit like... 

Sasuke’s darkness went away, the moment he said Sorry to Sakura.... 

Sasuke said Naruto saved him because he is the Main Character... But the person who got into his spirit and touched his heart was Sakura... That’s why he said Thank You to Sakura... So, Naruto saved Sasuke’s body... But Sakura saved his Heart.... 

Sasuke jerked off thinking about Sakura when he stayed in Orochimaru Hideout... 

Sasuke leg trembled because he couldn’t bear seeing Sakura beg like that... that’s why his heart got frozen for a second.... (Who’s gonna tell them that it was a translation error)

Sasuke left her to die in the Lava pit because he didn’t want her to die at the hands of Kaguya... 

Sooooo Good and believable... Right?? 

But alas, Naruto and Sasuke are two boys and it would be gay to see anything between them as romantic. So, every single thing about their relationship is 1000% platonic and familial.

I actually got immune to this familial claim.. I learned to just block them and move on. 

But What I couldn’t tolerate was NH peeps spouting, “Naruto considered Sakura as his Sister”......  (This really made me go WTF). I mean seriously???? He was practically asking her out for Dates... despite considering her as his shield... But calling them as Siblings is purely a cringe behaviour which disrespects the Sibling bond, you know. 

And when I hear these non sense for a prolonged time... I can’t help but LOLing at them, tbh.

[iwanthermidnightz]

In the old days — and by old days, I mean the Dark Ages of 2017 — I spent hours sifting through objectively heterosexual song lyrics searching for subjectively Sapphic clues.

Take Taylor Swift’s song “Dress,” which opens with the line: “Our secret moments in your crowded room, they’ve got no idea about me and you.” Like, who has “secret moments” in “crowded rooms” besides gay people?

This was a good mental exercise, or just a horny exercise, but it came from a place of loneliness. I wanted mainstream pop music to be queer because I was queer, and I wanted desperately to relate to the music and artists I already loved.

For years, wherever there wasn’t explicit Sapphic desire, I inserted my own in an attempt to connect. It was a long road from “I Kissed a Girl” to “Silk Chiffon” and I walked every step of it — hell, I chronicled it in my new book, Girls Can Kiss Now. The whole time I was pining, much like Taylor Swift’s strangers in a crowded room, for pop culture to get gayer.

Fortunately, each passing year has felt like the most Sapphic yet, and 2022 in particular has been off to a deeply lesbian start. There are more queer characters on TV than ever before, with lesbians in the majority. Queer women have been nominated for Academy Awards in both top acting categories, and mainstream pop and rock music is growing increasingly, visibly queer, with women like Doja Cat, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Brandi Carlile, and Megan Thee Stallion leading the scene.

Gone are my days of searching for Sapphic water in a heterosexual desert; now, the landscape is so gay, there’s no need for it (although, admittedly, it’s still a little fun). These days, I’m listening to a wave of pop-punk and rock music that’s distinctly Sapphic, slurping down new releases from The Aces, girl in red, King Princess, Clairo, Julien Baker, St. Vincent, Muna, Phoebe Bridgers, and more. Finally, there isn’t just a sea of queer acts being elevated to the mainstream, but they’re also extremely, unapologetically gay.

Pop and rock music isn’t necessarily “being queered,” because queer women have an extensive history in the genre. In the ’70s and ’80s, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts rose to fame along with the Indigo Girls. In the ’90s, musicians like Sleater Kinney, Bikini Kill, k.d. Lang, Melissa Etheridge, Ani DiFranco, and Tracy Chapman launched their careers, followed in the 2000s by Tegan and Sara, The Veronicas, Brandi Carlile, and Laura Jane Grace’s Against Me! Many of these musicians were slammed or outcast for being openly queer in their time, and some weren’t afforded the opportunity to be out and proud at all.

There is a glaring difference between these previous waves of queer rock music and the kind of in-plain-sight visibility that women-loving-women musicians enjoy today. In the 2020s, generic, pronoun-less lyrics are finally being swapped for loud odes to loving and kissing and pining over women; and wider audiences are revering these artists and lyrics, not shunning them. As a result of a much more accepting public, lyrics these days are just so, so lesbian, and so many of them are celebratory.

My own journey of self-acceptance took place as these acts started reaching unprecedented levels of success. When St. Vincent released her sixth studio album Daddy’s Home in May 2021, it charted at no. 1 on Billboard’s U.S. Independent Albums chart. Brandi Carlile, who won one Grammy last year, is nominated for five more this year. Clearly, investing in a queer rock artist is less of a perceived business “risk” these days; more people are visibly out, which means the music will resonate with more people.

Two decades ago, by contrast, record labels could more convincingly try to tell LGBTQ+ musicians that they wouldn’t generate enough album sales to be worth signing. This left many queer performers with no way to continue making and releasing music: if a label refused to promote them, they had no way to sustain a career.

The industry has changed in ways that are alternately challenging and exciting for musicians overall, but many queer performers are finding more opportunity in the aftermath of the major label system. Freed from the kind of zero-sum thinking that big labels were beholden to, independent upstarts have become very pro-queer and see the value (and the probability for success) in signing a slate of queer musicians. Take Secretly Group, a collection of four indie labels and a music publishing house that is now home to queer artists like Phoebe Bridgers, MUNA, Angel Olsen, and Claud.

Just as the major label era discouraged many queer musicians from even trying to make a name for themselves, the proliferation of LGBTQ+ friendly indie labels is opening doors for an even queerer future.

Today, artists who are loudly and proudly queer know that there are labels who are not just willing to elevate them, but also whose business model is to appeal to the queerest generation in history. With the concomitant rise of TikTok and social media, labels and publishers can actually visualize the demand for queer music; the market isn’t imaginary, but rather loud, visible, and horny for more.

Even as the Sapphic pop boom continues, I may never fully give up my hobby of searching for and decoding song lyrics for slivers of possible queerness that I can cling to. Like many queer fans, I love doing a good close reading of a Taylor Swift or a Harry Styles song. Because I am gay, I filter everything through a gay lens, and often interpret expressions of desire as queer, especially coming from artists that I am already head over heels for.

But with so much plainly Sapphic music out there these days, I finally feel sated, like I have relatable music to scream-sing in the shower. And not just music that I so desperately want to be gay, but that is gay.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Thoughts on Harrow the Ninth

Similar to my post on Gideon the Ninth, this is a questionably organized collection of impressions, opinions, and a recounting of my experience in reading this book!

Note: This post also includes marked sections where I compare certain Harrow the Ninth plot elements with first the When They Cry series and then Madoka Magica: Rebellion, because that’s just the way my brain works. Those sections do contain spoilers for the other stories, so feel free to skip or read them accordingly!

.

After finishing GtN, a few months passed. For various reasons, I found I had to go on a long family roadtrip and needed something to do in the car… and I thought “hm. why not.” and bought HtN.

(So yes, there was Poster Child For A Liberal City Girl aka Me casually wandering around some deep red rural parts of the country with “the necromancers are back, and they’re gayer than ever” emblazoned on the book I refused to put down. Probably made for an amusing picture!)

Anyway, it was a good thing I wasn’t called on to help drive during that trip, because I started the book in the morning and was only barely able to put it down for meals and checking into the hotel. Oh, we had to get up early to drive the next day? I didn’t care, I just waited for everyone else in the room to fall asleep and then stayed up until 2am curled up on the tiny bathroom counter to finish it.

Like a Smart Person, I’d also neglected to take my copy of Gideon the Ninth with me on the trip, and I didn’t have internet access either. And as mentioned, I’d marathoned GtN over the course of a single night several months prior. In other words: my memory of the events in that book was extremely unreliable, which, I have to say, only enhanced the surreal atmosphere of HtN. I was just as confused and uncertain as Harrow, and it was delightful.

And after finishing, I continued my tradition and proceeded to gush incoherently about it to my younger brother the next sleep-deprived morning. (I do wonder what his secondhand impression of these books is, haha.)

Luckily I had brought other books with me to read; I don’t know how I would have staved off my cravings to dive into fandom analysis otherwise. But first things first: my thoughts on the book!

I Swear This Book Was Made To Appeal Directly To Me??

-Yeah, so remember that “I’m a sex-averse-ish ace” thing I mentioned in the previous post? And how I really wanted Less Swords More Bones Please And Thank You? Needless to say, Harrow won me over as a protagonist instantaneously. And that’s without getting into a whole bunch of other really weird, really specific things about her/HtN that were precisely my thing.

-For example, I am neither neurodivergent nor mentally ill (afaik), but I still related so hard to Harrow’s food sensitivities, her touch-shyness, her obsessions, her completely broken sleep schedule… I mean, oh gosh, the thing with John’s tea and biscuits? I have never before read something that so perfectly captures the feeling of someone giving you food and you would like to eat it to please them but you just. Cannot. And the sheer uncomfortableness and background radiation of polite disappointment that entails. Especially when they keep trying! Gah!

-Another random, tiny moment that stood out to me: Gideon’s response to waking up in Harrow’s body. See, even relatively tame and mainstream anime (Shinkai’s “Your Name” springs to mind) still feel the need to kick off their body switching plots by having one character immediately and nonconsensually grope their love interest’s body when the switch happens.

But instead of doing that, Gideon keeps apologizing, desperately trying to protect Harrow’s body, and even declaring she’ll take showers fully clothed. Is it over-the-top and did I laugh? Absolutely. But the point is also that she’s determined to be considerate of Harrow’s privacy, even to an absurd degree. It’s a strong way to show that Gideon genuinely cares about Harrow, serving as a welcome contrast after an entire book of every other character ignoring and often actively trying to erode Harrow’s boundaries.

-Last but the opposite of least: I actually really love Second Person POV! If anything, that’s often the most natural POV for me to write fanfic in, for whatever reason. But it’s specifically second person where the “you” is a defined, in-universe character. Second person where “you” is meant to be You The Reader, You The Self-Insert makes me instinctively roll my eyes. (A bias that is definitely not related to my thoughts on Frisk vs Chara vs The Player in Undertale, what are you talking about, ahaha.)

So reading a whole book in that POV? YASSSS. And then the reveal of Gideon as the first person narrator on top of it? Incredible. Genius. Honestly I would recommend this book just for the utter brilliance of that twist.

I’m admitting my own ignorance here, but this is definitely the first long-form genre work I’ve read in First Person Direct Address POV. Heck, this is the first time I’ve ever run across that term! *narrows eyes at my creative writing teachers* And oooh boy I am dying to give it a spin myself in fanfic, it’s so good.

Harrow the “Unreliable” Narrator

Backing up a bit, though, I think I can pinpoint the exact scene when I knew I would love this book: the conversation between Harrow and Ortus, with the wham line of “You see, I am insane.”

Because my first thought on reading that was: oh hell yes this is going to be a RIDE

Quickly followed by the second thought: hang on, was this… was this true for Harrow during GtN as well? She was potentially dealing with hallucinations and unreality this whole time and we (Gideon, the audience) had no idea? oh, Harrow… TT_TT

And indeed, the rest of the book lived up to the dual promises of that moment - of the free-fall into the depths of horror and paranoia that comes with a narrator who’s not just unreliable, but knows they can’t even trust themselves. And of Harrow being a wonderfully compelling protagonist, equal parts heartbreaking meow meow balanced out by raw, unrelenting determination.

Then there was the final payoff to all the narrative shenanigans: the dawning reveal that actually, Harrow was right all along. And oh, I loved it when I read it and I still love the concept now! The idea of presenting the reader with the hoary old trope of an "insane," unreliable narrator, and then having the twist be that they were perfectly reliable where it counted? Beautiful. Amazing. I couldn’t be completely certain until I read the note from the author at the end, but threading throughout the fantasy trappings, this read like a book that came from a very personal place, and had some very sharp things to say about people who get dismissed as “insane.”

(On that note - are there any moments where Harrow outright hallucinates? I certainly took the “a few out-of-order bumps in the temporal gyrus that might have been there already” line as leaving open the interpretation that she’s genuinely schizophrenic in addition to the wacky supernatural nonsense she has to deal with…)

Harrow Would Make a Great When They Cry Character, Prove Me Wrong

An unreliable narrator? A fantasy-infused murder mystery in that lovely mindscrew “is it magic? Is it mundane? Is it a hallucination?” mode? There’s a surprising amount of Harrow the Ninth that reminds me of the best parts of When They Cry novels.

(Look, just because I’m not actively participating in the fandom doesn’t mean my WTC brainworms have gone away. :P)

To the first point, I would absolutely argue that Harrow gives Rena and Shion and other WTC characters a run for their money at Best Unreliable Narrator. In particular, if you enjoyed moments like Rena trying to logic through her paranoia in Tsumihoroboshi and only digging herself deeper, or Rika dissociating and wishing to erase part of herself in Saikoroshi - this book is for you.

Meanwhile, Harrow’s internal conflict - that “Is somebody trying to kill her? And if they succeeded, would the universe be better off?” from the summary blurb still haunts me! - evokes some of my favorite When They Cry character beats. “Why was I born?”/“I’m sorry for being born.” are lines that keep recurring throughout the WTC series, and for good reason. The regret and tragedy of a monstrous existence sure makes for some excellent character drama!

After Higurashi Sotsu left me hanging with its poorly-written antagonist, I was desperately craving something that did a complex, Beatrice-like character well, and I found that in Harrow. Though it’s perhaps less surprising of a jump than you might think; both Umineko and The Locked Tomb series are heavily influenced by gothic literature. Something something kids messed up by the crime of their conception, something something continuing the cycle of violence by taking it out on the only other person who might have helped them instead.

If only, I were… Never born to begin with at all; More smiles may have blossomed, But we'll never know now

If only, I were… Able to cease my own breath, Maybe some could have lived on?

Surely, even these feelings Will soon lose their form— But can we walk on ahead As if nothing ever happened?

(Umineko’s “hope” is too soft and peaceful of a song to truly fit Harrow’s gremlin energy, and yet… hm.)

Finally, here’s some mood whiplash: in other WTC news, Ianthe has managed to steal the title of Best Worst Girl from Furudo Erika. Which is no mean feat! I love her. I can’t wait to see her get worse. I especially love that the fandom is entirely on board with her being The Absolute Worst. <3

Dream Bubble AUs, Unburying Your Gays, and PMMM: Rebellion

The Madoka Magica: Rebellion parallels are much much more tenuous, but boy oh boy do I have Feels about them. Homura dreamt of a world where she and Madoka could both live cheerful lives as magical girls - not one where she stole and sealed away Madoka’s powers. Harrow dreamt of worlds where Gideon had comparatively more freedom and power - not ones where she was the shackle binding Gideon to the Ninth. In both cases, idyllic fanfic-influenced dream AUs are used as a clever means of portraying the more equal dynamic a character actually wants from a relationship vs the deeply broken and possessive dynamic they had with that person in reality.

It’s just such a fascinating storytelling device that accomplishes so many things at once!

-By contrasting these happier universes with the characters’ reality, it deftly underlines how strongly the characters have been warped by their traumas into their current selves, without the result feeling maudlin or unearned. -Because the setting is a character’s mindscape, any setting details are also implicitly characterization details. So it’s a rich opportunity to explore the dreamer’s unfiltered and most heartfelt desires - and a whole lot of other amusing quirks besides. (Was Homura a fan of magical girl shows? Was Harrow thinking of Pal’s ridiculous novel when she came up with that Ball AU? Why are both of them so fond of coffee??) -By specifically invoking fanfiction tropes, it also becomes a sweet and positive way to acknowledge the power of transformative fandom, and the value of sharing and reimagining stories to grapple with our own identities. -And finally, by giving the audience a taste of “what could have been,” it makes a fraught relationship that much easier to root for - an implied preview of “what might yet be.”

I also have even MORE Feels about disaster lesbians spectacularly rejecting the idea of a Bury Your Gays so hard they shatter their own minds and even reality itself in the process. Because, look. In both HtN and Rebellion, the main character arc seems to be heading toward a conclusion where the protagonist finally faces reality, regains their memories, and bittersweetly accepts their love interest’s heroic sacrifice. But in a last minute twist, the protagonist says “screw that” to the obvious ending and doubles down on rejecting their love interest’s death as the world collapses around them.

After so, so many stories where lesbians are killed off for tragedy, it’s an incredibly striking and resonant choice! To have a character put their foot down, tell the rest of the universe to go to hell, and say No. To look at a neat and perfect heroic sacrifice and refuse it in favor of a messier, more imperfect conclusion - but one in which their love interest has a chance to live. That was the powerful moment of catharsis that made me love Rebellion despite its problems, and it’s executed just as, if not more beautifully, in HtN.

(“There’s a difference between keeping a shred of a dance card,” said Harrow Nonagesimus, and saving the last dance.” - MY HEART. “It’s love!” all over again!)

Now, I’d like to say that the difference that puts HtN ahead is that Rebellion portrays this reversal of expectations in a negative light while HtN is more triumphant. But if I’m being honest… they’re both extremely ambiguous and nigh-incomprehensibly symbolic in their cliffhanger endings! (And in both cases the love interest is not a fan of having their own choices overwritten…) But I made peace years ago with the ambiguity in the last act of Rebellion, so it’s not like I minded it much in HtN either.

Still, it does make me wonder: will Nona+Alecto pan out better than the upcoming Rebellion sequel? My money is currently on the former, but with neither out yet, who can say?

Speaking of which…

Concerns for the Sequels?

As much as I’m invested in Griddlehark (and I am VERY invested), I could just as easily see it not happening. Of course, Muir’s writing has been strong enough that I’d like to think that whatever happens instead will at least be interesting. Plus, it’s not like Gideon and Harrow need to be in a romantic relationship with each other to be lesbians! Though whether the books will stay the course in not shoving them at male love interests at the last minute is something I sincerely hope but just cannot bring myself to trust after so many bad experiences with other authors.

However, it’s not shipping that’s my main concern.

No, the aspect that actually gives me pause is the Christian slant of the books. And I’m not talking about the Spoopy Space Catholicism worldbuilding or Bible allusions. Those are cool! Rather, it’s in the subtle little things, like how Muir describes Gideon forgiving Harrow so quickly as the moment Gideon “achieves grace.” When I read it, I personally found Gideon’s trauma being resolved so neatly and easily to be odd and underwritten. And if major plot and characterization beats are going to be resting on a religious rather than character-driven base, then, well… I’m worried that the final result may resonate with Christian audiences but I’ll simply find it alienating and unsatisfying.

Of course, it’s not that there’s anything wrong with writing books shaped by one’s religion. But that would be a signal that these books are fundamentally not for me, and I should find another fandom.

It’s also why I’m perhaps less on board with “flowers will die on necromancy’s grave” (although that certainly is a nicely poetic turn of phrase!) than it appears most of the fandom is. I’m very wary of themes of restoring the world/society/people back to some inherently “natural'' or “divine” order. One of the few things that could still completely ruin the series for me would be a swerve where now that False Idol John has been killed and the River is Fixed™, everyone abandons their witchcraft to go back to worshiping Real Christian Jesus as they were intended to. Or a conclusion where everyone dies and that’s portrayed as a happy end, because they’re With God so it’s all good, right?

I have no particular love for Christianity, so to me, an ending along those lines would read as though the series abandoned its anti-imperialist themes and replaced one empire with a return to another, even crueler one. No thank you!

(Not that I think those things are especially likely to happen. Like with the queerness, I've just been burned from some very weird prior experiences, haha.)

I'm also surprised by how universally the fandom assumes John will be the endgame villain. I'm a cynic, and I could quite easily see the series doing a disappointing swerve in the opposite direction, valorizing and "redeeming" God and his empire once we have more insight into his motives. A similarly universally-reviled character got that treatment in my last fandom, and hoo boy did it ever set the discourse (and the story in general) on fire! Another development I'm not keen to experience a repeat of!

Fandom and Future Things

Well that was dire, let’s go back to talking about fun things instead!

So, new obsessions tend to sneak up on me slowly. I don’t just finish something and immediately know it will consume the next few years of my life. The true story is, when I got internet access again, I read through the #tlt tags on some blogs that I remembered had occasionally posted about it, and then I went about my business.

And that could have been the end of it.

But the beginning signs were already there. In between assembling IKEA furniture, I spent the rest of the trip daydreaming the threads of what would become only the first of many, many fic ideas.

Since then, I’ve read a lot more analysis, and even more fanfic. So much fanfic. This is also the first time I’ve felt comfortable going through a fandom tag with the blanket policy that yes, I will be reading explicit fics too. (Honestly: the porn has been less weird than I expected.)

Of course, I’m quite late to the party on this fandom. And I’m not sure how much I’ll both be able and want to contribute. I probably won’t be writing weekly analysis posts and committing myself to a long fanfic like I did for Higurashi, at the very least. That was exhausting.

However, I now have 25 pages of saved fanfic links to convert into bookmarks, oodles of tumblr posts to reblog, and some 150-odd pages of post ideas and fanfic plot bunnies of my own. I doubt much of the latter will ever see the light of day, but the point is: I’ve been having fun.

So yes, I think it’s safe to say I liked HtN. I actually liked it even more than GtN, following the exact same pattern as my feelings for Higurashi/Umineko and PMMM/Rebellion. The first work interested me, but the follow up stole my heart and then ate my brain.

In conclusion: GtN intrigued me, but HtN inspired me. And oh. It feels so nice to be excited and hopeful and creative again.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 2 “Emergency Shower” [Episode List] Full of fiber-bars gas, Dave has a date with his girlfriend Dana but he’s late. Since he forgot his house-keys, he needs a place to take a shower as quickly as possible. Tim is obviously the nearest friend available…

Emergency Shower

“Sure, Dana!”

Dave said, sporting the fakest grin ever.

He was on the phone with his girlfriend, a pretty cool girl.

“I’ll be ready in less than 2 hours. As you wish…” he chuckled. “Of course I didn’t forget about your cousin’s birthday!” that was a spectacular lie. “Alright, alright… love ya…”

The moment he hang up, he put both his hands on his face and a muffled scream came out, earning some funny looks by his mostly older (and supposedly wiser) gym cliques.

“Someone’s not gonna get laid tonight” they bursted into a friendly laugh, mocking him.

“Really funny” he said, in a deadpan tone. “But for your information, here in my backpack I have a completely functional EFC: Emergency Formal Clothing”

“That sounds gay” one of them commented, sarcastically, scratching his beard.

Dave rolled his eyes and pulled off his white, sweat-soaked t-shirt, ready to take a shower, revealing the decent figure of his body. He wasn’t that ripped, but he was getting fitter in the last couple of months. He was going to remove his blue gym shorts too, ready to wash every inch of his body.

“One quick shower and I’ll be ready for tonight.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible…” a gym employee interrupted his hopeful remark. “Something clogged our pipes just now. You have to shower at your respective houses… or barns…” he hissed, glaring at one particular rude, half-naked old man biting his finger toes.

Dave felt his stomach rumbling in anger, not just because of the gas caused by the fiber bars he ate the whole day.

“That’s ridiculous” he shouted. “That doesn’t even make sense! There must be a shower that works! We’re all paying costumers here! We deserve at least one working shower.”

One of the older gym cliques let out a rasping cackle. “I guess we have to shower together, all at once!”

“Ain’t gonna get gayer than that!” another one remarked, elbowing Dave, who again rolled his eyes.

They all laughed and dressed up; Dave did the same.

“Great!” he thought. “I’m already late on the schedule…” he checked the time on his phone. “My… schedule? Oh my… Tim is turning me into a nerd.” he realized and chuckled about it.

Wearing another white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue sweatpants, he ran outside of the gym and jumped on the first bus he could find. Around twenty minutes passed and he started to sweat, already thinking that he couldn’t make it in time. Once the bus dropped him off just a few blocks away from his classic suburban, empty house (his parents were out of town for a couple of days -so he was alone), he felt a shiver down his spine, a sudden terrifying realization striking him like a lightning bolt. He nervously rummaged through his backpack but he couldn’t find them. “No! NONONONONO! FUCK!”

He forgot his house-keys.

They were inside the house.

And that house was ultra-protected by a very intricate alarm system that could only be deactivated using his keys.

“Alright, maybe it won’t go off if I try to sneak in quietly…” but the moment he touched one of the windows, the lights inside the house flickered on and off, followed by a loud, almost war-sounding siren. “INTRUDER ALERT!” a robotic voice said. A small thingie placed on the house’s front door opened like an eye, a glowing red eye, looking more like HAL9000 from “A Space Odyssey”.

“PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF”

Dave gulped and cautiously stepped towards the AI monster that used to be his own house. “This is ridiculous”.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF” the robotic voice insisted.

“It’s me, Mr. Maning!” Dave said, remembering how his father configured the alarm system.

“VOICE NOT RECOGNIZED” the HAL-lookalike stated in a monotone voice, narrowing its only eye.

“Really dad! You didn’t configure this bullshit to recognize your own son?!” Dave shouted angrily, kicking the front door, triggering more sirens from his house, now looking more like a crazy Christmas Tree.

“LAW ENFORCEMENTS HAVE BEEN INFORMED OF THIS”

“Screw it! Fuck fuck fuck!” Dave shouted, running away from his own house.

After a few blocks, he jumped on a passing bus.

“Alright, that was weirdly out of place.” he checked the time on his wrist watch and almost passed out upon finding out how freaking late it was. “Gotta call the nearest bro then… this is an emergency”

–

“Your house tried to murder you?” Tim asked, narrowing his eyes. He knew that Dave’s house had some kind of futuristic alarm system, but that sounded a bit too… Terminator-ish.

“Dude, less talking, more showers. I’m sorry to show up so suddenly, but that’s an emergency.”

“Don’t worry, take all the time you need…”

“I wish I could!” he shouted, nervously.

Tim escorted Dave through his house, but he was basically part of the family so he didn’t need to be told where the bathroom was. Dave was desperate and needed to shower as soon as possible, so he simply asked if he could use Tim’s. Of course, there was no problem with that. That’s what friends are for.

They walked upstairs side by side and continued to talk.

“Forgot cousin Ted’s birthday, uh?” Tim asked, teasing him.

“Shut up. Just hand me a towel and I’ll be fine.” he said, undressing just outside of the bathroom and in front of Tim.

As we all know, Tim was gay and Dave was well aware of that and his other quirks, including his fart fetish.

But seeing his best friend strip-teasing in front of him was kinda unexpected even for him.

“I don’t have time for your awkwardness, Tim, hand me the fucking towel.” Dave said, annoyed, knowing exactly why his friend’s breath was a bit deeper than usual, but he just didn’t care. Then again, they saw each other naked many times in the past, so why being so awkward about it?

Tim handed a big white towel to his friend, now almost naked, and he disappeared behind the bathroom’s door. “Fucking fiber bars!” he heard Dave saying, his voice echoing in the bathroom, followed by long wet-ish fart.

“I guess it has something to do with his gym-stuff” Tim thought. “Alright, make yourself at home. If you need something just call me!” he shouted, outside of the bathroom. He heard a muffled “Thanks!” and then walked into his own room, back to his books. He could still hear the water flowing’s noise and even Dave singing (horribly) some pop song under the shower, accompanied by the bathroom’s radio (never mind it was playing a completely different song).

After 10 minutes, Dave stopped showering and stepped outside of the shower box, but his foot almost slipped on the wet floor. “That was close!” he thought. “Hey, Tim!” he called. “I don’t want to die in your bathroom, can you bring me a pair of slippers or something? Thanks!”.

Dave waited for a couple of seconds and then heard some noises outside of the bathroom.

“Just come in, Tim!” he shouted. “It’s getting late! Come on!”.

Tim cautiously opened the door, one hand covering his eyes. “Seriously?!” Dave questioned, noticing his friend’s amusing “formal” behavior. “You saw me naked dozen of times! Aw, screw it. Come on, hand me those slippers…”.

Dave fully stepped outside of the shower, his naked self only a couple of inches away from Tim. The gay friend dared to move his hand away, uncovering his eyes, expecting to see Dave wearing at least a towel.

But he was completely naked. And he didn’t seem to care at all.

He chuckled the moment he saw Tim’s nervous reaction, just standing there and visibly turning red.

“Come on dude!” he laughed. “Fucking fibers, man…” he said, patting his gay friend’s shoulder and leaning his naked, hairy butt towards him, ripping a long, raspberry sounding-fart almost on him. Tim stared speechlessly at that amazing vision, the tiny hair on his butt cheeks being blown by the wind coming from his spreading butthole. He turned completely red when he noticed how even spurts of water came out of his friend’s butt as the fart continued for almost 7 seconds.

Tim gently pushed Dave away as the fart faded out, his gassy friend laughing as usual. He just remained silent, trying to hide his usual inopportune boner (which Dave was well-aware of) and sprinted outside of the bathroom, hearing Dave laughing even more, amused by his gay friend’s awkwardness. “Thanks for letting me use the shower, Tim!” Dave shouted, mockingly.

—

Tim slapped himself a couple of times while staring at the doppelgänger in his mirror.

He had to study, he had stuff to do. But his boner was awfully persistent.

Not even in his wildest “fetish dreams” he could’ve imagined that he was going to have a best friend so chill and open-minded about all of this stuff.

“Phew…” he sighed in relief, feeling his dick deflating a bit.

Until Dave showed in his bedroom, wearing only black boxers, his “emergency formal dress” in hand.

He greeted his gay friend by ripping another fart, a series of three loud toots.

“Honey, I’m home!” he said, right after the rip, with a teasing smirk.

He sat on Tim’s bed and sprayed himself with some perfume for men. He then put on a pair of beige jeans and slipped his feet into some dark-colored sneakers. Tim dared to look at him and had to admit it one more time: Dave was freaking hot.

He got up from his friend’s bed, spraying more perfume on himself, exposing his naked, beautifully haired chest to his gay friend.

“Sorry dude, Dana loves my manly scent…” he chuckled, noticing the cloud of deodorant around him. “Speaking of manly scent…”

A silly smirk popped up on his face and clenched his fists: he turned around, his back facing Tim, and pushed one out for him. Another fart began, loud and deep as usual, the rumbling sound echoing beneath the beige denim of his jeans covering his powerful butt. Tim’s boner came back in a blink of an eye, a tent appearing in his sweatpants, but they both laughed about it at the end. 

“Sorry, bro.” he chuckled, waving his hand back and forth to “avoid” the smell of his own gas-bomb. “Those fiber bars are terrible. Or amazing, in your case…” he smirked. Tim blushed a bit instead, remaining silent.

Dave checked his phone one more time. “Turns out I’m not late anymore. Thanks to you, Tim! I owe you one!” he said, patting his friend’s shoulder. He smiled back and nodded.

“Since you’re here… want to try the new Metal Gear…?”

Dave blinked in disbelief. “You bought the new M- nah, I can’t!” he said, shaking his head. “I need to stay focused. Snake needs my full attention. Maybe next time… Snake… next time…” he chuckled, jokingly patting his own chest patriotically.

The silence that followed was quickly broken by another deep fart from Dave.

“Dude, come on!” Tim chuckled, trying to push him out on his room, his hands touching his hairy chest. The moment Tim realized it, he turned blood red and backed away in embarrassment.

“Sorry bro, you know: nobody can escape my farts!” he responded, forcing another toot out.

Dave then laughed mockingly, amused by his friend’s awkwardness. But he didn’t want to see him so uncomfortable around him, so he ripped yet another fart (fiber bars were incredible) and smiled. Tim didn’t know what he was distracted by the most: Dave’s chest or his continuous farting. It was a combo of hotness for him.

“Dude I’m so gassy right now…” he chuckled, walking towards Tim’s bed and sat on it. “I underestimated the power of fiber bars. Hope Dana doesn’t mind.” he admitted, rubbing his belly, like he was trying to force more farts out. “Luckily, it’s not like you’re going to hate me if I deflate myself here, right?” he jokingly asked, with a smirk.

“Of c-course… of course not!” Tim spluttered, trying to hide a wide smile, his face as red as a tomato.

He then sat behind his desk, trying to drive his attention to his books. Dave’s farts soon arrived, keeping him company. His gassy friend was messing with his phone, waiting for the right time to leave, expecting a phone call from Dana. The sound was mostly muffled as Dave’s butt in beige jeans was buried into the bedcover. Everything felt so… natural.

“Alright, Dana texted me. She’ll pick me up in a few minutes.” Dave said, bouncing a bit on his friend’s bed, unable to hide his smile.

“Awww… now that your farts were getting bigger…” Tim jokingly said, but he then started to sweat. “Sorry, I can’t believe I said that.” he muttered nervously, avoiding eye contact, pretending to read his book.

Dave laughed, amused, and got up, slowly walking towards his petrified friend. “You know, Tim. I think you’ll need a shower too after this one…”.

He gently grabbed his gay friend’s head and turned around. Tim was sitting on a chair, so his head was perfectly aligned with his tall friend’s butt. He felt Dave’s hand gently pulling and then pushing him between his jeans-covered butt cheeks. The scent of his previous farts was still there so he took a good whiff, inhaling deeply. He then felt his friend’s muscles relax and a bubbly fart came out. It was different than Dave’s usual farts: it was definitely more wet-sounding, but harmless. The fiber bars were like a nuclear reactor in his stomach; the blast of gas sounded deep and rumbling, vibrating fiercely on Tim’s face, his head still being held in that position by Dave’s hand firm, but gentle grip (not that he wanted to move anyway).

The smell was nauseating, rotten-egg-ish.

Absolutely beautiful.

And Tim’s dick agreed, quickly standing up, saluting Dave’s farting masterpiece.

After ten long seconds, Dave let his lucky friend go and turned to him. Upon seeing his startled face, he chuckled and patted his head.

“Fucking fibers, man! I feel so much better!” he laughed a lot, teary eyes, while Tim remained silent. “You’ll definitely need a shower, not kidding!” he added, as he felt a bit of his own stinky fart hitting his nostrils.

Dave’s phone vibrated: it was Dana.

For a moment, Tim had the egotistic hope that his friend’s plan were cancelled, so they could spend more quality time together. But he shook his head, ashamed by what his mind was capable of, and simply smiled to him instead.

“Say ‘hi’ to Dana for me.” Tim said, accompanying his still-gassy friend downstairs.

“Sure. Thanks for everything, bro. You saved my life tonight.” he said, giving him a quick, strangling hug.

As Dave opened the front door, he realized that his chest was still fully exposed. He turned to Tim, who was sporting a sly smirk.

“Forgetting something…?” he asked, sarcastically, handing the grey shirt to his gassy friend.

“You saved my life. Twice!” he thanked him, buttoning his shirt up hastily.

He then rushed outside of the house, towards Dana’s car.

Tim nodded at his friend’s girlfriend, who smiled back.

The two shared a quick peck on the lips and drove off.

“Dana. You’re luckiest girl on Earth…” Tim thought, thinking of how great Dave has always been with him, before and after his coming out. He walked back inside and then took a good whiff of… his own body: the rancid smell of his best friend’s farts was still engulfing him in a mystical cloud of gassiness. “Yep. I definitely need a shower” Tim stated, heading upstairs. Dave was probably joking about the “You’ll need a shower” thing. He probably underestimated his own farts too!

That’s what Tim was planning to do anyway: one long, relaxing shower.

Right after one long, relaxing meat-beating, as his dick was still rock hard in his pants.

Once again, Tim realized how lucky he was, as he didn’t need to imagine “hot” stuff while masturbating: it was all real.

“Thanks, Dave” he thought, as a cheesy grin popped up on his face, just as a waterfall of sperm poured from the tip of his finally calmer penis.

“Fucking fibers…” he chuckled.

End of Episode 2

[moiraineswife]

Mine - A Navani/Raboniel Fic

IT’S TIME FOR THE GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY. 

Title: Mine

Rating: M  Content warnings: Violence. Sexy violence. But still violence.

Summary:  Set during Rhythm of War. THEORETICALLY it’s canon-compliant. Just gayer. After several failed attempts, The Pursuer sends men to bring him Navani, believing Kaladin will come to the Queen’s aid if she’s in danger. Raboniel takes issue with this, and refuses to allow them to take Navani.

Teaser: ‘“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.”’

Link: AO3

It had been a long time since Navani had studied by candlelight. 

Glowing gemstones had ruled her life for so long now. Woven into her hair as a symbol of status in Gavilar’s court. 

Counting spheres as the cost of conquest had piled on her shoulders as her husband had drunk, and killed, and warred his way to glory, with no idea what she did in the background to prevent his fledgling kingdom suffering economic and social collapse in the wake of his passing. 

Powering the fabrials that had brought her such joy and fulfilment, a constant support in her life. 

Now the Stormlight that fueled the Radiants as most of her family was pulled into this war. 

Raboniel preferred to work by candlelight. She said it soothed her, and reminded her of days when she’d been younger. Stormlight had not been plentiful for Fused in eras gone by. Odium had disapproved of it surrounding them, and Voidlight was a poor source of illumination. 

Navani had to admit they brought a certain warmth to the small room she was ensconced in with Raboniel. They were alone together now, as Raboniel had just dismissed the guards, who had been visibly wilting, and told them to send a replacement team down to them instead. 

There was no sound save the soft scratching of their pens on the notebook between them. Raboniel was studying her latest addition, making small, careful notations in the women’s script. 

One could tell a lot about another’s script, Navani felt. Jasnah’s for example, was pristine, a perfect example of the women’s script, honed over much time. Dalinar’s was less practiced, with large, bold lines, each word somehow making its own statement upon the page. 

Raboniel’s was sharper than Navani’s, more cramped. This was to be expected, given her unfamiliarity with it, but she wrote curiously, each spike and line written with a differing pressure or firmness, to a rhythm, she realised. Right now that rhythm was frantic, her eyes focused, entirely consumed by the work.

Navani understood that feeling. Like Raboniel, she had been many things to many people over her years. Mother, mentor, wife, queen. For herself, she was a scholar. Yes. A scholar. It was still sometimes difficult to ignore the words whispered in Gavilar’s voice at the back of her mind that told her she was nothing herself. Always defined by what she was to, and what she could get from, others. 

Raboniel had helped her see things differently. This was who she was. Navani. Not Queen Navani. Not Brightness Kholin. Just Navani. Navani was a creator, an inventor, a scholar, a pursuer of secrets, and she thrived in this environment. 

She felt the same way about Raboniel. 

She was many things to many people as well. A mother, certainly, even now that Essu was dead, by her own hand, she would never stop being a mother. A soldier, and a war leader. A servant of Odium. An immortal Fused reborn. A Voidbringer, in the minds of many humans. 

Raboniel, however, not the Lady of Pains, the Lady of Wishes, Ancient One, or General, just Raboniel was as Navani was: a scholar. She too thrived on this. She had ulterior motives, certainly, Navani had already seen several of them. 

Yet even without them, she felt sure she would be driven, as Navani was herself, by the question, the seeking, the taste of new knowledge, the thrill of uncovering things that had been buried for millenia, of cracking puzzles buried in the very fabric of their world that no-one had ever cracked before. 

In her heart, in the deepest, most fundamental fabric of her soul, Raboniel was a scholar. And in that way, mortal and immortal, Fused and human, their essence was the same. And it sang in harmony with one another in these moments, cloistered alone together, picking out the mysteries of ages gone by. 

It was a strangely intimate process. Navani had always worked in groups before. She had flitted between ardents and engineers and storm wardens like an insect pollinating flowers, bringing little bits of insight or inspiration, but never lingering with any. 

With this project, she had worked exclusively with Raboniel, for hours and hours at a time. They had only had one another to feed off of and consume with their theories, and thoughts, and ideas, and experiments. 

She felt as though she knew this woman, felt as though she connected with her, in a way she had rarely done with another human so swiftly. 

She adored the bones of Dalinar, she truly did. But it had taken a while to understand him. Part of the reason she had taken such time between Gavilar and Dalinar in their youth was that it took her a while to feel she knew a person, and was close enough to commit to them. 

How wrong she had been, in mistaking Gavilar’s mask for the truth of him. While she had missed the good heart buried beneath the layers of scar tissue Dalinar had hidden it behind all those years ago. 

Raboniel, though, she felt she knew her, knew her, beneath the blood and bones, straight to the soul, the moment they had first worked on Rhythm of War together, and she had looked into her eyes, and found that same bright, consuming, almost manic light gleaming in them that lived within her, too. 

With a small nod, her rhythm shifting to one of satisfaction, Raboniel pushed the notebook back towards Navani, gesturing her to the new notes that had been made in the Fused’s hand. 

As she bent to examine it, however, Raboniel sat up beside her, straight and intent, head turning towards the door. The way she sat when they were not alone, when she was a regal Fused, not a scholar. 

Navani turned, too, and found six of the Pursuer’s Fused soldiers standing in the doorway. 

Raboniel did not seem surprised. If anything she seemed...Resigned. 

Navani was not overly aware of the situation in the tower, but she knew that tension between the Pursuer and Raboniel’s calmer, more reasonable rule were straining. Especially as his hunt for Kaladin continued to refuse to bear fruit.  

Raboniel stood, and a power seemed to radiate from her, as if she were a perfect gemstone, containing an immortality’s worth of stormlight pulsing within. 

She was rather impressed that the soldiers didn’t turn and flee at once, as Raboniel reached her height and stared them down without a flicker of fear, despite being outnumbered six to one.  

“Our master has sent us,” the lead soldier said, red eyes gleaming as they flickered from Raboniel to Navani, still sat at the desk behind Raboniel, who suddenly felt like a shield against that hungry gaze. 

“I thought that he might,” Raboniel replied, her rhythm becoming dark and tempestuous. 

“Then you know why we are here, Lady of Wishes,” said another, taking a step forwards, “This can be resolved without any bloodshed.” 

Bloodshed? Navani felt herself growing cold. On some instinct, she picked up the Rhythm of War notebook and began to try to surreptitiously move to the back of the room. Putting as much distance between herself and these men seemed the most sensible course of action now. 

One of them noticed her, and began to hum in a loud, derisive rhythm, jeering, “See how it runs. The fear is obvious! She knows she is pursued.” 

Pursued? They were here for her? 

Raboniel glanced over her shoulder, long hair strands swishing around her like a cape as she did. She gave Navani a small nod, telling her she had done the right thing. 

“Do not fear such as these, Navani,” she said, her rhythm soft but strong, pulsing against Navani, almost strengthening her, “They do not warrant any reaction from yourself.” 

“It is true, then?” the lead soldier said, his rhythm scathing, his tone far bolder than any she had heard taken with Raboniel before, “You have grown fond of his human pet of yours, and it has made you weak, sucked the passion from you and put it into her instead.” 

Raboniel actually growled at him, her rhythm becoming dark and dangerous, Voidlight collecting around her hand as she stared the soldier down, “Do not forget yourself, Devail,” she said, her rhythm an angry, swirling snarl of sound. “I am not some common Fused like Lezian, and if you speak to me in such a way again you will regret it for the rest of your pathetic immortal existence, I swear to you.” 

Navani trembled and the words were not even directed at her. The soldier took a step backwards, humming softly in a rhythm of apology. As well he might. 

Raboniel took a breath, and looked at each of the men in turn, giving them a long, piercing look, “Is this something you truly wish to do?” she asked them quietly. 

“We’re under orders, Lady of Wishes,” the lead soldier said, “We’re not to use violence as a primary method of achieving those orders, but the Pursuer expects resistance. In that case, he says we are to achieve our goal at all costs.” 

Raboniel hummed a sharp, destructive rhythm, “You would raise your weapons against me, truly?” 

Oh Stormfather, Navani thought, trembling. This could turn ugly, well and truly. Raboniel was a competent warrior, she was sure, but she was primarily a scholar, thinker, and organiser, from what Navani had seen. The Pursuer’s men were among the most finely trained, as brutal and bloodthirsty as their master. 

“We would take up arms against one who tried to defend a human, Lady of Wishes,” the soldier said again, his rhythm respectful, but firm. 

Raboniel shook his head, “Lezian is a fool,” she hissed, “What does he possibly wish to accomplish with the queen that could be more than what I have accomplished with her?” 

“He will use her to lure his prize,” the soldier Raboniel had named Devail said, an indecent hunger in his eyes as he once again looked past Raboniel to Navnai, cowering on the floor behind them, feeling like a hog in a pen at a slaughter market beneath that gaze. 

“The Pursuer believes he can use the queen to draw forth Stormblessed,” the lead soldier said, “He would of course come to the defence of his queen were she threatened.” 

“Or publicly executed,” Devail added, with a gleeful grin. 

Navani quivered. She had rarely felt so helpless. She held the Rhythm of War against her chest, as though it could do anything to help her. She had no weapons, not even her customary painrial. She was tired, and weak, and fragile. 

If Raboniel gave her over to these men there would be nothing she could do to stop it. 

“He thinks to set an ambush for the Windrunner, using something the man will seek to defend to draw him to a place of contest, does he?” Raboniel asked, and her rhythm sounded strangely amused. Perhaps Navani could not read her correctly. 

“You are wise as ever Lady of Wishes,” the lead Fused said, with a small bow of the head, “This is indeed his intention.” 

“And why should it work this time when he has failed twice already, with far more fixed and defensible locations at the shield points?” Raboniel demanded scornfully. 

Devial took an angry step forwards but, wisely, his commander restrained him. 

“I will not relinquish an asset to him for the sake of his wounded, failing pride,” Raboniel continued derisively, “Navani is of far more use to me than Lezian could ever fathom to put her to in his wildest moment of clarity and intelligence.” 

“We are under orders, Lady,” the lead soldier said, “Our master was quite...Insistent.” 

“And you think I cannot be equally so?” Raboniel said, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning. “Return to your master and tell him that he has no authority to issue me with orders in this tower, or anywhere. Tell him he should count himself lucky I do not escalate this insult and return him to Braize, screaming. And tell him that if he wants to request something of me in future, then I expect him to pay me the respect I am due and come himself.” 

With that, she turned her back on them, as though done with them. Navani had to clap her safehand to her mouth to stop herself uttering a warning. It seemed so foolhardy for Raboniel to put her back to these men. 

The tension inside her was vibrating like a lost tone. She could barely breathe for the pressure of it welling inside her. Her eyes flicked up towards Raboniel’s face and found it wearing a soft, reassuring smile. 

“This was not an option our master will allow us to pursue, lady,” the lead soldier said, quietly. 

The Fused behind him drew their weapons, holding them in distinctly aggressive postures. 

Raboniel sighed heavily and turned slowly back to face them. 

“Perhaps I was not clear enough, captain,” she said, her voice quiet and dangerous, “I am giving you this chance to return to your master and have him confront me himself. Take it.”  

“I cannot, lady,” he said, shaking his head, “We were prepared for this eventuality, our master-” 

“If your master wishes so much for me to bleed him,” Raboniel growled, “Then perhaps he can cease being so cowardly and face me himself.” 

Devial made a noise of outrage at that, and several of the others hummed to an angry rhythm. “He already has his prey!” one of them called, “It would break centuries of tradition were he to pursue another before he has claimed the life of the Windrunner.”  

“What a convenient excuse,” Raboniel said scathingly. 

“We have no quarrel with you, lady,” the lead soldier interrupted, “We only want the queen.” 

“Then that is your quarrel with me, captain,” Raboniel snapped, “Navani is mine. As I have made clear to your master, and indeed to all who reside in this tower. If you wish to harm her, or indeed remove her from this room without my authority, then there will be a quarrel.” 

Navani felt almost breathless, as Raboniel glowered down at these men, heavily armoured, ancient, powerful, returned over and over to kill. And she stood her ground and stared them down to protect her. 

A part of her wanted to protest, wanted to stop this hopeless fight before it began. Raboniel being killed might have once been a desirable outcome, but her honour in this moment would not allow the woman to get herself killed protecting Navani, when the outcome would be the same. 

Yet these men terrified her. She did not want to leave this safe, quiet, candlelit room, her books, her scholarship, her safety that she enjoyed with Raboniel. 

She stayed quiet. Cowardly. And watched with wide eyes. 

“Then a quarrel it shall be,” the captain said, sounding resigned, but not altogether surprised. 

They had expected this? They had expected Raboniel to stubbornly face her death rather than simply handing Navani over? 

“Then come, quarrel with me,” Raboniel said in a dangerous hiss, drawing twin blades from her hips as she spoke, “And do make it quick, captain, I have work I must yet attend to tonight. 

There was a moment. A single, eternal moment that hung in silence for a cluster of frantic heartbeats. Like the breath of calm and quiet before the full force of the stormwall was brought to bear upon the world. 

Raboniel and the Pursuer’s men faced one another, Raboniel crouched low in an offensive stance, the men standing in a furious formation, weapons drawn, carapace gleaming, the flickering candlelight casting deadly shadows across their inhuman faces. 

Navani cowered in her corner and whispered a soft prayer to the Almighty, hands clutched over her chest, wishing, absurdly, that she had a glyphward to burn. 

Then the stormwall hit, and Navani pressed herself back against the wall, as if she could push herself into it and escape the cacophony of death and violence that erupted around her like a highstorm. She felt vulnerable, exposed, tied out to bear it alone, with no shield against what was coming. 

Except that she was not alone. Raboniel stood in front of her, protective, a shield against the horrors that had come for her. 

The Pursuer’s men moved forwards in a tight formation and they seemed, absurdly, wary. Though they were six warriors against one scholar, they seemed to actually fear Raboniel. 

A heartbeat later, Navani understood why. 

The men came for her, but she did not wait for them. In a single bound, she crossed the distance between them, and landed in their midst, blades flashing, teeth bared, hair flying like a banner behind her. 

Navani gasped as both of her blades - thinner, and shorter, than a common lighteyes side sword, pierced both eyes of a Fused in the centre of the group. He went down with her landing on his chest, like a mink atop a thrashing rat, his flailing limbs knocking into his companions and sowing chaos in their tight formation. 

Raboniel grinned a feral, dangerous smile at the others around her, then leapt, yanking her blades from the corpse of the Fused beneath her, and scraping along the carapace of the men before her. 

The noise it made was awful, and Navani clapped her hands to her ears. The scraping, shrieking sounded like a dirge of death, and the men around her flinched at the sound of it. 

This was clearly the reaction Raboniel had anticipated, for she sprang backwards out of the chaotic fray, putting her back once more to Navani, keeping herself carefully between her and the Pursuer’s men. 

She jerked her chin towards them, inviting them to come and take her if they could, and Navani felt a chill of understanding. 

In essence, this woman was like her. They were both scholars, driven by their passion for learning, for teasing the secrets from Roshar that it tried so hard to hide from them. But she was more. Far more. And one aspect of herself was this. 

The Lady of Pains. A Herald in her own right. A Herald of Death. Bearer of devastation and violence. A woman who held a sword as easily as she held a pen, and unravelled men with as much skill and precision as she unravelled secrets. 

She spun, both blades whirling through the air, flashing in the candlelight, casting terrible, dancing shadows against the walls. She caught another Fused in the throat and he stumbled, but Voidlight glowed from the wound, healing it. 

Before that could complete, she stepped in to him and rammed her blade, designed, Navani saw now, to pierce armour - or carapace - into his chest, and Navani heard the telltale crack as his gemheart shattered. 

A sword clattered against her back and she turned, snarling, blood flying from her blades, and parried the next swing that should have taken her head from her shoulders. She caught the blade between both of her own, crossed like a chasmfiend’s mandibles, and twisted, shattering the wrist of its bearer. 

He dropped the sword, screaming, and Raboniel moved in as though she might have kissed him, but breathed out, engulfing him in a cloud of blackness that began to devour his flesh while he howled in pain, clawing at it and writhing on the floor. 

Navani had thought herself a connoisseur of death. She had watched countless duels in her life, attended many wars. Her first husband had begun a war of conquest which had often spilled blood upon those closest to him. Her current husband waged a war for the world itself. Navani had seen the aftermath of battles, had even seen a few battles themselves. 

She had never seen anything like this. 

Raboniel moved faster than she would have believed, blades a silver blur, Voidlight rising from her skin as she swayed. 

Dalinar and Gavilar had been skilled. They had talent, practice, and shards to cause devastation. But this? This was an immortal who had been singing to a rhythm of war and death at Odium’s bidding from the moment she had drawn breath. 

She was like a shard all her own. Created to kill. She was like a highstorm, these men a foolish cry for it to quiet its winds, utterly lost to its fury and tempest. 

One of the men cracked the head of a spear against her shoulder and she turned, grasping at the staff. It crumbled to dust at her touch, but the blade remained intact. It fell, as if in slow motion, and she snatched and hurled it across the room, lodging it in the forehead of another who dropped instantly. 

The now weaponless man stared at her with eyes wide, full of fear, then full of nothing but death as Raboniel took both blades and rammed them, one on either side, into his chest, piercing directly to his gemheart. 

Pain flashed unexpectedly into Navani’s awareness. 

She looked down to find a knife slashing against her arm. A second later, it was at her neck, and she screamed, unable to stop herself, as Devial grabbed her and pulled her against him, blade held tight against her throat, sharp blade scraping the skin. 

Raboniel turned at once, locking on to the sound. She stumbled, as the captain struck her from behind. Without looking, her entire aspect focused on Navni, she whipped a knife from her belt and flung it behind her, narrowly missing the captain, who had to dance aside to avoid it. 

“Enough, Raboniel,” Devial panted, his breath hot in Navani’s ear, “I have her. Set down your blades. I promise I won’t torture her too much before I cut her pretty head off if you do.” 

Raboniel stalked towards him, her eyes blazing like the fires of Damnation, burning with hatred and disgust, each step that of a calculating predator. 

“Release her, Devial,” she breathed softly, a trickle of blood streaming from the corner of her mouth as she bared her fangs at him, “Or I will send you back to Odium begging never to be Returned again lest you be forced to face me and the torments I will unleash upon your worthless form again.” 

Devial laughed, and pressed the blade harder against Navani’s throat in answer. 

“So be it,” Raboniel whispered. 

She moved blindingly, far more quickly than Navnai had yet seen from her. In an instant, she had the blade at her neck in her hands, and it vanished to dust in a heartbeat, Navani dropping to the floor and scrambling away from the battling Fused, clutching at her throat in terror. 

Devial swung for Raboniel’s neck as his captain prowled around them, forcing Raboniel to keep one blade guarding her exposed back. 

Navani wanted to help but storms. She was just a scholar, and she would only get in the way. All she could do was whisper another frantic prayer to the Almighty. Something she never believed she’d utter for Raboniel’s sake. 

“You committed a gross slight against me just now, Devial,” Raboniel called to him, her eyes narrowed, “I will have you correct it before I send you back to Braize.” 

“Oh?” he said, “And what was that?” 

“You forgot my title when you addressed me in your scorn,” she said quietly, “I would remind you of it.” 

With that she lunged for him, throwing another dagger as she did, catching the captain in the hand so he could not intervene as she and Devial slammed to the floor. 

She rammed him through the stomach with both of her strange, pointed blades, pinning him in place as he writhed. Then she pressed her hand to him, forcing Voidlight into him, and caused his carapace to ignite, first like smouldering coals, then a roaring bonfire. 

Raboniel did not seem bothered by the heat as it engulfed him, writhing and screaming beneath her.  

She leaned in close to him, ripping her blades free of his abdomen, sending blood gushing from the wound it left, “I am the Lady of Pains, Devial,” she whispered to him, close and soft as she might to a lover. Then she rammed her blade into his chest and twisted, “My will in this tower is law. My word is final and absolute. And you will pay me the respect I am due by that title. Lest I remind you once more of its origin.” 

Navani had thought she would use her second blade to end Devial, puncturing either his gemheart or his spinal cord to finish him. 

Instead she rose from him, stepping away, leaving him writhing, consumed by flames and agony. His Voidlight supply healed him. Not fast enough to escape the death that was coming, but enough to prolong it, to ensure his last breaths would be spent in pain. 

Navani found she could not feel too sorry, but she did look away from him, watching to where Raboniel stalked towards the last of the men. Their leader, the captain, who cowered on his knees before her. 

He tossed aside his blade as she approached him, “I yield, Lady of Pains,” he said, voice cracking with fear. 

“Oh?” she said, sounding faintly amused, “And you would have allowed me to yield to you, or to Devial, had I been so pitiful as to demand that mercy, would you?” she demanded, rhythm pulsing with derision. 

“I, I-” the man panted, floundering, red eyes wide and terrified as he stared up at her. 

“Do not answer,” she snapped, “I do not need to hear you lie to me as a final insult for this day’s nonsense. I do not wish to hear you speak another word to me while you hold this body, lest I be reminded of this encounter, and your worthless part in it. Do I make myself clear?” 

The captain nodded frantically, humming to a remorseful, subservient rhythm. 

“Good,” she said, coldly. “You will return to Lezian, and you will tell him that my patience with him is growing thin, and if he thinks to test it again, he will be sorry. As sorry as Devial, there,” she said. 

As she spoke, she jerked her head towards the Fused behind them, now spasming and whimpering his last. 

The echoing silence left in the wake of his death was somehow worse than his screams. 

“You will tell him that Navani is mine. If he may claim that Windrunner, then I claim her. He will not touch her. He will not send men to take her from me. He will not so much as think of her or utter her name without my knowledge and consent. She is mine, and I will send every one of his worthless soldiers back to Braize screaming if that is what it takes to make that known throughout this tower.” 

She gave the captain a shove, sending him stumbling away from her. He scrambled to his feet, hovering, waiting to see if there was more she wished of him. 

“Get out of my sight,” she spat, waving a dismissive hand. 

He bolted at once. 

Navani sat, stunned, in the corner of the room, staring with wide eyes at the aftermath of what had happened. She put her fingers to her neck, feeling the faint cut there. It was not bad. Barely a scratch, in truth. But the memory of that blade against her skin, the feeling of the Fused’s clammy hands holding her, pressing her against him, as he spoke so lovingly of torturing her, made her want to claw herself out of her own body just to escape the memories. 

She was jolted back to her surroundings as Raboniel walked to her and crouched down beside her. 

She looked tired. Not physically tired, though. Voidlight, like Stormlight, would support her and stave off fatigue. She looked soul tired. The kind of tiredness that Navani saw when she looked into her eyes as she spoke of the war that had gone on so long for her. 

She had been created to kill, made to bring death to this world on Odium’s orders. She did it well. So very, very well. But she was tired of it. Ready to rest, to sleep, at long last. She was rusted through to her core, done, and finished. The only death she wanted now was her own, Navani was sure. 

“Are you alright?” Raboniel asked quietly, and Navani’s eyes snapped back to her eyes, focusing herself on them. 

“I-” Navani said, her voice shaking.

She wanted to say that she was fine, and she was, in comparison to everyone else in this room, Navani had absolutely nothing to complain about. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she kept repeating that single sound, in a progressively higher voice, shaking violently. 

“It will pass,” Raboniel said, gently, “Come here,” she coaxed Navani to her feet and led her into the small side room that connected to their study, away from the death. 

She settled her on the couch, poured her some strong sapphire wine and pushed the cup into her hands. Then she glanced to the next room, where Fused were calling in their own language, crying out. 

“Stay there,” Raboniel said quietly, “I will return for you in a moment.” 

Navani almost laughed at that command. It was the most unnecessary she had ever been given in her life. She couldn’t have moved if a highstorm had torn off the roof and come ripping through the room. 

Flashes of the battle continued to play out, against her will. Above it all, the look in Raboniel’s eyes as she had defended Navani. 

That had been more than a woman protecting an important asset from a political rival. More even than a necessary academic ally. That had been...Real. True, fierce protectiveness. And her declaration that Navani was hers? That she would murder her way through all of the Pursuer’s men if that was what it took to keep her safe? Storms. Storms. It was too much. 

She sat on the couch, staring into the violet depths of her wine, unable to bring it to her lips. It was taking all of her concentration and will to keep herself in check enough to stop it slopping over the sides with how her hands were shaking. 

Raboniel re-entered the room a moment later, crouching down in front of Navani with a bowl of some kind of clear, strong-smelling liquid and some other supplies she could not take in. 

“The guards I sent for arrived,” she said, quietly, “The Pursuer’s men drugged our earlier group, so that they would become more tired, more quickly, hoping I would send for replacements. I have asked them to put our rooms in order for us. They will take care of the-” 

“You saved my life,” Navani interrupted, hoarsely. 

She had been listening to what Raboniel had said, and a part of her mind recognised that it was important. But that part of her was composed, and in command, and poised. And Navani had never felt less like that in her life. So that part of her mind was most certainly not in charge at the moment. 

Raboniel paused, watching Navani with a strange expression. 

Then she set down her things and said, simply, “Yes. I did. You think I would simply have handed you over to them?” she asked. 

“I would have, if I had been in your position,” Navani replied. 

The words were coming out clipped and jerky. She was still staring straight ahead, not thinking clearly. What was she saying? She shouldn’t be telling her that. Next time she might not stand between Navani and those monsters. 

Curiously, Raboniel smiled, “I appreciate your honesty, Navani,” she said to a quiet rhythm, “But I do not think it is true. You would not have allowed someone to take a friend in your care.” 

“That’s what I am to you?” Navani asked, managing to tear her eyes from the spot on the wall she’d been fixating on, “A friend?” 

Raboniel hummed a soft rhythm she could not interpret. 

She did not answer, but gestured to Navani’s arm and said, “You were wounded, I would clean and stitch that for you, to prevent infection. I shall have the surgeons attend you tomorrow, but I do not want anyone else coming in or out of here tonight. It will be secured by my guards, and I will remain with you, in case Lezian attempts to strike again, thinking me weakened.” 

Navani nodded numbly, barely taking in what Raboniel was saying. Then. Wounded? 

She looked down and saw that, indeed, her havah was torn, and there was a long gash in her shoulder where Devial had first grabbed her. Made by a dagger, she thought? Or had it been his claws? She wasn’t sure. It was all a blur. It was all- Oh storms. 

Raboniel was achingly gentle as she began to unbutton her havah, saying quietly, “I need to move this out of my way, to work on you.” 

Navani nodded vaguely again. She would have let Raboniel do almost anything to her in this state. Some part of her, deeper than conscious sense or reason, trusted this woman. It had identified her as safe, the only safe thing left in her world. 

On a base, instinctual level, that part had seen this woman stand before her, fight to the death to defend her, then come to her afterwards to care for her. In her frantic, terrified state, an anxiety beyond panic or hysteria, she clung to whatever instinct guided her to, and right now, instinct guided her to Raboniel. 

Raboniel prodded gently at the wound in Navani’s shoulder, “Not bad,” she assessed, the quiet scholar returned once more, the feral, violent intensity of the battle gone now they were alone together again. “It will hurt, I am sure, but should cause no lasting damage.” 

“It doesn’t,” Navani replied mechanically, as Raboniel began to clean it, “Hurt,” she added, rather foolishly. 

Raboniel nodded, “Be grateful for that reprieve,” she said, wryly, “It will, once your mind catches up with what your body has just experienced.” 

“It was so much,” Navani whispered. 

The part of her brain that still had a wit left, chided her for the foolish comments, pointing out that Raboniel would not want to hear such babbling from her. 

Raboniel only nodded however, “Your first time is always a lot. The next will be easier.” 

Navani trembled and violently shook her head, “I do not want there to be a next time,” she said, swallowing hard. 

“None of us ever do, Navani,” Raboniel said quietly, “Each time I am forced to pick up my blades and kill again, I hope it will be the last. It never is. I told myself I should stop hoping it will be, as that is foolish, and repeated evidence has been put in front of me that there will always be more. Yet some time will be the last. So I hope for it. Still. I hope for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Navani said, stupidly, as though she had anything to apologise for, as though any of this had been by her design, “That you had to kill again today on my behalf.” 

“Do not apologise, Navani,” Raboniel said softly, removing a curved needle and surgeon’s thread from the small pile beside her, “For all the times I have had to kill most recently, you have been the most worthy reason I have done so.” 

Their eyes met, and a flicker of warmth flared in Navani, pushing through the cold fog that had descended upon her after the battle. 

Clumsily, she reached out and cupped Raboniel’s cheek in her hand, stopping her from looking away, and taking that warmth with her, keeping her in place, looking at her, for just a little longer. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice hoarse again, but sounding more like her. 

Raboniel placed a gentle hand over Navani’s, then smiled and, sounding faintly amused as she hummed, said, “I appreciate the sentiment Navani, truly, but I need two hands to finish my stitching.” 

Navani blushed as she realised she had clutched onto Raboniel’s hand without realising, seeking to anchor herself in this moment of chaos and terror. She released her, and focused instead, watching Raboniel’s movements as she stitched. 

The pattern was not the one favoured by modern human surgeons, but the stitches were neat, precise, and well-judged. She was obviously practiced. 

“I wouldn’t have thought this was a skill you would need to have,” Navani said, finding that she needed to say something, unwilling to let the moment lapse into silence, “Given that you can use Voidlight to heal yourself.” 

Raboniel hummed quietly, nodding, “This is true. But it was a skill I had acquired before I became Fused.” She looked up to see Navani’s curious look, and explained, “My mother was a seamstress, many years ago, and she taught me.” 

“You remember it?” Navani asked, amazed, “From so long ago?” 

“I maintained the skill, over many years, and many returns,” she explained quietly, “It was not something that I wished to lose. I taught Essu, also, when she-” she faltered for a moment, and Navani squeezed her hand. Raboniel took a breath and continued, “I wanted her to have skills beyond what Odium wished her to know in order to kill. I thought, perhaps, it may help, to have an anchor, something familiar, not drenched in blood, to return to. It was not enough.” 

She trailed off, and though it made her feel as though she were being repeatedly stabbed, Navani allowed the silence to swallow them, not wishing to interrupt Raboniel’s moment of grief. 

A guard glanced into the room as Raboniel finished up, and Navani jumped so badly that Raboniel almost tore out the row of stitches she’d just finished. 

Resting a hand gently on Navani’s knee, Raboniel turned and said, “Speak.” 

“The area is secure, Ancient One,” the guard said, giving her a salute, “We will remain in the outer chamber, with you and the Queen protected here. If we see any of the Pursuer’s men, we shall call for you at once.” 

“Thank you, Vardwi,” Raboniel said, nodding in thanks to the guard, who withdrew with a respectful nod. 

“Will they come for me again?” Navani found herself asking. 

The usual filter that existed between her brain and her mouth seemed to have broken, and she could not stop her tongue giving voice to her fears. 

Raboniel looked at her, eyes steady, intense, “I will not lie, they may,” she said quietly, “But if they do the result shall be the same. They shall not have you. Though we Fused are of Odium, you will find that I can keep my oath as well as your Bondsmith, Navani.” 

“You would do that?” she breathed, “You would cut down your own, possibly anger Odium...For me?” 

“You have proven yourself, Voice of Lights,” Raboniel said simply, placing hands on her knees and starting to rise, “And you are mine. Under my protection and in my care. It would shame me, were I to allow Lezian to harm you. It-” 

She broke off suddenly, swaying slightly in place, putting a hand to her head. Navani reached out to steady her, alarmed, guiding her back down onto the couch she was on. 

“What is it?” she asked, sharply, alarmed. 

Raboniel groaned, “It appears that I have a dagger in my back,” she said, conversationally. Her eyes twinkled as she glanced to Navani, “I might have suspected you as the source of it, if I did not know better Navani" she murmured with a smile. “I will need to ask you to remove it, however.” 

“What?” Navani said, feeling suddenly a little faint. 

“It appears I have shifted the blade while moving, it has nicked my lung, which is beginning to fill with blood. It’s a rather unpleasant sensation,” Raboniel informed her matter-of-factly, as if there was a problem in one of their experiments. “Voidlight has healed me as it can around the wound, but cannot repair my lung while there is a dagger in the way. I will need you to take it out.” 

Navani swallowed as Raboniel turned in place, and she spotted the hilt of the dagger protruding from her back, just beneath her ribcage. 

“Stormfather,” she whispered hoarsely. She reached out to grip the hilt and pull it free, but her hands were shaking so badly. “I, I can’t Raboniel,” she said, staring at the blade, at the blood leaking from the wound, remembering the terror that had only just passed. “My hands- My hands won’t stop shaking, I can’t, I-” 

Raboniel turned, wincing as that shifted the blade again, and held Navani’s hands in her own, “You can,” she said, her rhythm comforting. “It is only shock, Navani, it shall pass. But I need you to do this for me now, do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Navani whispered, taking a deep breath and trying to master herself, “Yes, I. Yes.” 

Raboniel turned in place again, coughing and spitting up blood as she did so. Navani trembled, then wrapped her freehand around the hilt of the dagger, bracing the other against Raboniel’s back. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, shakily. 

“Make it quick,” Raboniel answered, “One, swift motion. And do resist the temptation to try to ram it into my gemheart, won’t you?” she added, glancing over her shoulder and smirking, “That would be rather poor repayment, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t,” Navani said, and knew that it was true. 

Once she might have done. Once she would have taken a knife willingly presented to her in the back of this Fused, and thrown it all to the winds in an attempt to rid herself, and this tower, of her. But she couldn’t. She knew that. And not just because Raboniel had risked her life to save her tonight. 

Navani took a deep breath, then yanked, swift and sure as she could manage. The knife resisted her, the skin having healed up around her, and Raboniel buried a scream in the cushions of the couch beside her as Navani tore the wound open again. 

Then her body slumped, relaxing, and Voidlight began to heal the wound, leaving Navani quivering with a knife in her hands. 

Raboniel turned and took it from her, gently, then used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from it before handing it back, hilt first. 

“You should have some way to protect yourself,” she said, firmly. “Even if you have no training, it is not too difficult to ram the sharp end somewhere that seems painful.” 

Navani nodded and accepted the blade with trembling hands. Then, with nowhere to currently sheathe it, and no desire to be in contact with it, and the memories it carried with it, she set it aside on the arm of the chair. 

“What now?” she asked, slightly tremulously. 

“We shall rest,” Raboniel said, firmly, “It is late, and you look as though you’re ready to faint with exhaustion and stress.” 

She got to her feet, and Navani found herself grabbing for her hand again, saying urgently, “Where are you going?” 

Raboniel crouched down and covered her hand with her own, squeezing, “To speak with my guards,” she said, humming to a soothing rhythm, “And to inspect the defences they have set up against Lezian’s men for tonight.” 

“You will return?” Navani asked, feeling an absolute fool the moment the words were out of her mouth, yet somehow grateful to her fool self for asking it, so she might hear the answer. 

Raboniel hummed in affirmation, “I will not leave you, Navani,” she promised quietly, “I shall remain here tonight with you. And none shall harm you. I swear it.” 

Navani nodded, then released Raboniel and allowed her to step from the small side chamber back into the main study to converse with her guards. 

Trembling, Navani managed to will enough control into her shaking legs to get them to carry her to the small writing desk in the corner. 

There, she took a scrap of parchment, brushpen, and ink, and painted a glyphward of thanks, which she burned in one of Raboniel’s candles. 

***

[inkdemonapologist]

We briefly split up while trying to get murder mystery clues in our latest batim cthulhu session; Team Polite Boys is ready to go!!

More out-of-context quotes from last session under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Joey] Yeah, that makes sense, he probably would've pocketed it, [Sammy] aRE YOU STEALING?! [Henry] Joey!!! [Joey] I mean...................................yeah,

[Joey] He just wants to find the slick stone, and fix things, and go back to being an animation studio! That'd be nice! [GM] The eternal dream... [Jack] Animation studio, and then it has a little asterisk, and in the fine print it mentions that they also deal in the occult. [Joey] Just a little bit. [Jack] Little an occult, [Sammy] As a treat! [Joey] The occult does not own more than 5% of Joey Drew Studios stock. [GM] ...Is that Prophet Sammy's share, [Joey] He DOES seem to be the one investing in it the most!!

[Joey] There's definitely room for Jack to speak up as the one who knows Peter, but Joey is just going to go up to the front desk -- [Sammy] (Joey has now met him, so it's less weird,) [Joey] -- and ask if Petey is around! [Sammy] (...oh my goodness, Joey,)

[GM, as Peter] "And I could find someone to be a guide for you tomorrow, be less likely to fall in a sinkhole." [Joey] *thoughtfully* I do like not falling in sinkholes,

[Jack] *rolls* Aww.... [GM] Uh-oh, [Jack] No, it's-- it's not a failed roll. I thought it was very briefly and, gOT MY HOPES UP I GUESS???

[Joey] But that's going to be a very.... difficult............ [Sammy] I dunno, maybe Henry can talk to Fowler. Henry's like......... a,, caring person! Henry knows how families work.... Has, empathy,,, [Joey] Just send Henry and Jack to go talk with Fowler, and Joey and Sammy go.... sit on their hands. Don't do anything. DON'T MAKE THINGS WORSE

[GM] Mostly he's known for having more money than sense-- [Joey] (More dollars than cents? :D ) [Sammy] Well, you should get along great.

[Jack] Team Sad Boys to the sad boy, and... Team No Sense,

[Joey] Hey, can we borrow a brain cell? [Sammy] No, we only have one! That's why we never split up!!

[Henry] Jack is wondering how these guys got through Haiti. [Sammy] Well. It took us ten tries.

[after reading Alice in Wonderland] [Jack] *laughing* Do I need to roll a sanity check? [GM] One thing at a time; let me do a little typing-- [Jack] Oh bOY! ....I was just making a funny joke...! [GM] *sends secret message* Okay! [Jack] OH BOY,,, Jack just wanted a nice way to fill the time... [GM] Uh, do make a sanity check.

[Joey] Maybe it's because Joey has Bendy in him, that he can't see something in that book. [Sammy] (Hmm....... Bendy-Vision.........) [Sammy] (!!!! SILLYVISION)

[Sammy] Gonna tell Joey to, don't look up at the door, [Joey] Joey will almost start to look, and then catch himself the moment he realises why Sammy might be telling him this. [GM] This is why the Lurker covered his eyes that other time!!! [Joey] LiSTEN,

[Joey] ...I just noticed Joey fits the Gays Don't Drive thing...

[Sammy] Sammy looks very suspicious, but that's just his face.

[Joey] I like how Sammy apparently has ink-sense now, like spidey-sense [Sammy] YeaH ITS GREAT!!!! Sammy's very stressed!!!!!

[Joey] Once they've left the mansion and gotten far enough away, Joey's going to drop his over-friendly demeanour for a moment and mutter that he hates people like that guy. [GM] .............................................. is this a Kyle, [Joey] YES.

[Jack] I assume that Joey has given us money, at some point? [Joey] [Jack] He's not just expecting us to fund this out of our pocket, hopefully??? [Joey] ............................ has anyone brought this up to Joey,

[Henry] What insanity did Jack pick up, by the way? [Jack] Hmm.... [Jack] [Jack] Oh, y'know,

[Henry] Roll Charm to start a conversation in a normal, non-awkward way!!

[Jack] A nice change of topic to-- maybe not lighten the mood, but, [Sammy] dredge the mood up from the bottom of the lake,

[Joey] He keeps his hand on Sammy, trying to be reassuring that he's there to help Sammy with this, but also making sure it still looks NOT IN A GAY WAY, as much as Joey Drew can do.

[GM] Okay, one sec. [Joey] .....the longer we sit here waiting, the more I recalibrate that scene I just described to be gayer and gayer. [Sammy] Oh no. You have to hurry, or else it'll be retconned until they're making out on the porch when Joey knocks!

[Joey] I did hear that this guy is quite handsome, but I think right now Joey's too concerned about Sammy to play into Charm. [GM] Charm the... recent widower??? That seems.... [Joey] Yeah, y'know, as you do-- it could work! Just because his family is dead doesn't mean he's dead! [Sammy] Joey. [Jack] This IS Joey "Flirts With A Married Man" Drew, [GM] TRUE. That's true.

[GM] Fowler knows this spiritual consultant is legitimate because he's put him in contact with his family, that had recently passed away, on more than one occasion. [Henry] (Passed away on more than one occasion? Man, that's rough.) [Sammy] (I mean, we've done that!) [Henry] We have! It's rough!!

[GM, as Fowler] "A lot of newbies think magic feels weird when they're not used to it, y'know." [Sammy] Sammy's response is going to be to make uncomfortable eye contact, for a very long time.

[Sammy] Let me poll the audience: Should I be stopping Trenchcoat. [Jack] Out of character, I want to say, hesitantly no? [Henry] Yeah, same. [Sammy] I'm way more suspicious of Fowler than Trenchcoat, weirdly. [Henry] I want to let Trenchcoat go, and then track him down and grill him later. [Jack] I feel like Trenchcoat is suspicious in the same way that we're suspicious. [Sammy] YES.

[GM] I do appreciate that you guys were like "this guy's a shoplifter" and then promptly shoplifted.

[Joey] Why are you everywhere that we are? [GM, as Trenchcoat Guy] "I could ask you the same thing," he remarks, seeming vaguely amused. [Joey] Well I asked it first!!!

[Trenchcoat Guy describes the teleportation portal into Fowler's basement] [Joey] Okay, that is... that is definitely suspicious, [Sammy] "sUSPICIOUS?!?"

[Sammy] Sammy is squinting at Joey as he leaves.... [Sammy] ...OH, [Sammy] Oh he needs a drink I bet; I'm not going to look at him actually, never mind. [Jack] ...I know you said "Not going to look at him” -- I briefly misheard as "Not going to lick him" [Sammy] I'm alSO NOT GOING TO DO THAT,

[GM] He says that until today, you guys were the most suspicious thing he'd come across. [Sammy] I mean... he's not wrong.

[Joey] (Does someone want to grab his contact information) [Sammy] Oh, Jack, do you want to do that? [Jack] Jack is... going to... not do that, [Sammy] ...oh. [Sammy] ...............is Jack okay?!

[Joey] And then Joey... grabs Henry? [GM] Henry is just getting hugged. [Joey] Ah. [Henry] Oh, hugs back! [Henry] He's hugging both of them, I'm guessing.

[GM] The Lurker sits down on the ground. [Joey] (Does he sit down normally for a person,) [GM] He just kind of falls backwards. And then goes "Ow!" [Henry] *laughs* Yeah, you can't do that when you're more than 3 feet tall.

[Jack] Concerned Jack faces.... I was going to say noises, but,

[Jack] Did we ever get Trenchcoat's name? [Sammy] No. [Joey] No. [Henry] He's the new Binoculars. [Sammy] I'm delighted every time Sammy gets to call someone Not Their Name.

[GM] It's just a normal, scrawled address, for a Mr. Polk. [Sammy] .........is it really, [GM] Yes. [Sammy] OH GOOD??? I didn't say it, but for the first paragraph of that audiolog I was like "nORMAN???" [Joey] .... AW, NOW I HAVE TO HIRE HIM!!! THREN!!!!! [Sammy] Oh he was working with microfilm too! So he could probably-- [Henry] It sounded like he was gonna be out of a job soon, [Joey] DAMMIT!!

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 23

Seriously, how useless are these two right now? The puppets all dropped dead around them, yet none of them run up to help Wei Wuxian. I think we saw Lan Wangji running, but he just had dramatic close-up shots for the first few minutes as well. Like, stop looking dumbfounded and stop just providing facial reactions to things, and get up there! Act like you're in a war, gdi! They're reacting to seeing Wen Ruohan stabbed, which I chose not to cap for obvious reasons.

So even though I knew the story from the book, I still think this moment is pretty cool when they reveal that it's Jin Guangyao who has stabbed Wen Ruohan literally and figuratively in the back. The last time we saw him, poor Nie Mingjue was getting the crap beat out of him by Jin Guangyao, so seeing this here--like, ooh! Double-double-cross! Triple-cross!! It's fun to see a twist that doesn't make you groan! Because, of course, you want to root for Jin Guangyao because he's a bastard and has always been looked down on everyone. Now you see that he was not a villain at all, and he was actually helping the good guys by double-crossing Wen Ruohan! Of course, we know he really is a villain and all, but most of that really doesn't come until later in the story haha.

I do enjoy the light parallels here between Lan Xichen and his brother. We see both of them willing to give their best friends the benefit of the doubt and protect them from those who are less willing, let's say. And both of them are even willing to stand up to other people they know and trust. Nie Mingjue is one of Lan Xichen's closest friends, and we see Lan Wangji stand up to his own uncle. If you're looking at CQL without the romance angle (which, why would you?), this parallel is a bit more striking. You basically have two sets of bosom friends. Obviously one set crumbles at the end, but there are definitely a lot of parallels and comparisons to make. And sorry, for a show that couldn't have any gay characters, they sure made it seem like Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao had a thing for each other (even though neither of them is gay in the book, mind you). A weird sort of change--I don't even ship them, but their early scenes seemed very shippy. Maybe it's my American lens, I don't know.

But speaking of weird changes, allow me to go on a tangent. Wen Qing's role expansion doesn't bother me, not really. I kind of say it does, but it's not really the expansion that gets to me. It's the fact that she was going to be a love interest for Wei Wuxian that bothers me. Wei Wuxian is gay. He's gay. Lan Wangji is also gay--if not gayer. Her being a love interest for either one of them means they are no longer gay. Bi, maybe, but what that would have done was erase their canon sexuality. It would have also turned their relationship into that horribly tropey brothers-in-arms or whatever name you want to give it--basically JUST FRIENDS who want to defend each other's honor. You can certainly read CQL that way, but if you are, I don't think you're paying attention to Wang Yibo's performance at all. And if you're not paying attention to the second lead, then why are you watching this show at all? So, changing their sexuality changes the whole show (which already is so tropey, from what I understand) into something so derivative, I wouldn't even want to bother watching it. One of the things I think you take away from CQL is Lan Wangji's, frankly, undying love for Wei Wuxian. If he goes and has a fling with Wen Qing at any point, that cheapens his character dramatically in my opinion. Lots of people can say this better than me, and probably have, but I'm very grateful to those passionate fans (and to Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo) for helping to change the script from the original drafts, which were frankly no better than a junky harlequin romance, having Wen Qing passed around like a piece of meat, which is so far from her character in the novel, and definitely a disservice to her.

Not gonna lie, it's adorable to think that Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji have been talking over the past few days, maybe having tea together, while Wei Wuxian is in a coma. I feel Lan Wangji was a very calming presence for Jiang Yanli, because she was probably very worried and fretful over Wei Wuxian. I like the idea of him playing the guqin for Wei Wuxian, and then having tea and a quiet chat with Jiang Yanli before leaving. Also very cute that Wei Wuxian is half-heartedly trying to badmouth Lan Wangji, by calling him boring and uninteresting, but he can't even get through the sentence without smiling to himself. Obviously he's loving the idea that Lan Wangji has been at his side every day, worrying over him and slowly doing his part to nurse him back to health.

I love his expression here: shock and relief and joy, all mixed together upon seeing that Wei Wuxian has woken up. Obviously he knew he'd wake up eventually, but he didn't expect it so soon and I don't think he expected his heart to be in his throat and to be so indescribably happy to see Wei Wuxian awake.

Wei Wuxian, of course, can't really meet his eyes, and Jiang Yanli makes a swift exit (she knows what's up--these boys need to talk). And Lan Wangji just has love in his eyes: Heart-guang Jun. I mean, imagine how he must be feeling right now. He had just gotten Wei Wuxian back from what seemed like certain death, finally reconciled, and then Wei Wuxian is in a coma! He must have been terrified of losing him again. It's probably all he can do right now to not hug Wei Wuxian.

I seriously love everything about this scene. I love the colors, the cinematography, the longing glances Wei Wuxian gives Lan Wangji, the way Lan Wangji quietly scolds him while still playing the guqin because he's a professional. But really, I just find this scene very pretty and moving and emotional. I enjoy seeing Lan Wangji getting to take care of him and even more that Wei Wuxian lets him and puts up with it. I think most of us are quick to retort a good old, "I'm fine" when asked how we are, but in this case, Wei Wuxian is not fine, and he has no ground to stand on if he's trying to prove that. It's hard for Wei Wuxian at this point, though, to really lean on anyone, even Lan Wangji who is his best friend. He certainly can't lean on Jiang Cheng for reasons I don't think I need to go into again. He kind of leans on Yanli, but at the same time, he can't (and doesn't wish to) burdon her either. Lan Wangji is really the one person he should be able to lean on and seek comfort from, but he feels awkward and uncomfortable, because of the dark spiritual energy and giving up the sword, and Lan Wangji's crusade to help him.

"Who is good and who is evil?" Wei Wuxian is struggling with a moral dilemma: is it right to round up the Wens and kill them/hold them captive? The Wens did horrible things, after all, and this is the reality of war. Of course, we've just seen Lan Xichen struggling with it as well. Why capture the women and children and elderly, who have nothing to do with the war? He's only met with the fact that it's not just the male cultivators who are dangerous. Still, his mind is only placated by the lie that the people will just be interrogated and sent to a labor camp--then cut to the blood on the floor. So Wei Wuxian is not only struggling with what the Jin Clan and other clans are doing, but he's also thinking about his own deeds--how many people did he kill? How many did he brutally murder in the name of revenge? Because of the things he's done, is he good or evil? Is good and evil so black and white? Does it just depend on whose lens you're viewing it through?

Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian with all of this knowledge and doesn't know what to think. He's afraid of what Wei Wuxian has become, afraid he'll end up like Wen Ruohan--he's afraid of losing him entirely. But the situation is not black and white, and good and evil is not so easily defined. You can only know once you know that person's heart, and Wei Wuxian isn't really letting Lan Wangji in anymore. He's trying to convince him with his words, but that is simply not good enough.

I think if Lan Wangji hadn't stopped him here, Wei Wuxian would have played that flute and tried to end all of the Jin "hunting party" (sorry, that was a little dark). His emotions were already high after the conversation with Lan Wangji on the cliff, and we've already seen him feeling disturbed by how the Wens are being chased and rounded up. I, for one, wouldn't have complained if Jin Zixuan's cousin bit the dust earlier. I think his name is Jin Zixun. Is that it? See, even I don't remember him.

I love how even though they are far apart, this scene still feels very intimate. It's very moving, and the music and the cinematography help to cultivate that feeling. I like how Wei Wuxian perks up when he hears Lan Wangji pluck the first few notes, and Lan Wangji does the same when he hears the sound of Wei Wuxian's flute. I feel like they are spiritually connected here as they play this haunting duet. And I think it's a connection they haven't felt for a long time. There has been so much tension between them for so long, and this scene feels like a big sigh from both of them. While I still feel like there is tension present, there is a bit of a release here--at least, that's how I feel as a viewer.

Ah, yes, the awkward period where Jiang Cheng has become leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, wants to control Wei Wuxian, but doesn't know how. He's new at this, so I can't blame him for being a bit awkward as he figures out what he's supposed to be doing. As a young man, he basically nagged Wei Wuxian for doing inappropriate things, but now when Wei Wuxian misbehaves, Jiang Cheng is in part responsible for that behavior. At some point or another, the two of them grew up. Wei Wuxian's misbehavior isn't precocious anymore--it's serious and it has consequences, and just as in Gusu, Jiang Cheng sees that those actions are a reflection of the Jiang Clan. Only now, they aren't just a reflection of the clan, they're also a reflection of Jiang Cheng, himself, and his leadership (or lack thereof).

And speaking of awkward...Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji have some...unresolved...stuff to deal with. But God forbid they actually talk right now. How can they? They're at this stuffy banquet that neither one of them want to be at. I feel for them both. Wei Wuxian is hurt because he thinks Lan Wangji doesn't trust him. Lan Wangji feels terrible because he wants to help Wei Wuxian, but the latter won't really let him in and allow him to do so. I feel myself just on pins and needles during these scenes with all these glances, but at the same time, I love it because DRAMA and ANGST! And they're just so in love lolol.

Nie Mingjue has to be that guy that always wants a certain table. The waiter leads him over and says, "Is this table okay?" expecting the answer to be yes, but nope--not Nie Mingjue. He'll request a different table. XD

I love this little conversation--it's like they're both measuring each other up. I think they each have a healthy distrust of the other. Although Wei Wuxian has always been kind to Jin Guangyao, I don't think that discounts the whole demonic cultivation thing in his mind. He knows Wei Wuxian is smart and clever and, most importantly, capable. And as for Wei Wuxian, I don't think the ease in which Jin Guangyao manipulated Wen Ruohan is lost on him.Essentially the downfall of this great cultivator and enemy of all the other clans was due to one man: Jin Guangyao. I think Wei Wuxian is thinking the same thing I am: he's extremely clever, devious, and potentially dangerous if you get on his bad side. His rise to power within the Jin Clan is kind of amazing. His estranged father admits to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen that Jin Guangyao is his son, his station has improved drastically in a short amount of time. He sure as hell is dangerous.

Jiang Yanli can hardly contain her excitement when Jin Guangshan brings up her former engagement to his son. Just kidding, of course. I'm kind of horrified for her that he's bringing this up now in front of all these people. It feels very much like he's pressuring not only her, but also his son to get engaged again. First of all, Jiang Fengmian and Jin Guangshan agreed at the time to let the children decide whether they wanted to get married or not. Second, if you're going to talk about this, at least do it in private! Third, this is not letting the kids decide. God, this would be humiliating! And I also totally expected Jiang Cheng to speak for his sister here, so I'm glad he didn't do that. It's really none of his business either.

Lol! The weird cutoff here! Who's speaking??? I don't know!!! I mean, obviously, it's Wei Wuxian, but it's like they don't expect us to recognize his voice hahahahaha.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag

[gaawachan]

Critical Role 135 Discord Convo (Topic: Shipping?)

Some pre-convo context: This conversation meandered a bit so there's a lot of stuff that may turn up in other conversations later; it was really late and so a lot of things were only briefly touched on.

Me: You know... people are gonna freak out if LoB doesn't just cave and romance Essek at this point. If he wasn't planning on doing so then his roleplay during the past few episodes is gonna cause backlash, I think.

Sibling: I think he was on the fence and then Matt was like, "Okay, I have to push this because I currently have plans to make Astrid a victim of Trent and/or the big bad of Caleb's arc."

Me: Certainly feels that way, lol.  Matt's definitely the one that's been doing the pushing post-boat scene.

Sibling: Pretty much-- Matt has kept Essek near Caleb for every moment that he can

Me: (Caleb did tell Essek to stay close, lol) But in the past couple of episodes Liam's gone back to reciprocating. If he isn't planning on shipping it, he shouldn't do that.

Sibling: Despite Lucien's eyes. Oh for sure. I think he is though. Why else would LoB post stuff like *examples of LoB's twitter activity*? He doesn't egg on Astrid/Caleb shippers lol

Me: That's true.

Sibling: Plus, Essek is purple.

Me: Of course we weren't in the fandom when Vaxmore happened and then dropped, so we don't know if Liam did the same thing with that ship.

Sibling: God I hope not... C'mon, give us a bit of beeg yoshi

Me: Having watched half of season 1, I can say that there was way, waaaaaaaay less tension and such between Vax and Gilmore. Vax liked Shaun a lot, and Shaun was in love with Vax... but they had nothing in common, they didn't have any real theme/plot/setting/interest ties or anything. Just a vanilla relationship, like, they went out on lunch dates.

Sibling: It's funny because OTHER non-shippers came onto that ship-positive trend and started talking about Vaxmore and how more "real" it was. And I'm like, I feel like slow-burn romances are far more "real" than people hopping on each other as soon as that they get a chance (COUGH COUGH BEAUYASHA I'M SORRY COUGH). Don't disparage lunch dates, btw; there's nothing gayer than that.

Me: No, don’t get me wrong, I was actually about to post that "I can see why people like that because it feels realistic" The bigger problem with Vaxmore was simply that they didn't see Gilmore very often.  I think Liam would have been more interested in continuing that ship if Gilmore had not been... well, the Pumat Sol of the campaign.  Just not very relevant.  This isn't the case for Essek; he is THE npc of this campaign, basically. He's more involved than any other NPC in either season. Side note: if C1 and C2 had happened concurrently, I'd have totally shipped Gilmore with Mollymauk.

Sibling: OH TOTALLY

Me: Lol

Sibling: Essek and Caleb have many interests in common, and Liam has CANONIZED Caleb's attraction to him, both intellectually and physically. They have expressed a desire to spend time together, platonically? to improve their craft. They have worked to improve with each other, speak with each other in a way that they don't with others-- not even people they're supposedly closer to. Essek has had a turn of his morals BECAUSE of Caleb's actions... What do other ships in this season have? Caleb and Astrid; they have shared misery and a past that stains ALL of their interactions. Maybe there is love left, but it would need a TON of work, and she is never onscreen long enough for that to be established. There's not really any tension aside from the viewers' "is this a villain" tension. Not even the dance felt good, it was transactional and there to hide information being exchanged and then they LEFT. Caleb and Eodwulf; Caleb said his forearms were hot, lol? But Eodwulf has even less time than Astrid, and hasn't even really piqued the rest of the cast's interest, in spite of Caleb's history with him. Caleb and Jester; Might have worked if JESTER WAS EVER INTERESTED IN HIM. AND SHE NEVER WAS AND STILL ISN'T. She was smitten with Fjord the moment she started projecting him onto Tusk Love lol. Caleb and Nott; I'm not touching this one Non-Caleb ships are like: Fjord and Jester; Sweet, predictable, pretty much how I pictured it being when it became canon. Jester being exactly the same and Fjord being openly affectionate. Maybe some priorities being changed around. Beau and Yasha; I'm NGL, I feel like they're together... because they're lesbians? And not because they actually have much in common aside from that? It's sweet, but if we're speaking purely from a like... chemistry standpoint? This one falls on its face. But, no, I'm sorry. Just because Caleb isn't literally devouring Essek's face whenever he's on screen  (though he slobbers like he wants to whenever Essek uses Dunamancy), doesn't mean that the ship is "invisible". It's invisible to people who are only used to overt ships I guess But I'm sorry, I need to go back through and make a "Caleb slobbers over Essek doing magic" compilation. Because it doesn't exist yet, and yet it happens all the time lol And people are like "where attraction" RIGHT THERE, GUYS

Me: Speaking of Jester, actually.  Jester's funny because early on she actually did tease/flirt with Caleb quite a bit... but then she stopped doing it.  When?  I'd say it happened right around the same time Caleb started having feelings for her, imo, after their waltz, when he said Astrid's name.  Jester and Fjord were caged together in the Sour Nest and I think that, followed by the Fjord/Avantika arc, really sealed the deal for where her interests went.  Also, Jester and Nott wrote that letter to Astrid, so by that point I think it's pretty safe to say that Jester not only was not interested in Caleb; she wasn't even interested in teasing/lightly flirting with him anymore. Also Caleb eyescrews Essek a lot... so yeah what are these people smoking?  Even LoB, who has been wishy washy about the ship, has been pretty upfront about Caleb's interest in Essek.

Sibling: I don't think Widojest people want Caleb to be with someone happy and who makes him happy. Essek is not a happy man but Caleb's mood certainly seems to brighten whenever he shows up.

Me: I mean, there IS chemistry between Caleb and Jester but the issue is that the two characters view each other completely differently. She just doesn't see him that way. The other half of the equation is that Caleb tends to treat Jester as being more than just the cutesy trickster and a lot of the other cast members haven't really shown that? They tend to undermine her a lot actually. It's most obvious with respect to the Traveler. Caleb actually respects her relationship with Artagan. Other members of the group just hate him and have made it clear to her that they feel that way.  That includes BOTH Fjord and Beau. Like if you compare the conversations she had with Fjord and with Caleb on Rumblecusp, it's night and day, but it doesn't matter because she just doesn't view Caleb as a prospective partner at all. She tends to frame their relationship in the same way several of the characters in the party frame their dynamics with Caleb. "I want to help him but I have no idea what the fuck to say or do."  She'd still above average compared to the group at doing so but that's because of her mother's influence, not because she has feelings for him. Ngl, if I WERE to ship Caleb with someone other than Essek at this point I think I would pick Jester just because they have a mutual respect for each other. Oh oh here's an example. Okay, so Caleb's room for Jester in the tower right? It's very similar to her childhood room, but he deliberately "adults" it up, because he respects her as an adult. What was Fjord's gift to her in Rexxentrum? A child's toy.  A unicorn statue. And that's cute and all, but... uh...

Sibling: A little infantilizing?

Me: Yes exactly, and it's the same way he behaves about her relationship with Artagan. One could easily argue that Fjord treats Jester sort of like she's the pixie girl stereotype, but that's just surface-level stuff about Jester. You'll notice that Fjord and Jester's conversations tend to lean cutesy and immature, but when Jester talks with Caleb, it's very often a thoughtful and deeper conversation, so I DO see why people ship it.

Sibling: I mean, but that's my problem with it. Maybe it's better than Fjorjester, but Liam doesn't lick his lips every single time Jester breathes too hard.

Me: Lol. Personally I think that part of the problem is that 1) Travis isn't comfortable with doing romance, and Fjord is awkward af, and 2) Jester/Laura has tried to get him to talk with Jester on a deeper level and it hasn't really been successful, and she's let some opportunities slip by, but Liam rarely passes up the opportunity to have a deeper conversation with other players, so he ends up having more serious conversations with Jester simply because Liam seeks out those conversations.

Sibling: Well Liam loves character romances. It's why his second character left as many options open to him as possible lol. It's the stark difference between Liam and Travis. Travis is only comfortable romancing his wife fictionally lol. Liam loves the way you can reexamine a character and reshape their ending with those choices and I think he's way more willing to just go "screw it, my character is horny AF for this wizard boy, what are you going to do Matt?" "my character is also horny for my party member, but it's probably unrequited, but I'm going to stick with it for character depth"

Me: Seriously though  go back and rewatch the Rumblecusp conversations Jester had with Fjord and with Caleb.  You could SEE it in Jester.  Fjord was NOT saying anything she wanted or needed to hear.  I thought she actually looked pretty hurt.

Sibling: Oh, I remember being like "well that was deflating" and it's why she kept asking people. She's looking for answers, and pretty much everyone pussyfooted around it becawuse she's such a cuwuty.

Me: Yes, props to Caleb for stepping up, even though he didn't give her the answer she wanted either. That's precisely the problem with her dynamics with other characters. They're too busy fawning over how cute she is and trying to shield her to get to anything much deeper.

Sibling: Whereas Caleb thought of her as a woman- someone he really liked, from... like super early on.

Me: Oddly the end result is that the non-stop shielding of Jester has inhibited Laura's ability to grow Jester as a character. Which has to be frustrating as a player.

Sibling: I think it probably has been. Especially because I think she wanted to explore how being in a romance would change her. She even hinted to that way earlier: "That's not at all how love is depicted in the books we read..." "You mean the porn books we read?"

Me: The character is rarely challenged and hasn't really been forced to change.  She has changed in that she's matured from experience, but it's subtle and it isn't really acknowledged much. Nothing screamed this more than the climax of Traveler-con, where she was staring down the barrel of a monumental life-change and her cutesyness somehow convinced the planetar to be like... "fine, bye." Even MATT regretted that decision in the Talks afterward.

Sibling: Oh for sure! She just gets everything and you know what sucks? I think LAURA wanted Artagan to be taken. It would have devastated Jester but it would have forced her to change.

Me: Well actually, Laura said that she was going to offer to worship the Moonweaver instead of the Traveler if it meant she'd spare him punishment. When she said that, Matt's whole face just dropped; he was so upset that he wasted that opportunity, but that's the cost of treating Jester like she needs coddling. It's like... bro... she ax murders people... come on.

Sibling: She burns people to death with sacred flame and gets people lost in the woods by messing with road signs.

Me: She's been tortured and barely shows the trauma of it at all (can't believe that went unaddressed btw)... She can handle pushback... Like again, Caleb. Early on she butted heads with Caleb because she's a spoiled rich kid, but you'll notice that after offending him like that?  She never did it again.

Sibling: Because she's a good person capable of introspection and changing her behavior to help people.

Me: It's a small thing but Jester actually became a better person precisely because Caleb didn't handle her with kid gloves.

Sibling: That even ties back to her dropping her flirting when "Astrid" was brought up.

Me: Yep

Sibling: ... Shadowgast is still better.

Me: Yep. I don't hate widojest and I think that of all the jester pairings it's probably the best, but of all the Caleb pairings Shadowgast is best.

Sibling: I mean, Shadowgast is best even by virtue of like... who else would you pair Essek with that he could still stick around the party for? He's only interested in Caleb lol. That's not to say he doesn't LIKE the rest of the cast, but back to the deep conversations thing...

Me: I've seen some people shipping Widojessek, lol.

Sibling: There's really only one person (and one group chat) where he had those sorts of opening up moments. Poor Fjord- just got a GF and people are already cucking him.

Me: Lol. Oh, man... Caleb and Essek really need to talk about the assembly. Specifically Caleb's past and what Essek's dealings with them were like in more detail.

Sibling: Matt tried to lol and Caleb was like "yeah okay i got plans, but also paper"

Me: Essek needs to be more direct because Caleb doesn't WANT to talk about it.

Sibling: He can't, he's a wizard. No melee attacks, emotionally or verbally.

Me: Well, the issue is that Essek prods at Caleb's goals, which are nebulous (so Caleb really can't give a satisfactory answer, and he also can't answer without talking about his past first).  And when he prods about Caleb's past, he's too indirect.  He needs to directly ask about Caleb's past FIRST if he wants more information about Caleb's goals.

Sibling: The next time they're in the tower (which I fear won't be for a while) Essek literally needs to be like "I'm drowning in guilt, you need to tell me about what I was involved with so I can manage it" He'd probably give him a few crumbs lmao.  If Essek makes it about himself, Caleb is less likely to close up.

Me: Yes, that is exactly how Essek needs to frame it. "I don't have a full understanding of the nature of the people I gave power to.  I know now that they're more terrible than I thought, but not exactly how. I think that in order to fully grasp what I have done, I need to know more about them." It's pretty blatant bait but Caleb would probably be convinced by it anyway.

Sibling: Oh for sure. Caleb can't exactly run away from that either; he's too chicken to flee from conversations. He freezes and either spills or clams up.

Me: At this point, there's really no GOOD reason to NOT tell Essek about his past. There's nothing to lose from it, and a decent amount to gain; it could turn Essek actively hostile towards the Assembly rather than keeping him cowering in Eiselcross.

Sibling: He's uncomfortable with it (trauma will do that) Doesn't want to get sidetracked (Essek told him not to) Haven't had a good time to do so (no privacy) Doesn't want Essek to distance himself from him (most likely)

Me: This is true, but he's already told the people who he least wanted to tell (Jester and Caduceus) ... Actually, my suspicion is...

Sibling: And neither of them pulled away from him-- eh? Me: ... that Caleb doesn't want to tell Essek because he's worried that Essek will, well... uh, treat him like a child. Caleb was so young, and telling the story of his past also means admitting that he's 11 years younger than he appears. And there is some amount of Caleb's view of his past that is irrational and he chafes viciously whenever someone tries to downplay his culpability by pointing out his age at the time.

Sibling: I think he already has. Don't try to tell me about how not patronizing that "Young Man" line was lol. It was meant in good faith but... I think Caleb does the abuse victim "the idea of ever being young and vulnerable again is terrifying" thing pretty convincingly. It's also sort of a rewind back to his respect for someone who seems outwardly childish, but is an adult whose choices need to be respected.

Me: There is another matter which... Well, Caleb is slowly coming to terms with his status as a victim (veeery slowly) but I think if Essek were to learn about his past, and taking into account their different cultural perspectives on age, Essek might have a hard time not reacting more in line with Beau/Nott's initial reactions to the full tale.  Beau said she thought it was nothing to be ashamed of (and Caleb started laughing hysterically) and then Nott just full-on denied that any of it was his fault (which is completely at odds with his own belief), and since Essek's gut reaction to hearing the story is probably going to be something like "Trent is a baby torturer" ... That's not an easy thing for Caleb to stomach.

Sibling: And yes, Essek will absolutely have that reaction because at that age humans are still fetuses to him.

Me: This brings me to my final point. Caleb may be worried that Essek learning all of this and thinking that way will damage Essek's ability to see Caleb as his mirror. He may view it as a threat to the life-line he threw Essek that night in Nicodranas.

Sibling: And then it's not about bettering each other... It's about Essek being alone again and Caleb being alone.

Me: However, Essek's insistence that he is sure nothing Caleb has done could compare to what Essek has done does mitigate that risk significantly.  It's just a matter of whether or not Caleb can see that and Essek can be pushy enough to get him to crack.

Sibling: I know Essek has it in him. He can forsake his country's precious artifacts to an opposing nation, he can push his BF to open up to him about his problems. Caleb, on the other hand, has been exceedingly fragile... since you know... GOING BACK TO THE ASYLUM, so I don't know if he's in a state to have that discussion, but if they don't have it soon, by the time Essek talks to him again Trent will probably be dead.

Me: Caleb is pretty blatant about his compartmentalization and deflection.  He feels it's necessary in the current circumstance with the Tomb Takers, but somebody really needs to step up after Lucien's taken out and talk to Caleb about this stuff.  Essek would be ideal because Caleb could benefit the most from Essek's perspective, I think, but really... anyone other than Veth is better than nothing. Going back to the Asylum was very obviously a severe triggering event and NO ONE TALKED ABOUT IT. Like, jfc, guys, Beau is right.  She asked if Caleb was even capable of working alongside Trent, and Caleb said yes (if he thought it was necessary), but we all, WE ALL know that he can't.  Not after that disaster.

Sibling: Especially because both Veth and Jester saw him go straight into "OH GOD WE'RE GOING TO DIE, HE'S HERE AND WE'RE GOING TO DIE, I'M GOING TO KILL HIM BEFORE HE HURTS ANYONE" and they were like "he can probably handle this"

Me: He was already borderline in that headspace BEFORE Trent showed up.

Sibling: And then afterward, he went straight into a dangerous self-destructive spiral. Like... I know we've said this before but thank GOD for that failed persuasion check.

Me: That nat 1 was poetry on so many levels. On a meta level the sheer luck of it was a delight, but within the context of the story I think it was great that Essek is just like... "No.  I am not crossing this line, not even for you."

Sibling: It worked narratively, meta-narratively, and saved Matt from having to draw up a bunch of ambush situations made by Volstruckers when Trent inevitably backstabbed them.

Me: Can you imagine poor Matt trying to play the Tomb Takers, Trent, Astrid, Wulf, and Essek... AND Charlie/Devexien?

Sibling: He already forgets to play Essek, and he only had a few NPCs to deal with.

Me: Even purely from a gameplay standpoint, can you imagine all the loot they Nein would lose in Aeor if they had brought scourgers with them? What if they found that dunamis machine?

Sibling: EXACTLY.

.

Convo ended here, but I had some more thoughts.  It was just too late to keep talking.  For example, I like FjordxJester and BeauxYasha.  I think they are actually complicated relationships but they just haven't really had the room to be deeply explored/examined, for example.  I also did not go into nearly as much detail about my thoughts on VaxxShaun as I would have liked to mostly because that ship wasn't the point of the discussion. ... oh god how do I even tag this?

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 14: Faith, Trust And A Little Pixie Dust

I'd love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, et cetera. The truth? My only thought was: Aaaaggghhhhh! Honestly I was having Peter Pan flashbacks and started muttering random happy thoughts in hopes I could somehow fly or something but nope. I'm plummeting down six hundred feet into the water. Oh how I wish Minecraft was real. The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from my lungs. Steeples and skyscrapers and bridges tumbled in and out of my vision. And then: Flaaa-boooom! A whiteout of bubbles. I sank through the murk, sure that I was about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever. But my impact with the water hadn't hurt. I was falling slowly now, bubbles trickling up through my fingers. I settled on the river bottom soundlessly. I still held the knife which continued to glow. At that point, I realized a few things: first, I had not been flattened into a pancake. I had not been barbecued. I was alive, which was good. Then as if the water remembered they hated me. It began pulling me down again. I was immobile. I couldn't see or breath. I was in fear the moment I open my mouth I'd die. Percy Jackson help us. Percy... Please... Anyone... The knife I had been holding drifted away from my hand as if the water took it. I wanted to Thea and take it but I couldn't. Luke's knife. My knife. I was running out of air. Loosing my consciousness. Someone please help me.

As soon as I got air to breathe I regained consciousness. I felt arms around me. I was out of the water but I still couldn't move. I could see a McDonald's come to view. I looked at Percy who was carrying me. He was mostly dry aside from where he had come in contact with me. He was a scared, and vulnerable look. It was almost the same look he had when he lost his mother. A block away, every emergency vehicle in St. Louis was surrounding the Arch. Police helicopters circled overhead. The crowd of onlookers reminded me of Times Square on New Year's Eve. A little girl said, "Mama! That boy walked out of the river with a dead girl." "That's nice, dear," her mother said, craning her neck to watch the ambulances. "But he's dry!" "That's nice, dear." A news lady was talking for the camera: "Probably not a terrorist attack, we're told, but it's still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We're trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of people falling from the Arch." Survivors. I felt a surge of relief. Maybe the park ranger and that family made it out safely. I hoped Annabeth and Grover were okay. Percy tried to push through the crowd in a hurry. "... an adolescent boy and girl," another reporter was saying. "Channel Five has learned that surveillance cameras show an adolescent boy and girl going wild on the observation deck, somehow setting off this freak explosion. Hard to believe, John, but that's what we're hearing. Again, no confirmed fatalities ..." Uniformed officers and news reporters were everywhere. I could tell Percy was anxious trying to look for either Annabeth or Grover. And I could also tell I was close to losing my consciousness again. "Perrr-cy!" "Help!" Percy cried to them running towards them going to a more secluded area. "What happened?!" Annabeth panicked. She was waving her hand at my face. "Y/N can you see me?! We don't have any ambrosia and nectar... What do we do?" Could you help me? I couldn't hear anything. I had closed my eyes. Instead of seeing darkness I saw brightness. Then I saw silhouettes, three of them. Two were together I could only presume were hugging while the other one was looking around for something. Another one came it's darker than the other three. It looked down on me. It knelt down and placed something then gave a nod before vanishing. They came... They were watching. Save us. Behind you, they had brought gifts. I was not wrong on choosing. The three silhouettes made a sharp turn and they all rushed towards something. Next thing I know there was something in my mouth and I was regaining my strength. As if I gagged, I shot up. Coughing whatever I could and I saw water come out. "What...?" I said tiredly. Before I could comprehend what happened Percy had tackled me down. Annabeth stood behind Grover, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see me okay. "We can't leave you two alone for five minutes! What happened?" "We sort of fell." I explained weakly. "Six hundred and thirty feet?! Who did you think you are?! Peter Pan?! That you'll fly after believing in your parent?!" I got up with Percy's help and we continued to walk. "Yes and no, its somehow like... Arthur Curry and Mera. Except I was actually Jack Dawson which almost got me killed." Behind us, a cop shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher. I recognized her immediately as the mother of the little boy who'd been on the observation deck. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua-" "Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in." "I'm not crazy! This two kids jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Then she saw us. "There he is! Those are the kids!" Percy immediately ran with me, Annabeth and Grover after us. We disappeared into the crowd. "What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?" We told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, the high-dive act, and Percy's underwater lady's message. "Whoa," said Grover. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad." Before Annabeth could respond, we passed another reporter doing a news break, and I almost froze in my tracks when he said, "Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy and girl who may have caused this explosion fits the description of the young children wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. And the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N." We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley. "First things first," Percy told Grover. "We've got to get out of town!" Somehow, we made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind us.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720

[homoerotickerfuffle]

Fear Street Part Three: 1666 — 17/10

Ah! Back at it again with that gay shit. Fuck yeah.

Something that’s been floating around in my head as this trilogy has rolled out is the sore-thumb sticking point of a totally and definitely and most certainly guilty teenaged witch Sarah Fier being at the center of these centuries-spanning murder sprees which always see the disadvantaged, the put-upon, the misfits and outcasts, suffering the most. After all, couldn’t the hanged witch herself be counted among those victims? If you hadn’t guessed the answer was yes going in, the whole first act will be an experience of discovery and surprise. If not, “1666”, still anticipates at least some of the audience have clued in to the game already, and so the movie knows to balance letting this audience discovery play out, and when to head the audience off at the pass with misdirections. It allows the film to maintain its sense of unpredictability without cheating its audience - a much harder trick to pull off than usually given credit for.

If “1666” is gayer than the last one, it’s also more entrenched in the bigotry at the story’s center. Sarah and Hannah don’t have long to sit with their finally-expressed attraction to each other before the rumors start flying, dark magic gets brewing, and accusations of sin and witchcraft begin sticking. Sarah and Hannah both question if their feelings for one another may have opened a door for the devil to stroll into this tiny settlement and wreak havoc. It’s Solomon Goode, of all people, who insists that evil is not let in by chance. Speaking personally, a lot of this first half can be hard to watch, with all its internalized homophobia and the helplessness the two leads are drowning in. I’m not the first gay person to wonder if my feelings were just a sin indulged, a taste that somehow became a bite before I knew it. But as Solomon Goode says, “Dalliance or no... evil is not let in by chance. You have to give it your hand.” And the rest of the settlement do just that; in a heated meeting (of just the men, of course), suspicions arise, fear is mongered, and an embarrassed, romantically-rejected asshat seizes the opportunity to make the rejecting woman pay.

We soon learn that the witch of Shadyside in 1666 is Solomon Goode - is, in fact, another Goode every few years, always feeding souls to whatever devil made the first deal with Solomon, so that the Goode line can retain its prosperity and wealth. Sarah Fier, for her part, did inflict her own curse, but not on the town. Moments before her hanging, she promises Solomon that she will out the truth from beyond the grave, that she will tell her story, that she and every name he claims, every collateral life he steals, will follow him and haunt him forever.

In 1994, with the cat out of the bag, Deena, Josh and Ziggy and a delightful but rather suddenly enlisted Martin set up a trap for Goode in the Shadyside mall, which was built around the hanging tree where Sarah hanged in 1666 and Ziggy saw her sister die in 1978 — bringing the trilogy to an exciting, biting, and satisfying conclusion.

[incorrect-julie-and-the-phantoms]

This is the requested sequel to All up in Knots about the wedding of Luke and Reggie. I didn’t feel like writing a whole ceremony or anything but this little ficlet is the result. You can easily read it as a stand alone fic though. You can read it by clicking the link on the title or below the cut. Enjoy!

Grow old with me, the best is yet to be

Pairing: Luke/Reggie 

Summary:

Two years after Alex and Willie's wedding, it's Luke and Reggie's turn. 

“Did you ever think we would end up here?” Reggie murmured into Luke’s shoulder. One of Reggie’s hands were on his shoulder and one of Luke’s was gently wrapped around Reggie’s waist. The fingers of their other hands were entwined together as they swayed slowly to the music. 

“Where? The banquet hall or New York in general?” Luke teased

Reggie leaned back and punched his shoulder lightly. “You know what I meant, Jerk.” 

Luke just grinned at Reggie’s annoyed stare. It probably wasn’t a good idea to antagonize the groom on his wedding day, but he really couldn’t help himself. Messing with Reggie is how they got together in the first place after all. 

Also, seeing as how they were already married Luke wasn’t too worried about him getting cold feet. 

In all honesty, though, he still couldn’t believe that they had ended up here, married. He wasn’t sure why he had such a hard time wrapping his head around the fact. Even with the ring heavy on his finger and the ink stain from the pen he used to sign the marriage certificate, his brain kept trying to insist that something was wrong, that this was too good to be true.

Was it because of the moment he first realized he liked Reggie? Some weekend in December their senior year of high school, the two of them were heading for Alex’s house when Reggie had stopped to shove a handful of snow down the back of Luke’s shirt. When Luke had spun around to confront him, Reggie had a wide-eyed innocent look on his face that was just barely concealing his amusement. 

That sparked a snowball fight for the ages. Reggie laughing as Luke launched a volley of poorly formed snowballs in his direction as he returned his own. The same moment Luke scooped up a puddle of slush for the finishing blow, Reggie had looked up at him with cheeks flushed from the cold and damp touseled hair. Luke’s breath caught in his throat as he realized that he wanted to bury his hands in that messy mop of brown hair to pull Reggie close to kiss that stupid face. 

He only let the feelings linger for a moment before shoving them deep down and burying them. Reggie had a crush on Flynn at this point and Luke wasn’t about to make their friendship awkward over this. 

Maybe it was because of their first big fight. It was over something stupid that Luke honestly couldn’t remember now. But when he was angry, Luke had a habit of getting loud and moving around a lot and Reggie had a habit of shutting down when people yelled at him. Reggie got quiet and walked out mid-argument without saying a word, leaving a fuming Luke behind. 

Luke hadn’t heard from him for the rest of the day, going out of his mind in worry that something bad had happened. He called nearly every person to see if they had seen his boyfriend. Eventually, Reggie turned up with a coffee as a peace offering and let Luke berate him for making him worry.

Or maybe it was because of all the obstacles just to planning the wedding and reception. Their band had quit a week ago because their lead singer was arrested for shoplifting, the chef came down with the flu the day before, and Alex had lost their wedding rings. It had seemed like the universe was doing its best to stop them from getting married. 

(To be fair, Reggie did get drunk and start stripping at Alex and Willie’s wedding… in front of Alex’s parents. So in regards to the Alex part, that was probably just Karma.)

Looking at his husband’s waiting face, Luke realized that even with every moment of doubt, heartache, argument, and setback they had ultimately made it through. Together. 

The sound of the champagne glasses clinking startled Luke out of his thoughts. Reggie’s expectant gaze turned into a cheeky smile as he leaned forward to press their mouths together in a kiss. Luke parted his lips under Reggie’s, humming contentedly at the warmth spreading through his body. The guests at the reception started cheering and jeering in glee. 

The kiss was over too quickly, Reggie leaning away to continue their slow dance. “Well?” He pressed Luke for the answer to his earlier question. 

“Honestly Reg, I never thought we would make it down the aisle together.” 

His husband made a hurt noise. “Why–”

Luke kept talking before Reggie could get really offended.  “But, I always knew that no matter the future, I wanted you in it with me. You’re the love of my life, you’re my dream come true.” Luke pressed a quick kiss to Reggie’s lips before leaning to whisper in his year. “And being married to you is the best way it could have possibly come true.”

Reggie stared at him, gaping like a fish. Luke couldn’t find it in himself to be ashamed at how shamelessly sappy it was, but he figured he got a pass since it was his wedding. 

“Pfft,” Reggie scoffed once he recovered, “that’s gay.” A shy smile spread across his face though, causing the familiar skip of Luke’s heart. 

Luke moved his hand that was entwined with Reggie’s hand to cup his chin. Staring into those brown eyes, his future flashed before him. Waking up to this beautiful man every single day and falling asleep in his arms every night. Bickering over stupid things and making up over crappy coffee. Holding his hand through sickness and through health. Through the good times and the bad. 

“Reggie Patterson-Peters,” Luke murmured before leaning in for another kiss. “It’s only gonna get gayer.”