#it's always interesting to me! does Not mean it's not sluggish to other people who want to play the game lmao

[b4kuch1n]

Your swsh art always makes me want to replay the game because i love it and its my favorite pokemon game and every time i play another pokemon game i think of it how i miss certain elements from swsh. Then i boot up the game and im once again caught in the 1 hour 40 minutes hand held intro and im like ah- now i remember why i have been playing other pokemon games instead of this one. Happy (late?) birthday!

you don't want to listen to hop? you don't want to hear him teach you about type matchups? you don't wanna let him cheer u on...? 🥺 waa....?

[repentmf]

Design-Write: a comparison review - watching two M. Night Shyamalan movies in a row

To say that watching movies has been taxing lately wouldn’t be a stretch. Despite my personal feelings about how Hollywood is handling the production and distribution of Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse and how the ending is practically the end of a Dragon Ball Z episode, I loved the movie. The animation was crisp, the music was bumping, the voice acting was killer, and the setup for the next movie is clear. Now that you think you know my feelings on the movie, let me confuse you proper; I can’t stand Across the Spider-verse. (***Spoilers for the Sixth Sense, Into the Spider-verse, Knock at the Cabin, and Across the Spider-verse ahead***)

The movie has no real climax, falling action, or resolution, and it’s simply something my delicate, little brain can’t handle. To me, a story is a series of events that can categorically be considered opened and closed regardless of whether or not it has title cards, or credits. In AtSV, we end the movie seeing that Gwen has created a band of Spider-people to go find and protect Miles-1610, Miles-1610 is captured by Miles-42 and Aaron-42 after accidentally stumbling into Earth-42, and that the Spot is likely going to kill Miles-1610’s father. And that’s all we can really say about the ending of AtSV. For me, there are no definitive themes in the ending, and no clear-cut motivations for if Miles-42 is actually going to assist or work against Miles-1610 or any other nuggets of information. If somehow Hollywood kills Beyond the Spider-verse, we may never have that closure. In Into the Spider-verse however- Miles-1610 has made some kind of peace by the end of the movie with the fact that he is Spider-man and even enjoys the notion that while he is alone and has difficult obstacles to face, he can think of his friends who are much like him and regain some of his hope and confidence in himself. Confidence in that he can do all of these incredible things, even though he thought he never could. “You could wear the mask,” he remarks. There’s a clear connection and emotional through-line for viewers and characters to latch onto here in Mary Jane-1610’s and Miles-1610’s monologues of “He always said it could've been anyone behind the mask. He was just the kid who happened to get bit,” and it comes off as a completed and realized idea- seeing somewhat meek and afraid Miles-1610 become the hero that saved him in the first half of the movie is engaging, interesting, and more than those- fulfilling.

So much media that we consume in today’s age does not fulfill me. It exists merely in my brain-space as a way to wearily pass my time because I have an addiction to social media. And so I did not have strong hopes and aspirations going into Knock at the Cabin- I mean, any movie following up Spider-verse is already difficult enough as it is, but add in the fact that I am skeptical of and not fond of your past works means I am 98% confident I won’t like what I’m about to watch. But it’s the 4th of July weekend, I’m gonna watch what my family is watching (within reason). And I was definitely right about my gut-reaction. The movie’s pacing is sluggish, the characters (with exception of one) feel wholly static, and the finale feels like it was what the entire movie was written for. The movie and all of its catastrophic events and murders all feel pointless in wake of how the movie ends.

It watches like the movie existed to justify the ending of the movie existing. And this is largely how I feel about the majority of new media that gets released in our time. “The writing does not exist for the people that it’s being written for or about; the people exist to experience the writing.” To be more thorough here, by the time Eric has fully changed his mind (about an hour and a half, if memory serves correctly) an entire feature-length film’s amount of time has already been consumed full of writing that just comes across more as fluff than dynamically altering Eric’s point of view. Credit where credit is due, there is one scene where Eric gets a concussion and talks with the Nurse, Sabrina, and seems to make a small connection- at least hearing out the other side- that there may be a need to believe in something bigger than just the self. But this scene is a drop of interesting characterization and motivation in an otherwise 1-dimensional pond of characters and for me, it all comes down to the writing. The actors themselves did great with what they were given- believable, and sympathetic. The scene mentioned earlier has exactly what I’m talking about: Sabrina shows she’s able to empathize with Eric’s family about not being able to believe that they will really be determining the end of the world- she says she’d think they were religious freaks, too. But this unfortunately isn’t what the movie is about. The movie is about Eric, Andrew, Wen, and their collective decision. Which they do not actually discuss for all but around 10 minutes total. They do finish talking about who should be chosen as a sacrifice to stop the world from ending, but it occurs moments before the world ends and around 15 minutes out from the end of the movie- really, do excuse me if my times are off here, I did not go back and research if I was right on the money. The snail pacing and lack of actions/ influenced choices makes the twist at the end feel like the movie’s reason for existing, rather than the twist just being a cherry on top of a great cake of a movie. While KatC technically meets my initial qualification to be a complete story, it’s not enough to be a story- you also need to have thought and meaning- a clear theme backing your start, middle, and end. And all I was able to gather from KatC is that people suck and Eric should have lived.

So we finish Knock at the Cabin and the next night we’re back at it again- we NEED something to watch because when we’re at the in-law’s house, every night is movie night. Both anx and I had NEVER seen the Sixth Sense (I know, I know- please don’t hurt me) and her brother INSISTED we fixed that. Now this is THE movie of M. Night Shyamalan’s career and I know the twist of the movie. This should be a done-deal. I don’t like his other works, I know the ending of the story going in- and it’s a masterpiece.

Everything I’ve complained about for AtSV and KatC the Sixth Sense just does not do. The Sixth Sense not only has an abundance of characterization for its small cast of characters, but all of them have a collective, clear connection and emotional through-line for both the viewer and the characters to latch onto- hey doesn’t that sound familiar? When Cole has fears about talking to the ghosts that have been appearing to him and finding out what they want, they are CLEARLY well founded and easily related to because he has been hurt by these ghosts. He has been terrified emotionally and scarred physically by them. It’s only by communicating with Malcom that Cole can see that his power is making a difference that can affect not only his situation, but others’ situations. This can be seen from the other direction as well but in the converse way: Malcolm working with and treating Cole through therapy allows Cole to assist with Malcolm himself and his believed-destroyed relationship with his widowed-wife. Malcolm is only able to see that he is gone by allowing himself to continue helping Cole. There’s this beautiful arc of emotional motion that Malcolm and, to a lesser extent, Cole both have from “I have to help people,” to “Can I even help people?” to “I want you to be helped, but I can’t help you,” all the way back to “I’m going to help you, despite my own insecurities.” There’s real, observable change in the story thanks to characters in tSS- and we don’t seem to get that kind of writing from Shyamalan anymore. It’s always about the twist instead of about the movie. Shouldn’t the events of the movie be about the movie? Not about the twist? Not about the next movie? And then if the movie has a twist or sequel, we can all go “I just can’t believe Bruce Willis was a ghost!” When a movie doesn’t have any climaxes, falling actions, resolutions, or visibly-realized dynamic characters, it can be hard to like the movie, let-alone watch it. With all of the CGI/ AI/ multIverse workings, it can be difficult to remember what movies or even media is about- it’s about people. It’s about expression. It’s art. And when the movie isn’t created for those sakes first? The ideas and execution can come out deflated and underbaked.

Rewatch Spider-man: Into the Spider-verse and the Sixth Sense, they’re both masterpieces and two of my favorite movies.

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have a blessed day, fam

[hail-gail]

Peoples, writers, and gremlins of the fandom variety alike, might I have a moment of your attention?

So, I was writing with a friend in the room and because I was enjoying it, I was grinning like the typical idiot I am. This made my friend sort of nervous because she's invested in my story, but mainly because I keep saying 'this is the good part.' That's when it hit me, people, I near always say that. I have quite literally just fallen for my story so much that most every part is the good part.

How did this happen?

Well, my good peoples, writers, and gremlins, I wrote for someone like myself, but particularly for myself. My fist draft is a literal mess that moves so fast that it is almost nonsense. But that's just it, I had to write that way to keep myself interested. The scenes are fairly short and such whatnot, nearly every chapter something new happened, (ie. new information given, questions brought out, bla bla) and sometimes if I felt sluggish and ran myself into a writing wall, I would slow it down for a bit until it naturally picked itself up again.

What does this have to do, you ask? Well, in theory, it broadens the meaning of 'write for yourself' because it takes it from simply 'write what you want' to 'write in a way that keeps you engaged.'

I cannot write slice of life, not for any length of time. Why? Because I get bored easily. Were I to try, it would kill my willingness to write another word ever again. I'm being dramatic but you see the picture, yes?

You, the writer, need to write as if you are writing for an audience of you, because guess what, you are the audience, and unless you yourself are being entertained, you are not going to want to finish and you are more likely to think it is trash. If you are not having fun, chances are anyone who comes after you are not going to have fun either.

Make sure the pace keeps your attention when you reread. Is it too fast for you to keep up with the details? Slow it down, and show a little recreation, of what life was before the inciting incident. Is it too slow? Find something to pick it up a bit, maybe raise the steaks, throw in some curveball life likes to hit me I mean you I mean people with.

Make sure you understand what is happening, ie. is this clear to me? Let it be known that some may call things redundant that you call necessary. If at the moment you need it, others like you may as well. Reading difficulties are a real thing and if someone who doesn't have them wants to complain then they can take a hike. We have a right to understand what we spent money to read. Leave us alone. Or maybe you get twisted around when you read about intricate details. That is just as important as keeping the ones you need. Personally, I need keywords sometimes, but if there is too much going on I get overwhelmed. Find that balance point for you.

That is all I have for now, but I hope it helps at least one person in the writing journey.

Keep your heads on,

-gail

[jiminrings]

petition for stem koo to do all the things for oc he originally said no one does (make her lunchboxes, makes her cheerful...) bc i think that’s a beautiful redemption arc

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook's day one of his redemption agenda doesn't go that well in the end

"namjoon!!! my man. got any updates for me?"

seokjin strolls coolly on the way to his office, hair slicked back and his dress shirt definitely missing more than a few buttons

what's head admin gonna do??? dress-code him???

fire him???? PLS HE'D BE BETTER OFF!!!!

jin makes student affairs his bitch,,, not the other way around

"for the last time, i am nOt your secretary!!" namjoon stresses as he ceases his typing just to glare at him

he's the university registrar and everyone needs to go through him and at this point he's like a historical landmark from how he's made impact in less than two years

and he and seokjin graduated from the same batch!!!! they're the uncanny always pair for the subjects they shared together

it was definitely weird but functional lol cause one is uptight yet hardworking and the other's relaxed yet smart

sue them for working in the same place they swore they'd never go back to after graduation </3

"if you say-"

"some kid's been waiting for you even before i opened the office. made him sit inside but i just told him that he'd be expelled if he even tries to touch your coffee machine."

namjoon says even before jin could finish the sentence, clearly holding that in until the last minute

jin's obviously a lil annoyed because he's starting work as early as now but the way that joon laid all that out on him is a highlight for him

"thanks. knew you're a secretary for me first and a registrar second."

"no. i'm a national citizen before-"

alright alright he's not listening anymore

this bETTER be important because jin has to hold out his morning routine for whoever this kid is

"what can i possibly do for you today?" he rubs his eyes in preparation, intentionally dragging his steps because just looking at how near he is to his work computer gives him vertigo

"mr. kim!!!"

no

there is no way

there is no fATHOMABLE way that this has got to be happening to seokjin right now

"..... jungkook. what a pleasure."

he sits on his chair, voice gritted and monotone and he could just feel his eye twitching, his clenched fist under his deck now flipping off the kid in secret

it's a last-minute realization that he grasps that jungkook doesn't know you're his friend and it presents some really unique vantage points

like the time that seokjin recounted about a ridiculous student's filing for theft of his lunchboxes and he turned out to be your crush

or when he used his student affairs capabilities and pulled up resources left and right when jungkook broke your heart then seriously contemplated about messing up his academic record

or that time when he delivered a high and sleepy you to bed and then heard the entire conversation (if you could even call it that) between yoongi and this fucking nerd

"i need your help, mr. kim. you're the closest one to me i could ask!!" jungkook pleads desperately, the big doe eyes not really inducing an effect on him whatsoever lmao

"mhmm. i may not be the person for the job. counseling is right next door."

jin hums without even attempting to get jungkook to elaborate because for all he knows, his services aren't exactly open for people who hurt his friends >:(

(a guy once bumped shoulders with yoongi twice on the same day with aTTITUDE!!! and seokjin just dismissed the dude's concerns when a prof of his, who's a buddy of jin's, suddenly gave him an F)

seokjin IS student affairs

“no, no. you’re the only one who can help me!! you see, i-i just feel this brotherly connection with you and-“

“we talked once.”

god what did you used to see in this kid??

a crybaby aND an easily-attached personality to him? god it’s like jungkook’s just asking jin to pick on him

jungkook doesn’t seem to pick up how jin’s making it obvious he really doesn’t want to be of help if it has something to do with him

he likes interrupting and jin’s just the perfect match to interrupt him even earlier so now they just sound like one of those dubsmash snippets

“MR. KIM!!! how do you make lunchboxes? i don't know how.”

jeez where are his manners :O aren’t nerds like him supposed to worship the ground that admins walk on,,,

but what did pique his attention is the content of what jungkook just said

.... lunchboxes?

jin doesn’t want to give the kid benefit of the doubt because the last time he did that, you got hurt!!!!

if he has to hear hyeji’s name one more time, he’d really waste no time in stripping jungkook’s name from the honor roll

“remember that time i thought someone was stealing my lunchboxes?” he quizzes jin like it’s his job, clueless how he’s poking the bear even more with where he decides to go with this, “yeah. turns out no one was.”

was that not made clear the first time around!!!!!! he knows for a fact that a uni student would trade a classmate for a pack of gum but nO ONE would go for stealing a lunchbox

no one wakes up one day and decides that they’d steal a lunchbox. literally none

“but then this random girl claimed that it was hers a-and well i-...”

kook pauses to gauge jin’s reaction, clearly seeing now the one brow that’s raised at him

oh so if jungkook just asked him how to make a lunchbox, and he called h-word random,,,, then that would mean-

“i may have hurt the original giver of my lunchboxes at the process.”

.... that means he’s asking how to make a lunchbox for you

well that was a pleasant surprise

seokjin snorts briefly at that, dryly chuckling with his eyes widening to stress out his “non-threat” that’s pretty mUCH a threat

“wow. i might just give you a sanction for that.”

does he think jungkook’s a good person? lol he has to think about that for a month

was he wrong for hurting you that way? ultimately yes

but did he think at some point that jungkook’s completely heartless and wouldn’t try to redeem himself to his senior? no, not completely

but is he still on your team, regardless if the kid begs for mercy and you forgive him? yea a hundred percent :D yoongi and seokjin could never be brought out from your circle

"and you're doing this why?"

this is a no-brainer question for jungkook but the question still spooks him, feeling the chills at his neck that responding to seokjin is like a sTEPPING STONE when it comes to you

lmao if only he knew

"i uh, i just really wanna make this right. i messed up completely and it's pretty much unforgivable, but i atleast wanna try and give my best even if she doesn't forgive me, y'know?"

interesting

"mhmm. right, right."

???

he's still mad but he appreciates that jeon's doing the bare minimum of redeeming himself

speaking of, the poor kid looks like he's pissing himself because he may have just embarrassed himself with how long the silence stretches out

maybe,,, just maybe jin's gonna try and be a bridge this time

but like as soon as jungkook lacks for a fourth of a second, seokjin would BURN that bridge faster than a blink

"well first of all, you buy a lunchbox."

RIGHT RIGHT

:O

jungkook grabs a literal pocket notebook and jin pretends he didn't see that because WHO the hell does that!!!!

"of course... okay, proceed!! i'm taking notes," jungkook nods in understanding, jotting down the very important advice of not ordering from online because you can't smell the material through a screen

p.s. smelling containers before you buy them is a VITAL thing to do!! it already tells you about the quality at the first sniff

"are you buying one?"

"buying one for every day of the week. i'm thinking if i should get extras too-

"good idea. i recommend buying eight."

alright seokjin's mentioning some very specific colors and schemes and jungkook's not complaining!!!

MAYBE HE'S ONTO SOMETHING!!!

"what meals should i make? i don't even know what she likes!! and even if i knew what, how would i make it?"

why is his heart racing

yoongi may have taught you how to do your taxes but jin taught you how to cook food that's more than four steps!!!

he taught you how to not flinch at all when you're frying and that's the equivalent of raising you to be the woman that you are now <3

look at him and yoongi being your best friends!! teaching you about taxes and being unnerved at cooking oil and busting out a smoke ring or two <3

in fact, the lunches you've cooked for jungkook are all inspired and derived by seokjin!!!

the fact that jungkook's plan isn't bad and the way everything pieces together with his insight,,,, goosebumps luv

"....hypothetically? what i think she'd like?"

jungkook eagerly nods with stars in his eyes, fingers gripping onto his pen for dear life as he tries to channel all his listening techniques into this lecture

"get a bigger notepad."

:O

wow

"look at you!!" yoongi gushes the moment he sees you, waiting at you from the front door

you're going back to your classes again :D

you don't look as worse as you did four days ago!! you're not as sluggish and as animated too

"please don't," you snort as yoongi doesn't seem to stop looking at you like you've saved the world, giving no fight when he insists on carrying your backpack to your first class of the day

the past four days,, yeah they were undoubtedly rough

you slept as much as you could and for the moments you weren't dejected enough to be awake, you spent it surrounding yourself with seokjin and yoongi as much as possible

that's the beauty of hanging out them!!! you're not required to have a single thought lmao

except for the time when yoongi wondered aloud how eels even live and die (or if they even do???) in the first place and that sent everyone in a spiral and you didn't think of jungkook for a single seconds

you're not intimidated to go back to regular programming or with the fact that it's nOT unlikely you'd see a glimpse of jungkook in the hall and such

but that does mean that even if you're the bigger person, you're still gonna avoid him for as long as you could

speaking of!!!! you're looking for the person now that you're eager to find

"taehyung!!"

there he is :D you'd recognize that fluffy mop of permed hair anywhere

"y/n!!"

tae jumps over chairs in excitement to finally see you again after being so worried for you, engulfing you in a hug immediately

alright you see why yoongi thinks he's a golden retriever

you're clearly not a touchy-feely person but you'd let this one pass,, tae helped you (even indirectly) throughout your downtime anyways

"thank you so much for the cookies. i tried taking smaller bites just because i didn't wanna have them disappear that easy," you confess sheepishly, knowing how you had to pull the i just got my heart broken like two days ago multiple times so the two menaces would stop stealing from your stash

:D

jungkook's excited!!!! seokjin may have given him a tip that "he felt it in his gut" that you were gonna go to class today

he came a little late because he wanted to perfect the very loaded lunchbox that's in his backpack right now

oh weird

you're not in your usual chair

bUT jungkook sees a glimpse of your hair and he's certain that you're there and his heart may be beating out of his ribcage

a baby peach lunchbox with a sticker (of what seokjin said he thought you'd like) on the middle of the lid :D

pork katsudon with furikake rice aND coffee jelly pudding on the side!!! it was definitely pressure-racking to strictly adhere to jin's recipe but god does it look worth it

jungkook's only did miniature taste tests on it and he had to stop himself from devouring the lunch that he's made specifically for you

the lunchbox itself is tied neatly with a silk wrap, adding his touch of sewing your name visibly on it aND there's a scribble taped to the lid too

god jungkook really can't wait to make it up to you

sheesh that was one of THEE longest lectures you've ever felt you had

it was actually the same amount of time it's always been but maybe you've been out of practice from just staying at your dorm for days

tae's great company but he could be a little bit chatty!!! you just nod when you feel his voice go up and he apparently gets excited by that easily

.... he apparently also has a small bladder and he told you that within the whole hour of class

"hold on. i gotta pee before next period. go without me!!!' taehyung hurriedly slings his backpack to his arm, looking ridiculous in a rush

tae's sometimes unintentionally funny because you don't even share next period anyways

you're on your way to the exit when a shiny scarf catches the corner of your eye, having to squint at it because wow does it look pretty

is that-

is that your nAME???

you pick it up before you could even rationalize it, realizing then what it was wrapping when you feel the warmth on your hands

:")

"sorry i forgot my headband!!!"

taehyung stumbles back into the room, catching his breath to run back to his seat and fetch the headband he took from his hair to play with awhile ago

he looks shocked to see what's on your hands, flicking his gaze between you and the item but he doesn't think much of it

wOW that's a really shiny scarf!!!

"tae?"

"hmm yeah? what's up?"

he's about to jog back to the comfort room because he hasn't really relieved himself yet, not bearing to leave his headband in the room when anyone could snatch it up

you raise your lunchbox, a thankful gaze on your eyes that looks so close to crying which is why tae's mORE than lost now

"thanks for the lunch."

..

.....

jungkook could only helplessly watch.

[flickeringart]

Mars Retrograde in the natal chart

I’ve written about planets in retrograde in the natal chart before, find the post about Mercury, Venus and Mars here and the post about Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto here.

In this post I’m going a bit deeper into Mars Rx.

As we all probably know, Mars is the planet of personal drive, aggression, assertiveness and outward directed energy. Mars it works on behalf of the personality as the warrior – as forward movement, strength and desire. Mars enables us to be goal oriented, to stand up for ourselves and have a sense of direction and momentum. Depending on the sign Mars is in, the style in which one goes about one’s interests will vary. For example, an Aries Mars will be direct, impulsive, straightforward, loud, non-apologetic and open in taking action. Taurus Mars will be calm, patient, stubborn and energy preserving. Gemini will be cerebral, creative, mischievous and all over the place. Cancer Mars will be careful and protective of emotions while trying to secure a goal. Leo Mars will be demonstrative, proud and demanding. Virgo Mars will be purposeful and practical, going over the steps required to reach a specific goal. Libra Mars will try to smoothly get other people to get on board with one’s direction without ruffling any feathers, usually through using reason and logic. Scorpio Mars will assert its will “undercover” often through subtle yet effective emotional blackmail and strategy. Sagittarius Mars will be bold and restless, potentially quite clumsy and funny. Capricorn Mars will be serious, patient, mature, responsible and steadfast. Aquarius Mars will potentially be acting on behalf of a collective mission and thought-movement, considering what lies in the best interest of the “group”. Pisces Mars will be easily directed by influences from the environment, compassionate, soft and a bit confusing.

Having Mars direct in the natal chart means that desire is merged with action. In other words, action is employed in the name of desire. In the most basic sense, a person sees something of value (Venus) and Mars is the one who is in charge of conquering it. Venus and Mars can’t really be discussed separately for this reason because something has to catch one’s attention (Venus) in order for there to be anything to attain and achieve. Simply put, Venus is the object, person, place of esteem and Mars is the force that is in charge of closing the gap between the person and that which is desired.

When Mars is retrograde in the natal chart the drive to achieve is equally as strong as with Mars direct, but it is turned inward instead of being directed outward. This causes inner frustration, pent-up energy and often feelings of being ineffectual – unable to directly go after what one wants. Many sources state that since Mars is a masculine planet, Mars Rx is more bothersome for men, as women tend to not suffer from lacking in masculine traits as acutely because of identification with femininity (Venus). This is probably true, yet women will similarly experience the debilitating effects of Mars Rx – sometimes through the lover and partner of choice.

Some sources state that natives with Mars Rx had a childhood where they were not allowed to get angry or to stand up for themselves. Perhaps no one listened or bothered, perhaps displays of aggression were forcefully disapproved of and punished. There could have been a lack of support of the native taking initiative and paving his or her own path. I have had the reverse experience of being accused of not being assertive enough. I have Mars Rx in Virgo in the 3rd house and I was constantly criticized for lack of extroversion growing up, particularly in school (the 3rd house rules lower education) by teachers and peers. I was “too quiet”, “too inhibited”. In a sense, I was attacked for my “lack of Mars”. Unfortunately, I think this is quite common for people with Mars in Rx, we seem to invite aggression (in my case criticism because Virgo rules my 3rd house) in the area of life (house) that Mars is placed. I never attempted to “strike back” but kept my own pent up anger inside feeling worse and worse about myself, humiliated, yet for some reason unable to project the intensity outwardly – probably because it would only have caused me more reprimanding. However, the positive thing I’ve noticed with Mars Rx is that I have the ability to act independently of outside influences. In a sense I can act without desire being merged with action. Or rather, I can choose to redirect the build-up of intensity into unrelated activity. It’s definitely counter-intuitive, but it’s very useful in situations where one is required to act despite of a goal. Since people with Mars Rx have an obscure desire nature, there’s the ability to simply put one foot in front of the other and see what comes of the action.

(Buy products with my art here)

There’s something to be said about inviting aggression from the outside with Mars Rx. Other people seem to want to cause a reaction by provoking the Mars Rx person to make them stand up for themselves and display some assertiveness. This never works because Mars Rx people don’t react defensively to personal attacks on the spot. They sit tight, face the situation calmly yet is feeling a build-up of energy that is likely going to erupt later, when the situations has passed and when it’s no longer relevant. They get angry with themselves for not acting on the spot, for not saying the things they wanted to say and display the strength that they really do possess. Mars Rx people often question their potency and can beat themselves up for not being more willful. As stated, the bouts of anger come only at a later time, which does nothing to gain the individual a reputation of being impactful. The moment has passed and the opportunity to strike is gone. It’s important to not be too hard with oneself, Mars Rx isn’t a character flaw, it’s part of one’s unique blueprint and one would do better focusing on the benefits rather than the down-sides. Mars is after all about confidence and there’s no reason why Mars Rx should settle for feeling “less than” confident. The key is to not look for external proof of one’s potency and be content with knowing that one is powerful despite appearances of lack of assertiveness. With Mars Rx one should avoid comparing oneself to other people. Comparison and competitiveness don’t benefit these people, for obvious reasons. Measuring one’s strength against another will leave one feeling neither strong nor confident because the strength of Mars Rx is passive and felt internally.

In order to not feel emasculated with Mars Rx, one has to be squarely doing one’s own thing and avoid caring about what other people think one should do or even what oneself think one should do based on social values. This is the only way to be happy with this natal planet in my opinion. Stop competing = stop depleting, stop comparing = stop caring. Mars Rx people have the opportunity to be real individualists when they start valuing their internal integrity rather than the outward display of it. In a sense, Mars Rx is a very pure Mars. It’s simple action, unmotivated and unresponsive. It will not win us any battles in the moment; Mars Rx doesn’t build any momentum, energy is extended outward in bursts, starts and stops. The approach that works the best is to let action flow through, rather than directing it deliberately. This is usually going to translate into a quite soft energy but it can be quite beautiful. The famous male ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov had Mars Rx – he was especially admired for his gracious jumps and seemingly effortless soaring in his dancing. He’s a good example of Mars Rx manifesting in a very powerful way – he uses his Mars to move independently in a non-confronting “Venusian fashion”. Yet, no one could claim that he lacks strength. The famous basket player Michael Jordan also has Mars Rx and he is widely considered one of the greatest basketball player of all time. It makes sense that dance and sport should suit these people because these activities require starts and stops more than building momentum.

Mars Rx has a reputation for being sluggish and lethargic. I think this is inaccurate to accept as a rule, but it is certainly possible for these people to seem like they are. Other people often perceive Mars Rx people to be at least very chill and calm, which is not always the case, it’s just that the boil hasn’t reached the surface yet and when it does, it’s out of tune with the outer situation and its momentum. The Mars Rx person might sit tight in a social interaction, never showing any sign of annoyance or agitation, despite being pissed off. It might be frustrating to not be able to release energy directly but Mars Rx energy is better channeled into purposeful activity, into independent action. Some sources claim that Mars Rx can be prone to self-destructive behavior and self-harm because of pent-up energy and unexpressed anger. I think this is true, especially if one lives in a very hostile environment and has a hard time, because of one’s Mars Rx, to do something about it – to fight back, to spontaneously immerse oneself in “combat” and defend oneself. It could also be because one’s aggression, when openly displayed, is turned to a social disadvantage. People might claim that one is “over-reacting” because the anger response is out of proportion with the situation at hand. “Over-reacting” is common problem for people with Mars Rx, because they’re typically calm, until they burst – and then they’re commonly labeled crazy or even abusive. There’s no way to “win” socially with Mars Rx, I find – either one is accused of being too passive or too reactive. This social disadvantage could easily turn into self-hate and self-rejection, because one doesn’t get any approval from the outside. Depression is sometimes linked to planets in retrograde, and this is quite understandable, in the light of everything that they imply. Depression is after all often associated with repressed anger, of a blocked drive and frustrated desire.

People with Mars Rx say that it gets better with age and that Mars is gradually more easily expressed because of experience and understanding of oneself. This might be partly due to Mars going direct in one’s progressed chart, however, one cannot make Mars go direct in one’s natal chart, it is a fixed blueprint that one will have to contend with. This is not to say that one cannot become more conscious of one’s own psychology.

[potteresque-ire]

Concerning the incredibly far and deep reach of CCP’s propaganda, the narratives the government can spin and call the truth; does ‘the common normal populace’ actually know what’s really going on?

Hello everyone!!! Happy Chinese New Year!!

I’m grouping these asks because if I hear them correctly, they’re all related to this question: how much do people in China know about the atrocities committed by their government, and why don’t they do something about it?

It’s a difficult question, isn’t it? A potentially upsetting one too, just to think about. My answers are more opinion-based, more personal this time. Since there’re no polls about what people know, they have to be based a little more on my own impression, which has more chances of error. Please bear with me and proceed with caution ...

As with people in most countries, what people know is hugely dependent on individuals. Specifically, re: politics, I can think of at least three reasons why people don’t have the facts

1) they have limited access to information 2) they’re being lied to about what they know 3) they’re not interested in current affairs.

1), of course, is what most people think about when it comes to China. You’re right, Anon(s), that VPN use is indeed rampant in the country and is essentially an open secret; there’re no official numbers but surveys have estimated the number of users can be up to 100 million, most of them being youngsters. They use it to do exactly what most of us would imagine: gain access to things they don’t have otherwise. Instagram has been (sporadically?) blocked since 2014 September and so while users may have set up their accounts while being overseas, it’s indeed, (very) possible, that they’ve set up and maintained their account under VPN use.

Wait, you may ask, so you mean the Great Firewall of China doesn’t exist?

That’s exactly the official stance. Not because of private VPN use, but because individuals/companies can apply for a license via their telecommunications company to visit all internet sites. Hence, the government’s claim that the Great Firewall doesn’t exist—you’ll be let through as long as you ask (and we’ll watch your every step)! There are also no explicit laws prohibiting the use of private VPNs; only a handful of arrests associated with private VPN use have been made and only since 2019, and the punishment is considered light—no imprisonment, just fines. It is, in contrast, against the law to *provide* private VPN services, and while companies have been shut down, the crackdown has still been incredibly sluggish by Chinese government’s standards, especially when the Xi regime has made its intention of banning VPN known and directives have been issued for that in 2017.

Why has VPN continued to enjoy this “grey existence”? Because without VPN, a lot of foreign businesses would leave—some, for example, require the most efficient online tools developed outside China to track the foreign markets, and talents have rejected job offers in the country when they realised they couldn’t get on their favourite social media. The science and tech sectors also rely heavily on VPN—programmers relying on Google to search stackoverflow, for example, to find known solutions to bugs. 

VPNs have also served political purposes—Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Chinese Communist Party (CCP)-critical communities all over the world are all painfully aware of the Chinese government’s practice of hiring its own collection of internet commentators (”50 Cent Party”), and at times, mobilising their youths (gamers, fan circles) to scale the Firewall and astroturf, throw insults at the “CCP enemies” and bomb message boards with pro-CCP messages.

Also, a significant fraction of VPN companies, both in China and overseas, have been reported to have Chinese ownership, by companies with government connections. These VPN services provide a false sense of security for those who do not enjoy having big brother peeking behind their backs while acting as surveillance tools that extend beyond the country.

(Please be careful about free VPNs).

The next question: If until now, users of private VPNs only rarely get into trouble, what’s holding them from scaling the Great Firewall and learning the facts?

It is this: the law isn’t about “climbing the wall”, but what one does outside the wall.

Article 6 of the 2016 edition of Cybersecurity law states the following: 

第六条　��家倡导诚实守信、健康文明的网络行为，推动传播社会主义核心价值观，采取措施提高全社会的网络安全意识和水平，形成全社会共同参与促进网络安全的良好环境

Article 6: The State advocates sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct; promoting dissemination of the core socialist values, adopting measures to raise the entire society's awareness and level of network security, and forming a good environment for the entire society to jointly participate in advancing network security.

What this article implies is this ~ legally, Chinese citizens are bound to the Chinese government’s rules of good internet conduct, regardless of whether they use VPN to get on the internet. As with many Chinese laws, however, the vagueness in wording invites more questions than answers. Is it getting on Twitter, a banned website, “sincere, honest, healthy and civilized network conduct”? Obviously, it’s illegal to interact with other users about the Xinjiang’s internment camps, but what if one only goes there to talk about their favourite stars, because on Weibo supertopic they can’t even mention the stars’ name, can’t ahkgkhagjkfaskjgdf about their favourite fics? What if one goes there to discuss a M- or E-rated fic? Where is the line drawn and given its vagueness, will that line move tomorrow? How?

Most people, therefore, have opted to simply stay away from VPN. After all, China offers its own version of many of the fun websites out there (Weibo-Twitter; Instagram-Oasis; Tiktok-Douyin; Youtube-Bilibili). For those who do use VPN, they tend to stick to websites that are unlikely to cause issues (such as Instagram; Instagram became an issue when Hong Kongers started to upload information about the protests on there).

Now, let’s proceed to 2): People don’t know the facts because they’re being lied to about what they know.

There’s a difference between having access to facts and knowing that they’re facts. This is among the most painful lessons, perhaps, for those who followed the politics of the United States in the last few years (please forgive me for the US-centric-ness of the following few paragraphs!). Even with equal access to identical information, people can vary a LOT in their understanding of what are facts and what are lies.

This illustrates the power of propaganda—and propaganda in the US isn’t even centralised. Some media outlets and individuals (political leaders and analysts) have more say on what should be viewed as the truth, but parties without significant power—small foreign and domestic interests, fringe political organisations, conspiracy theorists, regular folks—have also made critical contributions to the “fake news” phenomenon in the US. There haven’t been apparent coordinations between these parties;  little concerted effort has been made to create one coherent story out of the many tales told.

In China, the propaganda effort is centralised, coordinated, free of distractions from competing story lines. The One Story the government decides on is repeated, over and over again, on newspapers, in shows, in textbooks, on signs on the streets, on social media. To put it another way, when it comes to political discourse, the country is designed to be an echo chamber with 1.4 billion people. Over time, the One Stories inevitably become firmly held beliefs—so firmly held that even if the people are exposed to facts, they no longer believe in them.

This is especially true when the source of the facts are countries with strong traditions of freedoms of speech and press, where the facts are often laid out with a critical eye to the administration and with vastly different opinions attached to them. While we view the latter as evidences that the values we embrace are alive and well—a critical eye to the administration means the Fourth Estate is doing its job, and the different opinions means freedom of speech gets to live another day—people who haven’t been exposed to these values tend to interpret these things as signs of weakness of the government. They may think the Chinese government is better than its counterparts elsewhere because no one is penning scathing criticisms against it. They may think the Chinese government is stronger because it unifies the opinions of their people—the failure of which, they’ve been taught, would lead to social chaos and economic free-fall.

The Chinese population has also been “immunised” against the truths that may be exposed about their government by a propaganda talking point used since Chairman Mao’s days—that the “Imperialist” western world, particularly the United States, is always scheming its downfall. The phrase often used is 美帝亡我之心不死 (”The heart (intention) of Imperialist US to bring us down will never die”). Unfavourable truths exposed must therefore be part of the “bring down China” scheme. This decades-old demonisation of the political apparatus of the US and Europe also prepares the people to accept what most would see as outrageous conspiracy theories: for example, in March 2020, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs claimed that the US Army intentionally planted COVID in Wuhan during the 2019 Military World games. “Foreign interference” becomes a frequent and convenient scapegoat for policy decisions gone wrong, sometimes to a (somewhat) hilarious effect ~ for example, a Taiwanese journalist calculated the cost required for the CIA to fund the 2019 Hong Kong Protests, as the Chinese government had claimed—and it turned out that the CIA was too poor to do it. 

(Many of us in the US would probably laugh at the idea that our government is capable of secretly paying 2 million foreign-language speaking strangers to show up together in one march.) (It can’t even get the COVID relief payments to its own people right over a period of months.)

(Fun trivia for turtles! As 美帝=“Imperialist US” is the synonym of a feared, imaginary super-villain—super organised, super efficient, super everywhere and super impossible to take down—c-BJYX, the indestructible No. 1 CP fandom in China, has been nicknamed “美帝 cp” by those not so enamoured with it.)

Finally, there’s the psychological factor. Once a set of beliefs becomes personal truths, listening to alternatives can be very upsetting (for those in the US: imagine the blue voting block made to listen to Fox News). Hence, even when people gain access to the facts later—for example, when they study/work abroad, even emigrate—they often don’t take advantage of the access. Instead, they remain logged in in the Chinese social media sites where they’re comfortable with not only the politics but also the language and the friendships they’ve built, and continue to immerse themselves in an environment heavy with CCP propaganda. They remain defenders of the Chinese government; some have even gone out and harass people who disagree with it, in the name of freedom of speech that their country of origin never offered to them.

Censorship, of course, is an important component of building a One Story echo chamber, and I should add a note about it: censorship in China comes in vastly different strengths. The restrictions on LGBT+ issues, for example, are fairly lax, relatively speaking—“homosexuality” remains a term one can find on their internet and a topic the administration continues to address, and while BL dramas are censored, their adapted versions, along with highly publicised discussions of their original material, have so far been tolerated. The strictest form of Chinese censorship would’ve allowed neither: any mention of the 1989 June 4th Tiananmen Square massacre , for example, is immediately removed, including any hints that the event may have happened. When the former leader of the Chinese government, Jiang Zemin (江澤民), was rumoured to have passed away, the censorship apparatus went so far as to remove all mentions of Jiang, which also happened to mean “large rivers”. Chinese netizens therefore joked that major rivers had ceased to exist in China that day, as one couldn’t find any information about them online.

(LGBT+ activists have therefore remained optimistic about the future of their campaign, despite the current state of affairs. To put it simply: the Chinese government has bigger fish to fry. Sexual minorities haven’t had major clashes with the administration, haven’t embarrassed the Chinese government with their demand for rights as the ethnic minorities—the Uyghurs, the Tibetans, the Mongolians etc did. Political dissidents, including the millions in Hong Kong, are also (far) ahead in the ranking of fish size.)

For most issues, the censorship effort sits somewhere in the middle and is often inconsistent over time. The people, therefore, often have knowledge that an event has happened — even when the event is considered, beyond the Great Firewall, damaging to the reputation of the Chinese government. However, critical information is often missing in their knowledge, or is heavily distorted. For example, overseas Chinese citizens have insisted that the motivation of the 2019 Hong Kong Protests was economic, echoing the longstanding CCP propaganda that Hong Kongers have been jealous of China’s prosperity (reality: China’s GDP per capita was $10,268 USD in 2019, and Hong Kong’s, $48,713—more than 4 times higher). They missed out a critical fact: while the fast economic growth of China has created some unease—Hong Kongers have always known the Chinese government has only tolerated them and their freedoms for their ability to generate wealth—what has truly ignited Hong Kong’s anger is the Chinese government’s violation of the 1984 Sino-British Joint Declaration, and the terms it had agreed upon to get back the then British crown colony. Hong Kong hasn’t been demanding autonomy and freedoms because it’s a troublemaker, but because these things were promised to the city as conditions of the 1997 handover. As residents of the world’s third largest financial centre, Hong Kongers are diligent drafters and executioners of contracts (which international treaties are) and above all, faithful believers of them. For an asker (the Chinese government) to claim a contract as “historical”  because it has received the goods (Hong Kong) and no longer feels a need to pay (allow Hong Kong 50 years of freedoms and autonomy) is offensive to the principle, the very heart and soul of the city. 

(Gg’s former boss was a Hong Konger, and his experience working for him was a rather accurate reflection of Hong Kong’s view on business. What made an impression to Gg—that the posters should be without rips and misprints, even if these imperfections were not the fault of the design company—is a no-brainer to the Hong Konger in me reading the interview. Delivering high quality goods and services isn’t an act of kindness but rather, of professionalism and respect for the contract.)

(This interview is a highly recommended read, for those who’ve missed it!)

(One more example of “conveniently missed critical information”: remember GG’s show on Chongqing? Did you know the underground bombing shelters were not built by the Communist government, but the Nationalist government that was still ruling China during WWII?)

Anyway, where was I?

Right. We’re getting to 3): People are not getting the facts on the political situation in China because they’re not interested in current affairs.

Some—well, many— people are not interested in politics.

Some of you may be thinking: well, I’m not interested either. I follow politics because it’s important.

Why is it important? Because political engagement means you can do something about the many ills of the society, speak for those who cannot, force the government to change by voting, by voicing your opinion, by going to marches and protests etc.

What if you follow politics and still can’t do most of these things? What if, if you do choose to do these things, the price you pay may be astronomical? Will you still follow politics or devote your time, your energy to something else, something you’ve got more control over, something that won’t be as saddening, frustrating because it’s something you can actually change?

3) is therefore intricately related to why people often don’t do anything, even if they manage to find out about the facts.

There’re no national elections in China. Marches and protests are practically banned because while the Chinese Constitution guarantees the freedom of assembly (as it does freedom of speech and press; Article 35), it also explicitly states that "Citizens of the People’s Republic of China, in exercising their freedoms and rights, may not infringe upon the interests of the State, of society or of the collective, or upon the lawful freedoms and rights of other citizens.” (Article 51) — ie. the freedoms and rights only go as far as if they do not stand in the government’s way. Social media and all communications platforms are under constant surveillance, and so only opinions tolerated by the government is allowed... 

And so, the fact, social ill that has broken your heart—you can’t tell for sure if it isn’t talked about because the government has censored it, how many people know about it and more importantly, how many among the people who know about it will agree with your take. If you break your silence and voice your concerns, how many people will have your back, even if you also conceive them as victims of the social ill? If the social ill is the lack of rights of a minority group, for example, will they appreciate your speaking out, or will your “rocking-the-boat” make things even worse for them? A heavily watched net means communications with the oppressed/vulnerable social groups are often filled with obstacles, if not outright impossible. You don’t know how these groups feel; you don’t even know how many affected individuals are there. You watch the and news and shows and they all talk about how wonderfully things are going; how everyone seems so hopeful and positive and happy with their lives—are you the only person feeling that way? Are you wrong? If you speak out then, will you be yelling into the void, or worse, yelling at the police who “invites” you for a chat in the police station? To speak for those who do not have a voice to speak, are you ready, willing to take the risk of also becoming one who no longer has a voice to speak? Is your family ready? 

To put it another way: the opportunity cost of “doing something” about the political situation can be astronomically high in China, compared to the opportunity cost of us doing something similar in our own country. 

If I want to support the LGBT+ population in my part of the US, for example, I can do so effectively with minimal investment and most importantly, with minimal risk. By pasting a rainbow flag on this Tumblr post, for example, I’ve already signalled to those who need support on this issue that I’m ready to give mine. And this “signal” of mine will join the hundreds and thousands on the site, collectively telling the activists doing the “on the ground” fighting that they’re not alone; that they have my vote of support. I pose no danger to myself in doing so; no one will accuse me of, arrest me for infringing upon the interests of the State and the Collective. The rainbow flag, a display of my stance, will not turn into a blurred blob the next time I look at it, transform overnight from a symbol of solidarity to a warning sign to those who may wish to join the cause. There’s no danger for me, even, to carry an actual, huge rainbow flag to Pride, perform my activism in person. I don’t have to worry about my phone already giving away my identity as a protester to the government, especially in post-COVID times. I don’t need to watch out for plain clothes pretending to be my allies. I don’t have to look at the many surveillance cameras present and wonder if I’ll get blacklisted as a troublemaker.

Am I still being tracked and taken pictures of? Possibly. But for this cause, at least, I’m not afraid that these information will be used to arrest me. If I were arrested, I know there'll be lawyers and activists who would come to my aid. LOUDLY. ANGRILY.

I’m not afraid. Period. I’m having fun. And I doubt I can say the same if I try to carry a rainbow flag to Tiananmen square and march there.

This vast difference in the opportunity cost of taking political action is the reason why I’ve refrained from demanding those who live under authoritarian dictatorships to stand up for their neighbours who’ve been oppressed / bullied by their governments. I’ve refrained from criticising them for looking away, minding their own business. Do I wish they’ve take action? Of course I do. Am I aware that their lack of action is potentially more harmful because of the frequent atrocities happening around them? Yes. But I also understand that going on a fight is far more frightening when one doesn’t even have a sense of how many will join their side of the fight; I understand that fighting for what one deserves—freedoms, rights, justice—should never equal martyrdom, and just because a regime has elected to put equal signs between the two doesn’t mean those equal signs should ever be there. I remind myself that, to ask the people in any authoritarian dictatorship to stand up for a political cause is to ask them to make sacrifices that we, as people in relatively free societies, do not need to make when standing up for the same cause. In a country where a father demanding the truth about the milk product poisoning of his own son got jail time for “eliciting social disorder”, to stand up for even a single issue, no matter how small that issue is, requires courage that I’m not sure I have.

I can’t ask anyone to do anything I may not be able to do myself.

And this is why I, too, have chosen to support these people, even if many of them are single-issue activists, even when many support the Chinese government on other issues that matter. For example, the late Dr Li Wenliang, one of the eight COVID whistleblowers in China who passed away from the disease, was an opponent of the Hong Kong Protest, but I still (greatly) appreciate, respect him for what he did. As long as they’re not actively helping the government to cause (more) harm to others, as long as their cooperation with their government falls within what is demanded of them as citizens, they have my support. Why? Because most people who speak out in China cannot afford to stand up for more than one cause before it becomes dangerous for them. Because even if it’s only a tiny vulnerable social group, one small minority that makes a tiny step towards more rights, more freedoms, more justice, it’s still a victory in a country where rights, freedoms and justice are luxury items for those with neither political nor economic power. Because those who’re not part of the ruling class cannot afford to cherry pick their allies, cannot afford to in-fight when the ruling class already holds absolute power. Because I still believe in pay-it-forward, that most people who’ve benefited from someone standing up for them, even for one small incident, one minor cause, is more likely to stand up for someone else.

This is, admittedly, not always an easy choice to make—not for me, at least. I do get frustrated, can’t help but think at times that those who subscribe to and spread propaganda are, to a certain extent, corroborators of the atrocities committed by their government. (So, to those who’ve felt this frustration, you’re not alone!). And the Hong Konger in me has every reason to be furious with everything about China right now—all I could think of, when I listened to Gg singing 異鄉人 Foreigner the other night, are all the Hong Kongers fleeing the city now, as refugees, because of their political beliefs.

But for now, I’m hanging on. I’ve been able to tell myself that given the country’s political reality, given its tradition of collectivism (which tends to view confrontational dissent with scorn), the paths to freedoms, to equal rights and acceptance, will not be the same as what I’ve seen, what I’ve wished for. They’ll likely be slow; They’ll likely be long and winding, taking three steps forward and two steps back; they’d likely be unexpected in places, offer us surprises —

And since it’s Chinese New Year / Valentines and I’m feeling brave (irresponsible?), I’d venture a little bit of speculation and say this ~ yes, I’ve wondered if one of these many paths may be trodden, intentionally or not, by two beautiful male idols and their millions of turtles. Is it wishful, fantastical thinking? I’d be the first to admit the answer is yes. But the BJYX scheme has been so well executed as of now, so effective that I can’t help but wonder if it’s leading towards some sort of a goal, whether devised by the humans involved or by the gods/Fates who, as c-turtles have said so romantically, have been writing an original BL story with our favourite boys. The goal may be personal —simply two people being able to act more like themselves again under the spotlight—or a bit more ambitious…

… Because the sneakers + ice-cream post did catch my attention (will probably have to devote a post on that?). Another small incident that has caught my attention, unrelated to Gg and Dd but can significantly change the path they may be trodding, is this — in June 2020, People’s Daily, the state controlled newspaper, boasted its country’s increasing friendliness towards the LGBT+ communities on Twitter . While the tweet was met with skepticism and soon removed, the message it sent is this: the Chinese government may have figured out the the Western world (in particular, the younger generations) view LGBT+ rights as a measure of progressiveness. While I’m still leaning towards the government maintaining a tight grip on LGBT+ rights within its borders, with the strengthening call to boycott 2022 Beijing Winter Olympics because of the country’s poor human rights record, I can see a glimmer of possibility that the same government may do the unexpected and cater to the queer community for the sake of propaganda.  As I mentioned, the queer community hasn’t caused much headache for the Chinese government, and so it’s far more likely to be chosen as the “benefactors” of such a “we’re a human rights champion too!” propaganda campaign than, say, ethnic minorities and political dissidents. Promoting dissemination of core socialist values has always sat high on the CCP’s agenda list, and its target audience has always included foreign, non-Chinese populations; this effort is known as 大外宣—“The Great External Propaganda”. And who better to cast as leads of an international propaganda campaign on LGBT+ rights than two of its own stars who’ve already demonstrated loyalty to the government, who’ve already garnered international fame from a TV series widely viewed as queer, and who may actually be queer?

(And if—if!!!— this ever happens, may I ask everyone to please consider doing the following? Please do not feel a need to express gratitude. Please do not act as though it’s a gift. Celebrate as you would celebrate anyone in a free country exercising their birthright to live, to love the way they want — no less than that, no more than that.)

(For those who’ve asked ~ as international fans, not allowing the CCP to modify our expectations of how a government should behave may be one of the most effective ways to protect Gg and Dd.)

(I call this learning from the best: get the goods we want (more rights for the people in China), refuse to pay the cost (subscribe to CCP’s propaganda), and RUN! ❤️💛💚)

[sachigram]

“With Teeth” Chapter 5

((click here to read on ao3!!))

Izaya is frowning down at his computer, his hands hovering above the keys of his keyboard, not moving. Next to him, Namie is typing away, a bemused little smirk on her face. She's enjoying this, clearly, and she's itching to say something biting.

“You're handling this better than I thought you would,” she says, her tone forcibly bored. Izaya blinks at her, lifting his hand to motion for her to continue. “Your little monster friend has a girlfriend now. He'll have less time for you, right? I assumed you'd be setting fires across the city by now.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Izaya says breezily. “If anything, she's distracting him enough to leave me be.”

The chatroom is full of people chattering away about Shizuo and Vorona, who are spending a lot of time together, holding hands, exchanging glances, sharing beverages. It's sickening. Izaya feels vaguely nauseous just reading about it, but he thinks that's probably due to his insane schedule at the moment, and his lack of sleep. He keeps meaning to take a healing potion, but he forgets every time.

“Distracting. Right.” Namie types another response, fanning the flames of all the rumors circulating about Ikebukuro's hottest couple. Her smirk drops, and Izaya can't resist the temptation to dip into her mind, just a little, to see why she isn't enjoying this as much as she thought she would.

She's thinking of Seiji, of course, but also of Mika, and of Celty's head, and all the times she's been overlooked in favor of someone else. She thinks Shizuo dating Vorona is distasteful, because she's set on the idea that Shizuo must be fucking Izaya, and that's why he comes by so often. Izaya withholds a snort at that, and he graciously doesn't comment on the fact that Namie could probably have anyone she wanted, if she wasn't so obsessed with her own brother.

“Who cares, anyway?” Namie asks, closing her laptop. “The two of them together probably have conversations as interesting as watching paint dry. It's not worth even talking about anymore.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Izaya says, pushing away from his desk. He tilts his head at her. “Let's order out for dinner. My treat.”

“In that case, I'm craving something expensive.”

“Of course you are.”

***

Izaya is watching the sunset from a small window when he realizes he must have fallen asleep. He isn't at home anymore, and this is beginning to feel like the kind of dream he's been dreading to have lately, one where he knows Shizuo will show up at some point.

“Who are you?” A child's voice asks from behind him. Izaya turns, looking down at Shizuo, who is in a hospital bed, his arms wrapped, a brace around his neck. He's frowning up at Izaya, who sighs loudly before plopping into the vacant chair next to the bed.

“Oh, why does it even matter? You won't call me by my name anyway.” Izaya pulls his knees up to his chest and studies Shizuo closely. “You're here alone?”

“My family just left.” Shizuo looks up at the ceiling, seeming to decide that Izaya isn't a threat to him. “They used to stay with me a lot, but this happens all the time now, so they can't stick around as much.”

“I see.”

“I'll only be here one night anyway.”

“So who was it this time? Was it another fight?” Izaya asks.

“It's not like I wanted to fight.” Shizuo's eyebrow twitches. “I threw a swingset.”

“A swingset?”

“Yeah, but apparently it was bolted into the ground or something. Really fucked me up.”

Izaya can't help it. He laughs hard, curling into himself as he does so.

“Hey, fuck you, it isn't funny!” Shizuo snaps, but he seems to be trying not to laugh himself. “Well, maybe it was a little. The look on their faces was pretty funny.”

“Did you at least manage to hit them?” Izaya asks, still giggling at the mental image.

“No. Turns out all the time I spent lifting it gave them some time to escape.”

Izaya laughs harder. When was the last time he found something this genuinely funny? Lately all he does is work until he passes out, and he deserves it, he knows. Still, as he feels tears stinging the corner of his eyes, he thinks he feels good now, here with this kid version of Ikebukuro's monster. There doesn't seem to be anything else to do but talk to him, and their dreams keep connecting them no matter what Izaya does. He's tired of fighting it.

Shizuo is gazing at him with poorly concealed awe and wonder.

Pretty.

Izaya snorts at Shizuo's thought. What's so pretty about this scene right now? The sunset outside? The various machines hooked to Shizuo, beeping idly in the background? Shizuo keeps looking at him, and Izaya realizes, feels his face grow hot.

“Who are you?” Shizuo asks again.

“Your worst enemy.”

“Really? You don't seem all that bad.” Shizuo shifts a bit, winces. “You're not scared of me, are you?”

“Not now, not ever.”

Shizuo nods, and his lip wobbles. “People tell me all the time they aren't scared of me, but I know they are, deep down. How could they not be? They'd have to be crazy. But...” Shizuo chokes up, laughs a little. “I can tell you mean it. And if that makes you crazy, I think that's okay, because it feels good to not be feared, for once.”

Izaya lowers his legs, leaning closer to the bed. He idly touches the flimsy fabric of the blanket draped over Shizuo, who is watching him curiously. Izaya looks away.

“Sometimes you're so pathetically simple it makes me want to vomit. Sometimes it feels like a chore, hating you. Did you know that?” Izaya asks softly, and there's a long pause after his words, no sounds aside from their breathing. Even the machines have somehow gone quiet.

“So then why do you?” Shizuo asks at last.

“Isn't it funny that it's been so long of us hating each other that I forgot what caused it in the first place? I think you did, too.” Izaya crosses his arms over the bed, puts his head down. “People like us will always be at each other's throats. It's just the way it is.”

“You sound like a grownup,” Shizuo says, glaring now. “They always say that, when they don't know the answer to something. 'It's just the way it is.' If you don't know, then why does it matter in the first place?”

“Believe it or not, I am a grownup. I'm only a kid right now because you're one, too. We're always the same age in these dreams, even if only one of us remembers the future at a time.” Izaya lifts his head enough to grin at Shizuo, who blushes and immediately turns away. He seems to be trying to gather the courage to say something, but there's suddenly a knock at the door, and Izaya turns towards it. “Expecting someone else?”

“Huh?”

“There's knocking.”

“I don't hear anything.”

Izaya stands. “Oh. This may be in real life. I think I'm waking up.”

“Waking up? Does that mean leaving?” Shizuo's eyes look panicked. “When will you be back?”

“I never know. Why do you keep wanting to see me so badly? You're the one pulling me back here, you have to be.” The room starts to grow fuzzy as the dreamscape begins to fall apart around them.

“You're not scared of me. You laughed at me instead of running— Fuck!” Shizuo seems to be trying to get up to grab Izaya, but he can't with his arms bandaged. “Tell me your name so I can find you again!”

“You'll just call me a flea anyway, won't you? So it doesn't matter.”

***

Izaya opens his eyes to discover he passed out at his desk at some point. He sits up and frowns at the container of pasta next to him. He remembers ordering dinner for himself and Namie, and then...

“Ugh. Of course she just left,” Izaya mutters to himself. Namie is an opportunist if nothing else. She isn't the type to stick around and see what happens next, unlike Izaya. Another knock sounds at the door. “Who is it?” Izaya calls, feeling sluggish. He checks his phone to find he's been asleep for about two hours.

“Me!” Shinra's voice replies, muffled from the door. “Let me in, would you? I've been knocking forever!”

Grumbling, Izaya makes his way across the room, opening it for Shinra, who waltzes inside like he owns the place.

“Hi! I'm working late tonight, and I didn't have time to eat dinner before I left, so I figured while I was in Shinjuku I could come see what you had—“ Shinra stops talking and tilts his head to the side, observing Izaya. “You look awful. What have you been up to?”

“Also working,” Izaya says. He reaches up to wipe crusted drool from the corner of his mouth. “So you came to raid my fridge?”

“Ah, yes!” Shinra turns and continues his march to the kitchen. “I just got done with an emergency call, and next I'll be going to visit another patient. I didn't want fast food, so here I am! Did Yagiri-san make anything?”

“Should be leftovers somewhere around here.” Izaya looks back at his own pasta, feels his stomach rumble. He can't remember the last time he really ate or slept fully.

“Why don't we eat something together?” Shinra asks. “You look ready to fall over.”

Izaya ends up tossing the pasta. It was congealed together, and not very good in the first place. Namie picked the place to order from, but he'll definitely complain enough about it later to where they don't order from there again. Shinra actually goes through the trouble of throwing together some fried rice, because Izaya doesn't have the ingredients for much else. He'll have to send Namie for groceries.

“So what are you working on so religiously, anyway?” Shinra asks as they sit down. “I haven't seen you this absorbed in work for a while.”

“It's not just one assignment, but multiple. All of them are due around the same time.” Izaya eats a bite of rice and shrugs. “It's just poor timing.”

“More than that though, right? I heard Shiki-san was pissed at you for multiple reasons. Sounds like he's keeping you overloaded on purpose.” Shinra smirks at him. “You can never leave well-enough alone, Izaya-kun.”

“'Well-enough',” Izaya scoffs. “If he had his way, I'd be locked in a cage, of use only to him and his little cronies.”

“That's what you signed up for. You'll get yourself killed if you keep meddling. I mean, come on, Akane-chan? What did you think would happen by sending her off on her own like that?”

“Who says I was behind any of that? Akane-chan has a smartphone. Kids like her are always going to be involved in things, because they want better than they're given.”

“I don't believe you, and I know Shiki-san doesn't, either. It's clear he's punishing you, but...” Shinra leans closer, lowers his voice like he thinks Shiki is in the next room. “To be honest, I thought you'd have it way worse than this. You ordered Shizuo-kun's attack too, didn't you? I thought Shiki-san would hang you upside-down.”

“Again, Shinra, you're reaching way too far. I never said I was responsible for Shizu-chan either.”

Shinra pouts, and then sits back in his chair, shoveling down more rice. “Fine. Don't tell me. Just take better care of yourself, at any rate. It's not like you can't cure the effects of fatigue with your power. You're choosing to suffer, right? But then again, you've always been like that.”

“Don't you have another appointment soon?” Izaya asks, annoyed by Shinra and his big mouth. He's often wondered if friendship is supposed to be this exhausting, but it isn't like he has anything else to compare it to. Shinra was always the only one crazy enough to stick around.

“I'm only saying. You should accept your punishments and actually learn something from them every now and then. It seems like you just bounce back, more determined to make a nuisance of yourself than before.”

“If I don't make a nuisance of myself, I'll die from boredom,” Izaya lilts. “It's really that simple.”

“More like you're worried about being forgotten.”

Izaya resists the urge to throw something at Shinra, who is wearing a strange expression, something akin to actual concern.

“You've improved on your acting ability,” Izaya says, pushing away from the table. “Don't act friendly towards me now. It doesn't suit you.”

“I am your friend,” Shinra insists. “I'm the only one you've got, so maybe you should listen to me once in a while.”

“It always goes back to Celty anyway. What, are you worried I'm going to use her for something too dangerous?”

“Celty agrees with me that it's unusual for you to allow Shizuo-kun to be in your space as you have. Are you actually feeling guilty?”

“Are you?” Izaya stands and grabs a bottle of red wine from his counter before he pads over to his desk. “I don't have the time for this, Shinra. See yourself out when you're ready to go.”

Shinra sighs loudly, finishes his dinner, and picks up his briefcase. He walks towards the door.

“Take care of yourself, Izaya-kun. If you even know how to.”

Izaya uses his magic to slam the door shut behind Shinra, and then he drinks until he passes out.

***

He wakes hours later, in bed somehow.

Groaning, he sits up, trying to remember the night before. His mouth feels like cotton, and his head feels like it's trying to split itself open. He thinks he may throw up at some point in the very near future.

“Feeling better?” Tsukumoya asks from beside him. The shades are drawn closed, and the room is still dark despite the sun being out. Izaya glares at the vampire in his space.

“Why are you here?” he croaks.

“You don't remember? You invited me. We fucked.” Tsukumoya has his laptop, and is typing ridiculously fast even as he speaks. “It was quite the evening.”

“I'm serious. You just keep popping up. It's annoying.”

“Mm. I had a feeling you were being your usual destructive self. There's water for you on your nightstand.”

Izaya reaches next to him, grabs the glass before chugging it. His stomach immediately churns dangerously in protest.

“Why not take a healing potion? I know you have plenty of them,” Tsukumoya says, still not looking at him.

“Don't need it.”

“Right, you don't. The great Orihara Izaya doesn't need anything or anyone, how could I forget?” Tsukumoya finally glances over at him. “You might need to reconsider. Tonight's the night of the full moon. You'll need to be alert when your puppy visits.”

“Fuck, is it? I forgot all about it.” Izaya groans and flops back into the bed, rolling away from the annoying vampire in his space. “You weren't supposed to come until tomorrow.”

“Stop complaining so much. Do you need more water?”

Grumbling, Izaya tries to piece together the night before. He drank too much, he remembers that. Shinra was being annoying. He definitely fell asleep at his desk, meaning Tsukumoya carried him to bed.

“We didn't really fuck, did we?” Izaya asks.

“No. Did you want to?” Tsukumoya's voice is annoyingly smug. “I wouldn't be opposed.”

Izaya snorts and closes his eyes, wills the room to stop spinning. “Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type.”

“I'm not? Here I thought you had a thing for monsters.”

Izaya considers throwing Tsukumoya across the room, but that would be rising to the stupid teasing, and it would require more effort than he currently wants to exert. He stays where he is, listening to the sound of Tsukumoya's fingers on the keys.

“You're being especially pitiful lately, Izaya,” Tsukumoya says after a while. “So you've lost control of your little game, so what? Maybe you should think of what to do next instead of working to the point of exhaustion. You know I hate it when you're predictable.”

“Why does it matter what I do? I'm trapped.”

Tsukumoya sighs. “Yes, you are. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Right now, I'm going to be miserably hungover. Next, who knows? It'll surprise us both.”

“If only I found you sooner.” Tsukumoya goes back to typing. “The things you could've done. Humans are always finding ways to control what they don't understand or fear. But now, you can only help yourself. If you believe you're going to be trapped forever, they've already won.”

“I know that.” Izaya thinks of the work assignments that aren't ever going to stop, and he thinks of Akane, of Shizuo. He knows he went too far, but he has to go even further still.

Tsukumoya seems like he wants to say more, but he pauses, and the typing stops once more.

“You really might want to take that potion now,” he says. “One of your executives is on his way here.”

***

Izaya does not take the potion, and when he answers his door, it's with a slightly green complexion. Akabayashi takes one look at him, and promptly bursts into laughter.

“Oh, wow. And I thought I drank too much. You look awful, brat.” Akabayashi invites himself inside, stepping around Izaya. “I'm doing a wellness check on behalf of the boss. You understand, right?”

“Seems like I have more people in my life than I thought,” Izaya says, closing the door before moving to his couch. “This is my third wellness check.”

“Hard to believe a roach like you has friends, but then again, this city has an infestation. You missed a deadline today.”

“I got a little carried away last night. I've been in bed all day.”

“But you answered the door fully dressed, like you've been up and about,” Akabayashi presses.

“I sensed you coming,” Izaya lies.

Akabayashi hums in thought, and he grins menacingly. “Ya know, I ran into Heiwajima the other day at Sunshine. He seemed really interested in who bit him and why.”

“You should tell him,” Izaya says. “If anything, it would get him off my back for a while.”

“Oh, don't act innocent. We all know who made the phone call that started everything.”

“Clearly what I want doesn't matter. You've made that abundantly clear.”

Akabayashi walks closer to the couch, and he leans closer to Izaya. “Watch yourself, kid. Just because you haven't been caught in the act yet doesn't mean we don't know you're guilty. That magic of yours will only get you so far with us.”

“If your power spans so far, you shouldn't be worried about what I did or didn't do. If you really knew I was guilty, you'd have killed me by now,” Izaya says.

“Assuming monsters like you actually have enough humanity left to die.”

“Why don't we both find out?”

They glare at each other, and Izaya can sense from Akabayashi that the executive would like nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, but he won't. It would be against Shiki's wishes, and as much as Akabayashi hates it, he has to follow orders, or he'll be next on the chopping block. He takes another step towards the couch, but before he can do or say anything, the door slams open with such force that it bangs against the wall and cracks it.

“Hello, Shizu-chan,” Izaya calls without breaking eye-contact with Akabayashi. “Entertain yourself for a moment, will you?”

“What the fuck is this?” Shizuo asks. He growls when he notices Akabayashi. “Oi! I still have questions for you, asshole!”

“I'm sure you do,” Akabayashi says, standing up straight again. He grins at Shizuo. “I can't answer 'em for you, though. Sorry about that.”

“I could always beat it out of you,” Shizuo says, cracking his knuckles. “I'm even stronger than I used to be, since you bastards made me into a monster.”

“You wouldn't get far. I'd relax, if I were you.” Akabayashi turns back to Izaya. “Get to work, brat. Shiki's only so forgiving.” With that, he turns on his heel, and goes towards the door. Shizuo makes to stop him, but Izaya lifts his hand and summons Shizuo backwards, towards the couch.

“What the fuck!” Shizuo shouts, fighting it. “Let me go!”

“Don't make me exert myself, Shizu-chan. I'm having a rough day,” Izaya says. Shizuo turns and glowers at him, but his features soften.

“What's wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” The door opens and closes, and Izaya knows he's alone with Shizuo once more. “You didn't knock this time.”

“Didn't think I needed to. It's not like you weren't expecting me.” Shizuo leans down, scrutinizes Izaya. “You're hungover.”

“Don't read my mind,” Izaya huffs, curling into himself.

“I didn't. You reek of alcohol.”

Grumbling, Izaya summons a blanket and throws it over himself. He doesn't know if he prefers Tsukumoya's company to Shizuo's, but at the moment, he thinks he'd rather deal with the vampire. At least for a little bit.

What a messy flea. Shizuo thinks, and then he walks away from the couch. There's the sound of him sifting through the fridge, but there isn't anything for him to find. Namie had the day off, and Shinra cooked what little was available the night before.

“You might have to order out,” Izaya calls. “You have a couple of hours before sunset.”

Shizuo growls loudly, thinks something about Izaya being useless, and then pulls out his phone. Izaya stays where he is and doesn't move, enjoys the silence for a few moments before it's ultimately shattered by Shizuo, who is suddenly sitting on the couch near Izaya, but still far enough to where they're both comfortable.

“I ordered pizza,” Shizuo says, and he leans back against the couch cushions. “You should foot the bill.”

“If you wanted me to pay, you could've ordered something better,” Izaya replies.

“Nah, everywhere else would've taken too long. Pizza is fast and easy.”

Izaya watches sleepily as Shizuo picks up the remote and turns the TV on, flipping through a few channels before settling on a soap opera. It should feel weird, sitting here with Shizuo, watching a woman sob because she caught her husband having an affair, but it really doesn't feel weird at all. Maybe Izaya is too tired to feel one way or another about it, or maybe their strange mental link has done the majority of the work in making them civil towards one another. Either way, Izaya feels comfortable enough to let his guard down a little, and it's an instant relief, like setting down something immensely heavy.

“So, I don't get it. Why are you just sitting here feeling like shit when you can heal yourself easily enough?” Shizuo is still looking at the screen, but he's back to poking around in Izaya's head, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

“Shut up, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says without any real bite.

“Oh. You just want to feel bad. Seems like a stupid thing for someone who's supposed to be some kind of genius, but whatever.”

The woman on screen is confronting her husband's mistress, and it winds up in a fist fight on a balcony. Izaya snorts when the mistress is pushed off to her death. How predictable. Shizuo is scowling at the TV, but he's thinking about his shared dreams with Izaya, and also about some images he's been seeing through Izaya's side of the link. He's also thinking about Shinra, who apparently ran into Shizuo last night after his last appointment. Shinra seemed worried about Izaya.

He's a good actor. Izaya sends. He always has been.

I don't think he was acting. You look worse than you normally do.

I'm hungover, as you so aptly put it. You being in my head isn't helping me feel better.

“I'm not doing it on purpose!” Shizuo snaps, and the sudden loudness has Izaya flinching. “I don't get why it's happening either, okay? I'm only just now starting to believe it's not actually you doing it.”

Because you've seemed like such a mess ever since it started. Shizuo thinks, and Izaya grinds his teeth in frustration.

“I'm not a mess.”

“What did that guy want?” Shizuo asks, changing the subject abruptly.

“Akabayashi-san stops by from time to time to threaten me. It's a pastime for him.” Izaya is starting to feel nauseous again, so he closes his eyes and wills it to go away.

“Don't you work for him, though?”

“I don't work for anybody. I'm a freelance informant for hire, and I give the organization he's part of information when they pay me for it, same as anyone else.”

Shizuo frowns, thinks something biting about Izaya working for the Yakuza. “He seemed like he wanted to hurt you.”

“Oh, he does. They all do,” Izaya says. “They'd kill me if they could.”

Shizuo doesn't like that he has something in common with the Yakuza. He grimaces before he says, “So what? You're just too strong to die or some shit?”

“No,” Izaya replies. “I'm just too important for them do dispose of. I'm part of the reason they're as powerful as they are, and they know it, even if they hate it, even if they hate me. I'm the strongest tool in their arsenal. Killing me would be crippling themselves.”

Silence follows Izaya's words. Shizuo's mind is a whirlwind now, thinking so many things at once, all laced with rage. He doesn't like anything about what Izaya said, the way it was said so flippantly, the way Izaya doesn't seem to mind. Shizuo doesn't like that Izaya thinks of himself as a tool, as something other than human, even if it might be true. Shizuo doesn't want to think of himself as other than human, either.

Shizuo doesn't seem to do well with the truth.

“That isn't true,” Shizuo growls, no doubt in response to Izaya's thoughts. “You're a person. I'm a person. We're other things too, but whatever we are, we're human first. You said so yourself, right? You can die, you can be killed. You're human enough to die.”

“I'm telling you this once, and once only, beast,” Izaya murmurs, opening his eyes to glare at the TV as he speaks. “It would be the exact same as breaking a screwdriver, or losing your favorite toy. If I died, that would be it. They would just replace me. They want to, and they would if they could, but I'm one of the last of my kind, and I'm definitely the most powerful one left. I don't care about it, because I've always known I was only useful for what I knew and what I could do. If you're going to be hated, you damn well better be useful. That's the way it is.”

“Fuck that!” Shizuo yells, and he stands, his hands clenched into fists. “What the hell are you talking about? You think it's okay to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, like you didn't have a hand in being the hated little rat you are? You think it's just because of your magic? You're the one deciding to do the shitty things you do. People hate you. If they knew you were a witch, whatever, maybe some of them would hate you more, but it's only because they hate you already. Get the fuck over yourself.”

Izaya laughs, delighted at the outburst. Doing so hurts his head, and his vision swims. This is pitiful, isn't it? Feeling useless, being forced to lie back and swallow vomit just so no one else can ask anything more of him. If he's a tool, he's a damaged one, and every time he's human, he dulls himself a little more. If this is a game to be played, and his opponents have the winning hand, Izaya will make sure none of them win. He'll destroy himself if he has to. He'll destroy everything.

“Trust me, Shizu-chan,” he croaks, “I know they would've hated me either way. The difference between us is you're searching so hard for a place to belong, and I've accepted long ago that it doesn't exist. Now would you kindly shut the fuck up? My head hurts.”

Shizuo is seething, his breaths labored as he works to calm himself down. He wants to lift Izaya up and shake him until his head pops off. Then Shizuo wants to tear apart everything in the apartment, maybe go punch Akabayashi for good measure. He hates that he sees the reasoning in Izaya's words. He hates himself, and he hates Izaya more than anything else.

“Get out of my head,” Shizuo grits out.

“I'm trying,” Izaya says, and he leaves it at that.

They lapse back into silence, and when Shizuo flops back onto the couch, his brow is furrowed, his jaw set. It's clear he isn't going to let this go, but he at least doesn't want to be in a terrible mood before his transformation. The bloodlust is worse when he's angry. He has to keep reminding himself that Izaya is a liar, first and foremost. Izaya uses words to protect himself, and Shizuo doesn't have to, and won't, ever do the same.

“Well, isn't this cozy?” Tsukumoya's voice asks as he walks down the stairs. He's wearing a hood, covering himself from the weakening rays of sun that still shine through the windows.

“I thought you left,” Izaya calls as Shizuo whirls to growl at the vampire.

“I was going to, but I figured I'd stick around to make sure you didn't die,” Tsukumoya says. He smirks at the scene of Shizuo and Izaya sitting together almost peacefully, watching trash TV in silence. “I wondered how your nights with the puppy went. I suppose I can see for myself now.”

“Why the fuck are you here?!” Shizuo barks, and then he whirls to face Izaya. “Does he always just pop up like this?”

“Not always,” Izaya says. “He stayed the night.”

“What?”

“Relax, Heiwajima-san. Rest assured, I didn't touch him.” Tsukumoya flounces past the couch while Shizuo's face turns a variety of fun colors. “At least, not much.”

Shizuo stands from the couch, and Izaya sighs loudly.

“Don't you have anything better to do?” he asks Tsukumoya, who is still looking at Shizuo appraisingly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I trust you won't drink yourself stupid a second night in a row?” Tsukumoya says, looking at Izaya.

“I don't have the luxury tonight,” Izaya answers.

“Right, you're puppy-sitting.”

“Do you mean me, you fucking—“ Shizuo starts, and he barrels towards Tsukumoya, who easily side-steps him.

“Make sure you eat something at some point,” Tsukumoya calls to Izaya. “That pizza will help you feel better.”

“I don't want it,” Izaya grumbles, covering his head with the blanket. He hates both of the people in his space right now, and he just wants to sleep.

You must be making a conscious effort to not heal yourself if you're still this sick over a hangover. Tsukumoya's voice sounds in Izaya's head. Is this really helping anything?

Yes. Izaya can't escape either of them, can he? They're both annoyingly perceptive and persistent. He can feel fondness radiating from Tsukumoya, but it's quickly being overshadowed by the amount of fury pouring from Shizuo, who is clearly listening to their mental conversation.

“Your pizza is here,” Tsukumoya says, and the knock comes a moment later. “Make sure he eats something, please,” he says to Shizuo, and then he vanishes before anything else can be said.

***

Shizuo scarfs down the entire pizza at breakneck speed, once or twice trying to get Izaya to accept a slice before giving up. He doesn't care if Izaya eats or not, and he doesn't care if Izaya feels sick or not. Shizuo's mood increases as he eats, and by the time he's finished, he's as mellow as he ever is while sharing a space with his mortal enemy.

Izaya, for his part, is starting to feel a little better. His stomach rumbles a bit at the scent of the pizza, but his appetite wanes at the grotesquely barbaric way Shizuo eats. It seems worse than usual, more...animalistic.

In fact...something seems off about Shizuo, even for a full moon. Maybe something happened earlier, or maybe Shizuo just went too long without eating until now, but Izaya can sense the bloodlust permeating from Shizuo like a miasma.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, slowly sitting up to level his gaze at his unwanted guest. “Have you taken your potion?”

“Huh? Of course I have,” Shizuo replies. His hair is glowing from the fading rays of the sun as it descends behind the tall buildings outside.

“Have you taken it exactly as you should, the way I instructed?” Izaya asks through clenched teeth, already knowing the answer.

“Well— I drank it all a couple of days ago. I spent all day with Vorona, and I didn't want—“ Shizuo pauses at the look on Izaya's face. “What? What did I do wrong? You said to take it all before the full moon, and I did!”

“I told you to drink it every day, bit by bit, and to finish it before the full moon. The exact way you've done every month until now, because you're so pathetic in the presence of that woman that you can't follow basic fucking instructions!” Izaya snaps, and Shizuo's eyes widen.

He looks scared. Shizuo thinks, and then a beat later, Oh fuck. He's scared of me.

“Izaya, I—“ Shizuo begins, and then his hands grip his knees as his body begins to shake. The sun's rays fade at last, bathing them in twilight. “I feel...wrong.”

Izaya stands from the couch, the room spinning as he does. He's not at his full power. Even if he weren't hungover, he hasn't been eating or sleeping the way he should, buried in work as he is, and reluctant to care for himself as ever. He starts towards the stairs, in search of the healing potion he should have taken earlier, but he knows it's already far too late, as Shizuo's body is already beginning to crack and twist, and his mind is already gone, replaced by that of a true monster.

“Shizu-chan, you're such a fucking idiot,” Izaya hisses, and his sentence is barely finished before Shizuo is lunging at him, aiming for his throat.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[roo-sketch]

Since people have asked about the Ducktales Bushroot idea I’ve been cooking up, I figured I’d gush the entire thing here. And look! It comes with pictures! Blame the lateness of this on my two jobs, they run me ragged I tell you what

So seeing as how Darkwing Duck is technically a tv show in the Ducktales universe, that’d mean the villains would end up with vastly different backstories too (as did Drake Mallard and Jim Starling in “The Duck Knight Returns”).

So for Bushroot, or in this case Tino Moss, why not make him the only child to the part time actor/script writer Pete Moss - who played the Bushroot character on the TV show.

Ever since he could remember, Tino would tag along with his dad to the studio (since Peter was a single father and had no one else to look after his son while he worked). It’s here he got to meet the cast and crew to the show, all of which, save for one, were super nice to a shy little boy always hiding behind his fathers legs. Because of this, Tino grew to love watching the finished episodes and even began to idolize the main character a little, saying how he’d one day grow up to be a super hero too! But upon meeting Jim, and being rudely brushed aside, he soon realized it’s best not to meet your idols (I imagine Jim was just as self absorbed like in the Duck Knight Returns and wouldn’t pay a small fan any mind during the height of his popularity).

After being coldly rebuffed, it was then Tino turned his sights on being a super hero in a completely different way, deciding to become a doctor instead. Pete would often joke he should become a botonist like the Bushroot character (that he’d low-key based on his sons personality), but Tino shrugged it off with a laugh and aimed to be a traditional one instead, preferring to become a family physician.

Years passed and in his final stages of his clinical’s, it’s then he received the devastating news that his father had fallen terminally ill. It was a heavy blow to see the once exuberant duck he loved so much slowly fade into a shell of his former self. At this point Tino took time off from his career to tend to his father, despite the loans and bills quickly piling up, the two spent a majority of their time watching old episodes of Darkwing Duck and reminiscing about a time when things were happier.

Eventually the inevitable day came when his father passed, destroying Tino emotionally. He’d been the only remaining family he had left, and after his death he was left with no one. The time spent tending to his father had become his whole life, and any other relationships outside of that he’d sadly neglected to the point his friends had moved on or away.

It took him a while to get back into the medical field, having to retake his clinical’s all over again and even though the work was fulfilling in a way (distracting him enough not to think about the loss) he still wasn’t entirely happy with his life, struggling with the mounting bills and loneliness that’d started to creep in. It’s then Jim Starling practically materialized out of the clear blue, having had tracked down his address and wondered if he would like to meet and catch up.

Tino is hesitant at first, remembering the blowhard from his childhood and didn’t know if he wanted to revisit that chapter of his life again, but when Jim makes mention of his dad, of all the good times they had on and off camera, the former star eventually brings the other duck around enough the two sit down for a good, long chat.

They reminisce about the show, the actors, where everyone is at the moment. Jim mentions on several occasions how he’d been trying to reboot the Darkwing Duck series and asks if he’d be interested in reprising his fathers role as the mutated plant monster.

Tino laughs it off, admitting he isn’t much of an actor, or a writer for that matter, but if he ever wanted some pointers for the episodes he still had his dads old scripts archived in the attic.

After that Jim comes and goes infrequently, usually to ask scientific mumbo jumbo about the whole “mutating a Duck into a plant” thing, which Tino does some research between work and sleep just to appease what he considers a friend at this point (going so far as to getting ahold of a scientist in the Saint Canard University’s agricultural department for some additional insight). He passes the information off to Jim and thinks nothing else of it until the former star makes a surprise visit one day.

He tells him he has it all set up for the big shoot, inviting Tino down to see the studio for himself. Curiosity gets the better of him, and despite needing to get some rest for work tomorrow, he joins the other duck on the long car ride, a bit unnerved to see it’s in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city.

Any questions he poses regarding safety - or why anyone in their right mind would want to set up a shoot here - is quickly brushed aside, Jim telling him he was aiming for a darker, grittier Darkwing Duck, hence the change in scenery. They head inside to find what appears to be a fully functioning lab, Tino excitedly looking over all the instruments, commenting about how realistic it was. As he stands beside the operating table, it’s then he is suddenly whacked upside the head, knocked out cold for who knows how long.

By the time he comes to, he’s strapped down, wires running over and through him. He pleads to know what’s going on, gasping to see Jim in an off color version of the Darkwing costume leering over him. The former actor explains that after he saw the news of what went down in Saint Canard, the ram rod incident and the other dimensions villains running amuck on the streets, he realized he needed his own Fearsome Five by his side if he ever planned to rule the city.

Seeing as how Pete had passed away and the other actors were far to old or out of reach to reprise their “roles”, he’d set out to replace them with newer, younger versions, starting with Tino.

Panicking, and realizing what exactly he planned to do to him as the liquids start to pump into his body, Tino breaks free before Negaduck can fully flip the conversion switch.

He manages to run a good distance from the factory, picking his way through the unfamiliar streets of Saint Canard as his body begins to grow more and more sluggish the further he walks. It almost feels like he’s going through every stage of sickness all at once. Chills, hot flashes, nausea, dehydration. He asks for help several times to passerby’s only to have people take one look at his green complexion and lurch away in fright. Some even out right flee, especially when near by trees or other plants spring to life around them. They, along with Tino, run in fear, he finally stopping long enough to catch his breath and get a good, hard look at his reflection through a shop window. Horror spreads across his face. A face that is his own but not in so many ways. It almost resembles the make-up his father used to wear during shoots but oh so different, oh so wrong! Deep in the pit of his stomach he knows this isn’t fake, this isn't a dream, it’s real. The mutation is real, and with people gasping, crying and running, this will be his new reality if he can’t find a way to reverse it!

Through several more mishaps and misunderstandings, dodging both panicking citizens and Darkwing Duck, he eventually finds himself cornered in a building by the Saint Canard police force (who mistakenly believe he’s just as dangerous as the other dimensions Bushroot).

It’s here Tino is once again confronted by Negaduck, and though he yells at the one behind all this, for forcibly mutating him into a monster and how he won’t get away with it, his words are cut short when Negaduck laughs, pointing out he shouldn’t be angry at the only person willing to embrace him now. He offers one last time for Tino to join the Fearsome Five, sneering that if he refused, he’d never be a normal duck again.

When Tino asks what he means, Negaduck explains that he’d kept all the notes, all the formulas, everything he did to turn him into a mutant plant duck was written in a journal, stashed away for safe keeping. If he ever planned on reverse engineering a formula to turn himself back, he’d need that journal. But if he refused to cooperate, than he’d have no problem destroying it and leaving Tino as he was.

A monster.

With no other choice, Tino finally agrees, reluctantly starting down the path of villainy.

And that’s how I figured you could have a sympathetic Bushroot character that stayed in line with the “he’s not technically a villain per say,” category while having him justified as to WHY he’s a villain at all.

[kyber-crystal]

Maybe It’s Meant To Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.7k

Summary: Sometimes, love finds people in unexpected ways. In this case, fate has extra special plans for America’s golden boy and one of SHIELD’s best agents in history. And you know there’s no running away from fate once she’s set out your futures for you. 

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, angst, and once again, soft steve :)

A/N: I haven’t attempted a soulmate AU in over a year. this is one of my fav works but it’s really poorly written rip. The age gap between you and Steve is ~3 years. 2017 AU where they made up after the Accords :) Steve’s back with his WS look bc that suit was hot af

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ this is for you! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO ACTIVE ON MY BLOG AND FOR YOUR SWEET AND SUPER ENCOURAGING WORDS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. AND @marvelsswansong BECAUSE YOU'RE MY IDOL AND I LOOK UP TO YOU YOU'RE AMAZING

Soulmates.

You'd heard plenty about them growing up. Seeing your parents' perfect relationship blossom over the years piqued your interest, and for the longest time, your only wish was to find someone who could love you with their whole heart and soul and mind, like the way your Mom and Dad loved each other.

Unfortunately, as all stories must come to an end, love stories had to find their ending. And not all of them ended on a high note.

Their jobs should've kept them apart from the beginning. Your mother was head surgeon at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, and your father was head of SHIELD's navy division. Constantly out and about, they were rarely granted any time to rest. Yet they still found a way to make things work; and it all started because of a run-in at a café around the corner.

Then when you were fifteen, you got word that your father had been deployed overseas again, but this time, he wasn't coming back.

You had to stand there and watch your mother slowly fall apart, breaking down a little more each day until she fell gravely ill. A mere week after her diagnosis of cardiomyopathy, she passed away in her sleep.

A person's soulmark didn't appear at a specific time. It could show up at any point in their lives, when the Gods believed the time was right for them. When those Gods felt the time was right for you to find out who it was, you'd feel a slight tingle where the mark was etched into your skin.

Some people didn't receive the soulmark at all. Along with this came a sense of freedom to fall in love with whoever they pleased, but often times it would end in a loveless relationship. But they were additionally granted the ability of being able to carry on by themselves.

If your soulmate got injured in any way, you would feel the same pain that they endured. And if they died, you would carry a weight around with you for the rest of your life that slowly progressed into a disease. So ultimately, those left in the world without their soulmate would also die in the end, further proving the claim of humans being unable to live without love.

One by one, you watched your friends find their match. They would excited come up to you, goofy grins on their faces as they showed you their marks. You were happy for them in the beginning, of course. But as years went by, and you passed adulthood with still no sign of your designated soulmark, you slowly began losing hope. There was no point in looking forward to the future when you watched one fall apart before your very eyes.

Maybe it was because of your job. None of the Avengers had received their soulmarks either, asides from Tony and Pepper. But they were an exception. Everyone could see it coming from the day they first met, judging by the way they lovingly gazed at each other from across the room. It was a match made in heaven.

You believed that maybe, just maybe, you were destined to be alone. So when you woke up one morning with the burn mark on your wrist, you were taken completely by surprise.

"Hey, Tony? Bruce?" you asked, walking into the lab with a frown. "I need to ask you guys a quick question."

"Ask away, Killer," Tony nodded, using the nickname he'd given you years ago when you first joined the initiative. "What's on your mind?"

"So, um..." you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweatshirt for a moment, before pulling it up to reveal the mark, "this happened."

"That's a soulmark," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you rolled your eyes. "But why would it appear now? I don't see any sign of me meeting them anytime soon."

"When did it appear?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and saw it."

"Let me take a look at that," Bruce carefully took ahold of your wrist, squinting as he adjusted his glasses to peer at the mark, "huh. So it appeared last night...have you felt any side-effects?"

"Not that I know of yet, no..."

"If you start feeling any severe symptoms, I can prescribe you some medication to deal with the pain, though I doubt that's going to happen. In the meantime, we need to figure out who this could be."

"Imagine if it was someone who already died, and I'm slowly dying right now," you joked.

"No, if that were to be true, you'd be lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Does the symbol have any specific meaning?"

"That I'm not so sure about," Tony shrugged.

Bruce was silent as he began typing away for a bit, before turning the screen over to you.

"I've checked out over a dozen different sites about this, and..."

"And what?"

"Well...once both people discover their mark, they have a week to find each other before both of them disappear off the face of the earth, forever."

"Sounds like a damn time bomb to me," you muttered. "What the hell? I thought that the point of this whole thing was the gods trying to push us with someone else! Not the other way around!"

"I don't know, Y/N," Bruce sighed. "Feel free to do your own research, but everything I've read up on so far says the same thing."

"So basically, what you're telling me is I'm gonna die if I don't find out who the hell has this same mark as I do," you repeated.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Got a briefing with Cap, Bucky, and Wilson in five. Fury's gonna kill me if I'm late again," you breathed out as you tugged your hoodie's sleeve back down. "See ya."

"Agent Y/N," Nick Fury gave you a curt nod as you burst into the meeting room, breathless. "I hope you slept well last night."

"Of course."

"I need you four to track down a weapons dealer in Skagway," he explained as he handed Steve a black manila file folder, "shut down the base, download the intel onto the flashdrive. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Juneau afterwards for about a week to keep things on the down-low in case something goes wrong. Simple in-and-out job."

"When are we leaving?" Sam questioned.

"You're taking off in half an hour. Suit up."

You sighed. Finding your soulmate would just have to wait, then.

...

"Y/N, look out!"

You quickly whipped around and narrowly missed a bullet whizzing past you, as Steve tugged you around the corner, an arm wrapped firmly around your torso as he hid you both behind his shield.

You gasped as you felt a sharp pain in your chest, and Steve immediately pulled away from you in alarm, gripping your shoulders worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to steady your rapid breathing, “I’m fine. But we’re gonna have to split up from here if we wanna get the job done faster.”

“Y/N, I can’t-”

“Steve,” you interrupted, the firm tone of voice making him immediately shut up. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Go find Sam and Bucky, and I’ll meet you guys by the rendezvous point as soon as I’m done. Okay?”

“Alright.” He looked around for a moment before stepping away, as if he was hesitant to leave you on your own.

Ignoring the slight ache in your chest, you parted ways, darting down the hall with your guns up and ears alert. 

From there, it was easy to fall into your usual routine. Keep all eyes and ears open; don’t hesitate, shoot on sight unless ordered otherwise. If necessary, engage powers but if not, use your fists or bullets. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head as you followed through with your job.

You hid behind a tower of wooden crates, back pressed up against the steel walls. “Sam. Status update?”

“Controls room with Barnes, disabling all security systems. Steve’s retrieving intel from the north wing. You?”

“Outside on standby,” you murmured, keeping a finger pressed to your ear. Three technicians were loading equipment onto crates as the other six stood guard several yards away. “I make nine hostiles on the load dock straight ahead at twelve o’clock. Three dozen in total scattered around the area. Most likely preparing for an overseas arms trade. We’ll have to stop them.”

“And...done. We’re heading your way,” Bucky reported. “Be there in three.”

“Roger that.”

Exactly three minutes and two seconds later Bucky showed up, with Steve and Sam in tow. You came out from your hiding spot and began making your way towards the loading dock where the agents were stationed. They were quick to stop what they were doing and noticed the four of you approaching, whipping their snipers out and proceeding to open fire.

...

Your breath came out in white wisps of fog as you got caught in between a fistfight with one of the three dozen men on the docks, the freezing cold slowing all your movements and making them feel more sluggish than usual. If it weren’t for the thick material of your suit and your enhancements, you would’ve succumbed to the harsh weather hours ago.

The man captured you into a tight headlock with his thick arm but despite your frostbite you were too fast; you quickly whipped around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it to the side. His eyes widened slightly as he cried out in pain, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the frigid Alaskan air as you swiftly dodged each one of moves as he attempted to come at you, countering with a sharp right hook to his jaw. 

His body slumped to the ground with a thump. 

“Why the hell do you even carry around a sniper if your fists do all the work for you?” Sam yelled over the cacophony as he released Redwing, swooping down from the rooftops. “Seriously, you don’t need guns! You’re strong enough as it is!”

“I prefer versatility in fights, Wilson!” you yelled back, grunting as you dodged a blow to the stomach, sweeping out your attacker’s feet from underneath him as his head smacked against the wall, before sliding down to the ground with a dull thud. 

“Y/N, look out-” Bucky called out, but it was too late. You didn’t get to hear his warning in time before you felt something cold and hard hit your lower abdomen. A yell of pain ripped through your throat as you felt a sticky warmth spread across your skin, your knees hitting the ground as you clutched the wound.

At that exact moment, Steve felt a sharp pain flare up his side as well. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, “Buck, cover me so I can get to her.”

You were barely clinging on to life by the time he reached you. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your eyes beginning to roll back as you struggled to stay awake. Everything hurt. Your arms and legs felt like they were weighed down with bricks. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either - you had no energy left to do so.

“Come on, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me,” he muttered as he began carefully applying pressure to your wound. You let out a hiss of pain at the same time he did. “Just hang in there for me, please. Sam’s getting the Quinjet ready. We’re gonna get out of here in just a few minutes, okay? Please don’t die on me.”

“Look, if I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in between clenched teeth while fighting back tears of his own, “you’re not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not on my watch.”

“Steve…” you croaked out, the stinging from the wound almost becoming impossible to bear. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the second, your body throbbing painfully now that all the adrenaline had worn off. It was a struggle just to take in a single breath and to stay awake. "I'm so tired, I can't do this anymore..."

He disappeared from your line of sight as your began seeing spots at the edges of your vision momentarily, before reappearing and pulling you into his lap, trying to put pressure on the area of injury again in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But it didn’t seem to work. There was so much blood. So much of it, coming out so fast. There was no way you’d last out here for longer than ten minutes before bleeding to death.

"Stay with me..." he murmured as he looked up around him. "Hang in there for a few more minutes, please…Damn it, Sam, how much longer is this gonna take? Y/N’s down. We gotta get her to the safe house as soon as we can. She’s bleeding out.”

"Three minutes, tops. I’m circling the perimeter as an extra precaution," Sam replied. "You guys hang tight for a sec."

"We don't have time!" he raised his voice. "Just hurry the hell over here."

"I'm so sorry," you choked out before going into a coughing fit, blood dripping down your lips and chin much to Steve’s alarm. "I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for being reckless and not keeping a look ou—"

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just save your energy for later, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Hold my hand," you begged hoarsely.

"I already am," the super-soldier answered, but his look shifted to that of an alarmed one when he realized you couldn't feel it. "Y/N—"

"I'm cold," you said weakly, already feeling your limbs grow heavy and numb and your vision growing blurrier with each passing second. "I'm so tired, Cap, I just wanna sleep—"

"No no no, please don't leave me," he pleaded as he felt his head begin to spin as well. Where had the sudden wave of dizziness come from? "Hang in there for a little longer, please, I l—"

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence before your eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark.

...

When you came to, your throat felt dry and raw, the metallic taste of dried blood around your lips and chin overwhelming your senses as you adjusted your eyes to the harsh bright lights streaming into the room. It looked like you were in some sort of antique coastal house, strangely void of belongings with the only decoration being a plain floral calendar hung on the wall opposite you, above the fireplace.

You were still in your suit, but your wound had been treated and wrapped up in a thick set of bandages. The couch you were on was old but extremely comfortable, so you found yourself not wanting to sit up at the same time you wanted to get up and look around.

The blinds were drawn shut, but the sunlight still managed to shine through. It was light outside, but you  weren’t sure what time it really was. The walls were a dull grey, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and probably Bucky or Sam talking on the phone upstairs with someone in hushed whispers.

You finally pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing around at your surroundings. Someone quietly entered the living room and you looked up to see Steve. His shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing that you were awake.

“Hey,” his voice came out so softly it took both of you by surprise. You moved over slightly to make room for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” you groaned lightly, feeling a dull ache in your stomach where you’d been hit. “But other than that, I’m fine. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Body aches that come and go, but I’m fine. It isn’t your place to be worrying about me right now though, Y/N. You got shot.”

The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze rushed in, making you shiver. Steve took notice and stood up to go light up the fireplace, then sat back down and wrapped the fleece blanket around your body. You let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You knocked out for over twenty-six hours .”

“I’m fine, Steve, just tired...hey, how’s Bucky and Sam?”

“Sam’s upstairs radioing Fury on the mission status. Bucky’s taking a nap in the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay. So, I-” you were interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in your wrist. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Language,” he joked lightly, but when he saw the obvious pained expression on your face, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...I get those random pains from time to time. I don’t know why, but...they’ve gotten worse since we took off for Skagway and then came here...”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I should’ve kept a closer watch over you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine...I should’ve watched my own back better.”

You both fell into an awkward silence for several minutes before he spoke up again, the realization finally dawning on him. 

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Your wrist."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down and saw the star glowing brightly, sending a white-hot pain down your arm. "What about it?"

Steve pulled at his shirt's sleeve for a few seconds before lifting it up to reveal the same exact symbol.

"We're soulmates," you breathed out, the realization hitting you like a flash flood.

"Yeah, I guess we are, huh," he smiled softly.

“W-when did yours appear?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Mine appeared in the morning...I showed it to Tony and Bruce and they said I had a week to find who it was or both me and my soulmate would die. So I guess we got lucky, huh? Only four more days, then...”

“Yeah, we did,” he exhaled. “I’m glad you’re the one. I can’t imagine living out the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“But Peggy...”

“She found her soulmate decades ago,” he explained, “which explained why our relationship was so short-lived. I didn’t expect to find mine...especially not after coming out of the ice. Maybe I had this coming from the get-go, I’d wonder...”

“Then how come they’d appear now?” Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t get it. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Because it was only this year that I accepted it.”

“Accepted what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you, and I kept that inside for far too long.”

“You...what?” You were officially rendered speechless. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, face breaking into a gorgeous, million-dollar grin before turning serious again, lowering his voice. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. You are my infinity and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my present and my future, and I hate that I couldn’t see that sooner. I should’ve known from the start that Peggy and I wouldn’t work out, but I never understood why...until I met you. I didn’t believe in the concept of soulmates because I felt I was undeserving of that love, but then you came along...and I started hoping and praying I’d find someone who’d love me as much as I love you. So now that I know for sure it’s you, that it always has been and always will be...I couldn’t be more happier that you’re my soulmate.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached forward to brush your hair away from your face and wipe the stray tears that fell, before wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you towards him.

“God, I made you cry, I’m so sorry,” he choked on a sob of his own. “I’m the worst.”

“I’m not mad at you, Steve,” you sniffed as you wiped your nose with your sleeve, and looked up and cracked a small grin. “You’re just so cheesy.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch what he said. 

“You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled.

“I love you more than you know.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He then brought a hand up to cup your face, allowing his thumb to lightly skim against your cheek, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

When his lips met yours, it was like you were turning back the clock. Everything in the world stopped and held its breath,  and all the hurt, all the sadness and heartache and pain bottled up inside your body, washed away.

...

BONUS

“HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL ARE SOULMATES?”

The sound of Sam’s screeching made you finally break apart for air. You could’ve been like that for two minutes, two hours, or two weeks, you weren’t sure.

You blushed and quickly averted your gaze. 

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. “Yeah. We are.”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM SOON! PAY UP, BARNES! YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS.”

“Come on, man,” Bucky groaned, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “We’re gonna head back home soon, anyways! And you’re not even poor.”

“A bet’s a bet, Barnes.”

“Of course you two bet on it,” you groaned. “Classic Sambucky activity.”

...

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Captain Rogers,” Fury announced, a rare smile gracing his normally stoic features. 

Steve did his best not to break down sobbing as he slid the ring onto your finger. With the backdrop of the waves gently crashing against the shore and the sun slowly sinking lower and lower into the horizon, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, passionately pressing his lips to yours. Your soulmarks glowed brightly in tandem, lighting up in a brilliant gold hue. 

Needless to say, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. 

[life-rewritten]

Tharn Type 7 Years of Love; The problem with Mame

At the beginning of when TharnType the series announced it was going to get a sequel, my thought went urgh sequels. I don't do sequels; because sequels are horrible,  they're not just terrible in this genre, they're awful everywhere, in western dramas, in heterosexual shows etc. This is because sequels are always made with sluggish energy like people just don't respect sequels; they're made to make more money and hound in on the fans love and loyalty and excitement. They're made because of hubris.  With Bls, sequels are even worse because Bls already struggle with writing and following up and showing how couples are when they're established. So when it comes to announcements of sequels I always end up shaking my head and being afraid, I ask the question but do we need this really? Why not just create something new and original? And this is the same thought process I had with TharnType, I wanted to see them again, and revel in their love story, chemistry and plot, but I was nervous because of my past experiences with sequels. 

Now, my mindset changed as I trusted my past experience with this show. I liked the writing, and I liked the structured plot, and the three-dimensional storyline and character developments. I think with Mame; her outlines are fantastic when you look at the overall picture of the plot, her themes and her ideas. But unfortunately with this sequel, I think it falls apart; 

The problem with Sequels

Now there are already three reasons why this was always going to happen:

1. It has a different director. With the previous season, Tee the director helped portray the themes and the story Mame wanted to tell. He brought out the right energy, paced the storyline well, and used the right sound, edits, etc. to show us TT's story. 

2. The book of TT 7 years is actually tiny in detail and plot. Basically, a tv show based on it is not going to be fully in depth because it requires fillers to make it long.

3. It had many new side couples and a lot of side couples in this genre are basically always miswritten and given no screen time, no storytelling or plot with the same energy as the main couple. So with this sequel, unfortunately, it actually ended being the opposite; it's actually the main couple who's screen time was sacrificed for the side couples. 

But even with these worries, I still came into the show knowing there were things I loved about it; I loved the overall themes, the comprehensive real-life representation of long term relationship, the meta I could analyse and the characters and their mindsets as broken and flawed people which they are. From episode 1 and episode I think everyone noticed that the show wasn't going to great because of the new director. We also saw that the show's strength was put on the actors' ability to hone their characters and Mame's writing. However, by episode 3, I had fallen in love with the show again because the one thing Mame is good at is showing a love story even if other people don't agree. Her basis for what love is is what makes me hooked onto her shows. Her love stories are always more in-depth and dimensional every single time; they have more to them than just a typical generic plot. 

The problem with Tharn Type 7 Years

Now one of the reasons I fell in love with this is because of the introduction to Leo and Fiat. Shocking right? But I knew that she had given the same depth, flaws and effort as she did with TT in Season 1. They were meant to mirror a version of TT, and their journey to be together was meant to be just as problematic and dramatic.  As I'm going to be writing about the flaws of this show, I still want people to know; I believe in everything the subtext was showing, she has been building up scenes and clues to letting us know what the overall story was meant to be, and as much as I don't want to because it's also her fault, I think her director failed at helping her show her message as well. 

So when looking at one of the overarching problems with the show, we have the story of Leo and Fiat; they have this deep, dimensional and interesting love story. They're both so in love and devoted to each other, but for some reason, they can't communicate and tell each other how they feel. And this is so important to TT 7 Years because Fiat is the villain of the show. The plot with  Leo refusing to tell him how he feels is a big plotline to unveil because it's the real reason why he ends up breaking up Tharn and Type. Now Tharn and Type already needed to separate and break up because their relationship no matter how strong their love is was always going to reach a pause because they still had to deal with past internal scars. Type wasn't at the beginning fully healed from his past and his trauma, (by dealing with his boss drama, he actually ended up reaching his healing and overcoming his conflict). Because of this, he wasn't ready to cross the line and marry Tharn. However, episode 8, he has now grown and overcome his issues and so is now ready to be onboard with Tharn. 

The problem with Tharn

But the thing is Tharn also had his own internal scars to heal from; he also has his own traumatic mindset that shapes his actions and his views because of season 1's villain Lhong. Now, this is where the issue with TT 7 Years starts; 

It's fantastic writing, because not every BL has dimensional characters that go through character healing and development this way. The problem is this storyline is told in subtext. If you were me, then subtext is a fun way to watch a show, because it leads to the need to find clues and bring them to the surface and fit that with what the show is telling you. But if you can't see or have the patience to understand subtext, then you won't understand certain choices the writer makes. You'll end up feeling betrayed, annoyed and cheated by the story. Especially if the show is different from what you expected it to be because of watching and loving season 1.

 One of the biggest problems people complain about in TT 7 Years is that the TT is not in the show. Tharn especially does not have a lot of screen time in the show at times, the show really revolved around Type's regression to season 1's mindset because of his boss, and there's a reason for why that happened. It was so he dealt with his past and came out knowing why he needed to stay with Tharn forever as we see him in episode 8 and 9 realise. He found out; he couldn't be without Tharn so we'd reached a stage where marriage would have been possible for him in episode 10. Now the problem with this, is now he's grown, and everything is starting to be sorted out, Type has gone through his issues and dealt with them, and so we're all happy and excited, everything is meant to be perfect. But there was one thing Mame forgot and messed up in her writing. Tharn. 

And the sad thing is she started building this up in episode 1 to 3, but it got pushed to the side. She made Tharn stagnant, he was perfection and a supportive system to Type, but he hadn't dealt with his own issues and flaws. He hadn't grown. As much as she was showing with vigour the regression and healing of Type, we were also meant to be seeing the deterioration of Tharn into his season 1 mindset. (this is why they break up in episode 10, the reason he thinks Type would cheat with Fiat). There are still psychologically embedded scars with Tharn and whilst  Type dealt with his biggest fears; coming out to the public, trusting people with his sexuality etc. Tharn did not develop the same, and it breaks my heart because I get why TharnType had lower screen time at times in this season; it's to showcase the distance between them and their desperate need to be together. It's meant to show us how separated they are. It's fine that that's why you're doing this (the whole storyline is about this separation). 

Still, the thing is even if they're not together in the screen, what failed the show is that we saw Type regress and show his growth, but we didn't see Tharn have his own storyline and regression to the point in episode 10. We've been getting so much foreshadowing, so much subtext, so much build-up below the surface showing that this will happen, but we only see that outcome in episode 10.  Do you get the issue?  Now the reason for why Tharn is going to regress isn't going to make sense. 

The problem with break ups

Let's think about the problem with Tharn thinking Type would cheat on him. One they've been together for seven years, it's frustrating because it makes sense why he would think this way if you understood the subtext and you understand his mindset that has never healed from season 1, but if you don't know the subtext it falls apart. A writer is meant to give the audience enough clues properly on the surface as well as subtext, so they understand what's going on in your story.  The reason why season 1 of TT went well is because of the chemistry, intense storyline that was on the surface even then people didn't fully understand the subtext that was going on between the two, they didn't get the deep meanings of the psychological scars that they held, and how it affected their actions. All some focused on is that it was a love story of two people who were incredibly flawed but were meant to be together, but in TT 7 Years they're not given the same screen time to be together, so everyone feels cheated and frustrated when Tharn goes all of a sudden to; Type is cheating on me. When really there's no clues or evidence for you to be thinking this way. 

 Now the reason why this is insulting and upsetting is because when it's time to look at why they're breaking up after everything, the only reason you can say they're breaking up is because Tharn thinks Type would cheat so willingly without listening to an explanation... Really? So you're telling me that the disagreement about marriage, the conversation they've been building up about it, is not even going to be the reason for why they break up, the whole crux of the show since episode 1 -4. This has been built up this marriage dilemma, and we know that Type is finally now ready to get married and give everything to Tharn since he's realised he can't function without him, you're telling us that now that he's prepared for all that, that marriage disagreement theme isn't even the reason for why we get our most significant conflict, but Fiat is who's going to be a problem. 

The marriage disagreement is pushed on the down low, and when we're finally needing it to be the reason for why these two need to separate since that's what you've been hinting at above all things, it wouldn't make any sense to the audience why you've been building this up for so long. The two reasons for why TT was always going to break up since episode 1 with foreshadowings, subtext and hints is Fiat being a villain and coming to the storyline to make Tharn think Type is cheating and because of the marriage disagreement, Tharn is going through regression of his mindset to season 1. But we didn't get to see it. We didn't get to see Tharn show emotions struggling about thinking Type could be unfaithful or that he's really struggling with some psychological breakdown about fear of being left again. 

Instead, Tharn shows up out of nowhere, wants to propose to Type and sees Fiat do something to Type and thinks Type would be unfaithful. It's ridiculous to me from what I'm seeing in the trailer that he just doesn't hear Type out. And the second thing that's even more annoying about it is that it's Type who says they should separate. It makes no sense because we know from season 1 that it's a big thing for Type to say let's take a break or break up. He knows he shouldn't say that to Tharn. They made a promise to each other. It shouldn't have been Type who suggests again the break up it should have been Tharn. The emphasis of the relationship ending should have been Tharn saying I'm giving up on us. I don't feel like we're meant to be together anymore, not only is this painfully ironic because he's the one who's spent the whole season trying so hard to prevent their relationship from ending but we've just seen Type come to the realisation he can't be without Tharn so it'll hurt even more because his regression although irrational is understandable. So again the writing is messed up, and the storyline is cheap because you didn't even remember the immense impact of what breaking up means to TT and the huge meaning and clues in season 1. The audience feels cheated; it feels cheap like as if the story we've just watched was for no reason. 

The problem with subtext

Now I love TharnType with my whole heart. I've been defending and still believe this is written at times amazingly, but the cheating thing doesn't sit well with me when it comes to directors choices and writing. I think we've had three episodes dealing with TT being away from each other in these two to three episodes Mame should have been putting little doubts in Tharns mind building up, so we get the final breakdown of it. We should have seen him see clues or hints that doesn't sit well with him, for example, Fiat liking all of Type's post, seeing a message on Type's phone, hearing someone mention they saw Type with Fiat etc. He questions himself. He shakes his head, but it still lingers. We should have seen Fiat bump into him alone, (since he's manipulative and meant to be a better villain) when he was around and mention something about Type that piques his interest he pushes that down with worry. Then he runs to Type, and he says something like you're never going to leave me, are you?

For foreshadowing purposes. What this does, is that it doesn't blindside the audience into thinking one kiss or interaction would make him immediately regress and think his boyfriend of  7 years would cheat on him. What this does, is that it portrays his mental breakdown and regression as he keeps seeing hints or clues that make him regress back to his season 1 self with Lhong and Tar and we see just as we watched Type break down with the boss, his own decline. In fact other than the marriage proposal, the thing we should have seen him struggle with is doubt after doubt despite fighting it that he's not good enough to keep Types attention. Not that Type would hurt him on purpose, but he's not perfect for Type. 

This way, the conflict is more painful and more understandable when he shouts and accuses Type who is oblivious that he's been having doubts and that they should separate for a while. It should be Tharn that's saying let's end this irrationally. It should be him breaking down and regressing into his petty, stubborn self. That would have been hurtful and made more sense. He has many scars and trauma with people leaving him. It would have been nice that these three episodes when he was away, and Type didn't know he became vulnerable again into that mindset, it would have mirrored Types on regression into his season 1 mindset because of his boss. The two of them would be broken, need to separate for a bit, and we know and understand why and then fix their issues, miss each other, and return strong and confident in love. 

All we're getting is Tharn seeing clues immediately he arrives and making up some story in his head which makes no sense because Type may not be fully always romantic and wanting to marry but Type lets him know he needs him and isn't going anywhere. That being said, we don't know the whole situation, and it could be better explained in subtext next episode, but I am disappointed at how the Fiat villainy turned out. 

The problem with Leo and Fiat

After all the build-up, we should have had in episode 6 in my opinion as Fiat cried, the truth about him and Leo; a flashback to show why he's suffering and making the choices he's making. That way the audience wouldn't be so pulled away from him even in his despicable acts we'd still understand he's broken and thinking he has no other way but this.

Instead, we've gotten the same narrative repeated, and Leo says the same stuff, does the same stuff and Fiat and Leo speak about their feelings in riddles with each other.  Fiat makes no sense when he cries and cries over Leo and rejects his pleas to come to him when all we see is Leo in a sad, positive light as the only person who's genuinely suffering from this unrequited love when it isn't so; it's his undoing for judging Fiat for sleeping around. Fiat sleeps around because that's all people ask of him. He says it to Type that he tried the dating thing but all people wanted from him was his body, and we even see it actually in episode 3 on his date with that randomer why he sleeps around, it's because Leo isn't there or he feels he can't have Leo.

 So yes, you can slut-shame him for constantly wanting love and affection, looking for the right person for him to avoid Leo's rejections that he isn't that person. But he's just looking for a long-lasting relationship with someone who can make him feel better than Leo. Because Leo has adamantly been friend-zoning Fiat even before he started to sleep around, so that's why he doesn't believe in anything Leo says now because he's had to deal with this rejection for so long, I'm upset because Mame should have shown us on the surface not on subtext by now Fiats plight and his mindset.

 Because if I didn't know what was happening in subtext and I just thought Fiat was manipulative and evil and selfish then yeah I'd also be angry that Leo and Fiat keep going round and round in circles with 80% of the screen time. A lot of the reasons why Tharn and Type the show is being so negatively viewed is because of lack of energy from the director in fully helping us see the clues that Mame has left in the show. Because she's not a bad writer she structures plots and she has a bigger picture of why certain things happen but if they're not appropriately shown to the audience then yeah the show will flop and be seen in a negative light. 

So yes I feel by episode 6 we should have had Fiats backstory when he was breaking down crying over Leo the first time when he said something like "all I do is for you. I need to do this for you." Then watching his fight with Leo won't just hurt but it'll make more sense and when you see both of them crying it'd hurt just the same. Leo is an idiot, but I get his own mindset about the sleeping around because he doesn't want to be a fling to Fiat so he'll never confess. But he's just as bad as Fiat. And I wish people understood that. 

The problem with character development

Tharn needed more screen time even if he's not with Type. Him being seen as this perfect boyfriend every single episode only being irrational when it comes to the marriage disagreement should not have been this way. We should have been building up to his spiralling down his regression, his flaws that way when he and Type break up we really have understood why everything fell apart. The issue that I loved about this show at first is that everything is in subtext. Every clue to the plot, the character dynamics and the character mindsets; all of it is hidden in subtext and not fully fleshed out. This worked well in TT season 1 because the other plotlines joined together to form a narrative that was building up and leading us to the plot twist that Lhong was evil all along. But here it feels like every scene on the surface is a waste of screen time and writing when really the clues are just hidden. It's fun to analyse subtext, but when your storyline on the surface is filled with repetition and is going nowhere. The audience would feel cheated and unsure about what your message is. That's how I think many people are feeling seeing Tharn conclude with one clue or one day that Type cheated on him. It feels ridiculous and cheap as plotline because the build-up wasn't there.

So yeh I love TharnType, but I also am getting your frustrations with the plot. I'm also disappointed at some choices made in the show. Could it be better, yes? Is it the worst? No far from it!! But is it TT season 1? No. And so yeah we have another sequel that isn't the perfect follow up. I still think if you watch this show with season 1 together like a binge-watch, it'll be easier to see the subtext and understand the characters' actions. The way the story is being told would make more sense. And it'd be a great show still. Yeah, that's all I have to say. This is really my analysis for this week's episode. I'll just keep repeating the same things over and over again if I write another essay about the subtext. If you want to understand more about the show, you can check my previous analysis. 

[meandmyechoes]

Strangely I don’t go ups and downs watching Rex back on screen. I guess it’s the inevitability of it. But I look at him and immediately saw a person with so much more stories and potential. I am incredibly biased at this point but Rex in his one-episode screentime is so much more interesting than the Batchers we’ve spent over a month with??

Just from this episode/series, we know what Rex’s past, present, future is. We learned that he’s a first-generation clone, which means he has braved through countless battles, and “don’t want to bury any more of our brothers”, indicating his capability as a soldier and of his burden. We know he’s working with the Martez sisters and he will keep fighting for the Republic, like he always does. He will go look for others “out there”. (hmmm who’s he meeting up with?)

And what do we know of the Batchers? That they are a bunch of enhanced clones who seldom use their “gifts”? “Gifts” that never seem to have an emotional impact to their character? That they still haven’t figure out what to do in the new era? But are sort of just, buying time because now they have a child to care for? 

To be clear, I’m being harsh on them. But these are also the same questions I expect to be answered within the season. But it’s just progressing SO slowly. And I know, I’ve been spoiled by one-season animes bit recently and for a multi-season American show’s first installment, this is probably routine stuff. But even if I don’t look at TCW, who had the leeway of a rotating cast, Rebels didn’t give me the same sluggishness as I remembered. The also have six people in the core cast and limited locations. (Heck, surely TBB has a higher budget). The middle episodes would focus on a one or two member to develop. The rotating attention then keeps putting out something new other than mesmerizing scenery every week.

The Bad Batch requires a lot of patience. Rightly more than decent if a canon-pleaser like myself is feeling worn out. Next week is the mid-season mark. Remember when the fandom went crazy because we couldn’t imagine how the second half could blow our minds?

[plaidbooks]

Dating Pains

A/N: So! I was looking through some old files and found this Sonny Carisi x reader story I wrote in September that I had completely forgotten about! After reading through it, I figured “this is actually pretty good, I can post that” so here’s part one of four(?).

Tags: mentions of rape, mentions of murder, attempted drugging

Words: 3026

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

You puckered your lips, painting them with the bright red lipstick that you loved. You smacked your lips a couple times, smiling at your own reflection. You were in comfortable jeans that hugged your ass perfectly, and a loose shirt, the sleeves draped around your upper arms rather than your shoulders, bright red and orange flowers on the black material. Your makeup was simple, neutral, except for the lipstick—but you couldn’t help yourself, you loved the color.

It was a first date, and you didn’t want to over-do it by over-dressing. Besides, it was a first date with this guy, and you were running out of cute, clean clothes. But it was your third “first date” in two weeks; your friends had set up a Tinder account for you and had been forcing you to go out on these dates. At first, you were reluctant, unwilling to stoop so low as to use an app to find love. But, after about a month of trying it the “old fashioned way,”—you at bars and clubs, striking out over and over again—you gave in to their insistence. Though, most of the guys on Tinder only wanted hookups, and you wanted something, well, more. You were looking for love, as cliché as that was, and that was something your friends loved to tease you about.

“You can wait around and find love whenever, but why pass up a chance to get laid?” one of your friends asked. You had blushed and tried to fumble through an excuse about why you didn’t want a hookup, why you wanted a real relationship. It wasn’t like you were necessarily against having a one-night stand, but it just wasn’t what you were looking for.

It took weeks and a lot of weeding through shitty profiles and messages until you found at least someone that seemed interesting. Your first date was alright; he seemed nice, polite but there just wasn’t a connection there. You both agreed that there shouldn’t be a second date. The second man was a real estate agent. He was once divorced, from his high school sweetheart, lived on Staten Island, had finished paying off his college debt, and was debating going back for a BS in Computer Science since that’s where the real money was. You knew all about his family life, too, because never once did he stop talking about himself. When he asked for a second date, you politely declined. Then again, and again, until you finally had to block him. If you didn’t already have this third “first date” set up, you would’ve given up on Tinder entirely.

Looking yourself over once more, you headed out the door and towards the bar that you were meeting the man at, nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You had made sure you took screenshots of the man’s profile and messages, sent a picture of his profile picture to your friends, and told them where you were going. You were positive that serial killers didn’t use Tinder, but it was always better to be safe.

You made it to the bar and scanned the faces in the cramped space. Your date, Jerry, had said that he would be wearing a navy-blue polo shirt and black slacks, not that the dim lighting in the bar would help you tell the difference between the two colors. Your eyes did a full scan, not seeing anyone that looked familiar; maybe he was running late? Sure enough, you felt your phone vibrate, a message from Jerry saying that he was running behind and would be there in 5 minutes. Shrugging to yourself, you made your way to the bar, ordering a sprite and finding an open table. Being late wasn’t a deal-breaker for you, and at least he had messaged you.

You let your eyes wander through the crowd, people watching, and, if you were being honest with yourself, looking for anyone that looked attractive and hopefully alone…just in case this Jerry-guy didn’t work out. There were a couple of cute guys in the bar, but all of them seemed to be with someone, whether friends or with a girlfriend. Your eyes did settle on one man, though; he was tall, even when sitting, his hair carefully slicked back. In the dim bar lighting, it was impossible to tell if his hair was grey, blonde, or a light brown. He was in a blue, button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black striped tie, and a suit jacket was on the back of his chair. He had a beer in his hand, his long fingers wrapped around the dark bottle, with his head thrown back in laughter at something that one of the two women he was with said. One of the women was older, with long brown hair, who exuded command, even though she was also chuckling. The other woman was younger, closer to your age, with blonde hair that was tied back, beer in her hand and obviously the one cracking the jokes.

You looked away as you saw someone approaching your table out of the corner of your eye, smiling as you saw that it was Jerry—at least he matched his profile picture. You stood, giving him a polite hug, before you both sat. A waitress came up and took Jerry’s order, in which he also insisted you got a drink, too, to help loosen you both up. Not wanting to appear rude, you agreed; one drink wouldn’t make you drunk.

It took you about 5 minutes to realize that Jerry was the same, if not worse, than your last date was. He was incredibly full of himself, talking about how women just “didn’t get him” and how he was only on Tinder because he was “too busy” to actually go out and meet people. You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom, planning to have a friend come save you, when he got up himself to go. While he was gone, you seriously contemplated leaving, but you couldn’t—you weren’t that mean. But you did instantly forget about texting a friend for help. Instead, your eyes travelled back over to the cute man with the slicked-back hair. You were shocked when you saw his bright blue eyes watching you. He quickly turned away, as did you, your cheeks flushing hot. You were too afraid to look back over, your face still feeling warm…warmer than a normal blush. You were looking hard at the table in front of you when you noticed that it was moving. Confused, you put your hand out to rest on it; it definitely wasn’t moving, but now the room looked like it was moving, shifting, and you felt like your skin was on fire now.

You stood suddenly, and almost went right back down. There was no way you were drunk, so what the hell was happening? You took a couple of stuttering steps before you felt hands on you, an arm wrapping around your waist, a hand on your shoulder, helping you up.

“You okay, honey?” Jerry asked, his fake, honey-covered voice concerned.

Your mouth moved, but you couldn’t form words. It was becoming hard to keep your eyes open, and you felt sweat forming on your forehead. You vaguely noticed him guiding you towards the door, out of the bar. Suddenly, a shadow was looming over you. You looked up, squinting at the figure above you. All you saw was slicked-back hair, and bright blue eyes, full of concern and a quiet rage.

“Sorry, man. My girlfriend just had a few too many,” Jerry was saying, trying to laugh it off. Something clicked in your sluggish brain. This is wrong, you thought, but your body wasn’t reacting to your mind. Without knowing what you were doing, you reached towards the tall, lanky man in front of you, who was now speaking harshly to Jerry. But you couldn’t understand the words. Your mind was fading fast, darkness coming to meet you.

You gathered all the strength you had left, and whispered into the loud, over-packed bar, “help me,” before the darkness overtook you.

 **********************

You woke up in a soft bed, sheets pulled up to your chest, the soft whirring of machinery around you. You squinted against the harsh light as you opened your eyes, the fluorescent lights blinding you slightly. You groaned and pushed yourself up, your head pounding and your throat dry. You froze; you were obviously in the hospital, but you had no memory of getting there, or why you were there in the first place. You took mental stock of your body; besides a splitting headache, you felt fine. So why were you there?

“Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” a soft voice asked. You looked over and saw a nurse coming into your room, clipboard in hand. She didn’t wait for you to answer as she started playing with the machinery you were hooked up to.

“I-I’m alright,” you rasped, throat completely dry. She wordlessly poured you a glass of water on your side table and handed it to you. You gratefully took a sip, wetting your throat. “Head hurts, though.”

The nurse nodded as she took the glass back. “That’s normal.”

You cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Normal for what? Why am I here?”

The nurse seemed surprised for a moment before she realized. “Oh, of course you don’t remember. You were drugged last night; roofied.” Your heart sunk. You were roofied? How? You never left your drink unattended; how did someone sneak it in? And does that mean…? The nurse had continued talking, but you tuned out, mind and heart racing. She concluded with a little cup of pills for you to take, and now your heart really sunk. You knew that doctors gave women the morning after pill, as well as anti-STD pills after being assaulted. So, that must have happened to you, too, right? And you remembered none of it. Was it better that way?

“Are you alright, Ms. [Y/L/N]?” the nurse asked, looking at how you regarded the cup of pills. “It’s just eletriptan…for your headache?”

“Just—just headache pills?” you asked. The nurse smiled, nodding.

“Yes, just headache pills.” As she was heading out the door, she added, “oh! There were two SVU detectives here to see you. Can I let them in?”

Confused as to why two detectives wanted to talk to you, you nodded absentmindedly, taking the pills and downing them with a gulp of water. You had only a moment to think about it—SVU? Were you a Special Victim, even if you weren’t assaulted?—before they entered. The first detective that came in looked vaguely familiar; a young woman with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. The second detective, though, made you pause. You had definitely seen him before, but you couldn’t place him. Tall, lanky, slicked-back, dirty blonde hair, and bright blue eyes that pierced into yours with some sort of…guilt? Pity? It was hard to tell what was there.

“Have we met before?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. The expression in the man’s face intensified for the briefest moment before it was replaced with a cool professionalism.

“Uh, kinda,” the woman replied. “I’m Detective Rollins, and this is Detective Carisi. We met at the bar last night.” You thought about this, trying to will your still-aching mind to remember the events from the past night, but there was nothing there.

“Do you happen to remember anything from last night?” Carisi asked. “I mean, if you remember meeting us, maybe you remember more?”

You tried to go back through what you did remember from yesterday; getting lunch with friends, getting dressed for a date, putting on your favorite lipstick, then…nothing. Flashes of music and lights from the bar, but nothing more.

“I…don’t really remember much…. Do—do you know what happened to me? I—I remember leaving my house to meet a date, but then it’s all fuzzy—” you scrunched your eyes closed, trying to force your mind to work correctly.

“Hey, don’t hurt yourself. It’s normal to not remember after being roofied,” Rollins explained. “It may come back to you in the next couple days, and it may not. Do you remember who you were going on a date with?”

You sat for a moment before you remembered. “Oh! Where’s my phone? It was some dude on Tinder—I saved screenshots of his profile.” You found your purse on the side table next to you and dug until you found your phone. You ignored the texts and missed calls from your friends, probably freaking out since you haven’t contacted them yet, and pulled up the pictures. “I went on a date with Jerry last night,” you said, showing the pictures to the detectives.

“This is perfect, definitely enough for a warrant,” Carisi replied, smirking and giving you an impressed glance. You felt the blush crossing your cheeks and fidgeted uncomfortably. “Can you text me those pictures?”

You agreed and he gave you his number. You tried to ignore the fact that you now had his personal cell phone number as you sent the photos to him, your stomach flip-flopping.

“Is it alright if we talk to you in a couple days? See if you remember anything?” Rollins asked, already making her way to the door.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you said, watching them leave. Carisi gave you a small smile before he made it to the door. “Wait!” you called out, making him stop. Carisi stood in the doorway, brow furrowed as he looked at you. “Can you please tell me what the hell happened last night? Even if you only found me somewhere—I just, I need to know something. Was I…was I attacked--?”

Carisi’s eyes filled with a sadness; he was obviously upset that you couldn’t remember anything. He turned to look out the door. “You go on to Barba’s, get the warrant. I’ll meet up with you,” he said to his partner before coming back into the room. He pulled over the visitor chair and sat down next to your bed.

“I’ll tell you all I know; I was at the bar with my Lieutenant and Rollins after work when I looked over and saw you sitting there with Jerry. Now, Jerry looked like a suspect from a case I was working a couple months back. So, I was keeping an eye on ya, just in case.” He paused for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed that he admitted watching you, but all you were feeling right now was appreciation that someone had your back. Thank god he was there, had noticed something. “When you stood up, I knew something was wrong; you were swaying and looking like you were about to pass out. I told my Lieu, and we were coming over to make sure you were alright when Jerry came back. He was trying to tell us you were drunk, and he was going take you home. Right then, you collapsed, asking for help. My Lieu arrested Jerry right there, and Rollins and I brought ya here. But we couldn’t hold him, and we couldn’t prove he was the one to drug you. But, with your screenshots, hopefully we can check his place, find roofies in his possession.”

You sat there, dumbfounded with how incredibly lucky you had been that three NYPD detectives were there when you were drugged, and how bad it could’ve ended for you if they weren’t.

“Thank you, so much, Detective Carisi,” you managed, trying to think of something else to say.

“Please, call me Sonny,” he replied, smiling. You felt yourself melting at that smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, though, concern was still deep in his expression. Then, a thought struck you.

“That case you were working on a month ago, that Jerry matched the description for. What did he do?”

Sonny suddenly seemed uncomfortable, unwilling to talk, considering how lengthy of a description he just gave you from the previous night. That wasn’t a good sign.

“We, uh, we were investigatin’ a man who would roofie a woman, then rape her and leave her…dead body in her own bed. The only connection he had to the victims were that they used Tinder. But he would delete his account before we could find it. All we had was security footage and some eyewitness accounts of the man.”

Your heart started beating faster at the words “dead body.” If Jerry was indeed this man, then you almost died last night. You didn’t quite know how to process that.

You were staring at the bright white of your bedsheets when you heard Sonny ask, “[Y/N], are you alright?” He dipped his head down, trying to get in your line of sight. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up to him.

“I—yeah, I just…I almost died?” your throat constricted on the last word. You felt hot tears in your eyes, and you blinked fast, trying to not let them fall. You really didn’t want to cry in front of this man, and not just because he was cute; you didn’t want to have a full breakdown in front of someone you didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now. ‘Sides, we don’t know for sure if Jerry’s our guy, or just some predator. Either way, we’ll get him, I promise you.” Sonny gave you another heart melting smile, before he stood up. “You have my number if ya need to talk, okay? Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text.”

You smiled as he left, shutting the door softly behind him. You already wanted to text him, but to ask him out to coffee, not to help you through your shock. But you also didn’t think that that was very appropriate, asking an SVU detective out after he saved you from being assaulted. Besides, your mind was reeling from the past 24 hours. First thing’s first, better text all your friends and let them know you were alive and unharmed. And then you were definitely deleting Tinder.

[thetypedwriter]

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that all of my in-depth reviews contain spoilers. 

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review by Angeline Boulley 

Well, this book review came quicker than I thought it would (which after weeks since my last published review for an actual novel that may sound absurd, but I promise it isn’t). 

There’s a lot of great things about this book and a lot of really important representation, but I also found it to be an incredible slog to trudge through. 

Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley is the story of a girl by the name of Daunis Fontaine who finds herself stuck between two worlds: her Fontaine side, also known as her zhaaganaash or white side, and her Native side, or known as her Anishinaabe side, or even more specifically, Ojibwe side. 

The debut novel from Boulley mainly describes Daunis’ struggle between these two worlds, the important people in them, and the war within herself to follow her heart, her gut, and her mind. 

In the background of this identity struggle, or perhaps largely influenced by it, Daunis finds herself inexplicably tangled up in a secret federal investigation into a specific type of meth being produced in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula that affects people not only in her community, but other Native communities as well. 

Suddenly finding herself becoming a spy, Daunis starts to learn and keep secrets, those in regards to the investigation as well as those regarding her feelings for fellow investigator-Jamie Johnson-an undercover narcotics cop posing as the cute new highschooler in town. 

As Daunis deals with her own internal struggles, her community, her relationships, and her burgeoning romance, her past, future, and present all collide and come to a head in this new novel. 

Now. Reading this summary, you might be thinking: this book sounds awesome! Love? Undercover cops? Drugs? Mystery? It has everything. 

And you’d be right. 

When I first read the jacket cover for this novel I knew it was a book I was inevitably going to read. Everything from the gorgeous cover art, to the intriguing summary, to the representation of Native Americans, I was completely drawn in. 

Too bad I didn’t like it very much. 

I will start off by saying that I think this book is incredible in its realistic depiction of the Ojibwe experience and I know how important it is to increase representation of all kinds of people and backgrounds in literature, especially YA literature. 

Boulley did an absolutely stunning job of relaying the nitty-gritty of the Ojibwe community-the elders, the geography, the food, the stigma, the finances, the politics, the reputation, the racism, the prejudice, the community, the love, the healing, and so much more. 

I always am in awe when authors utilize the golden rule of write what you know. Per the back jacket of the novel, Boulley herself states that she is an enrolled member of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians and an active storyteller of the Ojibwe community. 

This is beyond incredible. Having an accurate and active portrayal of people writing and drawing from their own experiences are powerful and significant. I could taste, feel, and see how clear and how real Boulley made the novel. 

I questioned a lot of things during this read, but the Ojibwe community in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was not one of them. From vocabulary to the extreme details depicting Sugar Island to the care and craft when talking about specific ceremonies like funerals, Boulley did an outstanding job of bringing in what she knows from her own experience and that of her community in order to breathe life into these pages. 

This was by far the best part of the novel for me. 

On the back jacket, Boulley also states that she was a former Director of the Office of Indian Education at the U.S. Department of Education. While I did not know this until a few minutes ago when I sat down to write this review, I am in no way surprised. 

The book was extremely intelligent. I could viscerally tell that Boulley knows her stuff and does her research. Everything from biology and chemistry processes and vocabulary, to mushroom identification, to legal matters like having an underage informant, politics regarding becoming a member of the Ojibwe Tribe, and due process of the law regarding FBI cases was very clear cut, very detailed, and obviously very accurate. 

I appreciated how much time and effort was put into this, even if I did find a lot of it bone dry and dull, I still could appreciate the time, effort, and knowledge to make sure that everything in the novel was precise and correct. 

That being said, it also made the book come across almost like an informational pamphlet at times, or like I was reading non-fiction. I understand being accurate, and I applaud her for that, but I don’t need or want five pages of in-book description of how one of these processes work. Just give me the bare-bones outline and I will go from there and look it up more if I so desire. 

This brings me to my first critique of this book and a large reason it was so tedious to get through: it was mind-numbingly long. 

Now. I just read a 2,000 page fanfiction not that long ago. That is long, you could argue, and you would be right. But, none of All of the Young Dudes was a bore to get through (sad, sure, but not boring), whereas whole sections of Firekeeper’s Daughter were too dragged out and too explicitly explained that I inevitably got bored and nodded off. 

The pace was too slow and too bogged down with unimportant details, like Daunis’ daily visits to the elders or her overthinking every single thing, or her making lists of all the things she doesn’t know (these are long lists). 

She often spends whole pages grieving about her Uncle David as well as her best friend Lily, and while understandable and realistic in real life, it was not fun nor productive to read about over and over and over again. 

Take for example, the very beginning of the book. It takes over 100 pages for Daunis to realize the new-boy-next-door isn’t who he says he is and that he’s actually an undercover cop here to investigate a new strain of meth and asks for her help. 

Over 100 pages of set up. 

It was so goddamn boring. 

It got better once she became involved with the investigation, but then so did the whining, the overthinking, and the reflecting. The first 100 pages could have been condensed to 20. No joke, I would have gotten the same exposition out of that I did. 

In addition, despite things taking so long or not serving a purpose, I was often confused about what was happening, which is an overall unpleasant experience. Boulley simultaneously describes everything and yet nothing at the same time.

 The reason for this discrepancy is because she often used native language to describe feelings, events, people, etc and while some of the words I learned over time, often the words left me confused or bewildered. 

I appreciate the use of native language, but it also left me with big gaps while reading or made me struggle to put pieces together as they were happening. 

The pace of the novel overall was incredibly bad. Things either took 12 years or two minutes. The actual plot to show up? 12 Years. Daunis and Jamie to fall in love classic YA style? Two minutes. Daunis to find Uncle David’s notebook? 12 years. The final confrontation of the bad guys? Two minutes. 

With any event, it either felt sluggish or way too quick and mashing these two together in one novel was disorienting and frustrating, not to mention it made me not want to read. 

Additionally, while I generally thought the plot was very interesting, who doesn’t like undercover cop stories? I thought all of the characters were very forgettable or downright shells. 

Daunis was...a textbook female character in my eyes. The way she spouted off knowledge like the periodic table to fall asleep or reciting the scientific method wasn’t cool or new, it was irritating.

To me she wasn’t real. 

She was someone’s idea of a female character who seemed cool, but wasn’t. Nothing about Daunis made me think of her as a great character. If anything, she just seemed like an empty vessel I was reading the book through, like the book was happening to me instead (cough cough Mary Sue). 

Some of you may be upset with this statement, and that’s fine, but other than her love of science, her knowledge of geography, and her ties to the community, nothing about Daunis was a real person. 

She hardly had friends, I don’t recall learning anything she liked or disliked (other than Jamie, hockey, and running) , and she was entirely surmised of the people who had left her and the identity struggle she had been born with. I don’t mean to undermine people who struggle with their identity, I know that’s important, but there is more to people than just that. 

None of the other characters are frankly worth mentioning. 

You might ask, what about Jamie? The shadowy, scarred love interest?

*Shrugs*

He’s fine. Genuinely that’s all I can say about him. We don’t even learn his real name as Jamie Johnson is a fake. All I know is that he’s got curly hair, a scar, and doesn’t know who he is. It’s hard to like a character when the character themselves have no idea of who they are. 

The other characters either die or are in the background to progress the plot along. 

To be fair, it’s a good plot. It’s intriguing, it’s mysterious, and I learned more than I ever thought I would about meth and mushrooms, but it doesn’t make up for the dead-end characters or the pacing issues. 

I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t like it. I guess I can say that I feel indifferent about this book, although the representation of Native Americans bumps it up slightly for me from being dead average. 

The storytelling isn’t spectacular, even if the idea is promising, but if you have been searching for representation like this in YA I can see how this book would be much more impactful and important and I’m happy to have it as a part of the YA collective. 

Recommendation: At the end of the day, this novel is a true smorgasbord. I love the representation, the draws from Boulley’s real life, and the intelligence, but I didn’t see any of the characters as real people, the pacing issues made it hard to gain and keep interest going, and the dialogue often came across to me as someone's warped version of what teenager’s sound like. 

Score: 6/10

[risukadarlin]

[kuro yoshiwara melancholia] vol. 2: tenshou tatsuki - track two

2; a desire for tears

listen along・masterpost

                                                                                       ✿

The rain is quite horrible.

You’re finally here.

This place is rather sluggish, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s just cultural differences.

I’m not exactly pleased about being made to wait for a harlot.

I assume the fact you’ve brought this girl with you means she’s the one we spoke of.

Hm. That’s you, huh?

Then take me to your establishment right away.

                                                                                      ✿

What is this place?

It’s like a cage.

You want me to evaluate this prostitute here?

And what on earth is that?

Why are you wearing a blindfold? 

What bad taste!

Do the staff here really believe that will incite lust in their customers?

How foolish.

I, at least, now want nothing more than to finish our talk and leave immediately.

But… Hmm… I see…

I could indeed say you look quite attractive like this.

Not that I’m surprised; most high-ranking courtesan​ at least look good.

Oh, I apologise.

I’m Tatsuki Tenshou.

I’m a Commander in the Imperial Navy.

You said your name was Nanami, did you not?

Hm.

But I didn’t come all the way to Kirarou to ask that.

I’ll be direct.

Is it true you have mermaid blood?

So you deflect my question?

But there’s no need to hide it.

For your own sake.

Yes, that’s right.

If it is indeed true, I plan to pay off the rest of your debts immediately.

How does that sound?

I’m the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

You have no objections, of course? 

But I do hope you don’t misunderstand.

I’m not interested in you at all.

Not your face.

Not your body.

Not even that infamous unforgettably beautiful voice of yours.

All of those things you use to seduce and deceive customers have not even a drop of value for me.

I don’t have such dirty hobbies as taking harlots as concubines or wives.

I only want one thing.

The power of immortality hidden in your tears.

I have... personal reasons.

I need it immediately, no matter what.

If you really do have such a power, of course.

Are you really a mermaid?

Or is that a lie to make the game more fun?

Can you tell me?

Unfortunately, I don’t have much time.

If you continue to feign ignorance…

I may have to change my methods.

Of course, I would usually never talk to a person like you.

I’m making a special exception.

Women like you enjoy being humiliated like this, no?

Then it can’t be helped.

I’ll do as you wish.

Cry for me in return.

I’m resigning myself to the disgrace of being with you.

As reluctant as I am, I have to do this to achieve my goal.

That’s why I came to Kirarou.

As a player in this foul Kuroyoshiwara Game.

Now, come closer to me.

This is a trade.

There’s no need to hold back.

You want me to stop?

You say such odd things.

Are you saying you find my courting unpleasant?

Then there’s nothing for it.

The fastest way to verify these rumours is to make you cry.

Then maybe I should just threaten you like this.

It’ll be much easier to cry if you’re terrified.

Ah, just so you know, any sudden movements and you’ll get hurt.

You’ll be lucky if you just get hurt.

You look scared.

Then hurry up and cry like I told you!

I haven’t got time for this!

Not a single tear.

Not a word either.

You have more guts than I assumed.

You merely look weak.

Just as I thought.

Women in places like this always end up having grit.

You’re just like them.

I expected as much of someone who leads men around by the nose for a living.

In other words, I need a better plan if I want your tears.

I’ll leave it here for tonight.

Even if I was just threatening you, I don’t want to be seen waving a blade around.

I might lose my place in the game if I’m seen hurting you.

But I will make you cry soon.

Those odd tears of immortality.

I’ll tell you this now:

Don’t misunderstand me.

I won’t hurt you as long as you work with me.

The higher you decide, the larger your reward will be.

Listen to the rain and think hard tonight.

Then.

Goodbye.

That’s right.

I have no time.

                                                                                      ✿

Why is she going to the bathhouse at such a time as this?

That woman…

Huh? That’s…

Speak of the devil, as they say.

Oi, stop.

It won’t take long.

Oi, Nanami.

What great timing.

I just arrived at Kirarou now.

To talk to you, of course.

I came all this way and you weren’t even there.

You almost greatly wasted my time.

There’s no need to be so clearly on guard.

Your attitude really is something.

Did you forget what I said already?

So, are you going to work with me?

Tell me.

Silence, again.

Well, I thought that might be the case.

Then…

I’ll give you this.

It’s an invitation.

The papers haven’t stopped talking about it.

There’ll be a ceremony celebrating the launching of a new battleship soon.

A party, one might say.

Finally, Japan has made a ship which won’t lose to that of the Great Powers.

You’re not against celebrating the improvement of your country, are you?

Well, telling an uncultured woman such as you about such things is meaningless.

However, after the ceremony by the harbour, there’ll be a party at a nearby hotel.

Of course, it’s not just any party.

It’s a celebration of this country’s progress.

The prime minister and other elite bureaucrats will be in attendance.

My father will be leading the toast, as a fleet admiral in the Imperial Navy.

You understand what this means, of course?

You really are clueless.

There is no greater honour than leading such a toast.

My father’s honour is connected to the whole Tenshou family’s honour.

There won’t be many prouder days for me.

I’m going out of my way to invite you to witness such a moment.

What a privilege!

I know you’re confused.

It’s simple.

This is my new plan.

To obtain your tears, of course.

If threatening you does not work, then I’ll simply charm you into doing as I wish.

But that doesn’t change that I have no time.

And so, I decided the fastest way would be for you to have fun.

How is that?

It’s not an awful affair, right?

And it follows the rules of the game.

There are 5 other competitors in this game.

I don’t know who they are but I’ll lose everything if they sweep you off your feet before I can.

So I merely have to charm you to the point they don’t stand a chance.

I told you, did I not?

I’ve resolved myself to obtain your tears.

I’ll do anything to achieve my goal.

I’ll bear any pain and use any method I can.

If you attend this party, you’ll understand just how much of an honour it is to be under my care.

Even if what I want is not you, but your tears.

There is only one problem.

Usually, it would be impossible for a harlot to sneak into such a splendid affair.

I assume even you understand this?

But I have a plan.

I am going to introduce you as the person I have promised my future to.

Of course, to my father too.

Oi. Don’t misunderstand.

This is simply a means to an end.

I’d never choose someone such as you as my fiancée.

But introducing you as such will give you the rank you need to attend.

You’d be the fiancée of the eldest son of the Tenshou family.

Nobody would be able to disrespect you.

Do you understand?

I’m willing to go this far to allow you to live a fairy-tale-like moment.

Only I am able to do this. 

Even if the other contenders in this game were my family, they would be unable to.

You’re too surprised to talk?

If you choose me now, I’ll give you even more marvellous experiences.

If you cry now and hand over your tears, I wouldn’t even mind marrying you.

People will eventually accept you as some young woman I found and proposed to.

I don’t long for love.

So I don’t care who my partner is.

As long as I am compensated, of course.

Oh? You have no interest in becoming my wife?

So you don’t mind being swept away by some doubtful stranger?

Or would you like to spend your entire life here?

You really are a foolish woman.

Why don’t you stop this stubbornness?

I don’t know if it’s some technique used by prostitutes but it won’t work on me.

Whatever.

I gave you the invitation.

I’ll come to Kirarou to collect you on Friday evening.

Prepare yourself and wait.

I arranged for some trunks to be carried to your room.

They contain dresses and shoes; try them on as you wish when you return.

Yes, I knew you wouldn’t have an opulent dress to wear to a party.

I chose them all.

They’re all first-class goods, fitting for my fiancée.

I’ll be the one to suffer if you turn up in rags at the greatest moment the Tenshou family has faced so far.

And so I decided.

Make sure you dress so you don’t embarrass me or my father.

I bid you adieu.

My mermaid princess.

[monstersandmaw]

Male ooze (Tokis) x reader (sfw) - Part Two

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I’m putting this up a little early because I felt like it. It’s still been up on Patreon since last Monday. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy some soft morning fluff with non-verbal ooze Tokis.

The person who got the 1k word 'thank you story' for filling out the Patreon feedback form chose Tokis, Part Two, and I know a number of people have been excited about it, so here it is!

Contents: Fluff, teeth, general ooze, Sign Language (unspecified), non-verbal character, morning sweetness, mention of dentistry the previous day... Words: 1389

Part One 

Waking with a heavy, solid weight on your chest, which also continued halfway down your body, was absolutely not a normal occurrence for you, and it took you a solid minute to blink yourself awake enough to work out what was going on. Memories of a sluggish and dazed Tokis, with his mouth all puffy and his hands tremulous and anxious at the dentist the previous day flooded back and you looked down at him as he lay now, fast asleep in your bed. On top of you.

The surprisingly warm ooze of Tokis’ utterly black body lay draped across your torso, completely without form.

During the night he’d lost his usual humanoid outline and had slithered out of the pyjamas you’d lent him as well. Wherever they were, they were nowhere in sight. A shaft of morning sunlight fell across one section of the ooze and you let yourself stare at it for a while; neither liquid nor solid, he was fascinatingly beautiful. You’d never seen Tokis quite like this before, despite having had sleepovers at each other’s houses since you were both pretty small. Sure, he’d slipped here and there, momentarily losing his preferred humanoid outline, but he’d never just… melted into a formless puddle. From what you knew of oozes and slimes like him, it was a sign of trust to exist in their simplest state, and it didn't get more trusting than this.

As you lay there beneath the gentle pressure of his body, you began to take stock of the way he had nudged himself against every contour of your chest and torso, firm and warm, yet malleable like very soft clay. It felt as though he were slowly trying to envelop you, folding and creeping across you like slow-flowing lava. You never wanted to move again, and you certainly didn’t want to wake him, but the temptation to touch him grew too much.

How many years had you ached for this? How many times when you'd gone to the park together and lain sprawled on the grass with your small group of friends had you wished to lay your head in his lap and feel him give softly beneath you, or have him spread his strange body out along yours and just luxuriate in the continuous contact?

As you replayed the way his hands had so vaguely and so tiredly shaped out the words ‘I love you’ the previous night, you let your own fingers sink against his smooth, gentle body and watched them disappear a little, as if he was subconsciously rising up to draw you down into him; like the tide answering the draw of the moon. He was particularly malleable like this, and you scooped up a handful of him as it rolled over your other hip and began to slide down onto the sheet like condensation on the outside of a glass. As ever, he was completely self-contained, the outer layer of his body protecting him from passively losing fluid, and as you cupped the weight of him in your hands, you worked it gently between your fingers and palm, as if it were a small ball of dough. He felt so right against you that it almost hurt.

At the touch, he seemed to stir, and his head began to reappear from the mass of self-contained ooze. He blinked his shiny, onyx eyes at you, and you smiled. “Hey.” Your voice was rough with sleep, and his gaze flickered momentarily to your mouth as you spoke.

Next second, his eyes crinkled a little at the edges into what you recognised as his smile. Your stomach flipped over at the sight of it and you stroked that stray part of him idly with your thumb. It was almost as if he’d stretched his arms across you to hug you.

Watching him reconstitute himself was interesting. He pulled back away from you, shyly withdrawing and elongating his body into its usual, if somewhat small, humanoid figure, and he signed something vaguely, his movements too drowsy for you to pick out clearly.

“Tok, my signing is good, but not that good,” you chuckled. “Give me a chance.”

Oddly enough, the first coherent thing he said to you was, “You really didn’t know I had a mouth until yesterday?”

At that, you laughed, shaking your head. “Nope. And all those gorgeous, pointed teeth too,” you added. “Does it hurt?””

“Feels a bit sore,” he admitted, the viscous ooze of his face shifting a bit around it before he began to open his mouth experimentally. His gaze kept darting up to your face, as though he constantly expected you to reel back from him in disgust. Slowly, those sharks’ teeth of his came into view, arranged in a double row above and below, an endearing little strand of slime still connecting his top and bottom lips in one place, and your heart leapt at the sight of him. Hesitantly, you brought your fingertip to his mouth and traced the edge of one of his teeth.

“You’re extraordinary,” you whispered.

Tokis melted again at that, completely losing his form and forming a large black puddle on the bed beside you. You had to laugh fondly; he’d always been shy, but this was just too adorable.

It took him a while to reform, and this time when he did, he was facing away from you. You ran your fingertips down his newly-formed shoulders, the black ooze gleaming like living glass beneath your touch. He shivered.

Continuing to touch him, you asked, “Tok, when you said you loved me yesterday… how did you mean it? Did you mean just as friends, or…”

He shook his head.

“More?”

Without turning to you, he nodded minutely.

You leaned forwards and hesitated, mere inches from his body. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, and received a second tiny nod, though he didn’t move. Leaving a chaste kiss on his shoulder, you stroked him once more and then you pressed yourself close to his warm body and hugged him.

With you as the big spoon, the two of you lay there for a lot longer, the morning dragging on late and neither of you wanting to break the strange, wonderful new spell that had woven itself between you since the previous day. It took him a while to move at all, but when he did, you felt the enticing ooze of his body sliding up around the fingers of the hand that was softly draped across his waist. He began to stroke and play with your hand, paying attention to your knuckles, apparently fascinated by the bones beneath.  At that, you nuzzled the back of his neck and he melted a little bit, his touch slipping off your hand altogether as his hand disappeared back inside him.

“I love that I can make you do that,” you chuckled against his neck, and he vanished into his amorphous lump again, refusing to come out, no matter how much you scooped him up and cuddled him.

Eventually you lay back and sighed happily, with one arm still outstretched on his pillow. “You want some breakfast?” you eventually asked. He didn’t need to eat, but he did enjoy tea. He didn’t drink it through his mouth, but rather usually trailed one finger in it and absorbed it that way. You wondered if, now that you knew of his mouth, he’d actually drink it.

He shuffled, his familiar form rearing up out of the shapeless ooze beside you and immediately began to sign something to you. You missed the beginning, but caught the gist of the sentence. “And thank you for letting me sleep here in your bed too,” he added after expressing his bashful gratitude at your taking care of him the previous day.

“If you’d like, you’re welcome to sleep here any time, Tok,” you smile.

As he rolled over to face you properly, he pulled his slime back off his teeth and gave you the widest and most playful grin you could ever have imagined from him. It was glorious, all fangs and dripping ooze and your heart swooped in your chest at the sight of it.

“Take that as a yes,” you chuckled, and he surged forwards and swamped you in a huge hug, still grinning.

—

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