#it's the first time i've felt too old for that kind of drama

[svtellify]

does anyone else get that sinking feeling when a friend gets really into something you absolutely adore/have been hyperfixating on, but when you mentioned it, they ignored it (and kinda just ignore you unless and will talk over you to talk to their actual friends to the point where you're not even sure if y'all are friends or just acquaintances) and now they're really liking it and you just. want to gatekeep it bc that interest was (and is!) important to you...

or am i just being childish lol

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 31

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7853

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: The Emperor of the Sea sets sail from Karai Bari Island. Can he make it to the banquet in two days? More importantly, can Shanks regain his confidence, and do what needs to be done to save the woman that both of his lovers love?

Let the games begin! 🏹

Author's Note: Thank you for the wait! This month has been extra, but I also spent a ton of time and research writing this one since the game is getting started. I hope you enjoy it! I have soo many plans 🥰😈

There's a yucky Uncle Cedrick scene, but from now on we'll just have to expect that. I will continue to bracket sections if heavier situations come up, but at this point, I hope that Uncle Cuntdick will be his own warning 😬 We are meeting Dr. Vorsan this chapter, and I've bracketed the scene with these symbols ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ so as not to jump scare everyone!

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to the end of the Wano arc, and potentially current arc minor details.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Uncle Cedrick might just be his own warning, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

“Go away, old man,” groaned a frighteningly hungover pirate captain, who was still face down on the floor of his quarters. Sheets with too many smells had already been stripped from his bed, but the night had held too much liquor for him to replace them on his own, so he’d slept on the rug.

“I’d love to,” Benn snorted, rolling Shanks onto his back. “Is my captain done drownin’ his sorrows?”

“Dunno what you mean.” 

He cringed while he pushed himself up to lean against the wall, and couldn’t meet his first mate’s eyes. 

“You’re too kind hearted for this, captain,” the older man sighed. “Why don’t you find a sweet, little barmaid to dote on like a respectable pirate, eh? What about–”

“I don’t want bunnies. I want…” Shanks growled, but his anger fizzled out at the thought of predators and prey.

“Nah. The Great, Red Haired Shanks just wants ungrateful brats that leave him crying on the floor a few times a year.”

The Great, Red Haired Shanks pulled himself to his feet, only to stumble over to an uncorked bottle in the corner, taking a grateful swig when he found it full. 

“Just had too much fun is all,” he laughed, the bitter taste drowning out the sweetness of the wine.

“Well, next time that creepy asshole gives my captain too much fun, I’m gonna make sure it’s him that’s crying, ya hear me?”

“Sure, old man,” Shanks snorted, letting his first mate guide him to the shower, still downing that wine to fight off images of wicked, beautiful eyes. He wondered how long it would take this time for the cruel hint of gold to leave his mind. 

The Great, Red Haired Shanks didn’t need bunnies or hawks. He just needed the sea, his crew, and another fucking bottle. 

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“It’s been some time since our last session. How have you been feeling, Y/N?”

Dr. Vorsan’s pale eyes always felt sticky. Puddles of too much glue, waiting to capture anything you let slip from your shaky fingers, your trembling lips. 

Breathe.

“I’m feeling well, Doctor,” you lied, keeping your voice soft. “I’m sure you've heard about my recent behavior… I believe the experience has offered me some much needed clarity.”

Everything about this man was pale and watery, and you reminded yourself not to frown at his beige suit. It would have seemed like the doctor wanted to fade into the background, if every boring detail about him hadn’t been so exquisitely tailored.

“That’s good to hear,” he praised, though the emptiness in his voice had you fighting to stay present. “Why don’t you tell me about it. You’re going through a lot of transitions, Y/N. Major life changes, even positive ones, can cause a lot of strain. Have you been feeling strained, Y/N?”

“Mmssorry,” you slurred, fighting your lips that had already frozen, not even five minutes in. 

“You stated that your time with the Cross Guild brought you clarity,” Dr. Vorsan noted. Those sticky eyes seemed to warm while your body left your control, until you couldn’t meet them anymore, couldn’t look higher than his elbows. “By putting yourself in such a dangerous–”

“I wasn’t–” 

You were heavy and loose now, your whispered denial draining the last of your energy. 

“You’re in a safe place, Y/N,” he promised while he pulled a shiny, gold pen from his jacket, propping up a notepad on his knee. “Do you know where you are?”

He asked again, voice so soft, until you nodded in agreement. 

“Good, Y/N. Just take some deep breaths, and we can stop whenever you need to. We’ll help you get clarity, so you can stay well. Do you want to stay well, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, Doctor.”

“Wonderful,” he purred, scratching a note onto the top of his page, the movement of his manicured hands holding your gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about the clown?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

“With Sylvad’s cowardly level of security, I believe this would be too risky to use, but you should take it, in case the opportunity arises.”

“It’s so small,” Shanks hummed, inspecting Mihawk’s earpiece transponder snail, its tiny eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Maybe if I–”

“Save it,” Crocodile ordered, pushing away his untouched meal before closing the ornate shell container in Shanks’ palm, shutting those little eyes away. “Right now, the safest way to save our girl is for you to marry her. Don’t put that at risk by acting suspicious.”  

Shanks stared at the closed shell before tucking it away, looking up to find his old friend winking at him. 

“Don’t fret, love. We can have a belated bachelor party when you return,” Mihawk teased, combing his fingers through that bright, red hair.

“But Buggy—”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Crocodile sighed, standing to usher the other man out of the suite, “but it’s our best chance. That’s your mission. We’ll be listening, we have the location, and we can reach out to your crew if we need to share something vital. Can you do this?”

The two men stared each other down again, the swordsman’s hand dropping away to give them space. 

“I’ll bring her back,” Shanks swore again, offering Crocodile his hand. The larger man shook it, but the press of time killed their peaceful moment. 

The Emperor made his way into Adam’s room, waiting for Buggy’s permission to speak, but his clown looked pained, and Shanks couldn’t wait.

“What’s wrong, Bugs?”

Buggy’s hands were cramping from recording the pros and cons of the men that might marry his star. His throat was tired from swallowing nasty fears and guilt at the thought of Y/N actually finding someone she wanted to be with. 

“You’re leaving,” he whispered, letting out a sigh when Shanks nodded. Strong fingers were so gentle as they brushed hair behind his ear, pens not doing enough to hold up all of that blue. 

“I’m gonna fix this, Bugs.”

“She doesn’t believe…”

Though jealousy had turned him into someone he didn’t recognize, now when he saw that look of love in Buggy’s eyes for Y/N, Shanks wanted to burn all the oceans to bring them back together. 

“She loves me, but she thinks it’s over, Shanks. My star’s really looking for someone else.”

“That’s not gon–”

“Make sure it’s you, alright, shithead?”

Buggy pressed his last piece of hope into Shanks’ palm, before letting himself hold and be held by this beautiful man that had been so many things to him over the years. He sank to the floor, allowing soothing kisses to be left along his unraveling hair while slow, exhausted tears escaped him. 

Shanks opened his mouth to comfort, to promise, to share, but Buggy reached for the notepad again, mumbling about her “favorites.” After a rushed, bittersweet kiss, the red headed pirate was on his way, met by his golden eyed lover in the hall.

“Making sure I don’t run off with all your booze,” he tried to smile, feeling the weight of distance already crashing over him. 

“Something like that,” Mihawk teased. “I thought I’d send you off.”

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“How was your session with Dr. Vorsan,” Uncle Cedrick taunted, filling the dining room with ice. 

“It went well.”

You’d managed to bring yourself back, to find your body and voice again before dinner, knowing that he’d be waiting to poke at you. 

“Excellent,” he purred, killing your appetite again. “He’ll be staying until the wedding, just in case you need the extra support.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you hummed, forcing down a bite.

“So polite,” he laughed, touching your moms chin to lift her face up. “See, Delaine. A little time with the doc, and your daughter’s already feeling better. Maybe she’ll even stop asking her mama bird to chew up her food soon.”

“She can stop after the wedding,” you said coldly, not enjoying the cruel laugh he gave at her expense.

“Such a high maintenance bride,” he taunted, towering over you all when he stood from his seat, offering you his arm. “Come on, smarty. Let’s take a walk.”

Kat started to argue for you, but it was a pointless battle, so you left the other Sylvad ladies at the table, letting Uncle Cedrick guide you out to the lavish courtyard. 

“I know you’ve been reviewing the details with Kat, instead of your mother, but I expect you to be prepared tomorrow. You know the rules of the game?”

“The suitors have a month to win me,” you recited while he led you through the tables, dragging you to the beautiful, carved bench where the introductions would be held. “They’re not allowed to fight amongst themselves unless it’s for the game, and they have to leave grudges aside until after someone wins my heart. They’ll all have time with me as a group and in private, and they can woo me however they like, so long as it doesn’t endanger me, or take me off the island.”

The pride in his smile wasn’t for you, but he beamed it at you, nonetheless.

“Since you’ve been doing so well, I’m sure you can remember a few more rules. Think you can handle that, smarty?”

“Yes, Uncle,” you agreed, sending your rage down into the stone beneath you. 

“You need to remember that choice is a fucking luxury, Y/N,” he threatened, brushing the hair back from your face while he leaned too close, his cologne filling your lungs. “After the fiasco you could have caused, and after all these years of abusing my patience, you’re lucky I’m letting you play this little game at all.”

His hateful words were drawn out with lazy pleasure, and he kept his fingers in your hair, stroking you like a pet. Like his pretty doll.

“You’re going to give all of your suitors a fair chance. They’re here to enjoy themselves, so I won’t have you chasing anyone off too soon. You’re going to whittle them down slowly, and carefully, and with my approval. Your final two suitors will be offered a deal, and if they don’t accept it, they won’t get my blessing.”

“So…”

“So, do whatever you need to do to convince the men you like the most to take that deal.”

Nodding so you wouldn’t spit, you seethed when he tugged at your chin the way he’d touched your mother’s earlier. Your eyes were forced to his, and the stars above seemed to burn like acid as your face tilted up toward them. 

“I’ll do anything to protect this family,” Uncle Cedrick vowed as he rubbed his thumb across your snarling lips. “If there’s a man that can offer a better deal, then he’ll get my blessing, no matter your preference. So get ready to use this smart, little mouth of yours, niece. I wonder if you’re a good enough whore to convince anyone to stay? Though I have to confess, after all of your tantrums, I think my spoiled brat of a niece might deserve a man that can put her in her place.”

He laughed at your stifled hatred, wiggling your face before releasing you. 

“Give them all a chance to win you,” Uncle ordered, satisfaction dripping from his parted lips. 

He enjoyed watching you suffer. Enjoyed it in a way that made your skin crawl, but you could never fully hide your rage from him, no matter how skilled you became. He could fucking sniff it out. 

“If I catch you sabotaging any suitor’s feelings for you before I’ve given the approval to drop them, then I’ll make sure you get some extra special time together. It’s only fair.”

All of the acceptance you’d been building up was crashing down around you, and you held in your tears, not wanting to see the pleasure on his face if he tore them from you. 

You wanted to run away.

He found me. He could have had Karai Bari wiped off the fucking map, and Buggy…

“Well, niece, do you understand? Or do I need to—“

“I’ll fuck the one’s I like to make them take your deal,” you growled, almost losing your vision from the rage that was coursing through you. “And I’ll fuck the one’s I hate so you won’t know which piece of shit to trap me with.”

Cedrick Sylvad threw his head back, bellowing his cruel laughter up to the twinkling sky. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he wheezed, before leaving you there with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t stay up too late, niece.”

He didn’t leave you with a guard. There was no need. 

I’ll never get away. These are my choices. Pros and cons.

The silent courtyard felt like a cemetery while you struggled to move, to head off to bed, and end this shitty night. Your fingers found their way to your locket, the touch of warm metal helping to calm your breathing while you stared at all the cold, shining stars above you. 

“At least I have all those pretty daydreams,” you whispered, feeling like an empty doll as you floated off to bed. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

“Hawk Eyes.”

It had been a couple of years since Mihawk had stepped foot onto the Red Force, but his body had memorized every step toward the captain’s quarters, and they walked there without a thought. 

Until a tall, scowling man blocked his path.

“Good afternoon, Benn. How—“

“How about you get the fuck—“

“Hey now,” Shanks laughed, stepping between his first mate and the swordsman, who’d raised a brow at the threatening tone. “We’re good, Benn! He’s just seeing us off.”

“Well, I’ll see him off a fucking cliff if he makes you—”

Shanks cut him off, pulling Mihawk into his quarters while Benn narrowed his eyes, his arms flexing as he crossed them over his chest. 

“If I make him…” Mihawk asked, focusing on the hint of pink that was blossoming on Shanks’ cheeks. 

Cute.

“Benn, get the crew ready. We’re heading out soon.”

“Aye, captain,” he agreed, still leaning toward the swordsman through the doorway. Benn jerked his head to the side as unruly strands of long, gray hair escaped his tie, getting in the way of his glare. “If you ever make my captain cry again, I’m gonna turn those pretty, gold eyeballs into pretty, gold earrings, ya hear me?”

“Thanks, Benn,” Shanks shoved the man out, locking himself into his quarters with his wicked, old friend whose mouth was hanging wide open. He might have laughed at the sight if he hadn’t wanted to crawl under the floorboards. 

Fuck you, Benn…

“Cry?”

Shanks had watched those lips move. He’d heard that voice speak. 

Yet his mind couldn’t connect that trembling word to the deadly rival before him.

The sweetness that had echoed through Mihawk’s bones with every step beside his lover had curdled again, guilt and shame scraping up his throat, strangling the words he’d hoped to share.

I don’t deserve it. 

“You’re shaking,” the red haired pirate breathed as he reached for one of those dangerous hands. Everything was unsteady. Nothing in this world fit anymore, but Shanks tried to laugh it off. “Is Dracule Mihawk feeling jealous? I never had you pegged for the marriage type.”

“No,” he choked a laugh, brittle and stinging as he sat on the bed. The same, old bed they’d shared countless times. “I’m so sorry, Shanks.”

Those words again.

This “vacation” of his had felt like the most outrageous, delicious dream held hostage by a nightmare, and Shanks felt a sudden terror that he was about to wake up to find it was all gone. 

In case it was about to disappear, Shanks sat beside his vicious, old friend, and pressed a kiss to the man’s temple. Mihawk wrapped his arms around him, clinging, feeding into the unreality of this soft, lovely dream. 

“Are you alright, Hawk,” Shanks breathed.

Instincts would have sent the swordsman out the door by now. Every thought pushed him out, guilt, and fear, and lies, no longer strong enough to outweigh the need to keep holding Shanks against him, to keep inhaling his comforting scent. 

The need to run was fueled by his new piles of shame. An unconscious demand to leave. Leave. Leave. 

“I’m done…”

“What’s that,” Shanks tensed at the whisper. He fought his rising dread, tracing his fingers through that pretty, black hair. As they always had, Mihawk’s hypnotic eyes made his world pause, yet in this moment they seemed like true magic. The swordsman had once been blank, unknowable, giving no depth, though Shanks had reached and delved as far as his old rival would let him.

Now those golden eyes were hypnotizing not for their blankness, but for the swirling depths that pulled him in. Pools of molten metal, pain, and need, and other things Shanks couldn’t think clearly enough to try to understand. 

Mihawk couldn’t understand how this beautiful, glorious man could still stand to look at him, let alone offer him comfort. He almost talked himself out of the room again, but vowed that he was done being a coward. He would fight. He would never run. 

Never again.

“I know I…” Mihawk started, losing his train of thought while he stared at his old friend that could have been something so much more. 

What’s the point of being safe if I can’t even… 

“Hawk?” 

 “I love you. I know it’s too late. I’m sorry, I–mmn!”

All that dread exploded, leaving Shanks absolutely fucking high. None of this could be real, but what a dream. 

“Took you long enough, old friend,” he purred. Mihawk whimpered beneath him, shaking under his touch after Shanks had pushed him onto his back, kissing him as though he’d disappear if he stopped. 

“I’m s-sorry, Sha–”

“Are you lying? Manipulating me?”

He gripped Mihawk’s face, wanting to throw this fear off the ship. Gods, he wanted to believe it, to feel it. 

Mihawk let out a breath, a weak sob, as the gold of his eyes was dressed with diamonds. The monster was even more hypnotizing when he cried.

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. Memories flooded the swordsman now, filling the air around him with regret, and with the hope he was fighting to keep. He reached up, cupping Shanks’ face while he blinked away his salty fear. “You loved a coward, old friend, but I’m done running. I love you. I’m so sor–”

Shanks couldn’t tell if he was laughing, or crying as he fell onto the wicked, intoxicating man beneath him. 

“I love you too, Hawk. I still love you. Could never stop.”

“Shanks…”

“Say it again,” Shanks breathed while he kissed along Mihawk’s throat, dizzy while one of his dearest fantasies played out before him. 

“I love you, Shanks.” Mihawk shivered, clinging, reaching, falling to pieces. Shameful parts of him still screamed to run, still thought so many cruel, ungrateful things, but there was nothing like the satisfied sounds his lover made when he said those words. “I have loved you in my cowardly heart. I’m sorry I– fuck!”

The red haired pirate fisted his hair with vicious force while he rutted his clothed cock against him, chuckling as he watched those hypnotizing eyes flutter with need. 

“Why are you sorry?”

“I…”

Mihawk was already lost in him, and Shanks let that sweetness pour over his body, his breath relaxing as he decided how to take care of his lover. 

“You’re sorry because you didn’t say you love me, right,” he purred, kissing tingles into Mihawk’s skin as he breathed along his temple to his jaw. The swordsman gave a weak nod, and a little whine, so Shanks nibbled at his ear, telling his boy how to please him. 

“I don’t wanna hear another ‘sorry,' you hear me,” he threatened, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s hip, dipping down into those low riding pants. “You’d better keep telling me what you should have back then.”

“Shanks,” Mihawk moaned, undoing the lacings of his own clothes before clawing at Shanks’, desperate beneath the sway of that crooked smile. “I love you.”

The Emperor of the Sea forgot.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to be. 

Shanks just had to make this man say those words again and again. It had been so fucking long. They touched and kissed every inch of each other in their mad rush to claim every moment before the dream faded away, until the swordsman looked over his shoulder, begging so pretty. So perfect. 

“I need you, daddy,” Mihawk relaxed, ready. “Need you, love you, want… mm, please…”

“I need you too, bright eyes,” Shanks hummed, fingers finding their way in, cool lube easing the stretch while he made his lover moan into the wrinkled sheets. “I need my pretty boy to let me love him. You finally gonna let me, Hawk?” 

“Please,” he begged. The press of Shanks’ cock teasing at him was too much, and he writhed, shoving himself back until he cried out, earning the full force of that powerful body. 

“Look at you. Knew you’d be so good for me, baby.”

His fingers caressed while he pressed that pale skin into the mattress, and Shanks let everything go, praising, taking, and hurting his lover until they both went fucking mad. Mihawk let himself feel safe in the pleasure and the pain.

Safe. 

His lover made him cry, and bleed, and come, before laying his own claim. Shanks’ heavy cock filled him, on and on, leaving Mihawk twitching and whining. There they stayed, breathing, sweating, and whispering those words until they remembered. 

“I’ve gotta go, Hawk... Will you still love me when I come back,” Shanks asked as reality returned, failing to hide all the true fear in his voice.

“My lover gone away to sea. I shall await thee,” Mihawk hummed, moaning when Shanks pulled away, his body still craving his touch. 

“Are you writing love poems already?”

Mihawk could have stayed in that bed for days, but she was there in his mind. Still trembling from love and pleasure, fear followed him while he helped Shanks clean the evidence of their selfish lust, low chuckles still warming the air around them through it all. 

“I’ll write poetry for you, my love,” he breathed, eyes fluttering at the new touches he’d earned. “But you’re right. You need to leave.”

Demands felt wrong, so the swordsman finished drying and dressing his lover, until the Emperor pulled him close, their foreheads pressed together while he tried not to succumb to his own selfish terror. 

“I love you, Hawk Eyes,” Shanks let out one more time, while the memory of empty eyes burned through his soul. Y/N had helped both of his lovers, had helped him find them again, to hold them again, had helped them open up.

I owe her everything.

“I love you too, Red Hair,” Mihawk gave a true smile, shaky though it was. The voice calling for him to run was easily ignored with the gratitude and desperation rolling through him now. “Please–”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Shanks laughed, kissing those lips again before leading his deadly lover off the ship. “If I can win over Dracule Mihawk’s icy heart, then there’s no beast I can’t charm.”

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” 

Kat managed to pull a laugh from you while servants buzzed around, swarming like bees as you waited in the courtyard for your new life to begin.

Whenever a big tree fell on Sylvad property, it would be easy to cart it away, to sell it into little pieces, but this courtyard was built to show off one of your favorite family traditions.

The last few generations of Sylvad’s had refused to let a fallen tree be scurried away like something to be ashamed of. If a tree fell on a Sylvad estate, it was to be celebrated to honor the hard work and creativity that made your family’s name synonymous with power, wisdom, and enough wealth and status to rival nobility. 

You sat on one of those dead trees, the trunk carved into a formidable, layered bench along the base of the manor, while the lantern lit courtyard stretched out toward the forest. On and on the bench seemed to go, covered with lifelike, and even life size animals trying to spring into your world from the fallen wood.

Childhood memories trampled over you for a moment, just like your little body had once tried to climb and claim this wonder of the forest. The obedient bees brought you back to the present, doing some last minute touch ups to your hair and makeup while they fluffed up your giant gown. 

Asking why you were in a white dress before your wedding day had sent you into rigid silence once the rest of the ensemble was forced onto you.

Don’t bite the help. Don’t bite the help… Do deer bite people?

“I’ll be right over there all night, okay,” Kat’s voice pushed through the mass of bodies. “Make that face if you need me to step in.”

“There’ll be no need for that, ladies,” Uncle scolded, his presence scattering the hovering pests around you. He beamed at your sister while he patted her cheek, before sending her to sit with your sulking mother. Kat gave you a weak smile, leaving you on that extravagant bench while your uncle managed to sit beside you without mussing your dress. 

The music may have been pretty. The lanterns lighting up beneath the golden, darkening sky might have been enchanting. 

It was even possible that one of the men in that crowd of guests breaking through the treeline onto the stone pathway would make a lovely husband. 

You tried to breathe, tapping nervously against the locket you’d stuffed into the corset of your dress since it hadn’t “fit the theme.”

What a feeling it was to finally know that love was real. Yet, such was your fate that you had to keep killing and burying the futile wish that you could have kept it for yourself. 

All of these men are here to own me. Every single one.

“Don’t forget to smile, dear niece,” Uncle taunted, leaning close enough to warm your cheek with his words. He laughed at his little joke, while you tried to obey.

You were the white stag. 

You were his helpless prey, whose sole purpose was to be hunted, mounted, and displayed. Nothing more than a tasty trophy.

The stupid, white antlers in your hair felt heavier with each moment while you watched your hunters stalk ever closer. The men had separated from their guests who were being seated so that everyone could watch your uncle’s little show, while the suitors formed a line.

“If you–”

“You already won, Uncle,” you cut him off, eyes scanning the edge of the forest while more figures appeared. “I’ll be well behaved venison from here on… what the f–”

“Smile.”

No fucking way.

Kat had followed your line of sight, and if your face matched the look on hers, you needed to shake it off now. The last thing you needed to do was offend one of these men that could squash you like a bug.

Sis was right. We should have asked for measurements. 

Swallowing manic laughter at the thought, you split into pieces, becoming the hunted. The truest part of you watched the show from a deep, dark hole within while you smiled at Uncle Cedrick, although your body couldn’t hide the shivers that broke through. 

“Smart girl,” he hummed, curdling your stomach before he pressed your hand into an old man’s wrinkly grip.

Your suitors had arrived.

“Giberson, lovely to see you. Let me introduce you to my niece. She’s—“

“The Cross Guild’s young CFO, if my sources aren’t mistaken? I can’t imagine there’s another Y/N Sylvad gallivanting about.” Giberson caught you off guard, and you were a deer in the headlights when his scratchy, white mustache tickled across your fingers. 

His words had left you frozen, and he released your hand, seeming a little wobbly while he balanced with his jewel encrusted cane. The old man adjusted his pin striped hat, making his tall body seem even lankier in the matching suit.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Uncle Cedrick laughed, clapping the old man on the back. “You probably know more about the competition than I do. So, have you decided to join the game, or will you just be staying for the entertainment?”

This old man is one of the Emperors of the Underworld… 

Giberson’s dossier had been the lightest you’d received, yet somehow that made him more frightening, along with his epithet; The Concealer.

“Hopefully I’ll have more luck at this wedding than I did at the last one I attended. Bodies just don’t recover the same when you get to be my age,” Giberson chuckled as he tapped his knee with his cane a few times. “Still, I may be old, but I can’t resist the offer to join in such a delightful game.”

“Happy hunting, good man. I’m confident that some time in Y/N’s company will put some pep back in your step,” Uncle encouraged, pulling an intricately carved arrow from a quiver at his back, adding to the vision of the dark hunter he exuded tonight. He handed it to you, giving you the illusion of choice.

You’d been told not to stand unless you absolutely had to, so you looked up at him through your lashes. Your painted doe eyes needed no help looking helpless, but you obeyed just the same. Giberson smelled of whiskey when he leaned down to accept the arrow from your grasp, a satisfied smile on those aged lips. 

“Just watch out, little lady. These young boys aren’t done fighting yet,” he stepped back, nodding subtly over his shoulder. “It would be a shame to see such a precious thing get caught up in the crossfire. I’d rather like to avoid that fate myself this time around.”

“Not to worry, Giberson, we’re all here to enjoy a more civilized kind of battle. Although, the betting pools have already added a few extra categories for all the possibilities this month presents.” 

The men ignored you now, but you had to keep your face mildly pleasant while you reminded yourself not to scratch it, so as not to risk fucking up the subtle deer makeup across your nose and cheeks. 

Humiliating.

You were the only animal at the banquet. The only thing on the menu. Everyone else got to be human.

Well, maybe not everyone… 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Are these supposed to be this fucking tight? This can’t be right…”

Shanks tugged and pulled at the dove gray pants he’d been gifted by Sylvad’s attendants, his head snapping up at the choked sound coming from his first mate’s throat. 

“What’s wrong?”

Benn had changed quickly, the banquet already getting started when the two of them had stepped foot onto the private island. The older man had lucked out, easily fitting into the borrowed suit that was such a dark blue it was almost black, although he’d rolled up the sleeves, and traded the jacket for his purple cloak. Having some breathing room around his muscular arms made him seem slightly less annoyed since their weapons had to remain on the Red Force. 

Benn was too distracted to care about their weapons at the moment though, wheezing while he watched his mighty captain try to stuff all of his bits into those tiny pants. 

“Did you try the other pairs?” Benn failed to hide his laughter, having to clear his throat and look away.

“They're all the same size– He can’t really expect me to wear this?”

His eyes were wide, unconsciously shaking his head while he gaped at his reflection. 

The tight, gray breeches seemed designed specifically to showcase every curve of his cock and balls. The soft fabric was tucked into black, knee high boots that a certain swordsman would have coveted, but Shanks felt like he was going insane with the urge to light the borrowed clothes on fire. 

“No. I’m not going out there like this,” Shanks resisted.

“You said you’d do anything for her, captain. Don’t you wanna get on the uncle’s good side?” Benn’s laughter vanished while he draped a black cloak over his Captain’s shoulders, fastening the high collar around his throat. His thick fingers trailed down over the frilly, white shirt, checking the small, black vest that was little more than a girdle, before tying off his captain's sleeve. “This bunny of yours worth the tight pants?”

“Emperor Shanks, sir,” came a soft voice beyond the door. “The banquet is underway, is there anything I can assist– Oh I– Oh…”

He forgot what he was about to ask this poor girl when he opened the door, because the look on her face gave him everything he needed.

“You doing alright, darlin,” Shanks purred, touching one of the girl’s bright, red cheeks.

Benn chuckled, pushing through the doorway, and onto the stone path, ordering his captain to hurry it up.

“Y-yes, I am, sir,” she trembled, letting out a giggle when Shanks winked, and the sweet sound brought him back. 

“Good girl. Why don’t you show us where to go?”

~~~

“You always strut, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you strutting like this,” Benn smirked. 

“I can’t help it! These boots have heels.” 

Shanks stuck out his tongue before they passed beyond the denser trees. 

“You have been invited to join the game, Emperor Shanks.” The servant bowed her head while she gestured toward the center of the decorated courtyard. “I’ll lead your guest to his table now, unless you’d rather not accept the offer?”

“Why not,” Shanks beamed at her, though the sight of his competition made him fight not to sway on those uncomfortable heels. 

“Looks like you and your tiny pants might be outmatched, captain,” Benn whispered, patting him on the back before following the pretty girl to a table full of enemies. 

Shanks had barely made it here in time, and felt a twinge of guilt return while the last suitors moved out of the way, but the sight of her stopped the blood in his veins. 

Twilight had crept into dusk, and the dancing light of the lanterns bathed her painted skin, her white dress, and ethereal antlers, seeming to glow from within. Y/N shone like a wounded star, bleeding out her light for all of these monsters to drink. 

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor,” Cedrick purred, making his niece flinch. She hid herself away before Shanks could decipher what he’d seen behind her mesmerizing eyes. 

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” he charmed, stalking closer and closer until he caught her cold hand in his. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

She stared while he pressed his lips to her knuckles, and he took in every detail, wishing he could just grab her and run.

She’s not wearing Buggy’s locket… 

Before new anxiety could set in, Shanks had to swallow his rage at the sound of that voice. 

“Either would make for a good hunt. The nice Emperor asked you a question, Y/N,” Sylvad taunted, tapping her thigh with a decorative arrow. 

“It’s alright, bunny.” He gave her a crooked smile while she gave him nothing, so he turned to the smirking piece of shit by her side. “From what I’ve gathered, we might get to spend some more time together soon. Do I have that right, new friend?”

“I treat my friends very well, but family is everything,” Cedrick vowed. “There'll be plenty of time to discuss details later, but if you’d like to accept the offer to join this little game, then you may get to enjoy more than just our famous Sylvad hospitality.”

Shanks bought himself some time by letting his eyes rake over her again.

I’m a villain. I’m not here to rescue her.

“How could I resist?”

“Go on,” her uncle beamed with triumph, shoving the arrow into her hand. 

The woman that had captured the hearts of the only two people Shanks had ever truly loved met her Uncle’s cruel gaze before looking back up at the Emperor of the Sea. Her eyes fluttered while she offered him the arrow, keeping her hands close to her face so that he felt her breath on his fingers as pulled the symbolic weapon from her grip.

His lips parted as he became trapped in her eyes again, although that haunting pull had been replaced by a desire so hot, it rivaled the stars. Y/N's bare need felt like a gift from the heavens. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, twirling the arrow in his fingers while he bowed his head at that fallen star, before winking at her captor.

“Happy hunting, Shanks.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson had finally stopped gossiping with Uncle Cedrick, so you became the prey again, smiling up at your next suitor.

Suitors.

You couldn’t help glancing toward Kat while her favorite pick stepped up alongside his brothers. 

These men should have been intimidating, and they had been, for a moment.

Yet now, the three princes of the Germa Kingdom were all staring down at you like hungry puppies.

What the fuck?

“Welcome, Ichiji, Niji, Yonji. This is my niece, Y/N. It is an honor to welcome you to our humble estate.”

“The honor is ours,” one of the princes crooned, laying a kiss with almost too much pressure against your knuckles.

Ichiji. The red head is Ichiji. 

Your mind rattled through everything you could recall while his green and blue haired brothers took their turns, their loose shirts and billowing capes moving prettily in the light breeze. 

Somehow the word “prince” had made their blatant lust seem shocking, and you almost laughed at how fucking naive that was. 

They were here to buy you, just like all the rest, and their royal hands lingered on your skin when they accepted their arrows. 

~~~

“There you are, old friend!”

“Cedrick. It’s good to see you.”

“Mr. Iceburg?”

Excitement tore through you, and you almost leapt to your feet so you could hug your dad’s old friend.

Your uncle’s old friend… 

Iceburg, the Mayor of Water 7, and the CEO of Galley-La.

You’d had an embarrassing crush on the man, even before he brought all of those shipbuilding companies under one name seven years ago, creating his own empire. Water 7 was your company’s most powerful, and profitable connection, so you’d spent a lot of your childhood on that watery island while your dad made deals with this handsome entrepreneur. 

He’d always been kind, and funny, and had never ignored or patronized you like so many of the other business contacts dad had made you spend time with. 

“Well, Y/N, don’t you look stunning,” Iceburg hummed, leaning down close to kiss your cheek. It was something he’d done many times, but your skin still flushed with heat as it always had. “I hardly recognized my little numbers girl.”

With your mouth hanging open, you felt like a child come face to face with her dream, only to find that the dream carried a bitter aftertaste. 

But it still looked fucking good. 

Your eyes traveled up and down his tall frame, snagging on the black, leather pants tucked into knee length boots. He had rarely buttoned his shirts all the way before, but now the loose fabric of his rust-colored tunic hung wide open, and you found yourself blinking up at the lovely frame it made around his tanned skin, and dark, blue chest hair.

“Don’t keep our dear friend waiting, Y/N,” Uncle Cedrick urged, tapping your hands with the arrow until you snapped out of your teenage fantasy. 

“May I,” Iceburg asked, his eyebrow raising just a bit while he watched you nod.

He’s here to buy me. He wants to buy his friend’s daughter. Wants to…

His thumb traced over your wrist before he pulled away, the rough touch of a carpenter's hand making you shiver. 

“See ya, girlie,” Iceburg winked, wrecking you for the next hopeful. 

~~~

Luckily the next hopeful didn’t matter, although it felt like you’d just lost a safety net.

“I do apologize,” whined the most ‘boring’ candidate, Mr. Halvens. “I’m afraid I will have to decline. There are certain elements here that I cannot have my name associated with.”

“Not to worry,” Uncle laughed. “You’re welcome to stay for the banquet, although I'd recommend keeping your voice down if you plan to disparage my other guests again.”

The poor man went pale, and you were disgusted with your urge to laugh at his pathetic scrambling when your uncle’s laughter rolled over you first. 

~~~

“Prince Fukaboshi,” you projected, staring up at the massive merman. There was a ring of what looked like a bubble around his waist, and his blue, spotted tail seemed to float just slightly above the ground. 

You had prepared yourself for a merman. 

Not for a fucking giant. 

“I am looking forward to winning your heart, Miss Sylvad,” he charmed, although the effect was strange from almost two stories up. Fukaboshi's regal voice rushed toward you when he leaned down, and you tried to smile under that sharp face, that cloud of light, blue hair. 

The arrow seemed to shrink once his fingers pulled it so carefully from yours, before he joined his guests at the edge of the courtyard. You could still feel the prince's gaze, like a cool weight over your skin.

~~~

How the fuck… 

The fact that the next suitors weren’t even the tallest people you’d met tonight was insane, and you had to fight not to let panicked laughter escape while you were introduced to these two brothers. 

“Thank you so much for coming. This is my niece, Y/N. I know she’s been looking forward to meeting you both, Cracker, and Katakuri.” Uncle Cedrick smiled at the frightening brothers, seeming almost giddy when he handed you their arrows. 

Cracker leaned down first, and he had to be a couple of feet taller than… He also carried a fierce scar on his face, scraping across his right eye. When he grinned, his bright, pink irises seemed to eat you up, a near manic look behind them. 

You couldn’t make sense of his clothes, so you tried not to look at the giant fucking crackers hanging around his belt, or at his light, purple hair that was tied into long buns that seemed to be crackling with fire.

Katakuri was even taller, almost as tall as the merman prince, but he went to a knee to get closer to you. His clothes were all leather with scratches and spikes artfully placed to look even more ready for violence. Pink tattoos kissed along his bare chest and arms, and the color went well with his crimson hair and eyes, but you couldn’t see more of his face below the fur scarf he had wrapped up to the bridge of his nose. 

His eyes were intense, knowing, and the sheer size of him amplified his frightening, but lovely, features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I hope that our families can join their strengths soon.”

The Charlotte brothers left you breathless while the courtyard buzzed with the sounds of guests enjoying their drinks as they waited for dinner to start, celebrating the thought of you being claimed by one of these lucky suitors. 

~~~

Twilight had crept into dusk, and you let yourself take a breath, knowing that the line must be coming to an end. Everyone in your mom’s book was already here, plus Iceburg, and there couldn’t be too many last minute… 

Shanks?

The Emperor of the Sea stood framed by the growing night, dressed like a wicked horseman on the hunt. He stared at you as though he were surprised to find you there. 

As though this fucking traitor hadn’t broken his promise as soon as Uncle Cedrick had shown up. The image of Shanks leaning close, smiling, and flirting with your uncle at the Cross Guild’s party felt like molten metal through your gut. Then he’d run away. You’d seen him, that stupid, red hair slipping through the crowd, fleeing the vow he’d made to you. 

Liar. Liar. LIAR! 

Somehow you stayed very deep inside yourself after Uncle’s voice made you flinch, even while this filthy leech touched your hand. You couldn’t hear what he was saying while he talked to his new best friend.

You’re just another bitch for my uncle’s money, aren’t you? Disgusting trash.

You almost laughed. Almost let it out.

Uncle Cedrick tapped your thigh with the arrow, and the visceral image of shoving it into one of Shanks' poisonous, “soft,” brown eyes felt intoxicating. 

Pathetic. You’re just like all the rest. The Great Red Haired Shanks is no hero. Just another piece of shit that would betray his love for some berry. 

Rage and nausea battled for more space within you, until your uncle shoved the arrow into your hand, and you remembered.

I can't let Uncle see how much I hate him.  

A wave of desire and power burned through you, and you let yourself feel nothing but need while you offered Shanks that weapon instead of using it against him. It felt as though you were possessed, but you welcomed the chaos of mindless lust, relishing in it when those soft eyes went dark before he finally got the fuck away from you. 

Did he just fucking thank me?

Uncle started to address the crowd, and you knew you should be listening. You tried to be here, to survive. 

Traitor. Liar. Leech. Trash.

Breathing felt impossible. Your corset seemed tighter now, making the hidden locket dig into your skin, reminding you that Buggy was all alone. 

There had never been a chance for you to have true love in your life. Not the cursed heiress of Sylvad’s. Not with your Uncle’s plans.

Your sweet, lovely clown deserved better. 

But Shanks betrayed you both. He'd abandoned Buggy after one conversation with Cedrick Sylvad, just as weak and worthless as your first two "loves." 

Uncle offered you his hand, and you stood without knowing what was next, but all that came next was applause. Happy, little vultures excited for their next meal. 

“Did you hear me,” he hissed at you before shrugging for the crowd. “I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Chase?

“Run along now, niece,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, nodding toward the trees. Night had officially fallen as he led you down that stone path, the eyes of all the hunters following your every step toward the darkened forest. “You’ve got a ten minute head start, Y/N. Better decide which arrow you'd rather be pieced with tonight.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Yes, I dressed Shanks up like Jareth the Goblin King. No, I am not sorry 😅

Who do you think is going to catch our white stag? I'm having so much fun with this game! 🥰🏹 Check out the poll below, or you can just tell me what you think about our lineup! I've been going crazy over it, especially since I try to stick as close to canon possibility as I can for some weird reason, lol.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 32

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[earlgreytea68]

For most of my adult life, I have consistently watched home improvement shows. I find the rhythm of them soothing, the fact that they're entirely predictable. Sometimes that's just what I need. The swoops of fiction are too much for me, and I just want to watch something that requires no thought on my part. (I also love cooking shows.)

Anyway, every single home improvement show, without fail, as they're working on the home, they uncover the fact that the previous people didn't do the job right. Whatever job that might be. It doesn't matter what it was, it was done incorrectly, and must be fixed. This happens on EVERY SINGLE EPISODE of EVERY SINGLE SHOW. And I've always kind of assumed this is manufactured drama because they think viewers want to see raised stakes or something. It just seemed impossible to me that every single house in America and Canada -- where these shows primarily take place -- has been incorrectly built.

And then.

AND THEN.

I decided to take on my own home improvement project. This is supposed to be one of the simplest little home improvement projects you can do: I am changing out the hardware on my kitchen cabinets. My kitchen's a little dated and not my preferred style, but it doesn't really need to be overhauled, so I thought I'd just switch up the hardware to something I like better and that it would make a big difference in how I felt about the kitchen. This seemed like a smart plan and totally doable.

No, no, it is HUGELY ANNOYING. Like, at least half of the time the new hardware doesn't exactly fit the holes left behind by the old hardware. Not by any measurement that you could be like, "Oh, you bought the wrong size." No, I have the right size. It's just that, like, the hole is often times 1/64 of an inch off, and then that makes your life absolute hell, and you are contorted into this weird angle to try to get at the screwdriver and pulling with all your weight to try to get everything lined up correctly and you know what?

Very quickly I was like, "That's good enough." Sometimes there's only one screw in instead of the two the handle is supposed to have. Whatever, it's good enough. One of the handles is crooked instead of flush. Good enough. Like, I am now no longer surprised that no one performs any home improvement task correctly. I THINK IT MIGHT BE IMPOSSIBLE. For the first time I completely understand why all these prior people couldn't be bothered to do things the right way. In fact, I am raising a toast of solidarity in their direction. I get it now. You were like, "Good enough." I cannot blame you.

[thankskenpenders]

How do you feel on the whole Misadventures arc of IDW? You touched upon it briefly, but I'm still curious. I myself found it frustrating since I despise "everyone trusts the newbie first" plotlines, and TBH "Silver and Whisper just stake out Duo and then attack him once confronted" felt like a frustratingly stupid way to resolve things. The pacing of the four issues, with how it felt like little happened, honestly made it feel like a collection of stories meant for an Annual that never came out.

I disagree. For one, I've found the pacing really refreshing. Even though this is a "breather" arc after all the stuff with Surge and Kit and the Eggperial City, it feels like we've had a lot of meaningful developments for the supporting cast in a short amount of time. Instead of spending 4+ months exclusively on one idea and one set of characters, we're hopping all around and getting these shorter stories from a wider variety of characters. But they all feel connected, primarily due to the background plot of Clutch and Mimic trying to undermine the Restoration. It feels like a whole lot of pieces are being moved into place for whatever's in store, whether it's getting Knuckles off of Angel Island more, having Silver and Blaze finally become a team, or establishing new threats for the Restoration.

And, yes, I'm even here for the silly backup story about Rough and Tumble messing up Cream's house. That stuff's fun! I've never been a person who thinks that everything has to be plot, plot, plot all the time. I love heavily episodic series. I like seeing what happens when you mash together random characters who haven't interacted before.

I kind of see why this might feel like the sort of material that's usually saved for the Annuals, but his was the norm during the Archie days. We didn't have Annuals, we'd just have backup stories about the supporting cast, or one-off issues that weren't necessarily part of a four-issue arc. That's something people have been interested in seeing from IDW from the very start, and folks like me were excited to see them finally give it a shot.

As for the stuff with Mimic/Duo: that's actually been my favorite part of all of this. I think it's made for some extremely juicy drama. Yes, it's a story about a suspicious new character showing up and people immediately trusting him, but, like... forget about the trope for a second and step back. This is just how the Restoration works. They aren't an exclusive club, they're a humanitarian volunteer group that's constantly welcoming in any help they can get. Every new character who decides to join the Restoration has immediately been welcomed in. The HQ is constantly full of randos. Amy put Jewel in charge of the whole operation after one conversation. Lanolin in particular has barely known Tangle, Whisper, or Silver any longer than she's known "Duo." She went on literally one mission with Tangle and Whisper before all this. The villains are observing the way the heroes work and taking advantage of it.

I also disagree with the claim that Whisper and Silver were being stupid in trying to confront Mimic. Well, okay, they kind of were being stupid, but it feels completely in character for them. Silver's always been a little too eager to act without thinking first. This is one of his defining character traits going back to '06. The irony here is that for once he was RIGHT, but the villain he accused of being a villain made him think it was just another case of Silver starting a fight for no good reason. And Whisper's acting rash because she ALWAYS acts rash when Mimic is involved. Any time Mimic has been a threat, Whisper has decided to go all lone wolf out of a fear that Mimic will kill Tangle like he killed the old Diamond Cutters. It's a constant struggle for her due to how deep that trauma is. It was the whole premise of the Tangle and Whisper miniseries!

But really, I just think it's so deliciously evil for Mimic to be playing the Restoration like this for so long. To me, it'd be a crime NOT to do something like this with Mimic. It's such a perfect use of his nature as a deceitful master of disguise. Whisper IMMEDIATELY figuring him out, only for Mimic to pit Whisper's allies against her, gaslighting her into trusting him and thinking that she fucked up? That's great! Well, I mean, it's terrible for her, but I'm here for the drama.

This is all a ticking time bomb that's going to impact so many characters when it goes off, and I can't wait to see how that plays out. How much damage will Mimic and Clutch be able to do to the Restoration as an organization? How will Lanolin react upon realizing her grave mistake? How will Whisper, a character who already has massive trust issues, respond to having some of her worst fears come true? She already left Restoration HQ once out of a fear that Mimic would target her friends, and then almost immediately after coming back THIS happens? How will Tangle respond to being caught in the middle of all this? And now Surge and Kit are apparently getting thrown into the mix as unexpected wild cards next issue??? This is the kind of drama I really eat up with these characters!

(If I have ONE small nitpick, though... it's that I initially misread the issue with the confrontation, and thought that Mimic really did break his own arm in his fight with Silver to help maintain his cover. I was like, holy shit! That's messed up! Mimic's messed up! But then I realized he was faking his injury. I kinda like my initial read better, but it's, you know. A kid's comic. That probably would have been a bridge too far lmao)

[gizkasparadise]

final leg of a journey to love thoughts!! (eps 35-40). this got so gd long so under a cut it goes. spoilers, of course:

PLOT STUFF/PACING

pacing for the plot definitely got shredded in the last chunk, which is a damn shame because otherwise i've been finding the pacing pretty much perfect. eps 35-37 in particular felt like they could have been like a 10 episode arc. ep 38, which mostly dealt with wu palace politics, should have been cut or streamlined imo and more time given to the characters we've actually been riding along with the whole story. by the time we get back to the pregnant empress, prince danyang, the first prince whose name i dont even remember, and the prime minister, i do not care about any of them and i think this subplot was simply just trying to fit too much shit into one bag

that said, this show still let the emotional moments hit and breathe and linger. i love the grief for the fallen liudao comrades as we go, as well as the less heavy but still emotionally important moments like yang ying and tongguan bonding over their upbringing. and we got a wedding /;3;/!!! for this show, the relationships and characters matter more than the storyline so im not mad about anything at all

side note: it's so gd millennial to have a story about a bunch of 30 something year olds who want to fake their deaths and retire into obscurity but instead they go and die for a boss they hate

CHARACTER STUFF

this show consistently brought a lot of depth to its side characters (and side side characters!!). i said it in an earlier post, but it bears repeating that even someone like deng hui i didnt expect anything from, but he got such good development and writing that he became a stealth fave. his dying words essentially being "dude, quit fucking around" ? iconic.

i didnt like tongguan as much as everyone else, so im pretty meh about everything regarding him. the attempt to force-wed ruyi was tonally really weird and didnt make sense (i assume there was some cuts made surrounding it). but LOL at him reusing all the outfits and decor immediately for his wedding to yang ying. baby duke, you tacky motherfucker. i ultimately think yang ying deserves better than him, but the good thing is that she knows this, so she'll be able to hold her own and then some entering into this partnership

shisan really was the heart in a lot of ways--the mom to yuanzhou's dad for the liudao. i was not expecting him to break my heart the way he did, but the fact that he held both qian zhao and sun lang as they died and then tried his best to remove yuan lu from harm and saved chu yue and was just very much a nurturer all the way through got me. his character couldve been cheap comic relief but the writing + performance really elevated him into one of the (imo) most memorable wuxia characters. his line wondering who would get to behead his beautiful skull!!! and how his mantra was always that he was going to drink the best wine, see the most beautiful women, and make the best of friends and he dies having lost the ability to see and having just had wine in memory of qian zhao, yuan lu, and sun lang. like. shut up!!

ruyi and yuanzhou were both so great and they're gonna be the drama OTP to beat forever. i loved the gender reversals, that they both were so respectful of each other, and that they also felt very mature in how they handled things and communicated. they were really interesting characters both together and apart and that's always a win-win. they had a schroedinger's ending where it's not super clear if they're alive or dead (i interpreted it as the latter), but what's kind of beautiful is that either option is satisfying to me. if they both died, they're reunited and with their comrades and the story is truly about the journey and the meaningful short connections we have. if they both survived, it's a bookend with the beginning where they each faked their deaths to escape. A+

COSTUMING

i gotta just separately mention the costuming for this show because it was 15/10. the textures, shisan's accessories, the way red became integrated with yuanzhou's wardrobe and blue with ruyi's. the details on the liudao name amulets!! SO GOOD. i love when characters' clothes tell a story on their own

overall i just really loved this drama it is probably my favorite wuxia ive seen so far! it's gonna be in my brain for awhile lol feel free to send fic prompts if you've made it this far :'D

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 45 Uh, Seriously?! Posting

So! Full speed ahead it is, internet void! What a dense chapter.

First up, John Hishaku and the Samurai Murderer Guy that was at Chihiro's house in chapter 2.

Guess we'll see more of him soon, how fun! It's not quite clear how many people are talking here, but Hishaku scheming is afoot and the game is on. The only question is how fucked the Kamunabi is going to be by the end of the arc IMO.

And don't think I missed that vase reappearing. My nemesis. The spiky boi on the mid-left drove me insane as soon as the raws dropped but I would like to tentatively propose that it is a kiku (chrysanthemum). Different colors have very different meanings so I still admit defeat on that front. But kiku are usually associated with mourning or Imperial imagery, so that's cool. I demand a treat if this flower arrangement turns out to be the world's subtlest hint that the Hishaku are related to an old regime or breakaway faction of the government.

But yeah... so much cuteness this week. Very welcome after the rich drama from the past few chapters.

Boys who commit patricide together fall asleep mid-conversation wake up together, apparently. And for all the fan artists/fanfic writers out there, it's now canon that both of them are wearing long-sleeved shirts under the other layers. I was kind of hoping for Chihiro to be wearing one of his dad's shirts but this is more in character...

Fine, okay, it's probably for convenience's sake since apparently these guys can only rest for one night before jumping into the lion's den. But I'm flabbergasted by their soulmate coding. I kind of expected Hakuri to pass out, but Chihiro conking out at the same time in the same pose is too damn cute! Barely over a week together and they've already perfectly synced their sleep schedules and postures lol.

I find it deeply amusing that the entire flashback sequence at the end of chapter 44 was purely for the reader's benefit though. Seriously! Hakuri asked Chihiro "So... what comes next?" and then they both immediately passed out sitting up. So the last four pages were there just to spare us from even more infodumping in this chapter, which is much appreciated.

That's something that Hokazono-sensei also did at the end of the vs. Sojo arc in chapter 18. 10 pages to him exploding, 7 to the situation at the Kamunabi (which will now come into play! EXCELLENT LAYERING OF DETAILS!). I don't know if I'm smart or educated enough to do a full analysis on the techniques he's using, but I love the style. He doesn't let the emotional points linger too long or waste a single goddamn panel in this manga. Yeah, I want more time with the characters outside of serious plot moments, but there's not much else for me to complain about. The need isn't particularly dire anyway since every scene is efficient in giving us characterization and info at the same time (example later this rant).

So yeah. Thanks to that excellent pacing decision, we get to witness this crowning moment of heartwarming:

LOOK AT THESE DORKS. LOOK AT THEM. I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE. Thank you for this moment of Team Goldfish x Hiyuki and Tafuku bliss.

And look at the food on the table! Hiyuki and Tafuku have earned a measure of trust with Team Goldfish! Just a bit, but Shiba definitely wouldn't have let them stay the night and eat with them if he felt they were dangerous.

It's also so sweet that Char's comfortable sitting in big bro Tafuku's lap... she's come a long way since her debut as a scared, scruffy orphan. Wonder where the gang is hanging though. Someone's apartment, I guess? A nearby hotel? More insignificant details this annoying reader wants to know...

TW for SF5-era tournament enthusiasts: That Stage appears in the first panel.

Did anyone have bets on Shiba wrecking Hiyuki in Street Fighter while waiting for Hakuri and Chihiro to wake up? I didn't, but I love it. And this scene highlights something I've really come to appreciate about Kagurabachi's writing: it's incredibly efficient. Almost every scene has more than one thing being conveyed at a time. For instance, here we learn that Hiyuki sucks at Street Fighter compared to Shiba but is too stubborn to quit (comedy & character consistency) and still doesn't know he's ex-Kamunabi (serious). This in turn tells us that Shiba's probably got something to hide from active Kamunabi personnel. After all, it's not like the org itself is a secret, and we wouldn't see Hiyuki questioning him twice if his circumstances weren't suspicious. So Shiba's subplot thickens while we laugh at the gag- peak efficiency.

The cuteness, though... the sweetness of this chapter, man!

Chihiro respecting Yuu's nickname and correcting Hakuri with such a gentle expression is incredibly adorable. He's so relaxed here... but oh wait, there's... chibi Hakuri and Chihiro apologizing for worrying Uncle Shiba?!

Chihiro and his new #1 enabler owe more than an apology but it's good enough for now.

This break wasn't quite long enough to reset the tension in my opinion, but it absolutely delivered on character moments. We definitely needed this after all the big feels from the previous few chapters. I wish there was more time devoted to letting us calm down before ramping up again but what we got here is pretty good.

And so we jump feet-first into laying the groundwork for the Kamunabi arc. A nice, efficient recap of the situation leads us into some additional context and a surprising bit of Shiba characterization. Whatever beef he's got with the Kamunabi feels quite personal for a guy who plays it cool and loose most of the time. We know he's glad he quit because they're too uptight, but there's gotta be more to it than that- he's subtly trying to steer Chihiro away from them while Hiyuki is having none of it here. I want to gently snap this man in half to make him spill his secrets...

At the end of the day, though, Shiba's not going to stop Chihiro from joining the Kamunabi. That's been his thing since Chapter 1: if Chihiro makes up his mind to do something, Shiba will offer advice and make suggestions but ultimately leave the decisions up to him. I wonder how much of his guilt over Kunishige's death plays into that...

Then!

PFFT. "I know what I'm doing here seems risky and unwise but It's fine, trust me. I've got Hakuri." OKAY BUDDY. You've been able to do a hell of a lot since you met this kid haven't you? It's like meeting him changed the trajectory of your life as much as you changed his.

Shiba's expression is very interesting to me. He's like "ah, I get it..." and he's not thrilled in the slightest. Adding Hakuri to the team means Chihiro can be even more reckless than ever before; what little influence he had over Chihiro's safety is all but gone now. And Hakuri himself won't try to stop Chihiro from putting his life on the line- he'll risk his own to help him do it! All this while they're poised to go somewhere he probably can't follow... poor Mr. Shiba.

And then!! AND THEN!!!

Chapter 32: Smile Unlocked (once has no meaning...)

Chapter 36: Smile Lost (twice is a coincidence...)

Chapter 38: Locked In (three times is a pattern...)

Chapter 45: Smile Restored (four times is fate)

The one pulling the other forward is always on the right, leading the reader as well.

When one calls, the other answers. What one starts, the other finishes. A and Un. And this time Hakuri echoes Chihiro's "you got it" catchphrase back to him! I hope this is their thing now, like the "How's my timing?/Perfect" bit that Shiba and Chihiro had.

I'm going absolutely insane over this interaction though. It's the first time Chihiro's gotten to hear someone affirm that they'll see things through with him at his own request (on-screen at least). The first time he's outright said he needs someone, even. And of course Hakuri responds so enthusiastically- he's finally wanted. Just a few days ago he thought he'd never amount to anything. But he's got so much hope thanks to Chihiro's faith in him now.

"What I need in my life is a samurai! THAT'S YOU!" is finally answered with "I'm going to need your help again." hnnnngh what in the hell is this chapter.

Platonic, familial, romantic- however you want to see their relationship, these guys are meant to be together. If I ever start to doubt Hakuri's importance again just smack me right upside the head- he's truly Chihiro's other half now. Let's cheer them on and hope nothing horrible happens to Hakuri ever again! Protect the smile of the boy who would die for you on command, Chihiro. You've been warned.

Protected Bearers

Cool stuff ahead, and tough times to go with them. I doubt things will be as simple as Chihiro successfully making his case and being allowed to start trying to Talk no Jutsu the former wielders. This arc seems like it could easily be longer and more complicated than the previous two combined. I kind of hope it is, just to get more time with everyone. I've never loved a cast of characters this much.

That said... In another series I'd be sure Chihiro would visit each area one by one in their own mini arc, but Kagurabachi is probably going to subvert the expectation somehow. We got previews of the areas so we'll be seeing all of them. Probably (we goddamn better after that gorgeous spread showing them off.), but not in the way we'd expect. This story is so fast I kind of expect us to blitz through all of them in a handful of chapters each... guess it depends on how in-depth we get with the bearers themselves.

As we originally saw them in chapter 18. The slightly updated designs from this chapter are pretty nifty.

I'm 100% sure the order they're presented here corresponds with the areas shown on the spread immediately afterwards. So eye scars is stuck in a temple, the girl is stuck in an onsen, kabuki monk guy is stuck in what looks like a floating shrine, and sushi chef is in... a sushi restaurant. Wow shocker.

I'm going to make the assumption that they got to choose where they were imprisoned for the rest of their lives. Maybe it was the government's way of expressing gratitude for helping the war effort? Which makes Magatsumi's wielder (the Sword Master) being sealed up like a nasty curse all the more intriguing... he's clearly fucked up but was he always that way or did the sword corrode his mind? Is there more to the lifelong contract with these swords than just being the only person who can use them? I better get some answers!

Anyway.

So Kunishige personally knew and chose these people... I wonder how meeting them will deepen Chihiro's understanding of his father's legacy. I sincerely doubt that all of them will make it easy for him to recover the blade they're tied to, but we'll hopefully learn a lot while Chihiro makes his attempts. Really seems like we are set up for Kunishige and Seitei War backstory so I am hype. Dead DILF lore! DEAD DILF LORE!

Hiyuki and Kamunabi Thoughts

Hiyuki also had some interesting moments this chapter. She understands that the current stalemate with the Hishaku has tied the Kamunabi's hands for the most part, forcing them to do less than savory things (like bidding on the Shinuchi) to keep the peace. And despite her hotblooded outburst before the auction, she still has rock solid faith in her org's mission. So I don't think she'll defect easily so as long as she believes the mission is doable under better circumstances.

And it seems like she thinks Chihiro might be the right catalyst for change... hmm. She's essentially using him as a chaos agent to shake up the status quo because he proved himself to her. She finds him worthy of deciding how to handle the blades, so now she's giving him and Hakuri the opportunity prove themselves to her leaders. Very cool. There's some rather deep stuff going on with her.

Hiyuki's much more establishment-oriented than her personality and actions suggest. I get the sense that she's there as an idealist who is willing to upset the status quo to see the mission through. A true believer in a bureaucratic institution- love that type of conflict. Can't wait to see more of her in this arc!

So now we're set to see Chihiro's philosophy and methods on trial. Super intriguing stuff and I'll definitely be looking at the questions each Kamunabi leader is asking to try and suss out their allegiance. Playing Guess the Traitor this arc is gonna be a lot of fun (I hope)!

Speaking of which... Azami as the traitor allegations don't move me, but I do think he'll be restricted this arc due to the ongoing investigation into his clandestine activities. Chihiro could well be on his own without an adult to watch out for him. At least he and Hakuri will be there for each other. ...With no one to try and stop them from doing reckless stunts. Uh oh.

So that's a wrap on this fuckhuge ramble. Hope the breakneck pace slows down just a smidge but I'm still very onboard with whatever is coming next. Thanks for allowing me to ramble as always, void.

[faithfulren]

secret admirer

Cody has had a secret crush on you since the beginning of the season, but he's too shy to confess. He starts leaving you anonymous love notes and small gifts, hoping you'll figure out who your secret admirer is. Meanwhile, you begin to notice Cody's unusual behavior and wonder if there's more to his awkward charm.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the sun was shining brightly over camp wawanakwa, and the morning air buzzed with the excitement of the remaining total drama contestants. today was a day off from challenges, a rare treat. you stretched your arms above your head, basking in the warmth of the sun. you were about to head to the mess hall when you noticed something unusual on the steps of your cabin.

a small envelope, neatly sealed with a heart sticker, lay on the top step. curious, you picked it up and opened it.

"dear [y/n], i've admired you from afar since the beginning of the season. your strength, kindness, and beauty have captivated me. i hope this note brings a smile to your face as you do to mine every day. yours truly, your secret admirer"

your heart fluttered as you read the words. a secret admirer? you looked around but saw no one. who could it be?

throughout the day, you couldn't help but wonder about the identity of your admirer. as you sat with the other contestants at lunch, you studied each one, trying to pick up any signs. geoff was cracking jokes, bridgette was laughing along, and duncan was teasing courtney. everyone seemed normal.

everyone except cody. he seemed more distracted than usual, glancing your way and quickly looking away whenever you made eye contact. was it him?

later that evening, you found another note tucked under your pillow.

"dear [y/n], i wish i had the courage to tell you this in person, but seeing you smile is enough for me right now. i hope these notes brighten your day as you brighten mine. yours truly, your secret admirer"

the handwriting was neat and precise, similar to the first note. your curiosity grew stronger, and you decided to take matters into your own hands.

the next morning, you made sure to wake up earlier than usual. you placed a small note of your own on the steps of your cabin, hoping to catch your admirer in the act.

"to my secret admirer, thank you for your sweet notes. they have truly brightened my days. i would love to know who you are. meet me by the old oak tree at sunset. yours truly, [y/n]"

the day dragged on as you anxiously awaited sunset. when the time finally came, you made your way to the old oak tree, your heart pounding with anticipation. you waited for a few minutes that felt like hours. just when you were about to give up, you heard footsteps approaching.

cody appeared, his face a mix of nervousness and determination. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes meeting yours with a hesitant smile.

"hi, [y/n]," he said softly. "i got your note."

"cody," you whispered, the pieces finally clicking into place. "it's you."

he nodded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "yeah, it's me. i've liked you since the beginning, but I didn't know how to tell you. i thought the notes would be a good start."

you stepped closer, your heart swelling with affection. "they were perfect. thank you, cody. you've brightened my days more than you know."

he took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "so, um, would you like to maybe go on a date? after all this is over?"

a smile spread across your face as you nodded. "i'd love that, cody."

relief and happiness washed over his features as he took your hand in his. "great. i promise it'll be the best date ever."

as the sun set behind the old oak tree, you realized that sometimes, the sweetest surprises come from the most unexpected places. and as you walked back to camp hand in hand with cody, you knew this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

[jediwizard]

Hiiii I was wondering what your top 5 series are because I'm bored and I don't wanna do schoolwork so I'm gonna distract myself with screens

thanks for asking

my ultimate comfort show is friends. I've seen every episode a billion times, but it still makes me laugh and I still feel like I'm watching it for the first time. it's nostalgic and it just feels like home. I would like if there was more diversity tho..

i love how I met your mother (except for that awful ending). its so comforting and the show discusses real problems that young adults face like unemployment, divorce, infertility, losing a parent etc. characters go through real problems that real people face.

heartstopper obviously. again, I feel like I'm mentioning a lot of comfort shows rather than genuinly good shows but heartstopper is just.. so perfect. it is a bit cringe at times but teenagers are actually like that. everyone in that friend group is so loyal and kind and there's no drama and overall toxicness you'd find in most netflix shows like riverdale, elite etc. and I feel like this is one of the first shows I've seen with good queer representation. the paris squad remind me a lot of my friends and I, and we actually watched the show together. and we're gonna binge all of s3 and then talk about it (it's gotten to be a bit of a tradition)

id like to say that I love the owl house, even though I've never officially seen it. I've watched a lot of clips of it on YouTube and I know what happens and whenever I feel stressed or overwhelmed with school work, I'd watch like a 40 minute video of lumity. and I also relate to luz noceda on a personal level. I found out about this show only last year, when it was on it's final season and I was 16. I wish my 12 year old self watched it, because she would have LOVED the owl house and found comfort in this show. watching the owl house at 16 and 17 for the first time shocked me because I felt like my 11 and 12 year old self had come to life (and btw we even look really similar so there's that..). I just started watching Hilda and it's a lot like the owl house and Hilda reminds me of myself too, so idk. they're both really great shows

and lastly i'd probably have to go with stranger things. I love the gravity falls-dark suburban-fall vibe the first two seasons had. season three was really fun, but I didn't like the fourth that much. I also hate how it takes so long for each season to come out. again, I related to robin a lot and I love to play DND with some of my new friends. I started watching stranger things when I was around 11 with my old friends and I remember collaborating on pinterst boards and stuff, so that was fun. i'm going to watch the last season with them too.

ive seen a bunch of episodes of doctor who and some clips on YouTube and I love that. I need to properly sit down and watch Dr. who

superwholock in general is great, but I don't really feel like mentioning spn and Sherlock because of all the queerbating and homophobia surrounding the shows. (sherlock's amazing though)

i know you asked for five, but one day at a time is SUCH an amazing show too. it's about a latina family (grandma, mom, daughter and son) and it's so funny and really informative and just an overall fun family sitcom, but it doesn't shy away from dealing with important issues like racism, immigrant families, growing up in a three generational household, raising a teenager daughter who's a lesbian, being a military nurse and the trauma you have to deal with afterwards etc. elena is a lesbian and she's so nerdy and I just love her so much <333

anyway, that's it. peace out

[soartfullydone]

Did you ever read ACOSF? What did you think of the twilight baby plot?

Everything I know about ACOSF I've learned against my will lol. One of my best friends kept a play-by-play of each chapter in a Google Doc, so she could spare me the reading experience but also so we could make fun of it mercilessly.

In all seriousness, I knew I was never going to subject my eyes to it directly because I hate Nessian with a burning passion. I one-hundred percent believe that Nesta deserves better than everything she got, and she should've been meaner actually. Even when I somewhat liked ACOMAF, I felt utterly indifferent to Cassian. Who is this bland rice cake taking up the space where Lucien should be? No good dialogue or anything out of that guy. And then SJM wrote Nessian into MAF with all the subtlety of a clown show, and it was over. Nesta hates him! Keep him away from her! If she doesn't kill him, I will!

Most baby plots are horrendous in fiction, and I hate them deeply also. They often reduce women to being pure idiots (why do I have morning sickness after unprotected sex? a mystery!) or they reinforce this false idea that women can only achieve ultimate happiness by having their One True Love's baby. Ah, the number of women I know who are stuck in unhappy marriages, their sense of self completely lost because being a Wife and Mother comes first! Can those things be fulfilling? Absolutely. But a lot of folks are selling a romanticized idea of both, and SJM is no exception here.

Because look at what the Twilight baby plot does. It takes away all of Nesta's power, asserts her feelings of worthlessness, and encourages her to be a breeder for Cassian, who never even told her he loved her in their romance book. It puts her firmly and forever under Rhysand's and the Night Court's boot. It confirms that Feyre has also lost all her agency, that the High Lady title is meaningless, that her found family and Court do not respect her, that Rhysand will lie to her and trap her if it serves him to do so. That, ultimately, her body does not belong to her and she doesn't have a choice.

What really gets to me, too, is that these two women have to change their bodies to accommodate their love interests, their supposed fated mates. Methinks if it was fated, if they really were perfect for each other, this kind of change wouldn’t have been necessary 🤔. But also if this really were a fantasy story with all-powerful magical beings, there’s no reason why Feyre’s pregnancy should’ve been so risky to begin with. Barring that, there’s no reason why a C-section couldn’t have been an option. It was drama for the sake of drama, pain for the sake of pain. All filler, no substance.

Everything surrounding the baby plot and Nesta's forced captivity prove ACOMAF for the lie it is, a romanticized idea about overwritten trauma and choosing the Perfect Guy because he can read your mind and tell you the things you want to hear. I mean, how else do we go from Feyre earnestly believing she wants time with her new love, that a child can wait, to a Feyre who can't think of a single gift to give Rhys besides the news of her pregnancy? (Cue him cumming to the sight of their unborn child. I will never forget, and neither will you, dear anon, I'm sorry. But I didn't write it!)

And idk, given how much pregnancy in general squicks me out despite being a woman myself, how much medical care for women generally sucks, how many people are going through such pain with miscarriages, unviable pregnancies, and unclear yet strict abortion laws... This ain't it, fam! If SJM wants to talk real-life application with her trauma bullshit, then let's talk real-life application! Because no one, not a single person, has an I Am Become Death magic sister who can pull a dying mother and their dying baby back from the brink where medicine and the law have failed them. No one can have their premie who can't survive on its own suddenly turned into a healthy six-month-old. Who does this plot serve? Neither the reader nor the characters benefited.

I genuinely can't understand how SJM, as a mother herself, could write something so tone deaf, without even being brave enough to explore this kind of fear and pain with any care whatsoever. If she wanted Feyre and Nesta to actually bond over something... Feyre's pregnancy and what that means as a human-turned-fae and a mother could have been it. That could have been something the sisters discussed and helped each other with, where they could have learned more about each other and their deeper fears as young women in a society that does not truly respect them. Both of them share in family trauma, for fuck's sake! Now here Feyre is starting a new family at great risk while Nesta is still guiltily mourning the one she lost! The dots are there!

But no. Instead, not even Feyre is allowed to learn the truth about her pregnancy until Nesta tells her, and then Nesta is painted as a villain for doing so. Feyre isn't allowed to have any real opinion or lingering fears or doubts about her fate whatsoever. Because none of this stuff really matters, especially not the trauma. It's about the fucking, rutting, animal sex. It's about the smirking males, their dripping seed, and their inability to be anything besides horny at any given moment. It's about the washboard abs. Hey, a sexy story would be just fine with me! I just wish SJM would fully embrace that (and also write it better lmao) and get off her "I'm God's gift to feminism" soap box. Maybe take off the girlboss shades, too, because ain't none of her female characters even living up to the shallowness of a girlboss. The narrative undermines and undervalues them too much.

Actually, I have to clap my hands to SJM for this baby plot. I've never seen one that destroys two main female characters in a single stroke before. That's how powerful Rhysand's dick is.

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s2 ep23: The Thaw

I'll come right out and say it, this is one of the dumbest episodes of Star Trek I've ever seen. Seriously, why do we dunk on Threshold or Move Along Home when this exists??

The opening scene with Tom and Harry hanging out and chatting in Harry's quarters is the most interesting thing that happens in the whole episode- we learn that sound travels easily through walls in the crew quarters, which must have caused a lot of drama on the ship that probably would have been juicier than half the plots of actual episodes lol.

This episode wants so desperately to be psychological horror, but this circus, that’s supposed to be so menacing, is just like, mildly wacky?? And every time they try to kill someone, whatever device they use is painted literal Barbie pink, so it's a little hard to be terrified when the threat being posed is 'oh no! we're caught in a virtual reality simulation with Barbie's Dream Guillotine!' lmao

And the PLOT HOLES! PLOT HOLES EVERYWHERE!! Why does the clown kill off the people if he needs them to survive?! He won’t let them go, but he’ll kill them willy-nilly?? What?? That doesn't make any sense. And if the people know they’re in virtual reality, why would being virtually guillotined scare them at all, let alone enough to give them heart attacks??? And why do they not just kill the clown?!? Why don’t the Voyager people just kill the clown?!? He’s not a real person, he’s a computer program, you’re not even killing an actual life form- problem solved!!!  (Also, the evil clown is supposed to read people's minds, and says that Harry misses Libby, but the first scene had Harry telling Tom he's been seeing the lieutenant Tom's been trying to date for six months- clearly he doesn't miss Libby that bad lol. And clearly Tom got over Kes pretty quickly too! It's like Star Trek: High School on that ship!)

We do learn that Harry Kim's parents are apparently civilian doctors, so that's kinda interesting I guess. (I felt very sorry for the baby they uesd for baby Harry though- poor kid seemed terrified of all the weird masks and makeup everyone was wearing. This episode is scary if you're a two year old, but if you're older than that, not so much.)

And why is the evil clown Michael McKean?! Hiring a comedian, and a well known one at that, to play a character who's supposed to be scary, is... a choice. Mostly he was just annoying more than anything else. (And I do like Michael McKean in comedy roles. In fact, I just watched the movie 'Earth Girls Are Easy' the other day, where he played a surf bum, so it was even harder to take him seriously with that movie in mind- although, I will say, that movie is a great example of how to make someting so over-the-top bad that it's actually good- this ep did not even come close to achieving that, unfortunately.) I just.... I have so. many. questions.

The ONLY scary thing in this entire episode is Captain Janeway at the end. When she does that lowered voice, with the simmering wrath underneath, and then the gleeful triumph of watching some idiot realize they just got played?? Ugh. MA'AM. WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO BE THIS HOT?!

It’s like wow, okay bad guys, she’s gonna end you, and you will probably die in some kind of strange state of beatific awe at the sheer majestic honor of having your ass handed to you by this badass queen. I love her so much!! Anyway, I give this episode zero stars from a story standpoint, but ALL THE STARS for Captain Janeway’s hotness and badassery in the final scene.

Tl;dr: A complete dud on every level, only worth watching for the fun of the first and last scenes.

[storytowrite]

|Drive ~ Han Jisung|

Theme: Night Race, little angst

Word Count: 1,449

Warnings: none

Summary: Han Jisung is the best night racer in the city, until you came up...

Authors note: Hello people. This is my first ever story that I've finally decided to post. Please enjoy and don't be too harsh in the comments <3 Maybe in future I will make this story into series.

______________________________________________________________

The day was cold and rainy. Not the perfect day in early autumn in Seoul, but it is what it is. No one can rule the weather anyway. You were looking at the view through the large window in your new apartment. The Han River looked amazing and shiny. You smirked to yourself - it will be a really good evening. Hopefully everything will stick to the plan. 

You started preparing yourself for the night. You put on a black t-shirt and black skinny motorcycle trousers, and then you tied up your heavy boots and took the black helmet and a jacket matching with the trousers. You looked into your reflection in the mirror and smirked again to yourself. You were ready. 

You got out of your apartment and went to the underground garage, where your motorcycle was parked. After a while you were on your way to the place where the night race will start. You felt a little uncertain, but it wasn’t time for any second thoughts. You had to do it. Had to show everyone there that you’re alive, and ready to come back. Had to show HIM that you didn’t disappear because you were scared. He probably still thought that you were dead. Everyone thought that. Well, they will have a really (not that) nice surprise.  

Personally you were excited. You knew that everyone would be in shock, maybe even angry with you. After all, you'd disappeared without any message. You played dead for four years. Four long years without contacting anyone. Without saying a word to your friends, family, and to HIM. You were afraid of his reaction. Will he be happy to see you? Or maybe he will be furious? Or disappointed? You didn’t know what to expect from him, and from your old friends. 

Finally, you’ve arrived at the place. You didn’t take off your helmet too afraid to show your face, just yet. You scanned the environment looking for some familiar faces. Finally you spotted HIM and his two best friends - Christopher Bang - for some people Chan - the leader of their group called Stray Kids, and Seo Changbin, the best mechanic in the whole city. You couldn’t find a better guy to repair your bike than him. 

Finally, your sight fell on HIM. His posture, his whole silhouette had changed. He looked a lot different than four years ago. His hair was a little bit longer and… and blue. You had to admit that dark blue definitely suited him. Also he gained some muscles and looked more healthy than before. From your source you knew that both Chan and Changbin drag HIM to the gym everyday after your disappearance. You will thank them later for that. Eventually, you still cared about HIM and never stopped. 

Han Jisung was your true and only love since high school. You two were one of those sweet teenage couples that everyone wished to be. Back then he was this cute little nerdy boy and you were that popular one girl, who fell into him like in some kind of drama. Who knew that after all these years the roles will be switched. Now he was the bad boy, the popular one and you were known as dead. 

You’ve decided to move from your spot a little closer to them. You wanted to hear what they were talking about. Hear their voices, his voice. Gosh, you’ve missed him so much. There was even a time, where you wanted to call, to tell him, that you were alive, that you didn’t die in that accident. But you were too afraid to do so. 

‘Hyung, are you sure that everything is alright?’. You heard his voice, definitely more mature, but still similar to what you’ve remembered. 

‘Yes Han, I am SURE that your bike is alright. Friendly reminder that I am the one who made it.’ Changbin’s answer was sharp. Was he irritated with Han? 

‘I just want to be sure, that’s all…’ Han pouted and Changbin rolled his eyes. 

‘Han, everything is fine. Don’t be that nervous’. You’ve heard Chan’s soft voice. As always he was calm. ‘You will win this race and after that we will go to grab some beer with the rest of the boys, as usual. What’s the big deal? Come one.’

‘Don’t you remember what day it is today?’ Han asked. Ah yeah, the day of the race was the same date as the day of your accident.  You almost forgot that. 

‘Oh please for god’s sake! It was four years ago, get over it Han!’ Changbin’s voice was a little too edgy. 

‘Guess what, I cannot get over it Bin!’ Han snarled.

‘Okay, okay, calm down boys. Calm down. Han focus, you will win this race and after that you will do whatever you want, okay? Is that clear?’ 

‘Yes, it is VERY clear.’ Han rolled his eyes and sat on his motorcycle. ‘Wish me luck guys… But if I win, which is the only option, you two buy me beer.’ 

‘We have a deal bro, and now go and win this race.’ Changbin smiled and the younger boy, and Han drove to the start. 

You did the same. All the competitors lined up at the start. Your motorcycle was next to his. You looked out of the corner of your eye, gosh he looked so handsome. He put on his helmet and his bike made a noise. Han was impatient, you knew that. Also he was so determined to win. It was almost impossible to compete with him. But even the chances were low, you knew all his weaknesses. 

The loud noise made out of the gun was the information that the race had begun. All the competitors started their machines, but their bikes weren’t as fast as yours and Han’s. You two were first, almost head to head. You both left the others far behind. The road was simple, you had to drive straight to the main park, and then turn right to the main road. After five kilometers you had to turn back and go straight to the ice.

As simple as the road was, the race wasn’t. You knew that Han would do anything to win, no matter what, which meant that you had to be extremely careful. He tried to push you from the route a few times. But you didn’t let him do that. You knew all his tricks. Suddenly you stopped your bike for a while, he had to be surprised by this action, because till that moment you were head to head. He slowed his motorcycle a little, and then within a few seconds, you overtook him, which led you to first place. 

So Han Jisung, the best racer of all, lost. He definitely will be devastated by it, you were certain about that. But you didn’t care. You wanted to show him that there are people who are better than him. You didn’t care about the prize, didn’t care about money, you cared about him, his attitude, his everything. 

He took off his helmet in complete shock. The boys also were surprised. It was unexpected, the first loss in Han’s career as a night racer ever. He blinked twice and looked at your silhouette. You didn’t take off your helmet, you couldn’t show your face just yet. You just wanted to win with him. After all he was the one who taught you everything you knew about motorcycles. 

You looked at him through the dark glass in your helmet and just nodded. That was all you could do. Before the organizers of the race came to give you your prize, you had been gone. So they gave the money to Han. He took it, still in shock. 

People around were curious. Who was the person who won the race with Han? They started to discuss what actually happened. And Han was the one, who stood in the same place and looked at the road. He was devastated. 

‘Han? Are you okay?’ Chan asked and put his hand on his shoulder. 

‘I’ve lost… I’ve lost Chan.’ The boy answered. ‘H-how is that even possible? Find me that bitch whoever it was. I need revenge.”

‘That’s not possible… No one knows who it was. They call him or her The Ghost… Come on man, let’s go home.’ Chan said calmly. 

Two men disappeared in the dark van. One was completely shocked, and the other one was worried about the other. But in this whole situation only one thing was certain. He will be looking for you, no matter what. And when he finds you, no one will be able to help. 

____________________________________________

masterlist

[ouhhoh]

I fucking hate how so many gen z & young millennial women talk about femininity. as a 24 yr old gen z, it feels like there's been this cycle. like at first it was "I'm not like other girls, I'm better" then "actually that's kind of a misogynistic way of thinking" to "women who physically & genuinely are not like other women bc they're masculine or just not particularly feminine are bad and weird and misogynistic bc clearly they just hate femininity & can't do makeup well"

not to sound too debby downer about it but tbh this current wave of tiktok feminism that is entirely focused on femininity=good masculinity=bad has made me feel more ostracized from other women than I've ever felt before. and it's all subtle shit. "pick me's" are bad bc they aren't into girly stuff, supposedly only for male attention (because why else would women like cars or video games?).

being a "girl's girl" only applies to feminine attributes. when a woman helps another woman with her makeup and gives her some tips, she's being a girl's girls, she's supporting women, but I could give another butch woman pocket knife recommendations or tell her which stores have the best men's section clothing for short women, and that's nothing. doesn't matter, doesn't count, not being a "girl's girl".

girl math is women shopping and spending too much on makeup and clothes but it's okay bc they'll get use out of it. and it's somehow hashtag progressive feminism, because this time we've decided to hurt ourselves with stereotypes, as opposed to letting men do the hurting.

explaining it for the girls has to use pop culture taylor swift kardashian drama shit as metaphors, because women could never possibly just understand the rules of football if you stated them plainly.

when I say I'm not like other women, I don't mean "I'm better than you" I mean I'm not fucking like you. I don't wear makeup, I don't wear dresses, I don't want to be feminine, I'm not better than you, I'm just fucking different. and the only ones pissed that I'm different are the women who think my existence is a personal attack on their feminity. you can dislike my masculine stuff and I can dislike your feminine stuff without the need for some faux-feminist talking point about how I must hate women bc I present myself differently

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola, it's me! This is not a WIP Wednesday post (well, the WIP is always me), but it's something.

First off, thank you thank you thank you to all the beautiful people who messaged me, or commented, or tagged me in things, or even just thought kind warm thoughts at me while I've been away and not writing. Brain not working good enough to sort through the things and tag properly but you know the drill - I love you all.

Here are things I did while I wasn't writing AKA while I have Big Sad Brain:

I visited London, and had a great time - eating delicious food, flat-sitting, visiting old haunts, picking up new ones, spending time with friends, and watching too much Shakespeare. The salted beef bagels in Brick Lane are still unparalleled, there were daffodils everywhere, and I brought home too much tea but not enough biscuits.

I buzzed my hair short again, and as EarlobeGreyTea said, "it really moved your energy from bisexual to lesbian," and then followed up with, "I'm glad that I, a man, could explain your sexuality to you"

I read a lot. I read The Locked Tomb series (I'm obsessed) and fell down a danmei pit (I have consumed SVSSS and MDZS but not yet TGCF) and I have spicy hot takes on why I did not enjoy The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo or The Starless Sea. I re-read all of Ann Leckie's books. I read The Future is Disabled in a Socialist bookshop in London, and I cried so fucking hard that the gentleman in the shop asked me if I was okay. I read The Song of Achilles and Circe and wandered down the labyrinth of getting really, really into Greek myth.

Speaking of: I bought an ROG Ally (horrible name, hate it, but the console itself is fine, it's like a more versatile Steam Deck) and I played Hades. So much Hades. So. Much. Hades. And every time I met Patroclus in Elysium, I bawled, "He's so SAD! He's such a SAD MAN! I need to make him UN-SAD!"

I finally finished the godforsaken Totoro cross-stitch pictured above. As soon as I framed it, I held it up to my spouse and said, "Could a depressed person make THIS?" and he said, "Yes" and then "Good job," because he's a lamb.

When I had energy, I cooked. I learned how to make carrot ginger dressing and shogayaki, and how to velvet pork. I made some of my standbys, like applesauce pancakes and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and felt very Smug and Very Adult for putting frozen cookie dough into my freezer so Future Me could have cookies. I introduced my family to Uncle Roger and I've never heard my mother (1) get so angry and (2) laugh so hard. When I couldn't cook, I ate food that someone else made, and it was enough to celebrate: I ate a meal! I ate food! I fed a me! Hooray!

I spent time with my beautiful friends. I spent time with my beautiful family. They are so good and they have been with me through so many tough things and depressive episodes, through bullshit and drama and tears, like that time I screaming-yelled at someone over the phone (they deserved it) during an engagement party at the cabin and then I had to walk out and pretend to be Normal and got drunk on a lot of Old Fashioneds.

I grew things. Flowers and vegetables and herbs and I accidentally made a great home for some very invasive weeds. The squirrels left only one sunflower alone (they ate the rest), but even now in mid-October, there are still bright coral-red flares of peppery nasturtium, and feathery pale pink zinnias from my caretaker at work (who is an angel), and gigantic, blue-tipped borage. My best friend moved in down the street from me, so she's only a five-minute walk away, and now I can pick flowers and stick them in a vase and walk them over to her, and I love it. I grew too many tomatoes (they got..... scary. My favourite were the heirloom tomatoes, as big as my fist, that remind me of my Lolo) and forgot about the cucumbers (they got lewd) and let myself get coaxed into growing three different kinds of mint: chocolate, grapefruit, and berries & cream (because I'm a little lad who loves berries and cream).

I bullied my spouse into watching Practical Magic with me the other evening and every time That Fucking Cop came on screen, he said, "That Fucking Cop! This movie would be good but there's too much of That Fucking Cop in it" and I felt so v i n d i c a t e d

I tried to write. I tried to write. I tried to write. I tried to write, and then let go of trying to write and just let myself do all the other things that make up living, try to amend the soil so that something good can grow there again. I tried to talk myself out of unhappiness but it's funny how that doesn't work, how only hard-fought kindness has helped me trudge out of the swamp, again and again and again.

I had one of those moments recently that felt like it could have been in one of my stories. At Thanksgiving dinner, I was sitting next to my little half-sister-in-law (a mouthful, I know). She is seven and she lost her dad two years ago and she said, "I wish my dad was here." And I said, "I know, honey. I think we all do." And she said, "I miss his piano playing," because her dad used to play piano the other way someone else might doodle on a napkin - absentmindedly, brilliantly, while wearing a faded green apron and with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, in between checking if the roast was up to temp and pouring someone a glass of wine. Always red wine, from the Piedmont region, which is where my spouse's Nonna is from. I asked my little half-sister-in-law, "Do you think you'll learn how to play piano?" and she said, "I don't know," and I said, "It's okay not to know." And then she asked, "Do you have a Gothita?" and we went back to talking about Pokemon, which we had been talking about for a conservative 90% of the dinner.

I wrote this. I wrote this and it felt good to feel my fingers moving, it felt good to have words spilling from me, it felt good to have faith in words again, that the words could be something good, could do something good, that the worlds could just be and it could be good, and that I could just be, and that could be good. Just being could be good. Even if I never wrote another word ever again, just being would be good. As I said to one of my friends many years ago during some deep dark down shitty times, "It's hard work, being human. Thank you for doing the work."

Take care. I love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

[linghxr]

What I’m watching (cdrama edition)

I don’t really talk about cdramas on this blog except for this one ask I responded to over 1 1/2 years ago. I’ve been branching out and watching more Chinese-language shows lately, so I thought I’d share what I’ve been watching.

Already watched:

《想见你》 Someday or One Day Unless I’m forgetting something, this was the first Chinese-language show I ever finished (I previously started but abandoned a few others). It’s a love story but also a mystery and kind of a time travel story, so it really has something for everyone. I am not a romance fan, but I ended up crying over the relationship. I was somewhat disappointed by the movie version, which only made me think more highly of the show honestly.

《开端》 Reset I couldn’t watch this show late at night because it really got my adrenaline pumping, and I just couldn’t turn it off! If you want a show that that will have you on the edge of your seat but also has a more human side, then definitely check this out. The characters were very memorable, and the show was the perfect length in my opinion. I think this show deserved all the hype it got.

《流星花园》（2018） Meteor Garden (2018) I decided to check this out because I’ve seen a lot of reference to Meteor Garden over the years. I chose the 2018 version because I could not bring myself to look at 2001 hairstyles. This show starts out as kind of an enemies-to-lovers story but then shifts to just a romance story. My interest waned a bit by the second half—I think they should have kept it under 40 episodes. I also didn’t really care for the subplots involving the secondary characters. 

《摇滚狂花》 Rock it, Mom This was a very short drama and a quick watch. It’s about a has-been rock singer reuniting with her estranged daughter. At first, it felt fresh and interesting, but it got old fast. I felt like the characters didn’t have much growth or development. I also found the ending to be unsatisfying.

Currently watching:

《消失的孩子》 The Disappearing Child I've been watching this show gradually with my friends, and we’re almost done! We’re all really enjoying it. As the name suggests, there is a child who disappears, but there’s also two other storylines involved. We were going crazy trying to guess how the three would connect. Now that the plotlines are starting to converge, the payoff is insane. This show will hook you instantly but also keep you on your toes. 

《猎罪图鉴》 Under the Skin I am about 1/3 through this show, which I’m watching...with my dad! It follows an artist working as a police sketch artist and a police detective, both of who are haunted by a past murder that connects them. I don’t think this show is very realistic, and it’s also hard to follow at times, but I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes.

《你安全吗？》 Are You Safe? I watched the first few episodes of this show but then stopped because I was watching too many shows at once. I’m determined to at least give it another go. So far it’s about a man who works as a technology consultant/vigilante hacker(?). I’m not sure where it’s going because frankly I don’t remember what has happened so far.

《她和她的她》 Shards of Her I literally just started this show, so I don’t even really know what it’s about or what will happen. But it looked interesting, and I heard it was good. 

On my radar/watchlist:

《隐秘的角落》 The Bad Kids

《沉默的真相》 The Long Night

《狂飙》 The Knockout

《摩天大楼》 A Murderous Affair in Horizon Tower (shoutout to @liu-anhuaming)

《回来的女儿》 Homesick

As you may have noticed, I’m mostly interested in short mystery/crime shows. Police lingo is difficult for me to understand, but hopefully I will improve as I watch more shows!

[superconductivebean]

#978: hmmmm

I'm not usually the one to comment on drama. The reason isn't anger control or lettering creatively picked insults for literal ages, but the desire to be very, no, painstakingly meticulous about the case -- that always meets a force opposing it as greatly as it stirs up my mind. A force that tells me speaking publicly isn't worth its time; that force is rather wrong but is also very right, but no elaboration. For now.

Anyway. And sorry for the rant.

That particular kind of drama is very familiar to me and I hate to meet it again and again and again. It migrates from fandom to fandom, you can easily spot it outside internet and it always comes in either of its two equally irking forms.

You are either told to drop something because you are too old.

Or you are told to leave it for someone older, allegedly more capable and knowledgeable, wiser, than the silly little you.

Both I had seen, both I am very tired to hear for what feels like years.

Because it has been years. Decades. In three years I may call myself a fandom vintage because it would be a 20 years mark of me being to fandom, in a broad sense. I've seen it all. And I am appalled, a tad.

First, you are urged to leave, because you are too small. You get a little older and get shushed or lashed at again -- for being too young, still, and that your opinion isn't matter because of your age. Fast-forward would still yield you prejudice but there would be something more to it. Condescending. "You are so clever for your years!" Uh-huh.

Once your bio turns 18, people will suddenly start to look at you very differently.

Cringe you would post will be judged with lesser severity and your opinion will apparently matter to even the smallest degree now because you have come of age! Congratulations!

But. Once you've felt free from the other people's ostentatious desire to show off their utterly fallacious wisdom, -- as their main argument is their belief age matters much, -- it just starts to spin the other way.

People will either mock you, or try to drive you away, because now you're too old to be around. Too old to enjoy things. Ancient for this cosy spaces reserved for a forever-haunted youth. Decrepit and desolate, unfit for this endless, miraculous life stream -- that in the grim reality of things, seems to be off-limits for everyone.

Fascinating, isn't it.

Spitting on the youth and expect it not to ever try and beat anyone back with the same old argument of never being of the perfect bride age but for fandoms. Because humans are resentful creatures.

So,

don't mock fandom elderly,

don't mock fandom youth,

don't mock age; it matters not.

And, don't fall for the centuries old fallacy that inspires one to assume greater age equates to becoming only wiser. The implication of it should be apparent and well-known.

Important asterisk*: It isn't about parenting someone else's child. It is about respect. Understanding. Acceptance. Nice Things. You can't earn it by hitting someone's nose with a tip of your shoe. You earn it by communicating boundaries -- and while doing so, not leaving a landmine field. As much as people like to resent, they actually cherish kindness.

Another important asterisk*: Frustration is a very relatable emotion, yet. It shouldn't raincloud a whole group of people for the 'normal' of whom a tent has been put? Us-and-Thems may look appealing -- any simple thing does -- but when that becomes the case, you are well-past any resolving and facing something worse and of leviathanical proportions. That amount of prejudice and disrespect must be fought on levels far exceeding capabilities of just some fandom homies just wanting themselves a cosy retreat. Doesn't excuse said homies' resentment -- and hence, contribution to the persisting issue they'd rather not have. An ouroboros, if you will.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

High and Dry

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Soap x Reader x Ghost

Summary: You haven't talked to Soap much since you've known him, much less alone. Though the thought didn't intimidate you. Unlike Ghost or even Graves, Soap hasn't tried to put on any acts with you. In the most endearing way possible, Soap was just… Soap.

Tags: TW/Implied PTSD, Pre-Canon, Angst, Slow Burn, Fluff, Romance, Flirting, Banter, No smut (sorry), almost like an awkward three-way café date, kind of reads like an OC a little.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: I wanted to write something cute for Soap because I've been typing Ghost x Reader x Graves (Which is certainly not over with), but I love creating new ways for drama to seep in, and Soap's right there looking fine as hell so... I tried to write it like a cutesy fluff romance. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Soap was the first to arrive at the café that night.

He lingered about on the sidewalk alongside the city street, having walked here alone. The café hadn't been as far away as he'd thought originally, and the walk itself wasn't anything some headphones and music couldn't make breezy. Though the late summer night grows colder the longer he stands around waiting for you and Ghost to arrive.

Hopefully he hasn't been stood up again. It seems to happen a lot these days.

Everyone has their excuses whenever it happens too. It usually went along the lines of "I'm too tired" or "something came up". Whatever worked for the moment.

Soap never held it against his team when the plans would fall through though. People all have lives of their own; he understands that better than many give him credit for. And tomorrow's always there, it wasn't like he'd be away from the team for long. Not when he's worked as hard as he did just to be a part of it.

Still, he'd been hoping tonight wouldn't be another dud. He was really looking forward to actually having a second chance to talk with you.

The last time he had the opportunity to get to know you, he'd gotten black out drunk instead; Soap was still kicking himself in the ass for that one. But he didn't plan on making that same mistake again. No, this time he's ready.

Another cold breeze wisp the back of his neck, raising goosebumps on his skin. He hugs his arms together and lets out a shivery sigh, as he leans against one of the streetlights, his eyes diverting back and forth between the passing cars and those who'd walk by him on the sidewalk. All while the minutes crawl, the city ambience rumbling around him. It wasn't that late at night, yet the city bustled with life.

Laughter and boisterous voices erupt suddenly. The café doors swing open again, with its familiar bell chiming above. It allows for the interior's warmth to wash over the Sergeant, the smell of freshly made coffee and baked goods blowing out just before the door shuts. It sings to the man, who now desperately looks around himself for any sign of his companions.

The sound of distant car horns and aggressive chatter pull at his attention once more. He can't help but sigh to himself in marvel, swearing beneath his breath. "Shite..."

It's all very big, this city he's found himself in; his hometown in Scotland felt small in comparison. 

There was just so much here -- it was big and loud and dirty and busy, just like some old backdrop in a movie. With his half of the Task Force on stand-by at their current base, he was already mapping out places he wanted to visit, assuming there's enough time to venture before getting sent out again. He hopes so.

It's not often Soap finds himself in the States, but the atmosphere never ceases to enamor him. The others would say that's rather easy to do though, given the Sergeant's attention span and spontaneous nature outside of combat, which in that case Soap would have to agree.

He always was an easy man to please.

"Soap?"

That soothing, familiar voice of yours turns his head without hesitation, as he catches you walking towards him down the sidewalk. And as easily pleased and enamored Soap always found himself, you watch the stars shine in his eyes the moment they finally set sight on you.

You cleaned yourself up since the last time he saw you a few hours ago, having done your hair and put on something more suitable for the café setting. You decided to forgo your makeup for tonight as well. Your face sat rather worn, making the natural look of you that much more comfortable to be around, your eyes inviting him forward.

Soap had to keep himself from gawking.

He greets you, "There she is!"

You jokingly strut your way over and hold your arms out to present yourself. Soap must have taken the gesture as you trying to initiate a hug, in which he needed little convincing to reciprocate. A large smile grows on his face and two giant steps later he's in front of you, his arms wrapping around like a heated blanket.

The hug made you jolt at first, catching you off guard. The first thing you register is his scent, not a cologne or shampoo, but not bad either. It's very... him. Easy to take in. Before long you've let the warmth of his large arms and frame lull you into him, taking the cold night air away with his touch. 

You wrap your arms around him and hug back, laughing into his shoulder. "Aw," you start to tease. "I wasn't gone that long."

Soap lets you go, though he remains close. "You certainly got dolled up," he comments, taking the opportunity to take a better look at you beneath the streetlight.

"Oh you know," you shrug at his comment, your tone sarcastic. "I couldn't resist. You'll quickly learn I secretly crave being the center of attention."

Soap lets out a sharp exhale at your joke, chuckling to himself. He then almost hesitates before speaking again, "Well, you look lovely tonight."

You cock your head in amusement, your eyes growing pleasantly wide. "Why thank you."

Despite his sudden shyness, Soap certainly makes sure to look at you like he isn't. Having this natural gumption about him. He gives you a charming smile. "You're welcome."

You look Soap up and down and start to lean on your leg, as you cross your arms. "Hm," you say. "Gym attire still?"

Oh yeah. His outfit. He'd changed before coming here, sort of. Sure the man was still in his gym clothes, but Soap figured a hoodie would be enough, the black pullover he'd found fitting somewhat snug on him. However the longer he waits, the more he wishes he'd gone ahead and put something else on.

"Hey," Soap merely shrugs. "It's cozy."

You giggle. "I imagine."

The two of you enter into the café side by side, quickly skimming for a place to sit as you shared idle chatter together.

The café was a small, quaint little spot, some mix between a coffee shop and a bar, with dark wood flooring and interior. Soft music plays in the background, just barely humming over the crowd. And the smell, it had Soap's stomach grumbling the moment he took his first step in.

You find a table somewhere off near a corner of the main area, beside a misty window and candle lights, with just enough chairs for your impending party. For now however, it would only seat you two.

You and Soap sit across from each other. You don't notice the lack of legroom beneath the table until you feel yourself accidently bump against the man. Your ankle rubs against his leg, brushing faintly before you both awkwardly shift yourselves into place, pretending to ignore it. Though you both give each other a goofy look after.

"This place is quite adorable," Soap comments suddenly.

"Right?" You smile. "It looked nice on Google and didn't have completely shitty reviews, so I figured we could give it a try."

Soap chuckles to himself, looking around more and really taking in the scenery. The place is done up nicely with its candles and stringed lighting carefully placed, the plants and decorations giving the space a very cozy vibe.

It's just the two of you right now, tucked away at some candlelit table only a few feet apart. Alone.

"Feels romantic."

Your eyes widen a little, but you don't appear flustered. In fact, the comment only seems to further intrigue you. The small reaction is enough to bring a playful smile out of Soap. "Ya know," he teases. "If you wanted to ask me out on a date, you could have just said so."

You smile and scoff.

"Too much?" Soap asks.

"Mm." You give him a sultry look, humming to yourself and leaving the man in suspense. He starts to lean in curiously, his smile never leaving, and his gaze never faltering. Soap's piqued expression tickles you. "It's cute how you look at me like that."

Ah, he thinks to himself. That doesn't quite answer his question, but it definitely tells him something. Something he finds himself also intrigued by.

"It's cute how it makes you smile."

Now he's gone and made you blush, the image getting a little rise out of Soap, who takes that as a small victory.

"Any word on Ghost?" you ask him suddenly.

Oh right. Soap had to remember this was indeed not a date. He shakes his head, "He said he'd be here though."

"Oh well," you wave your hand jokingly. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves in the meantime. Keep each other company."

Soap smiles innocently. "Aye."

The conversation between you went peacefully. Flowingly even. It seems this chatty side came to you when work wasn't the topic of discussion.

You talked a lot about whatever caught your mind, sometimes it was an old story, other times it was just an opinion about a TV show you'd watched. But you talked. And Soap listened happily, having fun hearing all the ways you used your words and expressed what was on your mind. And when he talked, you gave him the same amount of eager attention.

You were a lot more chatty than he'd originally thought you were; which was saying a lot, as you were already pretty talkative. Soap's watched you speak in riddles with Ghost in the past, but with him, you seemed more interested in just being yourself.

And honestly, he was just getting lost in you in general. 

The entire aura you had was addicting to interact with. Your eyes bounced around animated-like when you talked about something you were more passionate about. You licked your lip a lot when listening to him, and always nodded, letting him know in smallest of gestures that you were indeed invested.

As the minutes fly by, Soap thinks to himself. This is really nice.

Had Ghost not finally arrived, Soap's sure he would have talked to you all night like this.

Ghost stepped into the café, turning a few heads his way just from his presence alone. As usual, he opted for something dark and comfortable to wear for the occasion. And as usual, he wore his skull balaclava.

The minute Ghost enters your peripheral, your face gleams with excitement, as you struggle to bottle up a cocky smirk. It was a lot different than how you had looked at Soap when you saw him. It piques his curiosity. Naturally, this doesn't intimidate the Sergeant one bit. He didn't get here being uncompetitive after all.

"You're late, lieutenant," you say to him.

Ghost looms over the table for a moment, growing more comfortable in the spot you two had chosen, as it wasn't as close to everyone in the building. "I had business to attend to," he says cryptically.

"Business?" Soap raises an eyebrow. "This late? What sort of business?"

"That's need-to-know, Sergeant."

...

Once Ghost was seated, Soap watched your attention shift slowly from him to the lieutenant, your jokes and jabs leaning towards Ghost now more so by every comment. Though you do what you can to share the attention, as did Soap, all while Ghost sat passively by, giving his same tired responses to the both of you.

After some time, the conversation starts to flow naturally between you three. Once a few kinks were worked out. You and Soap do most of the talking for Ghost, who had been more than happy with listening and responding as prompted. While his demeanor said otherwise, somewhere in him he was happy his aloofness hadn't seemed to rub either of you the wrong way.

Eventually you two somehow "convince" Ghost to go and order the drinks for all of you, giving him a chance to break away from all the extraverted energy exuding in the air. He practically jumps at the opportunity, leaving you alone with the Sergeant again. Just as Soap had unknowingly been hoping for too. 

You didn't last long with his smiling and eyeing you before you were doing the same.

"So, do you always go by your callsigns outside of work, or can I use your real name as well?" You lean forward on the coffee table with intrigue, your chin rested in your palm, as a smirk pulls at your lips. "Before I start making up pet names that is."

"Pet names?" Soap lets out a sharp laugh, the flicker of the fancy candlelights twinkling in his light blue eyes. He then grows sly, resting his arms on the table across from you. He leans in a little. "What kind of pet names?"

You bite your lip a little and look over his shoulder at the other patrons. "Only the most fitting kind," you say coyly.

"Too shy to share now, are we?" Soap asks.

"Maybe I'd rather just say your name instead."

The thought of you letting his real name roll from the tip of your tongue seems to bubble something hot inside the Scotsman, which manifests itself into a shy little laugh. For such a naturally talented, and deadly man, he could be rather bashful.

"If you want to say my name, you only have to ask me," he says, his voice low and gravelly now. "Nicely, of course."

"Soap." In the nicest voice you can muster, you ask, "Can I call you by your name?"

"Why yes you may."

"John, right?" you ask. "That's the name on your files, if I remember correctly."

There's a spark in his blue eyes after you say it, almost like he's been waiting to hear what it sounded like in your voice, wrapped in the allure of your words.

"Aye," he smiles. "That's right."

"Jooohhn," you sound his name out a little more, letting it familiarize itself in your mouth. It makes the air get caught in his throat. You smirk. "I guess you look like a John."

"What gave it away?"

"Mmm," you place a finger to your lip and think to yourself, letting your eyes look him up and down. He watches you detail the veins in his forearm, the bulk of his arms, the shape of his stubbled jaw and the red blush that formed at the corners of his ears. "Your body."

"My body?"

"Yeah," you confirm. "Your body. I'd say you're built like a "John". Big arms, big smile, strong, a little stocky -- I'd say that's very "John" like of you."

Soap laughs again. He laughs a lot, you've found. It was rather infectious; you could hardly stop yourself from reciprocating it. Nor did you want to.

"Don't forget handsome," he adds in.

"Right," you say. "Also smart."

"And charming," he smirks.

"And overconfident," you tease.

"That's not a bad thing."

"I agree," your gaze lowers a little. "I do like my men a bit cocky."

"Oh?" Soap leans on his arms now. He hasn't taken his eyes from you since you've started this conversation. "I'm yours so soon then?"

You rest your chin back on your hand and lean forward some more, playfully being seductive. "Is that a bad thing, John?"

You see the blush begin to pool into the man's cheeks, as he lets out a shy chuckle. However, despite the blushing, he grins, never breaking eye contact. "I wouldn't complain."

Your hands both rest on the table, only a few inches away from one another. You're not exactly sure what convinces you to do it -- maybe knowing that he was the only man around you that would allow for it -- you extend a finger and gently let it graze the edge of his palm, stealing a warm touch. A simple, gentle poke.

Soap's jaw tenses at the sensation, though not because he didn't like it. His eyes drop down, watching your hand move stealthy. Your finger retreats as quickly as it had reach out to him. You look off into the room again, purposefully acting as though you hadn't noticed your hands touch.

You don't see his smile, but you do feel his hand gently graze yours a few seconds later, lingering. They're quite warm, both firm and gentle all at once. Your hand subliminally chases his skin at the slightest motion, and before long the tips of your fingers hover over his again.

"Is this the part where you tell me your name now?" he asks. "As much as I like Canary."

That's when Ghost decides to come back with those drinks. You both quickly straighten up, attempting to bring back your more casual demeanor. 

"I may have spooked the barista," Ghost says, before taking a seat and passing you both your orders.

Soap's goldfish attention span carries his gaze from you to the lieutenant. Sarcastically, he goes, "I wonder why."

"You'd think she saw a ghost," the lieutenant quipped. Ghost takes a look at the both of you, seeing the coy expression on your faces and the blush on both your cheeks. It raises a brow from him, beneath his mask. "Am I interrupting?"

"Canary was just about to tell me her name," Soap looks back over at you, not letting you get off the hook just yet.

"Ah," Ghost says.

"You're not curious L.T.?"

"...I already told him actually," you laugh awkwardly. 

Soap gasps. "You did?"

"It was a little bit ago actually," you say.

"And ye didn't tell me?" His Scottish accent swirled the words of from his lips, as you could hear the heartbreak in his voice. "Can I know too then?"

"I don't know," you tease. "Maybe I might keep it a secret now. Keep you guessing."

"Wha'?" He scoffs.

"It takes a little more than asking me nicely to get my name, Sergeant. Though I appreciate you telling me yours."

"You're a cruel lady, Canary."

"Tell you what," you get a mischievous look on your face suddenly, one that pauses Soap patiently. "I'll tell you my name," you bring your eyes to Ghost, who sits quietly at the table with his drink (which was already half gone despite having just seated himself). "If Ghost tells me his name first."

"His name wasn't in the same files?" Soap asks.

You shake your head. Most of Ghost's files were blacked out and classified, though his reputation proceeds him clearly. Meanwhile, Soap's files couldn't be any more of a stark difference in comparison. 

The man's files read like a novel of high praises and decorations. A 22 Regiment member at only 18 years old, with some of the highest scores on record, and the youngest to ever pass the selection into the SAS too. There are whole pages spent going into detail on everything he specialized in; he might joke around about his callsign, but even the name Soap carries some weight to it.

You really felt lucky he even cared to know your name at all.

Soap looks over at Ghost pleadingly, though he already knows what to expect. Ghost keeps his eyes closed nonchalantly, holding his drink close to his chest.

He pouts at his superior. "L.T.?"

"You're on your own, Johnny."

Soap bows his head in defeat as you laugh, standing from the table with your drink. You excuse yourself for the moment, leaving the men to themselves.

As you walk away, Soap watches you go, his eyes dropping from the back of your head to the lower half of your body. He sees the bounce in your step and the sway of your hips move before you vanish behind the crowd of other patrons.

"Don't stare too long Johnny," Ghost's voice cuts in suddenly. Soap nearly jumps when he looks back over and sees Ghost staring dead at him. The shock on Soap's face only makes Ghost shake his head disapprovingly. "Might burn a hole in 'er back."

The Sergeant smiles to himself. "I can't help it," he says. "I mean shite... What a bonnie, aye?"

Ghost gives Soap a deadpan stare. "A what?"

"Oh," Soap clears his throat. "She's cute."

Cute? Cute ? From the way Soap's whole demeanor lit up the moment he saw her, Ghost could have guessed as much. However, he hadn't expected the Sergeant's words to make Ghost feel so... odd about it. Mulling over it in fact.

Ghost looks across the café, watching you approach the halls to the restrooms, just out of range of the men's conversation. He imagines this would be a little awkward if you heard them talking.

"Keep your head on straight, Sergeant," Ghost states. "We aren't off work just yet."

"Aye, I know sir," Soap sighs. "But this is nice too, no? Havin' a break every now and again."

"You shouldn't drop your guard so easily," Ghost chides. "Especially around strangers."

"She's not that much of a stranger," said Soap.

"No," Ghost's eyes unconsciously roam the room, droopy with exhaustion. Indeed you didn't feel quite like a stranger, least of all to Ghost. "But she's not us."

"I guess you're right..." Soap is quiet for a moment, and then a thought passes his head. He pouts at the lieutenant all grumpy like. "Though that's funny comin' from ye, seein' you clearly had a chat when no one was around."

Ghost groans to himself, taking his eyes away from the Sergeant. He hadn't mentioned anything about that night with you to anyone, having just kept the whole event locked away in his mind. It's been a struggle enough just doing that.

"I just drove her home the one time," Ghost sighs. "No need to work yourself up, mate."

"Right, from that other night," Soap reminisces. "I was out for damn near most of it. Though I heard there was a fight."

"Don't ask me about it," Ghost says. "She didn't say much, and I didn't ask for an elaboration."

"Or maybe you're just hiding all the juicy bits," Soap starts to poke.

"No one likes a gossip, Johnny."

"Fair enough," Soap sighs.

"I find her being here odd," Ghost comments suddenly. "Why transfer her here with us? Why now?"

"It is a bit strange..." Soap admits. "I'm sure it's not anything she can help. Orders and all."

"Good orders, or bad ones?"

"I doubt they're bad," Soap sighs. He then gets this quizzical look about him, as he nudges at the lieutenant suddenly. "You think they sent her to spy on us?"

Ghost's eyes search for you in the café again, still finding you standing off to yourself near the back. Frozen. It's rather peculiar now, it makes the lieutenant's brow furrow.

"My gut's tellin' me somethin's off."

"Your gut says that a lot," Soap jokes.

"It's kept me alive this long."

"And alone."

Ghost pauses at Soap's comment, the words sticking to him. He opens his mouth to say the first thought that comes to his mind, how being alone suits him just fine. But then he pauses, letting that sentence sink back down into his throat. Pretty soon too many seconds have crawled by, and instead Ghost settles for silence instead.

Soap comments no further, giving Ghost enough time to look over and see you still standing where he last saw you. Frozen still.

This time Ghost excuses himself, as he makes his way towards you, if not just to make sure you were doing OK.

By the time Ghost nears, he finds you standing off a ways in the café, just teetering at the start of some small, narrow corridor towards the building's restroom and backrooms. The lights are off in the hall, the glow of the main seating area cutting off sharply against the archway of the hall. The corridor stretches endlessly into its own darkness.

You stare deep into the hallway, frozen, eyes wide, and contrite. Your drink is clasped so tightly in your hands that the plastic bends unnaturally in your shaky grip. And the other patrons glide by, chatting idly, ignoring you, the world continuing on all around, as the store's music drowned out the sounds of your heavy breathing.

A fear of some sort has overtaken you. Ghost almost thought that fear had manifested itself into someone standing down at the end of the hall; the two of you deadlocked in a glare. He keeps his distance when he approaches you, not to have his presence disturb you just yet. Wanting to see what it was you saw.

Ghost looms a few feet away, the shadow of his large figure barely meeting your peripherals. Your back stays turned to him, completely unaware of his large figure behind you. He feels the tension riveting from you the closer he inches forward.

He looks down this hall that's captured your gaze, expecting to see the face of the stranger that's stopped you so abruptly. Yet when his dark irises trail along to where your gaze stops, he's met with the cold ending of an empty hallway. Not a soul in sight.

And yet you stand here, peering in. Afraid. No longer here in this moment.

Immediately, he recognizes what it is that is happening.

Ghost rest his hand on your shoulder, carefully. A small nudge that should knock you out of this trance this hallway has taken you down. Something tells him, you'd appreciate the distraction and a change of scenery. However, the man's touch against your arms does anything but calmly bring you back.

The minute his cool fingers glide against the fabric of your clothed covered shoulder, his touch sends a thunderbolt through you. Your entire body tenses and you yelp, your drink falling from your hands and crashing onto the tiled flooring, spilling everywhere.

Ghost takes a step back, feeling the eyes of the other patrons looking your way. Their stares seem to bother you most of all.

"Shit," you look around, searching for anything you could use to clean the mess you'd suddenly created. "I'm sorry..."

Eventually one of the workers walks from around the counter with a mop and a bucket, their trained smiles already ushering both you and Ghost away from the spill so they could clean the mess. The store settled back to itself rather quickly, allowing for you to not feel as trapped in by everyone and everything.

You can't seem to lift your gaze from the floor, ashamed by your sudden behavior. You spare Ghost no words, and the man can't seem to find words suitable enough to spare to you in return. All you're left with is the unspoken tension and familiar darkness swirling about.

Your head sags, and you speak nearly at a whisper now. "...I need to get out of here."

Before Ghost can reply, you zip past him in a shameful flurry, making a beeline for the exit. You run into Soap on your way out. However, his joyous smile and matching words did little to stop you from walking out the door.

...Chapter Sixteen Here!