#it's very messy but i'm still glad i was able to write all of this. maybe you'll find it interesting too

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[illym]

Hi, hello, if you like reading about localization choices be sure to check below the cut because I Had Fun Here (not being sarcastic. It was enjoyable learning about vinegar in Japan).

Translation Assistance: @masked-and-doomed + @solradguy

ID in alt.

Cleaned and original comics below the cut.

Specific Assistance:

@.masked-and-doomed: transcribed what I couldn't pick up.

@.solradguy: Verified the translation of what the npc was saying in panel 4, offered a line for it.

Fun fact: The Japanese department of a college all got together to work on this one.

I hated redrawing the back of Ky's head. I'm glad I was able to hide most of it behind the text (lol).

Anyway, let's get on with the localization (and process) discussion!

In the original text of this comic, Ky was drinking vinegar.

"But Illym," you ask, face twisted in confusion, "Huh? Who drinks vinegar as a drink for fun? Is the joke that being compared to Robo-Ky made him go mad and believe that vinegar is delicious? Did you change the joke? Why are you writing me to be so verbose?"

I'm a very verbose person. To answer the rest of your questions, here's what DeepL gave me when I put the transcript in.

[

npc:

Captain… it's only the body that gets soft from drinking vinegar.

ky:

I… This is for your health!

npc:

If you drink it without diluting it, you'll get a stomach ache.

]

At first, I assumed that DeepL has misinterpreted some other drink as vinegar, such as cider, sake, or general alcohol. In this example, even, it translated Ky as saying "For your health" when within context he should obviously be saying "For my health".

I went to [ https://jpdb.io/ ] to check the line. Lo and behold, it still translated as vinegar. Hm. By this point, I'm fairly sure it's a cultural thing that I'll have to localize, but I try to be thorough in these things as, again, I don't understand the language and rely on machine translation. I search up vinegar in English in jpdb and find the Japanese character there immediately. So it's obviously the same word, not a messy translation.

My next course of action is to look up "drinking vinegar japan".

To summarize, according to the articles/blog posts I read, the process of making vinegar is just adding an extra step to the process of making sake. After that, if it's to be drinking vinegar, it's blended with sweeteners such as honey or fruit.

It's an extremely old drink in Japan, and it's seen as a health drink there (along with, I assume, being pretty tasty). You should go read up on it yourself.

But in the western world, drinking vinegar is... Not a big thing. While I could leave it as is and just write a translators note explaining the drink, I decided that given that Ky is French and Japan has been exploded for ~100 years, it would be more lore accurate to have him drink something else. If it was Anji or Baiken, I would have left it.

Also, it's more enjoyable and easier to understand to make it ambiguously alcohol instead of requiring a 4 paragraph explanation.

So to localize, I removed mention of vinegar and made the joke into Ky drinking too much alcohol. The NPC's worries apply to alcohol as well as drinking vinegar (drinking it makes you soft, it affects your body poorly, drinking too much is Seen as bad for your health) so it made for the smoothest change.

As I write this, I'm debating whether to add a translators note between panels saying that the bottle reads 'vinegar'... It'll get people curious, at least!

Original translation of the comic below.

[bedoballoons]

Omggggggg

ok but I have another one! And yes I am obsessed with demon slayer. so Tokito muichiro inspired x (angry bois also albedo and the dadd- like zhongli and Al-haithim.

so muichiro has Memory loss due to young tramaaaa, anemo vision fits best, has very baggy cloths to help with is battle technique, in his 7 form can literally turn into air, to quite but he is super fast. And ya. Ohh Also when we remember our past(tokitos brother was murdered plus his parents) I just want confurttt.

I only have one he because when I was around 1-3 l don’t remember I was diagnosed with eye cancer I things. We caught it early and we could either do chemo(which could’ve killed me) or remove the eye intirely so we did that. There’s more to the story but I’m so tired right now .

Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you're okay! It sounds like it was a scary situation but you pulled through and now you have a pretty unique quirk about you! I hope you know that's really awesome <3

YAY okay I'm so excited for this request! Sorry it's been awhile since I've answered! I do have a question though! Do you think because he turns into air and Venti is the anemo archon, he could control him in that form?!?!?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Tokito Muichiro like reader~༺}

CW: Reader has past trauma and memory loss, slight angst but mostly comfort and fluff! Some of these are extremely long and I apologize, I just got really into writing them...

(Includes: Zhongli, Albedo, Alhaitham, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You sighed quietly, your head aching as memories swirled around your mind like a messy swamp...nothing making sense and yet...you were still trying to put the puzzle together. You just wanted to know...even if it would hurt, you had to know what happened in your past...

"You know, there are better ways to go about recovering your memories, as someone with a long history who remembers many things from very different time periods, I might be able to shed some light on the subject." You looked up to see Zhongli walking towards you, his voice as calm and collected as always...comforting in some ways.

You bit your lip, it seemed embarrassing to ask for help from someone else, but you'd run out of options...so it only seemed reasonable, "Please... help me." The tall man smiled at you, his eyes filled with kindness as he sat down beside you, looking up at the sky. "First of all you should take time to clear your thoughts, take a deep breath and then exhale...relieve yourself of all the unimportant thoughts clouding the memories you want to recover."

You did as he said, taking in a deep breath...and then slowly letting it out, even if it seemed a bit strange to you...it actually did help you feel slightly better. "Very good, now I want you to think about the snippets you do remember, concentrate on the little things, tiny details one wouldn't usually focus on..but don't frustrate yourself, getting overwhelmed won't do you any favours."

You nodded, closing your eyes and recalling your few memories as best as you could...the scent of the air...the sounds...even down to the smallest shred of movement...and just like that, it came back to you. The images of your brother...your parents, all of it playing over and over while you tried to stop it, but it was like you were trapped in your own memories, screaming for help.

And then, nothing...you were back in Liyue...Zhongli holding you in his arms while you stared blankly at him..."Are you alright?" He asked, but you didn't even have it in you to answer...the suddenness of what just happened leaving you silent with shock. He seemed to notice this, kissing your head softly and rubbing your back, perhaps it would be better to not remember all at once...

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo gently touched your vision, the soft teal glow of it very familiar to him...beautiful and inviting, but earned from such sorrow and loss. A loss he wished could have been reversed...while you on the other hand, weren't focused on the vision or its meaning, you were far more concerned with perfecting your fighting style. "Albedo?" You looked at him curiously...he seemed so interested in your vision, but he'd seen many of the course of his lifetime...why was yours so captivating?

"Oh apologies love, I was just thinking about something. Back to the topic at hand, I've given your clothes a bit more of a baggy design, making sure to leave lots of room for movement and airflow. Please let me know if anything is uncomfortable, I'll make adjustments to improve their quality." He handed you a stack of clothing, the material soft and comfy looking, but also durable...perfect.

You rushed into the empty room nearby and changed clothes, leaving your old ones behind before hurrying to the dummy you'd set up by the entrance. You practiced your fighting techniques, already impressed by Albedos work and also very aware that he was watching you closely...maybe...he was worried about you?

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham closed his book, looking up from his desk to check on you...and noticing the bags under your eyes, you'd been tossing and turning in your sleep all night...mumbling things about death. You had him very worried, and that was saying something because he truthfully didn't concern himself with other people's issues unless they were incredibly serious, but your sleepless nights and difficult past...were starting to really impede your life, he just wanted to help.

He stood up from his chair, breaking your attention away from the plate of food you'd been poking at for a hour now and leaving you slightly confused, by now you'd gotten used to Alhaithams schedule and the one thing he never left out or cut short was his reading time...so why was he doing so? "Alhaitham, are you alright?" You asked, looking up at him slightly worried and running through different scenarios in your head, each one not really making enough sense to be considered a explanation.

"I'm perfectly fine, I'm more concerned with you. Would you like to take a nap together? You look exhausted and I can only assume you won't want to sleep alone because of your recent nightmare increase." Alhaitham held out his hand to you, gesturing towards the door as you tried to comprehend what he'd just said...he wanted to take a nap with you? "Oh...alright." You didn't really know a better way to answer as you accepted his hand and the two of you made your way to the large couch in the livingroom.

You crawled onto it first, watching as he left for a moment, only to return with your favourite blanket. Then he joined you on the sofa, sighing in content as you cuddled up to him and he covered you both up, in truth he was hoping this would help with not only your lack of sleep...but the nightmares themselves. He just wanted you to be okay.

𑁍༄Wanderer:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Turning into air...was unlike anything else, exhilarating...calming...terrifying and apparently one of your most alluring qualities, well in Wanderers opinion anyway. Other than him most of the people in Sumeru considered this some type of witch craft, even though you carried a vision...they saw you as an outsider and whenever you attempted to take a trip to the city you get many stares.

Wanderer was the only one who found it beautiful, although to be honest he found everything about you beautiful and for some reason you were incredibly easy to talk to...to relate to. You'd share moments together where one of you would be caught up thinking about the things you couldn't change...forced to remember times you'd wish you could forget and then you'd comfort eachother, make the other feel better just by knowing what it was like.

"Heyyy get your head outta the clouds. The sooner we help her royal majesty the cabbage head, the sooner we can go home." Wanderer gently bonked your head, pulling you back into reality and making you smile, a very light blush colouring your cheeks.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[saintobio]

hello, i don’t really have any theories other than hoping akemi is just there to apologize and maybe explain to yn about the cancer and why satoru was with her a lot😭 other than that i just wanted to say i think you’re an amazing writer and i always look forward to reading the fics you post. thank you for still trying to write these things for us even when you’re busy with life :) i appreciate you and i’m excited (terrified) to see how the next chapter for sy goes :)

thank you so much for reading my fics, that means a lot more than you know 🫶🏻 indeed, let’s hope that’s what akemi’s going for bcos things are gonna get real messy if not :’))

@coleisyn said

hi saint! Sorry this is not an ask but BUT BUT BUT IF SAINT CAN MAKE A HAPPY RNDING FOR THEIR REMEMBER FOREVER FIC ( a super cool kags fic) i know a happy ending for SY is possible ❗❗❗🙏🏻 (coping) THANK YOU FOR ALL THE FOOD YOU'VE BEEN FEEDING US SAINT!

have u been here since rf? omg it’s rare but i always wonder if anyone who’s known me since rf are still here lurking :’) but then again, i’m the same person who wrote wastelands and blank canvas, so those type of endings are not far-fetched either sdjsjs

@joemama-2 said

i think after reading the last chapter i might cry 🥹🥹 this fic has been thru so much and u even more but i’m so glad u stayed strong and resilient

honestly i’d probably cry when this series ends. i did go through so much writing it but aaaah at last the ending is near and the characters will finally be able to rest from all the drama!! thank you for supporting and reading every chapter despite the very slow updates though 🥹 i’m always very grateful to each and every one of u <3

@bibemiiu said

Hi Saint, I can't believe I caught your ask box open, I'm fangirling so hard rn. I just wanted to tell you how awesome you are and thank you for your work ❤️ Hope you take care of yourself and drink a lot of water, Kiss you💋

hii lovely, is it ur fist time sending an ask? 🥹 so sorry i keep closing it, but thanks very much for sending in ur message. i appreciate ur support !! and pls do take care as well <33

[shinmelodia]

Love & Process: blue (2002)

Hello to everyone reading, and welcome to a highly belated attempt to squeeze some of my thoughts and emotions through some semblance of a creative process and onto a page. Today, I want to introduce this blog by talking about a lovely film, blue (2002), directed by Hiroshi Ando and based on a manga by Kiriko Nananan.

Since I'm still somewhat new at diving into live action film, especially, like, uh, Japanese indie film, its helping to start with the yuri genre. Because like practically any other woman on this site, I quite enjoy lesbians. blue's manga original offers something of an alternative to the yuri norm, though, and the film follows suit. Both are definitely examples of the Japanese filmmaking trend I've heard of called "mumblecore," (or maybe mumble-komi for the manga equivalent) that most people know through the likes of Inio Asano's early work. Like Solanin or Girl on the Shore, blue is shoegazey, quiet, and contemplative, adorned with moments of subtle physical intimacy, layered emotion, and stunningly beautiful compositions of daily life.

My metric for these kinds of slow mood pieces, which I've previously tended to watch at random whenever the mood struck me, is that if my barely-medicated ADHD brain can even finish them, there's clearly something special going on. blue passed with flying colors; yeah, ok, it took two sittings, but I spent all of both enraptured, immersed, and invested in the mono no aware of silent, fragile love and messy asymmetry that formed this movie's emotional palette. blue is about love, of course, but its also about process and expression, both emotional and creative, and how processing things, artistically, verbally, non-verbally--is often required of real, human love.

In being about this, I think it did things for me that a lot of yuri often doesn't and gently hit me in a place that I really needed to be hit. So, let me get into it. This is going to be...very personal, and also obviously spoil the details of the film, if you care about that, although I'm sure there will be plenty of depth left in the text that I leave untouched. Whether you read it or not, I'll be happy I made it. Oh, and sorry if I come off as really New for being so struck by themes and aesthetics that are probably sort of standard for this type of film. I can't help what I feel like writing about, though.

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Kirishima Kayako lives in a small town by the sea, one much like dozens of other anonymous, disaster-prone exurban towns in Japan at the turn of the millennium. She rides the bus to her girls' high school every day, where she eats lunch with her friends and tries her best to learn something in class. Really, though, she's aimless, quiet, lonely, and introspective. She's trying, but its rare for others to be able to tell. She's also in love with her classmate, Endou Masami. When she confesses at the end of the first act, on a windy beach against the vastness of the ocean, Endou responds that she's glad, and the two become our lesbians for the movie. Kayako falls to her knees and cries in relief. Masami is different from the others--she sees how hard Kayako tried. Does that mean she loves her back, though?

Endou Masami has cool passions and interests; she collects American CDs, which she expertly critiques and describes while lending to friends. The mere view of her vibing to her American alt-rock while smoking a cigarette in front of her apartment window is album-cover worthy in itself. Kayako feels the same way: one of the most intimately gay scenes of the pre-confession portion of the film is when Masami lights a cigarette and asks if Kayako is shocked. The quiet girl declares without hesitation, "No, I'm admiring the way you lit the match."

The whole early film is such a delectable, lonely vibe. The slowly intertwining couple's solidifying dynamic is the kind that forms between an emotionally complex introvert and the perhaps even more unknowable yet somehow more confident object of their affection. The two are classmates, (there's no classic yuri kouhais and senpais here) but for the early part of the film we are seeing things from Kayako's perspective and Masami seems unmistakably older in spirit. There's something about the dense emotions conveyed in her gazes at her new girlfriend, the almost world-weary tinge of recklessness in her distant grins. She talks about music Kayako's never heard of and lends out books with Romantic-era paintings that she has well-formed thoughts on. Kayako even openly admits that if she could, she would want to be Masami.

I think we've all loved a girl like that.

It's a pretty typical experience in middle school or high school, for really anyone lonely who loves women, to be drawn to these sorts of sad, beautiful, oh-so-seemingly-complex femmes. I guess straight men have a similar thing going on with the whole Manic Pixie Dream Girl archetype, but for us women (or, women-to-be, at the time, I guess), the phenomenon of these people to us often involves a sort of existential jealousy. I'm not sure what is so alluring to other people about the sense that the object of their love has Something Going On that they are working through, or a vast and complicated life beyond the scope of one's understanding, but it me it always felt like something I was missing out on for myself. Obviously, a lot of their experiences and interests must be interesting and fun and super cool, you think, but even what pain you think they convey must be somehow more edifying than yours.

For me, the edifying aspect was the mere fact of femininity itself. The idea of a girl who has deep and Real emotions, who feels Real love and Real sadness and can actually express that in how she looks, beautiful and imperfect, always threw into stark contrast my own inability to express myself comparably. I was depressed, I was growing up, and I felt things, too, but, as someone who everyone thought was a straight boy and who was too scared to admit to being otherwise, I lacked that sort of beauty, that means of expressing what was inside me through fashion, makeup, book or music knowledge or taste. Or at least I thought I did. Thus, my own emotions must have also meant less. So, I ignored them and belittled them, and entire years passed before I processed a thing correctly. I always wanted to be some other girl. That was the only thing that would fix me.

I assume that the teen (and, uh, sometimes beyond) existential pining experienced by some other people in real life usually lacks the fun bonus that mine had of a screaming void where my femininity should have been, but I'm not sure how much this actually matters to the crux of the kind of experience I'm talking about. That some kind of void is there is all that matters, really, and its there for Kayako in her relationship with Masami at the beginning of the film. She has nothing, Masami is everything, and just being close to her is enough, for now. Just being noticed, just sharing something with her, is all Kayako feels like she can ask for.

Of course, this incomplete way of seeing love can't last, which brings us to the next part of the film, which starts when the two are hanging out and Masami reveals through a guarded, distant grin that she had an abortion a while ago. This isn't something that shocks Kayako or is really meant to shock the audience, and it isn't the big moment where she forced to reconsider her feelings. Rather, she asks how it went, and Masami responds honestly. She mentions she felt horrible the next day and had to be picked up by ambulance from the nurse's office, prompting Kayako to recall silently what to us was the film's first scene, a view from her window during class of an anonymous ambulance, sirens turned off, discreetly rescuing a student.

That she had this ambiguously traumatic, and at least unpleasant and potentially taboo experience is something that could have made Masami feel even older to Kayako, her pain even more distant and obscure. It certainly already is a way that Masami herself feels distant from others. Yet, by considering her own special, observant view of the ambulance back when it happened, it becomes one that Kayako can in some small way assertively share with her. Rather than continuing to put her lover's experiences on a pedestal, Kayako in this scene makes a silent decision to turn a blossoming mutual acceptance simply that they happened into a moment of true intimacy between the two, a sleepover punctuated by smirking kisses and satisfied cuddles initiated by each of them for the other. Despite her remarks that Kayako is weird for unhesitatingly wanting to stay with her, its an intimacy that Masami is happy to accept. This is all an important turning point in Kayako's development because she begins to choose insight, closeness, and assertion over the distant admiration that trapped her earlier.

As we go on, we'll start seeing how blue's gentle impact comes from the way it doesn't glorify or sugarcoat that earlier kind of unhealthy and immature dynamic. Instead it subverts it by giving Masami depth and Kayako agency, before reaching an endpoint that reflects on how the dehumanization of that kind of depressed, pining relationship can be overcome. In that sense, blue is a yuri romance mostly about the couple coming to accept their own and each other's humanity and capacity for expression. Like any good mumble movie, its full of long silences and almost unrealistically hesitant dialog, and doesn't give any explicit internal monologues like a lot of manga do. The world of this movie is one where expression is an uphill battle, something that has to be worked towards and struggled through. It's the world that Kayako and Masami share, in their own separate ways. And that's why its such a triumph to watch Kayako finally find her voice, her passion, and her process, which all starts in this scene.

First, though, it's time to learn about the Something that Masami has Going On.

Things begin when Kayako is still sleeping. Masami gets a call on her house phone that she doesn't answer, but that sends her into a silent spiral of emotional dread. She spends the next day at school in the nurse's office, refusing to tell Kayako what's going on and confiding only in her friend Nakano. Then, when summer break comes along, she disappears, leaving Kayako alone at home, pouring silently over the book of still life oil paintings that Masami lent her.

It ends up being Nakano who tells Kayako why she left. It's the story Masami didn't tell about the source of her abortion: an adult, married man whom she had a relationship with and eventually a pregnancy from. She got things taken care of without telling him, alerted her parents and tried never to see the rotten salaryman again. That is, until he called. He wasn't getting along with his wife anymore, apparently, and she had some sort of attachment to him that made her come running back. Her taste in music originally came from him, after all. It seems that, for the time being, her devotion to this mysterious, abusive man is going to perpetuate a brutal cycle: she'll keep hurting both Kayako and herself all at once.

What really destroys Kayako and her relationship, though, is that she lies about it. When she comes home after some predictably rough interactions with this guy, she tells her supposed girlfriend that she was enjoying a vacation with friends, and even gives her some grapes, supposedly grown in the prefecture she was hanging out in, as a twisted souvenir. The more assertive Kayako enforces her boundaries without hesitation, though, in equally as blunt a tone as she complimented her love, as when she told her she wanted to stay with her, all those nights ago. "Why are you lying to me?" Its with that same grin, now tinged with emotionally oblivious deception, that Masami dares to at first first feign ignorance.

"Eh?" Her smile is shallower than its ever been.

So Kayako walks away.

Their dynamic has now become worse than just immature; it's entirely toxic. From an outside perspective, Kayako is working on her shortcomings, while Masami refuses to reconcile her past. This kind of toxicity, though, is sadly just as common in high school (and even sometimes middle school) as is the kind of misunderstanding, lonely pining I talked about earlier, just usually among different sorts of people. Appropriately, its often even that exact kind of beautiful, hurting, mature femme (in the eyes of disastrous, moody lesbians like Kayako) who is going through that sort of pain. Its that mysterious and tragic byproduct of compulsory heterosexuality that causes a lot of girls to seek validation in the love of an older man, and that I imagine becomes a sort of addiction to that validation that only masquerades as love. Hell, Masami attributes much of what made her seem so interesting on the surface, her love of music, to this guy. She feels like she'd be nothing without him, and the way Kayako praised her, at least in the way she interpreted it, did nothing to dispel this fear. Which I think is really why she decided to go back, even though it would mean betraying the very girl whose love provided her an escape from it all.

Its an ugly truth, and its one that yuri media usually shies away from portraying, but it is explored with refreshing frankness and resolved with astounding maturity by the end of blue. And I think its the source material's status as "alternative" (I guess in Japanese parlance, Garo-inspired) manga, not to mention the movie's simply as an independent film, that allows it to break with genre limitations in this way. There's been tons of writing done on how yuri definitely presents a fantasy of the sapphic experience. Mainstream yuri's origins in Class-S still to this day often cause it to portray romances between women as fundamentally different, and inherently more pure, than those involving men, trapping them in a bubble of unassailable innocence. While that kind of makes sense and seems extremely cool to those of us who celebrate having little interest in moids or whatever, it also has the effect of sugarcoating and sometimes even outright obscuring what real women, even (and sometimes especially) sapphic ones, go through.

There's already a decent amount of yuri, especially among those aimed at older demographics and those where its more of a secondary genre, that do deal with compulsory heterosexuality and the experiences that come with it. What are much rarer are yuri series where one of the lover's flaws more resemble Masami's than Kayako's. Not enough that I've read at least is willing to make its relationships messy, or have one of its leads just do straight up bad things like self-destructive cheating and lying.

Because, really, its the same as what Kayako went through, isn't it? The lonely longing for something more that feels like it can only be cleansed by denying oneself all one has and betting it all on being close to someone else. The only difference between the two's actions is temperament and perhaps socialization--one sought it from a cooler woman, the other from an older man. And somewhere out of sight, that sad, irresponsible, fucked-up adult was probably hopelessly lonely, too, just like Kayako had to accept Masami was. Maybe disaster lesbians, disaster bisexuals(?), and yes, disaster straights aren't so different after all.

Well, other than that Kayako has worked to process her feelings, while Masami went and ruined her relationship over them. That's an important difference. Still, though, even Kayako has some work to do about how she feels about all of this. Masami's pedestal has been smashed, whether she likes it or not, and now she's lonelier than ever. So where does this vampiric cycle of taking from others end? What substance can replace loneliness in this ouroboros of etropic emotional alchemy?

Kayako doesn't touch the grapes. Instead, she silently processes things, lies on the floor listening to the cicadas scream in the garden. The grapes go rotten, and her brother throws them out. She sulks for a while.

Then, she starts painting. A still life of grapes, inspired by the books that Masami lent her. At first, her drawing is lousy, as the school fine arts instructor later tells her, but the colors are gorgeous. The deep purples of the fruits are expertly layered to capture light and tell a story, one deeper than the instructor could possibly imagine. It's the story not only of the transformation of a relationship, but of the growth of one of its participants. As the hot, still air of the coastal Japanese summer cloys around her lonesome final vacation of high school, Kayako finally salvages a passion to call her own out of a floundering relationship. When school starts again and she picks up art classes, going to Tokyo for uni, a dream that was previously held only by Masami, starts to be within her reach. She has a future, an interest, and a way to process all has happened to her.

And then comes the time for Masami to try and return. She proves unwilling to address all that happened before, instead trying to kiss Kayako after school in the art room. Her undeserved attempt at intimacy is rejected with a shove, but so too is her self-pity that causes her to instantly run away. There's more that needs to be said that simply "I'm a terrible person." Kayako pursues her into the town's small shopping district as night begins to fall and neon crackles to life against a cool late summer night. Now the emotional climax of the movie begins.

First, Kayako starts talking. She tells Masami about the painting, about her summer, about how lonely she was without her, about all the places she wanted to go with her. She talks about how happy she was at the same time that she found something she wanted to do without her. This approach is new for her. She's never so far relied on words so heavily to express her emotions. When Masami points this out, Kayako says:

This is how she's choosing to process things for the time being. At first, it was being silent to carefully consider her emotions. Now, its speaking up to keep them focused on what she really wants.

Then, its Masami's turn, for the first time, to tell the truth. By now they're away from the small cluster of lights, staring out at the blackness of the beach where they first got together. Masami broke up with the guy, she says. But she also asserts that she came to his emotional aid to begin with because she felt his need for help was more important than anything else to her. She couldn't tell her girlfriend this before, because doing so would mean telling a truth she didn't think Kayako could bear to hear: that he meant more to Masami than she did.

Kayako already knows this, of course. And by speaking up to quell her justified anger, by weaving words like the deft strokes of honest color on the tip of a paintbrush, she's gotten herself to a point where she can accept it, too.

I mean, think about it. Masami is broke now; Kayako needed to buy her a sandwich so she wouldn't be hungry on their impromptu date. Her sabotaging drive to be validated and her inability to accept love from the girl willing to give it has, by all accounts, ruined her life for the time being and harmed those around her. Even though she broke up with the guy out of necessity, or out of some fleeting impulse to run back to Kayako, she still feels like nothing without him. As she says to Kayako later, now the envy runs in reverse--Kayako is passionate about painting now, while Masami will still amount to nothing. Despite it all, though, Kayako is willing to love her. She's called Masami out on what she needs to be, then decided to stay nonetheless.

"I always come second. You broke up with him, so the number one spot is vacant. When someone else comes, you'll put him there...

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For most of my life, I believed that artistic expression was primarily the product of unrestrained, innate, and self-indulgent passion. I thought it was just something people either have or don't have, and that when they do, its something that can drive them to great heights of accomplishment and happiness otherwise impossible for humans to reach. It was mostly Japanese otaku media that instilled this into me, I think. I grew up exposed to a dizzying array of diverse and often miraculous artistic products that captured my imagination in ways the safe output of my own boring, monolithic home empire never did, and most of them were made by people who literally poured their lives into working on them. From Eiichro Oda's future-destroying, decades-long devotion to making One Piece to Kentaro Miura giving his life to practically paint the ceiling of the Sistene Chapel in pen on page after double-page spread in Berserk, to all of the hyper-passionate, universe-shattering early works of Hideaki Anno and his animator cohorts, I thought that I lived in a world of weird and wonderful treats whose cooks had the work ethic of demigods and the talent to match.

And even on the lower levels of the medium, among fan artists, cosplayers, writers, posters, historians, I felt surrounded by people who lived and breathed impossible passion, whose lives must have been defined by a kind of information processing my brain simply wasn't capable of. They had some ability to inhale the miraculous vapors of an abundant artistic landscape and spew out works of their own that further decorated the texture of a fleeting age of impossible marvels. And all that time, there I was, left on the sidelines, interested in many things but passionate about none, and lacking the motivation to really work to pursue anything at all. It was (and, honestly, still is) a state of existential discomfort similar to that sort of lonely-girl-pining, but doubtlessly far larger in scale. Some people had passion, while I had nothing to show for all my years of being alive. For fuck's sake, there was so much stuff out there, and I barely could muster the motivation to even read any of it most of the time.

After a while, I started to feel like I was simply broken, like I was an empty person that didn't belong in the very world I loved living in. And while I think this might be a niche outlook and insecurity (although one represented, to my profound gratitude, in Masami), I think it's also how a lot of people think about love. Love is often portrayed as a feeling sparked entirely of instinct, one that, when a person truly feels it, will never cause them to make any mistakes or do anything fucked up to those they care about. Something that will drive those bolstered by it to impossible heights, improve lives beyond the sorrow and loneliness to which they are otherwise condemned. But, as Kayako learned and as Masami and I are having to find out, that isn't really the whole story.

Expression is love. Love is process. Therefore, expression is also the labor of putting love through a process, of rigorously trying to get your ass in a seat and put in the steps of putting your feelings into form. As this is required of art, so is it required of relationships. And so the two are a cycle. Creation requires emotions to process; relationships require emotions to be processed. And the love that creation inspires feeds itself into the love for others that inspires the emotion to fuel more creation. A Labor of Love. Again, I know I'm New.

But this is what Kayako has been working up to all movie long, first with her silence, then with some words, then with the labor of painting, the iteration of getting better, then with more words again. She has found a slow cycle that is elevating her above her loneliness, a cycle that Masami helped create, and is welcome within, but that can, if need be, exist without her.

Love, labor, process. Expression, creation, process. Creating, processing, choosing...in the end, to do it all again. To stay with what--and who--you have labored to love. And that is the choice Kayako has made.

I have not yet answered what, after thinking and writing about this movie for days on end, might be the substance that can replace loneliness as fuel for the alchemical cycle of emotional taking and giving. By the end of the lovers' reunion, sitting by the road under the slowly-illuminating blue of a haphazardly-clouded dawn sky, Masami doesn't feel like she has an answer, either. She feels small and hollow, manipulative and weak. She's jealous of the coping strategy her own girlfriend has developed to deal with the effects of her bad behavior. So, in the end, what is she? What is there even left for Kayako to love?

I'll be honest, this feeling is so fucking real I get perilously teary every time I think about it. Because, for as much as I mused about Kayako's feelings resonating with me as a former and sometimes girl-piner, when it comes to my current relationship at age 22, it's Masami in whom I see myself most clearly and brutally. It's hard not to when she is the only representation in romance, let alone in yuri, I have seen so far who is as much of a fucking brat as I am at times. Whose tendency to sabotage her own relationship makes it so asymmetric that what her girlfriend feels appears almost one-sided, but whose love is real all the same. If she lacks process, talent, maturity, mystique, if no one is ever going to be good enough for her, then what at all does she have left?

The answer to all of this is the thing that lies at the core of her being, that makes her who she is. The source of her potential to express herself, the starting point of a process yet to fully begin. It's hard to see, but it's there. Its what makes her Endou Masami. And its what Kirishima Kayako loves the most.

It's color. It's the thing at the core of creation that can't be described with words, that forms the motivation for any process. Its the vivid purple of a painted grape whose intentional creation transcends deception and nurtures discovery. It's the blue of a dawning sky whose light guides two girls in messy, lopsided love back into each other's arms. It's Kirishima Kayako. It's Endou Masami. It's what everyone has, and it's all anyone has.

It's the source of love, its process, and its object.

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

Eventually, Kayako has to leave for Tokyo. That's the decision that's best for her, and its a decision that, for the time being, will leave Masami behind in the countryside, hard at work on the process of learning to love herself. At the end of the film, she sends Kayako one final piece of proof of who she is. It's a painting of sorts, recorded on VHS, composed not of oil but of compressed light and sound. Stylistically, as the camera zooms in, it begins to resemble less Renoir and more Rothko: at first, its the beach, then, simply the point of the horizon, the area where the sea and sky meet. Its raw, not quite processed, pure color, vibrant blue, filtered and compressed into chunky, washed-out 800x600.

By way of description, "this is all I can do."

For years, I've struggled to believe that my emotions, hindered by depression and self-sabotage, have any value at all. As someone for whom love, passion, and expression have always felt difficult, even putting my thoughts down on a page, let alone drawing, painting, composing, or directing, has always seemed impossible. Recently, though, I've grown a lot. I've found the beginnings of a process learned to accept its existence. Both this process, and all the loves that go along with it, are often uncomfortable. They are painful and brutal and blissful things into which to pour the labors of communication and the torments of understanding. I've learned to process discomfort for the sake of creation, to create for the sake of love. It sounds cheesy, but again, I can't help what I wanted to write about.

I hope you'll join me as I find more new things and tough feelings I love to process on this account. There's so much more I'd love to say about blue, just for starters. I could talk about my undying appreciation for the work of Mikako Ishikawa, or how the shots in this movie are so gorgeous and evocative that I'd seen many of them before in "Japan in the 00s" vibes compilations.

But, until then, this is all I can do.

[flyiingsly]

What will become of us

Part 1

Square : Is this for me ?

Pairing : Dogma x f!jedi!reader

Warnings : Mention of death and injuries, mention of Umbara, a lot of angst, implied depression

Wordcount : 4,9k

Summary : After the treason of Krell and the disaster of Umbara, you couldn’t stop worrying about Dogma and are determinate to go visit him at the GAR prison, without expecting how much of an impact on your life this decision will soon have.  

A/N : Finally ! My last submission for the @clonexreaderbingo !! I'm so glad and proud to have made it to the end ! This event was such a big and important challenge to me, this year was very messy and awful on so many levels of my life, and writing and focusing on it really helped me go through all of this ❤

Thank you so much to the wonderful @ghostofskywalker for organizing this event, it was sooo much fun :D

That one was reaaaally hard to write ! I really got carried away and it actually moved me a lot and gave me a looot of feels. It was starting to be a bit long and I still had things to add, so I decided to turn it into a two chapters story !

(Now that I'm about to post it, I just noticed that the mention to the bingo square is in the second part ... It really didn't catch my attention until now, I hope it still will count :O )

@dystopicjumpsuit if you're still interested, here it is (the beginning at least) :D

Enjoy ❤

The sky around the ship became clouded as it entered the atmosphere of Coruscant. You barely had a conversion with the others for the entire flight, just a few words exchanged here and there, but you could feel that nobody really wanted to talk at all. So you just remained silent.

It was the first time that a journey with the 501st boys was that silent, and it seemed never-ending. You were just coming back from Umbara with what was left of your battalion. That mission was one of the deadliest you’ve ever been part of, and one of the most mentally destructive, both for you and your men.

Everybody was tired and feeling strange, and as you looked around you, they were all staring into space with empty eyes, still processing what happened on that damn planet. There was usually cheering and agitation when a mission ended and that you were on the way back home. But not this time, and you couldn’t blame anyone for not at least try to relax the atmosphere.

You, too, were still processing what happened these last few days.

When the ship finally landed, you helped the medics carrying the wounded to the med bay. You exchanged a long, desperate and full of pain glance with Kix, before he disappeared behind the walls of one of the many emergency rooms of the building. His mission wasn’t over yet, and you couldn’t even help him with that burden.

You looked around you for a moment, completely still in the idle of the agitation, contemplating the endless flow of blue and orange painted amours passing the doors. You were feeling powerless right now, and tears were starting to form in your eyes.

“General …”

You heard a distant voice, but you were so lost in thought that you didn’t even noticed it was coming toward you.

“(Y/n) …” a gentle hand settled down on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise.

“It’s ok, it’s just me ...” It was Rex. He looked so tired, even more than everyone else. You had spent a couple nights together back at the Umbarian base, unable to sleep and crying your eyes out, hidden in a tiny room so none of your men could see you like that, trying to ease your pain and process this mess of a situation, comforting each other as you were always doing when things go wrong. Although this time, it was worse than everything you ever had to go through before.

“General Kenobi just called me, the Jedi council want to see you as soon as possible. I guess that they need explanations … “

You had broken your commlink on the battlefield, so no one was able to contact you directly. He looked at you right in the eyes, you knew he had noticed the tears, you didn’t even try to wipe them, you just answered his look. You didn’t need to talk much to understand each other sometimes, eye contact was enough.

“I have another thing to do before, they’ll have to wait a bit longer.” You briefly replied.

“As you wish”, he whispered. He knew exactly where you were going, it probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but he didn’t protest. He knew you needed it.

“But please”, he added, his look turning more concerned, “be careful, (Y/n), and try to be easy on yourself, there’s nothing we could have done to prevent all of that, it’s not your fault.”

His voice was trembling, you could feel the lump in his throat. You both felt terribly guilty about everything, and you knew that he was trying to convince himself as well as convincing you. You badly wanted to hold him in your arms to comfort him right now, but the only thing that you were allowed to do in front of so any peoples was to, as he did before, to put your hand on his shoulder.

“I will, same for you, please, you deserve some peace too.” you answered with emotion filling your voice, nearly whispering.

“Thank you, (Y/n), I hope to see you later.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

You gave him a soft smile before leaving the med bay, already planning to visit him at the GAR base right after meeting the council.

But for now, you had something important to do.

***

The GAR prison was a vast building appended to the Coruscant Guards base. When you introduced yourself at the entrance, the two troopers watching the door easily let you in. But once in the reception, explaining that you were here to see a prisoner, you were greeted by a surprised and confused guard, who immediately called his superior.

Jedi usually never come at the prison, even less to see a clone prisoner.

You were well known by the Coruscant Guards, for you had already worked with them on several occasions. So, when a helmetless Commander Fox showed a couple minutes later, he wasn’t that surprised to see you.

It was common knowledge to everyone that had met you that you were very close to your men and having a very unique relationship with them. And needless to say that the news of a member of the famous 501st being imprisoned here had already flied around the other battalions. It was something as unexpected as hard to understand. So Fox quickly connected the dots.

“General (Y/n), it’s an honor to see you here !” he greeted you.

“The honor is for me, Marshall Commander.” you greeted him back with a smile.

He opened his mouth to ask you if you were here to see that particular blue armored trooper, but quickly refrained himself. Nobody exactly knew for now what happened on Umbara and why that prisoner was here outside of “treason”, only rumors had filtered, and he didn’t want to become too intrusive by asking. You stared at each other for a moment, before he finally says something, suddenly feeling uneasy under the gaze of his confused soldier.

“I’ll handle that, thank you”, he spoke toward his men, before addressing you, ”Please, follow me.”

You nodded and both headed to his office. It was the first time you entered that prison, and beside your apparent confidence, that place was making you nervous. Fox didn’t said a word until the door of his office was shut close and he was sit at his desk.

“So, I have been told that you were here to visit a prisoner, right ?”

“Right.”

“Nobody told me about an interrogation taking place today”, he said trying to look oblivious, scrolling on his datapad, avoiding your gaze.

“Actually, I’m not here to lead any interrogation … One of my men, a lieutenant from the 501st, had been incarcerated in this prison a few days ago, and I just … I just need to see him, to make sure that he’s ok, you know … That last mission was particularly grueling, things … happened …” you were trying to find your words without revealing too much details, but you were desperate to shorten that meeting, the only thing you wanted right now was to finally see him again.

“It’s not fair for him to be here” you finally carried on, “I just need to reassure him about his fate, to tell him that his superiors are not gonna let him down and will fight for his reintegration.”

Fox raised his head from his data pad, meeting your worried eyes with a look that couldn’t hide his suspicion about your presence here anymore. You exchanged another long and heavy stare, he clearly was in the middle of some big moral dilemma. He finally let out a sigh, putting down his datapad on his desk.

“He’s not supposed to leave his cell for now, so I can’t lead him at the parlor or the interrogation room, and it’s categorically forbidden for him to receive any visitors. Thes orders emanate from the Jedi Council itself, they cannot be bypassed …”

Your heart sank in your chest, you opened your mouth to speak, you were ready to argue, but Fox stopped you in yours tracks.

“But”, he quickly picked up, “I could be in charge of the reception for one night, and be urgently and unexpectedly called by one of my officer, because, you know, things happen sometimes … Which will cause the entrance to be left completely unsupervised … That could be the perfect occasion for an unauthorized visitor to enter here without being bothered …”

He stopped, looking insistently at you. You weren’t really sure what he was driving at, until he came closer to you above his desk, still looking at you right in the eyes, and added in a sadder tone.

“Look, rumors are going on about what had happened on Umbara. Awful things have been said, news spread fast between soldiers you know. We weren’t precisely informed about why that man is here, but if you say that he didn’t deserves it and since you know more than us, then I trust you. To be honest, he was looking so miserable when he came here that I felt sorry for him. Whatever happened had obviously broke him, and I think that he, indeed, deserve some support. The Council wanted him alone in a whole wing of the prison for a reason that I think I understand now, they didn’t want anyone to communicate with him because the situation must be problematic enough for them to keep it undercover. But that also means that nobody will know if someone come to visit him. On the contrary of the civilian prison, there’s no video monitoring in this building, so I think it’s safe.”

Your eyes immediately started to glimmer when you finally understood his point.

“Thank you so much Fox !” you let out with relief, “I could never thank you enough for that !”

“Well, let’s say that you owe me a couple drinks on our next night out at the 79’.” He let out with a teasing grin while standing up from his chair to head toward the door.

“As many as you want !” you exclaimed, following him in an instant.

***

As you entered the corridor leading to the cells aisle, the silence became crushing. The only thing that was breaking it was the repetitive sound of your footsteps on the cold floor, reverberating on the bare walls. You crossed the empty space without a word, until you arrived in front of a massive door.

“Here we are … You’ll need that to get inside and to go out, don’t forget to bring it back to me before leaving the building. This one cannot open the cell if that was what you were thinking about.” Fox joked, holding a pass card to you.

“It’s the cell number 42, take all the time you’ll need, nobody will come until 1900, he’s not allowed to go at the mess hall neither, so we have to bring him his diner here.”

“Thank you again Fox” you answered with a grateful look.

“No problems ma’am !”

As the Marshall Commander left you alone, you presented the pass in front of the locking pad, allowing the heavy curtain to open in a sudden whoosh sound. Once on the other side, you stayed on the doorstep for a moment, contemplating the disturbing, cold and endless corridor framed with little empty rooms on both side.

The ceiling was low and the luminosity wasn’t very high, making the space even more distressing. You flinched a little when the door suddenly closed behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You realized that you were awfully nervous as you felt your heart pounding faster in your chest.

You slowly started to move forward, looking around you to find the number 42 cell. It soon appeared into your field of vision, and you reached for it with a faster pace, your anxiety level increasing again and the fear of what you were about to find on the other side of the thick transparent door growing in your mind.

When you finally arrived in front of it, your heart instantly broke. Here he was, sat on the floor at the foot of his narrow bed, curled up on himself with his head settled on top of his bended knees, buried between his folded arms.

Seeing him like that made you want to cry, a mix of intense pity, sadness and despair hit you like a wave. You clenched your fists. He never deserved to be treated like that, you though. All you wanted to do right now was to break through that stupid door and take him into your arms to comfort him, to tell him that everything will be alright.

But you couldn’t.

So you just closed your eyes, took a deep breath and did your best to regain your composure, before reopening them and addressing him gently.

“Dogma ?” you let out in a soft, interrogative tone.

Your words were nearly a whisper, but still loud enough for him to hear you. His head slowly rose from his knees, and his eyes widened at your sight. You noticed that he must have been crying recently and probably was severely sleep deprived by the bags under his eyes, making you feel even worse for him.

“Ge … General ?” His voice was weak and trembling. “What are you doing here ? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see anyone …” He stood up with difficulty, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“I know” you breathed out, as he came closer, placing himself in front of you, “but let’s say I got a little help to bypass the problem.” you added with a smile.

A sudden expression of confusion crossed his face.

“Why would you do that ?” he asked.

“I needed to make sure that you were ok, I wanted to see you again, you know, I … I was worried about you.”

He was, indeed, looking miserable, and you could see by the sudden watering of his pupils that your concern was touching him deeply. He lowered his head, trying to hide his pain.

“Thank you … You didn’t had to, nobody care about murderers and traitors …”

“I care … What’s happening to you is not fair, and I needed you to know that I’m not gonna let you down, I will fight to get you out of here and to have you rehabilitated. I’m never leaving any of my men behind, you’re not alone Dogma.”

He couldn’t refrain his tears anymore, and he raised his hands to his face in an unsuccessful attempt to cover it.

“I will never get out of here ! The only think that I deserve right now is to be court marshalled and properly executed. The Jedi are never gonna let that pass.”

You throat tightened, tears raising at the corner of your own eyes. You wanted to stay strong, but it was becoming harder and harder not to fall apart.

“Please, don’t ever say that, it will not happen, I will never authorize it.” your voice was soft but determined, and you were putting all of your remaining energy into preventing it from cracking, “Listen, you did your best, you took the right decision …”

“But I nearly made you shot ! And all for nothing ! I acted like a fool, following orders blindly, and for what ? I nearly executed my own brothers ! You should hate me, all of you ! I’m a monster !” he harshly cut you, almost screaming with rage and frustration, his hands curling into fists against his distorted face.

The roughness of his words took you aback, you could hear his suffering piercing through his voice, and you had no idea what to answer him at first, your mouth staying open but no sound escaping it.

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the right words, before swallowing hard and trying to articulate something.

“Dogma …” you murmured, “I don’t hate you, none of us do …”

His whole body was shaking, and you could hear the muffled sob he was trying to contain, but he wasn’t moving otherwise, his body like paralyzed with pain. You took a deep breath before going on again.

“Please, don’t be that hard on yourself, you did your best, you did what you thought was right, and nobody can blame you for that. I don’t want you to end up executed, I will never allow that, I promise you, I will plead your case in front of the Jedi Council. You’re a good soldier Dogma, and a good man, whatever mistake you’ve made, it’s hard enough to bear for you, I know your guilt is already enough of a burden, I don’t want you to be punished more than that. I’ve said it and I’ll say it again, you did your best, you deserve to live, and as any other of my men, you’re more than just a number to me, and I will do whatever I can to help you overcome all of this.”

The gentleness of your voice and your reassuring words soon made him calm down. His fists slowly unclenched and relaxed, his hands ending up slipping from his face as his sobbing turned into a silent whimper.

He was still not looking at you, but you knew by the twitching of his eye leads that he wanted to, but probably was too ashamed to do it.

“Thank you …” he shyly mumbled, still sniffling.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be safe, I promise you” you muttered, absent mindlessly settling your hand on the clear door.

He caught a glimpse of your gesture from the corner of his eye, and it made him raise his head, surprised, his dark brown orbs finally meeting yours.

You stared at each other for a few seconds. The way he looked at you was so intense that it made your heart skips a bit. Then his gaze slowly lowered to land on the spot where your skin was touching the door. And without a warning, he raised one of his hand and gently placed it on the other side, his large palm and strong fingers entirely covering yours.

You saw him blink a few time, like if he was just realizing what he was doing, a faint shade of red appearing on his cheeks, but neither of you could remove your respective hand from the surface, too afraid to end this special moment and break the connection.

His body warmth was irradiating through the transparent material despite his thickness, and for a moment, you got lost in it, wondering about that strange feeling of being so close and so apart from each other at the same time.

***

When you showed up at the Jedi Temple later, you were having a knot in your stomach. You had the feeling that you were about to go through an excessively long interrogation. You were the only jedi to have witnessed what happened on Umbara, so you were a very important element for the understanding of the situation.

You were right.

The council spent hours questioning you on every little detail of the events. You did your best to stand for Dogma, to make them understand that it was the best thing to do, and that his action was a courageous and selfless one. But the council only listened to you, never showing what they were really thinking about it. They just sat here without a word, while you were pleading his case.

When you finally get out of the Council Chamber, you were feeling exhausted and empty. It took so long that the night was now upon Coruscant. The worst part was that you had absolutely no idea about what was going to happen now, and you couldn’t do anything more about it.

You sigh when you catch the view of the military prison while standing at the temple’s forecourt. You were supposed to go take some well-deserved sleep, but you wanted to visit the 501st before. You just needed to be surrounded by your men, to spend time with them, to talk to them, and to show them your undefective support. You were all in this together, after all.

Without even looking back, you go down the temple stairs and headed toward the GAR building, disappearing into the darkness.

***

As you were about to leave the prison on your first visit, Dogma asked you if you were going to come back again. And of course, you promised him that you will as soon as possible.

At that time, the Jedi Council had decided to not assign you to any new mission until the situation has been clarified. They needed to know how and by what means General Krell ended up betraying the Order and the Republic, how nobody was able to notice it sooner, and if anyone else among the jedi or the clones could have been or could still be complicit in the treason.

It was a really big deal both for the Order and for the GAR, and as you were a key witness, they needed you to stay near, both to protect you and to watch you, and you found yourself assigned to stay on Coruscant, while another jedi was temporarily affected to assist General Skywalker with the 501st.

They were still conducting interrogations among the clones, soldiers as well as officers, and you have already been auditioned several times yourself after meeting the Council, by the GAR committee of inquiry and even by the Chancellor himself.

But things weren’t going as easily as they should have. The whole situation seemed to be dragging on, and the pressure and suspicion that were weighting upon on you were harder and harder to bear. Even if the council wasn’t saying it out loud, you could feel that they were doubting you.

You were stuck on Coruscant, far from your battalion and worrying about your men, unable to help them when you should have been by there side to support them, and it was making you sick.

You had absolutely no idea about how long all of this was going to last, and the only thing you had been allowed to do was to helplessly wait until things could finally move on a little. It felt like a punishment to you. Maybe it was a way for the Council to test your nerves and patience, you couldn’t tell at this point.

It was hard and uncertain times for you. You could feel the distance growing between you and your fellow jedi every time you were trying to reach for one of them, to engage a conversation, to seek their company.

Something had changed in the way they were perceiving you, you knew it, but you couldn’t blame them, despite feeling lonely and outcasted. In all your spare time, you started to question yourself a lot, thinking about the purpose of this war, of the Order, even about your place in all of this, wandering if all of these sacrifices really were necessary, and if justice was finally going to come someday.

The Council eventually ended up assigning you to help Master Jocasta in the archives department, asking you to be patient, simply telling you that their investigation was progressing, although they never gave you much more details about it.

You kept asking them about the fate of the prisoner, but they just told you that it wasn’t the first priority right now, and that they’ll treat his case later.

You did your best to look as impassive and unaffected as possible during all that time, to not let your emotions and worries show too much to anyone, feigning to resiliently handle the situation. But on the inside, you were starting to grow more and more tired and desperate every day, and as much as you appreciated to work with Master Jocasta, you were badly craving to leave Coruscant and go back on missions again.

Since the beginning of the war, you had never spent as much consecutive time on that planet, and mostly, you had never been separated from your battalion for so long.

Of course, you always stayed in touch with them, no matter how far they were send to, but still, it was impossible for you not to worry about them. So every time they were back on Coruscant, you took the chance to spend as much time as possible with them.

Nothing was the same without you as they say, and nothing was the same without them. Despite all the hard times shared together, there were also moments of pure joy, fun and complicity, and you were missing those deeply.

You were missing each one of those clones very deeply, in fact.

That’s how your daily appointments at the prison began. Nobody knew except for Fox and Rex, to who you were regularly giving news about his soldier. You were extremely lucky to have the Marshall Commander on your side, you could have never done that without his help, at all. That man was a blessing, even if it had costed you so many drinks already. You’ll be forever owing him that favor.

Your routine was every day the same : you were leaving the Jedi temple at dawn, entering the prison by a hidden service door known only by the guards, and sneaking into Fox’s office to retrieve the pass before heading to Dogma’s cell.

Sometimes the Commander was here in his office to greet you and give it to you, sometimes he wasn’t and you were picking it up by yourself. He was trusting you blindly, as long as the pass was back in his drawer the moment you left. To be honest, you were a Jedi General, you were basically having the authorization to access to any office in the building if you really wanted to.

The only thing that was ultimately forbidden to you was to open one of these cells by yourself without the permission and supervision of the Senate or the Jedi Council.

Since you were visiting him, you could see that Dogma was in better shape than the first time you saw him. He was slowly regaining a bit of hope, and even if guilt was still hitting him hard sometimes, he started to understand that what he did was the only possible outcome at the time, it was going to happen anyway, whether by Rex’s hand or his own.

It seemed like your presence was the only glimpse of joy given to him in the never-ending state of isolation he was forced into, and witnessing his face enlightening and a warm smile growing on his lips as soon as you were showing in front of his cell was making your heart melt every time.

Every one of those encounters always ended up the same way : before leaving, you laid your hand against the door, and Dogma put his on the other side, in front of yours.

It was the gesture that comforted him the most the first time you came, and on the second visit, it was him who initiated it. He didn’t need to ask you, for you immediately understood what it meant when he settled his hand on the glassy surface, answering his move without a word.

The truth was, you needed comfort too, you were feeling absolutely down staying at the Temple, and you were even starting to lose track of time when remaining there for too long without going outside. The high and thick stone walls of the sacred building became more and more oppressive and started to feel less and less like home to you. All you wanted to do was to escape from here as much as you could, even if it was a very hard thing to accept.

In this context, visiting him soon became the only thing that was giving you a reason to keep waiting and to go on without losing your mind. It turned into the time of the day that you were waiting for the most, a very special and intimate moment that you wouldn’t miss for anything in the world.

You were opening more and more to each other, sharing more and more personal things at each occasion, to the point that you came to knew each other nearly better than anyone else ever. A very strong bond built up between the two of you. Something that emerged from loneliness and concern at first, but quickly evolved into a sincere and fond connection. You could both feel it, even if you weren’t understanding the true nature of it yet.

As the days passed by, you started to badly wish that you could cross the prohibition and open that door, to finally be able to touch him for real, to feel the warmth of his body and the contact of his skin against yours without any more filters or boundaries.

You weren’t supposed to allow yourself to get attached as a Jedi, but deep inside of you, you knew that it was too late, and this since a long time already.

But little do you knew that you weren’t the only one to feel like that.

[moonlight-prose]

for joel 😌

❛ you think you know me, but the truth is, you don’t. ❜

❛ if i could be a different person, i promise you, i would be. ❜

❛ you think i’m weak because i’m not like you. ❜

❛ i look at you and my heart breaks because all i see is loneliness. ❜

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

➝ A HURT INTERLUDE

a/n: i have held onto this one because as you know babes it fit in perfectly between chapters four and five. so finally i hope you enjoy the small bit of angst between these two. i wanted to make it shorter, but again...i can't write anything short (it's a problem). i'm so glad you picked these prompts and i hope you like it! it's messy and unedited, but i hope you like it!

summary: the truth was...you were scared. not to die, but of losing him.

word count: 3.3k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, angst, angst, angst, self deprecation, loneliness, mention of ptsd, cum eating, cum play, joel miller having an existential crisis.

series masterlist

The woods looked different during the day—sunlight streaming through the branches, illuminating the ground beneath your feet. The very ground that was covered in greenery. Everywhere you stepped there were patches of new grass, small sprouts that would one day become trees, and echoes of the animals that hid from your presence. You didn’t blame them. Ten years without humanity’s forceful nature certainly made them fearful of what you and Joel might do.

Yet the longer you were there, the more you could see flashes of them. The smaller foxes, peeking their heads out to chance a glance, and squirrels that were housed in the trunks of trees. You felt the warmth hit your face, fighting against the cold spring air that held a bite to it. Even as you were bundling up in the coat you had, you still remained—adamant on sitting with him as he worked with the wood.

“Do you need some help there?” you asked, teasing him with a smile.

Joel huffed, refusing to look up at you. For the past few days every time he looked your way, he found that he couldn’t yank himself away. As if you were his siren song. Calling him closer and promising him a sweetness he was now addicted to. Joel used to pride himself on what self-restraint he had, yet now it appeared to be nonexistent.

He was a selfish man, fighting to keep what little joy he had left in his life. Joel was just glad that you were exactly the same.

Getting to Boston was your main priority, but it seemed that neither of you were able to put aside your wants. You were hesitant to joke that you had lost your self control. Which wasn’t an entirely wrong statement. You were hungry for him, unable to satiate the cravings that controlled your body—the ache eating away at your heart. Neither of you had nothing left to give, but you were more than willing to take.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

He huffed, his breath forming in the air. “Boston.”

The word was a warning, you could hear it in his tone. Yet the need to tease him still remained in the forefront of your mind. You wanted to see him riled up, to watch his already loose grip of control, finally disappear. Although knowing Joel, he would wait until the last second. Neither of you were entirely safe in the middle of the woods, which left you two at a standstill, waiting until you finally found somewhere for the night.

The fire flickered to life, crackling against the wood as he finally made his way over to you. The cold would be setting in soon, leaving the both of you exposed to nature’s brutalities. Normally you would opt to sleep in the truck, but something about being pressed up against Joel beside a fire sounded more appealing. So, you remained. Settling into his open arms with a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as he pulled you close.

“This almost feels normal,” you mumbled, pressing your nose against his shoulder.

He sighed, his face leaning in closer to you with a grin on his face that you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already looking at him. “It’s nice,” he murmured, his hand seeking yours out, warm gloved fingers entwining with your cold ones.

Allowing the loud crackle of the fire to speak, you settled further into his hold, attempting to find the lost sleep that you had yet to get back. Ever since you were injured, you grew exhausted faster than normal, but you still found it hard to sleep. Images of Joel’s face ripped apart with anguish haunted you—forcing you awake, just to check on where you were. On how he was.

You had become terrified of losing him, and that alone made you vulnerable. Somehow appearing open and afraid didn’t seem to scare you as much as watching the mad you loved being hurt. Or worse, dying due to something you couldn’t change. You wanted to scream, to rip out the fear and burn it to the ground until nothing but ash remained. But Joel couldn’t see that part of you again. He couldn’t know how you were terrified each and every day of things changing again, of one day waking up without him beside you.

“Darlin’?” His voice broke you out of your anxieties for a moment.

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to calm your already racing heart.

The soft touch of his fingers brushing against your temple cracked your heart in two. “Tell me what’s going on up here.”

Even as you fought to keep everything from him and remain unbothered. He could still see you. He was able to flip through the pages of your mind and see every little thing you refused to let him see. Yet then came the debate that often waged a war within your mind. Do you tell him? Or do you pretend that everything was okay? That you were okay.

“Nothing,” you replied, offering up a lie in the hopes that he’d mistake it for the truth.

He sighed and you knew…he could taste the falsity on his tongue. “Boston—”

“Joel, it's not important.”

“If it’s causin’ you pain then it’s important to me.”

“I’m not in pain.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his hand reaching out to cup your chin, drawing your head up lightly until he could finally see the conflict in your eyes. 

It shone through you, all dark and twisted, a piece of you that he’d only seen flashes of before. His heart twisted in his chest, wishing he could pull out every doubt—every ounce of suffering from your body. He would carry it for you. Bear the pain himself, just so you didn’t have to. So you could finally find the woman he met on that first night—the person who had been broken over and over again since then.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, holding your breath until this moment passed and life fell back into its horrid version of normalcy.

He sighed, leaning in and pressing his nose against your cheek. “I know.”

“I don’t want to lose you Joel.”

Pain erupted in his body, spreading down to his fingertips. He had the urge to rip himself away from you, to push and push until you no longer felt that fear. Because that’s what he did. He protected the people he loved by pushing them away; pretending that they meant nothing to him until eventually…he meant nothing to them. At least that way they wouldn’t suffer if something were to happen to him.

“Darlin’...”

“I–I keep dreaming that one day I’ll wake up without you. And it hurts.” You shifted until you were clambering into his lap, your hands clutching onto his jacket. “You’re…I…fuck Joel I don’t even know how to say it.”

He cupped your cheeks, drawing you closer until your lips were close yet never touching. “You don’t have to say it.”

Sighing, you tried to avoid the pang of guilt in your chest at being unable to say what had been lodged in your throat for days. “You’re a good man Joel,” you breathed, shutting your eyes to feel his touch burn through you.

Except you didn’t see the way he nearly flinched away from you, his eyes screwing shut from a different type of guilt. One that seared through him and made his stomach turn. A feeling of regret he couldn’t get rid of—one he wouldn’t even know where to start with. Joel pulled his hands away, suddenly afraid that if he touched you any longer, you would be stained with his wrongdoings. That’s what it all came down to. You one day suffering because of him.

“Joel?” you asked, your eyes glancing over his now unreadable face. The furrow of his eyebrows caught you off guard—the pain so clear in his expression that you were afraid he was hurt. “Texas—”

“If I could be a different person, I promise you, I would be,” he whispered.

Something snapped in your body, a pain ricocheting off your very bones. “Texas, what are you talking about?” you said with a smile, attempting to play it off as a joke. Trying to find the humor is a situation clearly heading in a different direction.

“You—” He paused, the huff of his breath the only thing you could register—the rest of the world now faded into the background. “You shouldn’t call me a good man darlin’. Not when you don't know the whole story.”

“I don’t need to know the whole story.”

“You do—”

Scoffing, you cupped his chin in your hand, forcing his sorrowful brown eyes to meet yours. “No. I don’t. I don’t give a shit about what you’ve done or who you were. Why should I when you don’t know everything about me?”

“You think you know me, but the truth is, you don’t.” He pulled away, his eyes darting back to the fire, hands balling up into fists on his lap. “You wouldn’t be here if you knew.”

“Bullshit.” His eyes snapped to you, mouth set in a hard line. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it. You think I’m weak because I’m not like you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you could feel the sinking of your heart. The painful ache you tried so hard to forget about. “But I’m not weak Joel. I’m here. Whether or not you were a bad person who did awful things, I’m still going to be here.”

This time he stayed quiet, his eyes saying every single word that you were too afraid to hear. All the while your doubt screamed in your head, shouting words of unease and pain back in your face. Yet you couldn’t stop it. You were helpless to it, simply drowning in the agony that spread from the very center of your heart to every nerve in your body. You wanted to know why he wouldn’t speak, why he continued to remain silent.

Except Joel didn’t feel the need to explain the reel of horrific memories that played in his head. Every death, every kill, it all remained a part of him. It stained his hands, his heart, his very fucking soul, red. But that was the problem. He was so fucking afraid of what would happen—that he might wind up staining you red right along with him—that he didn’t ignore the incessant voice telling him to push you away. He leaned into it.

“I don’t want you to—” Joel wished the world could swallow him whole as he sat there, his fingers digging into his thighs. “To miss out on another chance at life—”

Your hands cupped his cheeks to stop him from looking away again. This man who had risked his life to save yours. Who patched you back together when you told him to leave. He was willing to give you the life you didn’t get to have. Yet he couldn’t seem to realize you wanted it with him. The scruff of his beard scratched against your palms, but you found you liked the sensation.

“There’s no other life,” you breathed, thumbs running along his cheeks. “I look at you and my heart breaks because all I see is loneliness. But then I realize I’m seeing myself. Now that you’re here…I’m not so lonely.”

His lips pulled up into a small smile, hands curling around your hips. He knew better than to fight you on this, because no matter what you would always prove him wrong.

So, he gave into your touch, nuzzling his nose into the cold palm of your hand. “Neither am I,” he breathed, meaning every word.

You laughed, leaning forward and finally closing the space between you two. Your lips slid along his, tongue peeking out to lick along the seam of his mouth—the ache to taste him forming once again in your body. There was time to spare for a moment like this. Time for the both of you to relish in each other’s lingering touches, in kisses that spoke more than either of you could say.

Joel pulled away, digging his teeth into his glove and yanking it off, his bare hand now sliding beneath your clothes. You moaned into his mouth, arching against his touch to feel more—the warmth of him spreading down to the tips of your toes. You wanted to tell him the truth about how you felt. Beg for him to break you apart and put you together, but the words were lost in your lust addled haze.

“Can I?” His hand cupped your breast, thumb toying with your nipple. He smiled at the way your whole body shuddered, your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Yes,” you whined. “Yes. Please.”

He nodded, ridding himself of the other glove as you worked open his jeans. The chance at going slow was ripped from your grasp the second his hand slipped into your pants. His groan muffled against your throat at the feeling of you practically dripping into his hand. Neither of you were patient enough to make this last. Yet you longed to remain in the moment forever, to never experience the fear you felt in your life without him.

“Fuck darlin’ you’re soaking my hand,” he cooed, his mouth pulling up into a tiny smirk. One you molded your lips to.

“J-Joel,” you gasped as his fingers found your clit, sparks spreading down your spine. “Don’t tease me Texas.”

“I ain’t teasin’ you.”

“Bull—” A high moan bubbled up in your throat, cutting you off at the feeling of his fingers sinking into you. The wet sound of your slick now filling the space between you.

Rolling your hips, you felt the heat begin to spill out from your chest. Scorching in its nature and causing you to melt against his solid body. With shaky hands you managed to pull him free, smiling at the grunt that was pressed into your mouth. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, its beat as erratic as your own.

Though the world was shit and the prospect of a long future with him was futile to think about, you found that this was damn near close to what you hoped for. Perfection resided in each tender stolen moment that you both managed to keep for yourselves. Holding it close to your hearts, in the hopes that you’d get another one.

Your hips jerked forward, a breathy moan being pressed to his cheek as he pumped his fingers into you steadily. It never did take you long to finish when it came to Joel. As if he knew what made you tick even before he started touching you. Grinding the heel of his palm into your clit, he watched your eyes flutter shut, your mouth dropping open in a silent cry.

“You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve seen,” he grunted, his cock twitching in your hand. “You gonna cum for me darlin’?”

Nodding frantically, you chased the feeling that was pent up in your body. His fingers curled inward, brushing up against the spot along your walls that had your whole body lurching. Grasping onto his shirt, you sloppily pressed your lips to his in an attempt to muffle your keening wail. Except it still echoed in the night air, bouncing off the trees. You felt him smile, felt his other hand rub circles into your hip as he helped you move—did whatever he could to watch you fall apart for him again.

He was starved for you, desperate for one more touch, one more taste. Yet he had all of that this morning and the night before. Whatever you did to put him under your spill, he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. In fact he was begging you to continue. Pleading with everything in his body to stay this way, to continue having the chance to touch you like this.

“F-fuck Joel,” you gasped, your legs shaking under the strain. “I want you—oh god—”

“You will,” he replied, the sound of his fingers and your slick making him dizzy. “You’ll have me darlin’. But first I want you to cum like this.” His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, sucking it lightly into his mouth before letting it go. “Can you do that for me honey?”

“Uh huh,” you mumbled. Your brain had gone dumb, each thought and response no longer available the longer he pushed you towards the edge. Except you knew he liked it; caught the way his lips pulled up at the sight of you being turned into a mess. All because of him.

“C’mon.” His fingers sped up, thumb pressing against your clit with measured strokes that caused your eyes to roll back. “Cum for me baby.”

The world shifted as everything in you finally broke in two. Gasping his name brokenly, you grasped onto anything you could so as not to fly off the ground. And he let you. He kept you close, his fingers working you through your orgasm—sending you even higher. He knew letting you wasn’t an option. Not when you looked so sweet completely at his mercy; lost in the throes of pleasure with his name permanently etched on your tongue. If it wasn’t so cold, he’d spread you out on the ground. Simply to get another taste of you—to drink down his new addiction.

“I–I can’t,” you rasped, gripping his hand to stop him. “Too much.”

“I got you darlin’.” His kiss was soft, reverently placed on your lips to tell you everything he could not say. But you understood him clearly, letting it soak into your feverish skin with a pleased hum. “I’ll never get tired of seeing that.”

Smiling, you curled around him, your fingers digging into his hair. He placed his sticky fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste. His cock twitching against your thigh. You wanted to watch him fall apart too, but knowing Joel he would simply tuck himself back into his pants. Claiming that tonight wasn’t about him. Before he had the opportunity to do just that, you took him back into your hand. Swallowing his broken heady moan.

“Your turn,” you breathed, brushing your nose along his.

He chuckled, his lips sliding along yours once more. Even as you touched him, he felt the stirring in his chest that hadn’t been there before. That old familiar flutter he never thought he’d feel again. The fire illuminated the side of your face, turning you ethereal beneath the moon. His breath caught in his chest, heart answering your siren’s call with one of his own, and suddenly it all clicked into place.

That emotion he couldn’t place, the feeling that bloomed in his chest and seared his soul, now finally had a name. One that sent a chill down his very bone—the fear choking him slowly even as you worked your hand along his cock. He moaned, his hips jerking up to meet your touch as he sank deeper in the freezing depths of his mind. Yet your touch kept him from falling too far down. You dragged him back to earth—handing him the hope he thought he lost for good.

He came apart with a grunt of your name, his spend spilling onto your hand and his jeans. As the three words he feared the most filled his mind. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. There was no other way to spin it. No other explanation for that sensation overflowing in his chest.

Joel Miller loved you with every fucking piece of his broken heart.

Which is why one day, he’d lose you because of it.

[perfectlovevn]

hi boss! absolutely loved Perfect Love and you did such an amazing job with the entire game's execution! i loved how you were able to so clearly portray eris as f-ked up and the main instigator for everything, pulling the strings behind the scenes instead of the usual "i didnt do anything wrong" or "im just trying to survive" type of MC (which isnt bad at all, but im so happy with the freshness and utter depravity eris brings) i love your art and the intentionally messy style that highlights the disorganisation and chaos in both eris' and milo's mind, the recurring motifs of eyes, red, blue, god i can go on and on. really your vn is so well crafted with how intentional every creative decision taken seems, im going crazy with the amount of love, time and effort you put into perfect love.

ive read every single name easter egg you put and the references to other yandere vns/media (jd <3) AND went on to give us more with adding little quips later in the game depending on the nickname eris gives milo. i was literally going crazy with how i couldnt decode the 2nd type of cipher you scattered throughout the code until 2 days later when i was ready to give up and ask you hahaha

from there, if it isnt too spoilerish, is there reason you used the nihilist cipher that removed the letter J instead of the usual Z ? and ! i loved the snippets with the friendship gang, tysm for leaving in your writing process and brainstorming products in the game files i had so much fun <3 im so sorry for the rant and thank you so much for the game! 1000% looking forward to your next one if youre working on something!

Hello! Thank you for your kind words!

Yeah, one of the main reasons I made Eris like that because because of how much I really wanted to see more evil MC in visual novels (or just yandere media in general). While there isn't anything wrong with having a yandere who is just there to survive, there is something very fun about being the one who causes the yandere to become worse than he initially was.

I'm glad that you found such meaning in the art style! Honestly the biggest reason I drew it like that was because I was trying to get it done for the 2023 yanjam and I didn't want to overwhelm myself so I just made mostly everything black and white. That and it's supposed to symbolize more of the darker aspects of the game. Did you know all my assets were drawn with one brush?

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the details because I really did try to put as much as I could in there. Since I think it would be fun for people to see the neat details people put in the game (I know I sure do when I play visual novels), I tried to make everything very catered to what was going on in the story. It did take some extra work, but I think it's good for the game and my general learning experience. I'm also glad you enjoyed the easter eggs I put in for names and nicknames. I was very sleep deprived when I did it and I kept adding them in because I don't have good attention span (or at least, that's part of the reason).

For the cyphers inside of the code, I put a hint at the very top relating to each of the code. Each of the four types is represented of the three Milos with the one in English being from Eris. The Nhilist cypher is specifically for Manipulation and the key is in the second line based off of the capitalized letters.

Yeah! I'm glad you liked it. I'm still in the middle of writing the other ones (I'm working on the one with Poison in it, which recounts what Eris did to get Poison to fight Violent in his route). I always like leaving my drafts in there because I always find it fun to see people's thought progress in code and games.

No, no, I love your rant on it! I think it's really fun seeing what other people like, dislike and thought about the game in general! My next game will be a lot more light hearted, but still have a yandere character in it.

[cerealandchoccymilk]

Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapter #02

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Continuation of my Trigun annotation for the book club. I'm doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc. (and being gay about the characters <3 always important)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And the rest is under the cut. read my notes boy!!

[link for if the images aren't in horizontal rows]

The second page has an error - 悪夢 was probably misread as 悪魔 ("happen" and "awaken" are also the same kanji). It should be "Then, the nightmare occurred." It's really cool that this still works really well considering...y'know (not saying for the first-time readers ;) )

I just love how that drawing of Vash is so cool and serious...

...and then you turn the page and he's in the most pathetic cunty pussy-out pose you've ever seen. Easily one of my favorite panels. Also made a math question for funsies. sorry to anyone who got high school flashbacks, but I absolutely loved trigonometry lmao. I could do this forever.

A little pun(?) that may or may not be intentional - In Japanese, someone with a bounty on their head is called 賞金首, lit. "bounty neck" ("neck" sometimes signifies the entire head). The locals call out for the bounty-neck right as Vash hurt his neck lol

I love how creepy Vash moves sometimes. absolute cryptid

This is entirely a Japanese-only detail, but I really loved how Vash said バヤイ (bayai) in the sobbing in French line, because my mom also says that instead of 場合 (baai) when she's being silly lmao. Also, it's notable that in Japanese, Vash says フランセ語 ("Francé-go," where "go" is the suffix for languages) which may be either another miles->iles/double-dollar situation, or just him speaking silly like バヤイ.

Also, the line after that would more accurately be "How am I supposed to deal with all these locals?"

Here, the "Really?" is actually Meryl saying something like "I'll give you a hint."

Meryl tends to be the one responsible for the braincell in fanworks but it's important to remember that she absolutely is dumb too (affectionate).

I'm so glad I wrote that reminder about Meryl's speech, but I don't think I'll be able to do it justice here when I have so much more to talk about. I'll have to write another post later, so I'll link it when it's done. The gist is that she talks like a stereotypical high-class anime girl, and the trope is from how a similar demographic in Meiji-era Japan actually spoke.

The boy's pussy faces the world yet again. I love all the faces he makes!! look at him!!!!!!!!!!! he's so cute

The text on the board here was very messy and squished, but it says something like "Vash the Stampede Absolute Capture Task Force Headquarters." Honestly don't know how to fit all that into the board though so uh good luck on that for 2.0... Also dear god Vash has so much energy... He's just been running for 3 hours straight...!!

Fun fact: the equivalent idiom to "fight fire with fire" in Japanese is "use poison on poison."

Love how Nebraska is just like "no we didn't jailbreak, we just let ourselves out :/"

Translation error for Milly and the chairman - Milly is saying "Why do things keep getting worse and worse!?" and the chairman is mumbling "What's the deal with you two..."

Showing some love for his pretty pretty eyes..........(gives him so many smooches in my head)("i can imagine anything" image)(can't add it because i reached the 30 image limit)

The "Freeze!" is actually untranslated, just re-typed to match the surrounding font. Also, that panel is the first time Vash's antennae is shown bent!! It goes back up immediately after that though.

Fun fact #2. Vash says ara ara. if you even care.

This line never fails to hit me hard. They're all desperate mothers and sisters, and they're taking on the bad role because nothing's more important than their dear children. (reminds me of a certain someone...)

I've seen someone mention this before, but Trimax definitely adjusted the number of plants. Fifty!?!? Also, in Japanese, "plants" and "died" were in quotations.

I love the gun pull in the right panel. Vash obviously definitely doesn't intend on shooting, but is rather showing off his skill and resolve as an intimidation tactic to throw the girls off-guard.

God this entire spread is just so RAW.... (here's the post that's mentioned in blue. it just reminded me)

Some more hypes and sillies. The impact that "KISS MY ASS!!" had on my first read was phenomenal!! It's so silly!! and cool!!!

And then there's this!! Another favorite part of mine. Vash's antennae are bent again! They kind of alternate between straight and bent from here.

The green writing about the onomatopoea are more of just a translation note rather than a suggestion. I can't think of any good beckoning noises in English :V

And finally, Milly calls "Mr. Bomb" "Bomb-kun" in Japanese which I think yall would enjoy lol. And happy strangling her saturday tuesday.

The Japanese version of the annotations are in the reblogs, if anyone wants them.

I have Chapter #03 mostly ready, so I'll probably post it tomorrow morning and try to speedrun the rest of the chapters because this is taking longer than I expected!! God there's just so much to say!! (Also gotta remember to write about Meryl's speech!!)

And thank yall so much for the feedback on the Chapters #00-01 post!! I didn't know so many people were interested in such small details!! Love (and peace) yall 🫶🤞

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia Chapter 429 Spoiler Talk: The Penultimate Chapter

So here it is. The second to last chapter of My Hero Academia. Unless Horikoshi gives us a sequel series like Naruto: Shippuden, this and the next chapter is the last we'll get manga content about MHA. Well, at least until Horikoshi gives us another Ultra Analysis book or an art book with extra information. It's still hard to believe honestly. I don't know if I'll be able to accept that our beloved series is ending until it actually does. Let's see what Horikoshi-sensei gives us until then. Also, my health isn't 100% today, so I apologize if my writing sounds messy:

First off is our last Weekly Shonen Jump and Chapter color pages! They are absolutely beautiful celebrating both the 10th anniversary and My Hero Academia as a whole. Everyone is smiling and it's a wonderful sight to see. I won't show them here because I think they deserve to be seen with your own two eyes. Let's just say that I love them and I can't wait to get the HQ versions of them when the official release comes out. Just know that you can tell Horikoshi put a lot of love into these pages.

From here on out, I think I'm just going to talk about what I thought of the chapter because I'm not 100% down to type everything out tonight. Sorry about this:

I think the chapter was another solid one, though it somehow still doesn't feel like the series is ending yet for me.

I'm glad we got to see Ochako and Deku talk about not being able to save their respective villains because we all know how badly this was haunting them. Neither of them would have been able to move on and genuinely smile again until they got that all out to someone who understood. Thankfully, they have each other 💚💖. I'm also really glad Deku told Ochako she was his hero and let her take her hand. This is the closest we'll probably get to an actual romantic confession from either of them unless Horikoshi does something for them in the last chapter. The thing is, it works because this wasn't the time for a love confession. This was a time for two broken people to talk their trauma out and get reassurance from someone close to them.

Really sad to hear that Himiko Toga did die. Granted it was from Ochako's dialogue and we didn't see any panel with her body drawn, but we can really only take her word for it now. Horikoshi could absolutely pull a fast one on us and show a glimpse of her alive in the final chapter. However, I think it's safe to say that she is dead and that honestly sucks.

I love the slice-of-life panels we get of the rest of the kids and seeing Aizawa smile is beautiful! He's so proud of his kids 🥹.

Monoma getting a statue at the school and bragging about it is fucking hilarious 🤣! He honestly deserves it though because the whole world would've been dead if not for him. Deku better get a statue too or else I'm going to throw hands.

Eri excitedly singing at Aoyama's farewell party is the most wholesome thing I've seen in a very long time and I truly hope she achieves her dream someday 🤍! Make her the best idol in the world, Horikoshi!

Finally, there's that mysterious man we saw a few chapters ago. We still don't know his name, but we're told he was abused and abandoned by his family because he has a mutant Quirk similar to how Eri's Quirk in the sense that neither of their Quirks were inherited by their family's DNA. He looked like he was going to walk down a similar path as Tenko, but the old lady who first ignored Tenko many years back found this new man and finally offered him a hand thanks to Izuku's inspiration. This is sort of a redemption for the old lady. I know that she was a catalyst for why Tenko became who he became, but I think this is a start for her to start over at least. Thankfully, I think this man is going to be ok.

I remember reading the interviews Horikoshi did over the past week and one of the things he said he wanted to express was that even someone having your back is heroism. Someone who can do something so simple as reaching their hand out when someone is in need is a hero to that person. You can tell that that is what Horikoshi is telling us here. He also said that making us cry was an important part of the story too because it's how he wants us to connect with it, so I expect to shed tears next week.

So, yeah. That's the second to last chapter of the main My Hero Academia manga. It still doesn't feel real to me. The final page of the chapter left things open-ended, so I would not be surprised if we got a time skip of some sort in the final chapter. I honestly thought that Horikoshi was setting up one more villain for the kids to fight with that mysterious man, but it was wrapped up in a very simple yet poignant way. I will agree that it feels rushed and that there's something missing, but I can't pinpoint what. Horikoshi's been writing and drawing this manga for 10+ years at this point, so I can't entirely blame him for wanting to finish things up. However, I'm a little more nervous about him sticking the landing for the ending. While I think he can still do it, I've seen too many mangaka end their story on a bad note for one reason or another. Our best bet is that he revises or adds some things to make the chapter better in the volume version. I'm going to do my best to keep my optimism alive for the next few weeks.

I honestly can't begin to accurately predict how the manga will end. I could see it ending with the kids continuing their lives at UA, at graduation, or as pro-hero adults maybe with families of their own. Honestly, anything goes. Part of me wants to be here when the chapter might get leaked next Wednesday, but another part of me wants to wait until next Sunday for the official VIz release so I can read and cry together with everyone else. I think I am going to try to do the latter and then write some kind tribute to honor the series, but I may or may not be out of town next week, so I'll have to see about that.

One more chapter left.

[emilykaldwen]

People are allowed to be upset and disappointed about the finale (and the season in general). We're all on our own blogs, we get to do that. Make sure you tag things appropriately (the a*nti H*otd tag is a handy one). But also make sure you step back and take a breather. This show should not be throwing you into a conniption fit.

For me? My final thoughts:

I'm more than happy for my feelings on this season to change over the hiatus. I know I'll re-watch the episodes in a few months and I'm able to sit and really go with the story and not react for the first time. I can just look at the season as a whole and see where it goes.

In a perfect world, they wouldn't have filmed during the writer's strike. In a perfect world, HBO wouldn't have cut their two episodes at the 11th hour. They wouldn't have had to throw out the fucky Sopochnik treatments when he stormed out, and when Matt/Emma/Olivia threatened to walk. The lead up to the production of this past season was a messy one, and I think it shows.

This season had good bones. When it hit? It absolutely hit. Episode 2 continues to be one of my faves. 2x06 was also fantastic. I genuinely was delighted and enjoyed the Riverlands arc. I loved Aegon's storyline and everything brought to it. I loved Jace getting fleshed out.

I absolutely was frothing at the mouth for the noting of how shitty the nobility is to the peasantry. Even if it was uneven and awkward, I'm glad that's getting brought up and brought in. God, Rhaenyra Cult Leader drinking the Targ Supremacy kool-aid? Loved that choice. Jace realizing his mother doesn't care for him/Rhaenyra making the same parenting mistakes that Viserys did? Loved it! And there are a lot of other things about this season I did love.

The acting was fantastic across the board, I felt so vindicated in some of these choices. I know a lot of us did.

But where the show disappointed me, it disappointed me hard. And the thing is, you can see where the writers are going with it, nothing is out of left field, it's all there... but I look at it as the same way you see someone taking the wrong route in the forest that will still get to a destination, but it's not the... don't go that way it's not a trail?

I think a lot of the frustrations with this season are absolutely because of the s1 missteps, namely that I think as a fandom everyone collectively agrees season one should have been two seasons. Season one should have ended with Driftmark. We should have had more time with the kids growing up, we could lay the groundwork.

We know that there was a lot happening outside of Condal's control with the issues and changes happening with HBO. It's unfortunate. And I think that exacerbated the issues in the writers room that were already there.

Fire and Blood is not a perfect book. It's a mock-u-history book that is very fun, with templates of who these characters were. They are not fleshed out characters, so the writers had a sandbox to play with. But we do know the basic foundations of who they are, and I think a lot of that got lost in the 'I know better' mentality that I really feel in Condal's interviews. There's expanding on ideas and then there's... 'I can do better/improve on this' when it doesn't have to be that deep.

Anyway, I'm still here, I'm still writing, I'm wholly amused that some of the convos and plot points are similar to what I've written and planned, because we are all playing in the sandbox.

Just remember everyone: This is the dragon incest fantasy show. It does not define you, it's not the end all be all. Don't harsh on anyone's joy, don't go off the rails with your anger and frustration. Curate your spaces, give people space, and always try to find the joy in things.

[notmoreflippingelves]

Personally I feel Kristoph just regrets having killed Zak so suddenly on an impulse. Reminder that the locks appeared when asked why he killed Zak specifically. He hated him for turning him down and probably never saw himself capable of murder. Once he killed him he probably felt glad he got revenge and didn't get exposed, but then had that sudden clarity of "oh shit, I actually killed someone", which combined with his paranoia, stressed him out immensely. He tragically traumatized himself.

Zak's murder has always screamed unplanned, desperate "crime of passion" to me, given how dramatically different to the other murder we know Kristoph committed (and set in motion 7 years earlier). Criminology-wise, it's already very unusual for a criminal to change their modus operandi so dramatically without a good reason. And it becomes immediately more striking when we look at the weapons: blunt object in Zak's case vs. poison for the Mishams'.

Poison has long held the stereotype of being a "woman's weapon" rather than a man's. Which yeah, it is a pretty unnecessarily gendered and heteronormative way to look at it. But like what the stereotype is actually saying by this is that poison--regardless of the gender(s) of the person using it--is almost always the method preferred by people who would prefer not to use psychical forms of violence even once they have determined that they "need" to enact violent ends.

These sorts of killers may lack the physical strength or athletic skill to wield a gun/sword/bat/spear,/blunt instrument, they may not be able to summon the adequate aggression to do so, they may want to avoid a bigger "mess" w/ more pieces of evidence, or they may just lack the "sadistic urge" to directly use their hands to enact another's pain. All of the above seem that they could apply to Kristoph given what we know of him.

Even though he has determined that he's going to go through with the murder plot, Kristoph vastly prefers a more detached, less messy, and (in his mind) quicker and less cruel method. Because his heart may not really be in it in the long run. Like do you really think he'd want to get actual blood on his pretty little nails if he didn't have to? He's not killing for the fun of it like some of the other AA killers; he's killing because he's convinced himself he has to.

(Unlike a lot of other fans, I tend to hc that Zak and Drew were actually the *only* deaths that Kristoph was responsible for. Because I maintain that that there was something much more specific and important about the Gramarye case to Kris than simply "wah, I was fired from my first big case and now I'm gonna be petty af about it." No like, this case in particular--besides just "an important case that could make my career"-- was personal to Kris for reasons we may never know).

Even though he knew that this could very well come back to bite him in the derriere, Kristoph was probably secretly relieved that the poison didn't work right away for the Mishams--or that if it had worked, he wouldn't have to find out about it. Out of sight, out of mind and he wouldn't have to face his conscience. And in the worst case scenario, the murder plan was still in place should Kristoph need to enact it later. (Which he did by writing to Drew *during* (and not before) Kristoph's incarceration following Zak's murder.)

So with all that in mind, Kristoph's murder of Zak just seems more and more of a desperate, impulsive act. It's not his style at all, and yet he did it. He saw Zak, realized he was at risk, and panicked.

And yeah, I would imagine that even if we assume he had no regrets/second thoughts about Drew Misham's murder, Zak's murder would psychologically feel really really different to Kris. And I imagine that it could potentially prove even more psychologically damaging to him.

Because braining "Shadi Smith" with a grape juice bottle is an act that is sudden, violent, impulsive and totally out-of-character for Kristoph Gavin--coolest defense in the West ,whose intellect is his weapon of choice and who prefers to keep his pretty nails (if not his soul) clean.

[bluekat12345]

He's my son, not yours! Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Another shout-out for @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal, thank you for letting me write this! And sorry for taking so long again! Hope you and everyone else enjoys this chapter!

After what was possibly the worst night of his life, Charlie finally forced himself out of bed. Looking at the alarm, he saw that it was around 10am. He groaned as he realized he had woken up late, he'd missed breakfast with his family, and he definitely missed morning patrol with Chase.

"Did anyone even try to wake me up?" He bitterly asked himself.

Looking in the mirror, he cringed at how he looked. His hair was messy, there were visible bags under his eyes, and his eyes looked dull and unfocused. Heck even his mustache was disheveled!

Before he could ponder more on how bad he looked, his phone went off. Looking at the number, he recognized it as Nick Fury. Picking up the phone, he took a deep breath before answering it.

"Morning, Director Fury." Charlie greeted, hoping the man couldn't tell how exhausted or depressed he was.

"Morning, Chief Burns." Fury replied. "Glad to hear from you. When you didn't arrive for the 9am meeting we scheduled, I wondered what was going on."

Chief Burns mentally cursed himself. "Sorry, sir. I overslept this morning, and it must've slipped my mind."

"No tears shed." Fury declared. "We've rescheduled to 12pm. Should there be no emergency at that time, can we see you there?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll be there."

"We'll need your family and the bots there too." Fury clarified. "And as long as he doesn't cause trouble, you can bring your youngest son along too."

"Cody?" Charlie asked. "Why would he cause trouble?"

"I just don't want anyone getting distracted." Fury explained. "Your son is a good kid, but he has been distracting some-"

Chief didn't even let him finish his sentence before snarling. "Well, they don't have be around Cody all the time." It was only after he said that a twinge of embarrassment entered his mind.

Fortunately, Fury didn't comment on that. "If you think it's going to be a problem, you can just not bring him."

"He won't be coming." Chief Burns declared. A part of him was actually glad of how tired he was so no one, not even him, could tell how happy he was. Cody would be at school, so he wouldn't be able to attend.

And Captain America wouldn't be around him trying to play dad.

"Very well." Fury responded. "See you then."

When the call ended, Charlie allowed himself to take another deep breath, feeling a little bit better today. Cody not being there would, meaning there wouldn't be a chance for Steve Rogers to show off that he could be a better father than him.

He figured he should get cleaned up so he could be a bit more presentable for that meeting. But before he did so, he figured he should get something to eat first. Toast sounded good.

But as he walked to the kitchen, he was greeted by an unexpected sound.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Looking at the kitchen table, Charlie saw Cody sitting there.

"Cody? What are you doing here?" Charlie asked. "Shouldn't you be in school."

Cody frowned at him. "Dad, it's Saturday."

Charlie mentally cursed himself. How could he forget that?

He couldn't help but let out a low groan when he realized what that meant. "Now I have no choice but to bring him to the meeting."

"Dad, are you sick?" Cody asked, his voice full of concern. Charlie couldn't help but feel a bit happy by that. At least he knew his son still cared about him.

"I'm fine." Chief Burns declared. "But there's going to be a meeting with Fury later today, so we're going to need to go to the base on 12."

"Noble!" Cody exclaimed with a smile. "That means we can see the Avengers again. I've been dying to see the upgrade to Captain America's motorcycle."

Charlie had to fight the anger bubbling inside of him. "Cody, this is a meeting, not a social call. I need you to stay out of trouble and not distract anyone while that's happening. Understand?"

Cody frowned bit, but nodded. "Okay, Dad. I understand."

"Good." Charlie replied. "We'll leave at 11:30."

At the Avengers' temporary base, Steve Rogers was polishing his motorcycle, spending time as he waited for the meeting with Fury and the Burns family to start.

Admittedly, he was a little disappointed when he heard Cody wouldn't be joining them, but he could understand why. This was just a meeting, an admittedly boring meeting that was basically discussing and reviewing the same thing they already have. Cody would've been bored out of his mind waiting for it to end, since he wouldn't be able to actually attend.

"You still sulking?" Tony's voiced teased. "Gotta accept that the kid won't be around all the time."

Rolling his eyes, Steve stopped polishing and faced his teammate. "I'm not sulking. And I actually think it's for the best he won't be joining. The poor boy would be bored while waiting for the meeting to end."

Tony shrugged. "Whatever you gotta tell yourself." Just as he was about to walk off, he quickly added. "He's here, just so you know."

That caught Rogers by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"The kid showed up after all." Ironman answered. "Don't know why, all I know is that his dad decided to bring him after all. And I can only imagine who'd he want to see the most."

Captain Rogers frowned. "Tony, if this is a joke-"

"He's here, I swear on my honor." Tony promised. "I saw him and his family pull up here. Follow me."

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he followed Ironman. And as promised, Cody and the rest of the Burns family, along with the Rescue Bots.

"Good to see you all again." He greeted.

"Good to see you too, Captain Rogers!" Cody happily greeted. Steve smiled at the boy.

The rest of the Burns siblings gave their greetings, all of them polite, but as enthusiastic as Cody's. But Chief Burns didn't seem to respond. In fact, the more Captain America looked at the police chief, the more he could see how unwell the man looked, there were visible bags under his eyes and his stance was tense.

"Chief Burns, is everything alright?" He asked.

"Peachy." Chief Burns replied, sounding rather grumpy. Then he noticed the children frown and tense up.

And Tony seemed to notice as well. "Well, we have time before we have to attend that boring meeting, how about you guys relax, talk to the rest of the team." Then he smiled at Cody. "Speaking of which, kid, Cap has been dying to-"

"No!" Chief Burns exclaimed, startling about everyone there, even getting the attention of anyone who had the misfortune of walking by and hearing that.

"Chief Burns, what's wrong?" Captain America asked.

"I'm fine." The police chief, unconvincingly, replied. "Just had a rough night."

"Keep it together, Charlie." Charlie told himself as he tried to calm himself.

He shouldn't have snapped like that, but he didn't want to deal with his issue with Captain America already. He just wants to get this meeting over with and deal with this another time, when he as enough energy to deal with it.

"Well, we still have some time before the meeting starts." Tony declares. "The breakroom has some good doughnuts if any of you wants one."

His elder kids agreed rather quickly, but only Cody shook his head.

"I was actually hoping to check out the new upgrade to Captain Rogers' motorcycle, first." Cody suggested.

Charlie didn't give Captain Rogers a chance to respond. "Not today, Cody. We don't have time for that today."

"I don't mind." Captain America replied, in an infuriatingly friendly manner.

"Well, I said not today." Charlie declared, getting annoyed.

"Oh, c'mon." Tony insisted. "What's the harm in-"

"I didn't ask for your opinion!" Charlie snapped. Before anyone could say anything, he turned to Steve. "And I don't need you getting involved in Cody's life!"

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked. At that moment, Charlie wasn't sure what enraged him more: The nerve of Steve to ask such a question or the fact that Steve actually looked like he didn't know.

"You know fully well what I'm talking about!" Chief Burns exploded. He heard his older kids' voices, probably trying to calm him, but he ignored them. "Ever since you got here, you've done nothing but be around Cody, acting like he was your son, and practically rubbing it in my face that you could be a better father to him than me!"

Captain Rogers started at him, his face mixed with confusion, concern. "Sir, I-"

"Well, I don't need you to play father!" Charlie declared. "He's my son, not yours!"

The room fell into a tense, uncomfortable silence. And it was only then that Charlie fully realized what he had said. Humiliation, regret, and shame splashed all over him as he finally calmed down. He looked around, saw his kids, Captain Rogers and Tony Stark stare at him in shock, concern, and surprise, and to his misfortune, his rant seemed to have attract some bystanders as well. He felt his pulse race and his head spin as he saw bystanders stare and whispered among themselves. They all seemed to be shield agents, so he tried to take some solace in that, he knew it would've been much worse if anyone from Griffin Rock recognized and saw him act like this.

"Dad." He heard Cody's voice call to him, always gentle and caring, but now, that voice made him feel even sicker. He felt someone try to grab his hand, but Chief Burns quickly pulled his hand away, as if the faint touch had burned him.

Then he quickly charged out. He heard voices call to him, but he once again ignored them. He needed to leave. He needed to be alone before he did or said something else he would regret.

This should not have taken as long as it did. I apologize for taking so long and I'm sorry if this seems rather lackluster compared to the others, but I hope you enjoyed reading it.

[magicaleggplant]

extremely belated montreal worlds impressions, part 1

i've been meaning to write this for weeks now, but never found the time for it. finally putting some thoughts down in words before i forget everything.

this post covers the pairs and women's events. part 2 will be ice dance and men (if i ever get around to writing it...) warning for extremely unfocused writing; i have been so stupidly busy lately.

ETA: here is part 2

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

PAIRS:

pleasantly surprised by how much i enjoyed pairs at worlds! the short program was remarkably clean, and while the free was messy, there were still a few bright moments. the level of pairs did decrease after the last olympics, but i think many teams have been gradually building up their technical content and skills, and it's good to see teams coming from many small feds. i have to admit that i did not watch many pairs events this season (it's the first discipline i cut when i don't have time to watch everything), but pairs live is much more fun than pairs on screen. i can appreciate their elements much better. in general, my favorite thing about watching live skating is the sense of speed and scale.

miura/kihara: i was nervous as hell for them but they pulled through! i really didn't know what to expect after all of their injury struggles this season. it wouldn't have surprised me if they didn't make the podium, so i'm thrilled for their silver medal. this was my second time seeing them live and it was clear that they weren't at the top of their game - there were a bunch of little mistakes scattered throughout their programs. the free went much better than i hoped. i'm glad they went back to an old program, but i really wish they had started the season with better programs to begin with... (hear me out: have you considered lori nichol for choreo?) but i think at their best, m/k are still the class of the field. their speed and skating skills really, really stand out when you see them live. i cannot stress enough how fast they are; no other team comes close to their speed. their lifts are also very steady (when ryuichi isn't injured, anyway). i was happy that the audience cheered loudly for them even though they were clearly rooting for deanna and max to win. it was a tough season for them but they are such strong skaters, and i really hope the next season goes better. i'm also really glad they were able to get a medal ceremony do-over after the men's ceremony. they looked happy there.

stellato-dudek/deschamps: the crowd was HYPED for them, i couldn't believe how many people came to watch pairs for them, considering it always gets scheduled in the middle of the week! i'm happy for their win, though there was a little bit of home cooking to help out lol. they have great programs this season. it's a bit of the opposite situation with m/k where i really liked sd/d's programs, but their actual skating, not as much. their lack of speed is really obvious compared to m/k. many of their elements feel like a fight instead of effortless. but i was really impressed with how they held up under the pressure of a home worlds. deanna's determination is amazing.

hase/volodin: ok, count me impressed by this new team. they still have a ways to go in connecting with each other, but their elements are really solid and their skating skills aren't bad, either. technically speaking, i'd put them behind m/k but above sd/d in quality. i enjoyed their short program a lot; the free was a bit of a snooze, imo. minerva is a wonderful pairs skater. i'm looking forward to seeing them improve. that one lift entry they do is SO cool.

other notes:

really enjoyed both of hocke/kunkel's programs. they're fun, i'm a fan now.

also enjoyed golubeva/giotopoulos-moore quite a bit

still can't believe cats won euros

peng/wang's throws were too big for this rink. i was very sad at their placement, but cheng is such a wonderful skater and their choreo was excellent, i especially love their free.

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

WOMEN:

a very up and down worlds after a very inconsistent season. so, more or less as expected.

kaori: her fs was a MOMENT. i think the first time i saw kaori live was...2017 skate america? it was her first senior season, and i remember being so impressed by the lightness of her jumps then. the same is true this time, but her growth has been astounding. kaori was not one of my favorite skaters when she was younger; she absolutely is now. while her free skate this season is not my favorite of hers, i love how her range of expression has expanded. her skating is lush, luxurious, she's learned to take her time with the music. and god, her speed. she makes everything look so easy. i'm so happy i got to see this confident, mature kaori win her third world title. the crowd was losing their shit for her, as they should. also love how she was the team mom at the medal ceremony with the two younger medalists. she's such a great role model.

isabeau: i feel like every time someone talks about her, they have to add the caveat that they hate her jump technique. which, yes, i do agree with that. but from now on i'm just going to talk about the positive aspects of her skating, because i think she deserves more of that. it was my first time seeing her live and i liked her! she's musical, her arm movements are beautiful, and she's not slow at all, except on jump entries. her spins are great when she hits them. i appreciate her a lot more after seeing her live. her reaction after her fs was really cute.

chaeyeon: unexpected medalist but i'm happy for her! she is not my favorite among the top korean women but i'm impressed with her improvement this season. her sp is one of my favorites. that kind of quirky program suits her really well. the fs is a bit muted, but i think she does a good job with it as well. her musicality is the less obvious kind, but it's there. she's gradually growing into her own style.

loena: her sp was a lot of fun, the audience really got into it. she can sell a program, alright. loads of charisma and she skates BIG. the fs...well, to be fair, even without the jump mistakes, i never liked it. i appreciate what loena brings to the women's field, but i hope her programs are better next season. maybe a change in choreographer would be interesting?

haein: sirens is a masterpiece. i'm so glad she could skate it cleanly like that at least once. she has my favorite step sequences in the women's field by far. we'll just ignore everything else in the fs except for the step sequence. i love her so much and i want her to win another world medal someday.

mone: her skating skills are a dream, her overall quality is chef's kiss. but when she's nervous, you can really feel it. she skated like she was terrified in the sp and it showed. it detracted from the performance. i'm glad her fs went better. i hope her confidence improves and that this worlds was a good learning experience for her. i randomly ran into her on the concourse and she signed my japanese flag! she’s so tiny and adorable.

hana: on the other hand, hana does not skate scared. she just goes out and does her thing! but to me her skating still feels a bit "small" at the moment. her lutz-toe technique is terrifying... she can also work on her dance skills a bit more, her overall polish. but i love her programs. i still can't believe she made koo koo fun work. i love that she never does conventional "pretty" programs.

other notes:

amber: love her, but it is what it is. her 3a was excellent.

katia kurakova's fs reaction was a great moment. i like that she's trying different styles of music now, but i think she went a bit too far in the "serious" direction. her natural spark feels too muted.

young you: my darling. we all wanted so badly for her to do well... her sp was wonderful, though.

olga mikutina is becoming a new fave of mine. her skating is powerful and she's a good performer!

also love niina petrokina's powerful skating

[literaphobe]

[while speaking i'm pacing the room and walking up the walls and ceiling like a spider] i'm obsessed with the way you so successfully and compellingly create sexual tension. it's truly insane how good you are at creating that dense atmosphere, and i'm just scrolling my phone peeking and reading line by line waiting for the bubble to pop. you've heard of sexual tension you can cut with a knife, now get ready for "sexual tension so palpable that you need a diamond drill to even make a dent." that is tvl to me. you have to have a master's degree in yearning with a concentration in pining to write something half as magnetic as this. your brain is so big. reading this fic is like watching a beyblade battle, watching the two of them spin around each other in rapid circles at mach speed, like you KNOW it's going to end but how messy will the final blow be??

i also really appreciate how the majority of this fic is from adrien's pov! i feel like i don't see a lot of that (in the fic i'm finding anyways), so to find one with it, and one so well written and well characterized at that, is like striking gold. every line has me going "they WOULD fucking say that !" i also love how you make sure to specify that though alya, out of love, pushes marinette out of her comfort zone, she stops it all once she gets the sense that marinette is genuinely uncomfy. bc they r besties!!! and alya cares about marinette more than proving that she knows what's best for her!!

im showering you in flowers and giving u the big bouquet cn gave lb except you can keep all the flowers mwah!!!!!!!

anon I need you to know… this ask blew me away in ways that are barely comprehensible like just WOW. WOW!!!!!! thank you so much and also you have SUCH a way with words this is SUCH high praise but it’s also being delivered so eloquently and I am just SO CHARMED

thank you thank you THANK YOU so much for real. ive reread this ask multiple times and I know i will continue to do so in the future, along with all the amazing anons ive been getting recently 🥺🥺🥺

it’s genuinely SO nice and heart wrenching to know that all the love and yearning and tension and emotions and complicated feelings I put into tvl can be felt this palpably… thank you for understanding and FEELING and seeing my vision… gives u a diamond ring

also HEHEHE im so glad ur enjoying the adrien pov!! for tvl i just felt like it was apt and also i like the adrichat pov ^_^ its fun and cozy and silly! also functionally tvl!maribug has far more secrets and Knows more so having the audience spend more time w adrichat makes it easier to maintain the suspense HEHEHEHEH also im so glad u are enjoying the characterization!!!!! and also tvl alya’s nuance. i wanted to make it very clear that while she’s been acting up and scheming and unwinding -> because she’s being kept in the dark about a bunch of stuff too!! and as we know it DRIVES HER INSANE when marinette keeps secrets from her… still. i wanted to show that when push comes to shove she’s able to take a step back and protect marinette…

[soulerflaire]

Binged all of the last season of Star Trek: Discovery today. Thoughts under the cut.

Very mixed feelings on it. On the one hand, I'm glad they were able to go into the season knowing it would be the last, and write an actual send off to the show instead of rushing some half-assed ending in two episodes, or just cutting off completely with no ending at all. On the other hand, I have a lot of complaints about how things went.

First off, the Progenitors storyline did not interest me in the slightest. I was fine with their tech being the macguffin to drive the plot forward, but once we actually got to it, I just didn't really care about the fancy facility or the Progenitor lady in it. It was obvious Michael was going to either hide it again or destroy it, so all the time spent with her deciding that and learning about the Progenitors' motivations or that they didn't build the tech either was just wasted to me.

I was completely baffled by Dr. Culber's character arc this season. I don't really understand what they were trying to do or say with it. He has a weird experience with a temporary personality transplant, and it affects him deeply but he doesn't understand why or how. People tell him it was clearly a spiritual awakening for him, but they never explain that. Maybe it's because I'm not a spiritual person, but "feeling weird about the world after having your brain taken over by someone else for a few hours" doesn't equal spiritual awakening to me. Regardless, he just becomes kind of weirdly serene for the rest of the show. And then at the last second, when they have the chance to actually make it something spiritual, they provide a rational (for Star Trek, anyway) explanation for all of it, by saying he somehow had access to residual memories from the other personality. But he doesn't acknowledge it as a rational explanation, he still acts like it's some mysterious spiritual thing. I don't know. I just didn't get it. It felt like they were trying to say something about "not everything has a rational explanation" but they didn't follow through, so I really just don't understand what the point of his character arc was. Were they just trying to give him mental/emotional peace after all he's experienced? 'Cause doing it this way was completely unsatisfying if so. This was a magic button fixing his trauma, not actual healing.

But my biggest gripe is the treatment of Zora. This whole season, I was thinking "Man, Zora isn't really in this show at all anymore, is she?" She does nothing beyond acting like the computer, and the crew pretty much just treats her like a normal starship computer. We spent a lot of time previously focusing on Zora and her development as a person, only to have her barely exist as a character this season. And in the last 15 minutes of the finale, we find out why: that damned animated short. A while back, someone wrote an animated short where the Discovery (and thus Zora) has basically been abandoned in a nebula, and a guy ends up on board, and Zora falls in love with him (because he's the only person she's talked to in decades/centuries), but eventually he leaves because he has a family. And god forbid that stupid little short not be canon, so what do we do? We order Zora to go sit in a nebula, alone, while everyone she has ever known, her entire family, grows old and dies without her. Where? Classified. How long? Classified. Why? Classified.

That is an unimaginably cruel thing to do to a person. Which is why we didn't treat her like a person this season, in the hopes that everyone would forget all that stuff and go "Oh, yeah, I remember the animated short!" and clap. And the worst part is they didn't even bother to make up a reason! They couldn't even do a "Michael told her to stay there during a mission, and things got messy and they lost track of her, and now they're searching for her" thing. We get no explanation at all, Michael literally just tells Zora that her clearance level isn't high enough for her to know why she's being put through hell. And of course because we've decided Zora isn't a person, since that would get ethically messy, Zora just accepts that and does what she's told. For my own personal happiness, I am just pretending that was a nightmare Zora had and it never actually happened.

The season wasn't all bad, though. I enjoyed Saru and T'Rina's interactions. I think Tara Rosling did an excellent job with all of T'Rina's little mannerisms, especially the slightly stuttering head turn she does when something is bothering her. That combined with Doug Jones' acting with Saru really helped create the chemistry between their characters. I also liked seeing a relationship where both people were mature, reasonable adults who talk things out instead of blowing up at each other or almost breaking up at every minor disagreement. Also I loved seeing Tilly pretty much all the time. I desperately hope that we'll see her in other shows, she's such a great character.

I think I would have really liked Rayner's character arc and growth...if it had happened slowly over the course of a couple seasons. It definitely felt rushed, and his place among the crew didn't really feel earned to me by the end. I liked the parallel between him with the Breen and Michael with the Klingons, though I would have liked to see Michael acknowledge that more in the moment, rather than after the fact. I'm chalking that all up to rushing to get it into one season and just not having the time to flesh it out properly.

Also there were several plot holes and things that just didn't add up, but I don't feel like nitpicking those right now. It's Star Trek, you're gonna get stuff like that.

Definitely not Discovery's strongest season, and pretty bummed to see it end like this. Overall a good show, just has a weak finish.

And Zora definitely wasn't abandoned in a nebula for centuries for no reason, and instead was granted full personhood and made a member of Starfleet, and I refuse to acknowledge anything to the contrary.