#on the one hand. character with no role yet been there the whole series who is a blond telepath?

[bookwyrminspiration]

in one of the earlier books i believe vertina (and maybe someone else? idk) said that sophie looked a lot like jolie. which seems like too big of a thing for shannon to not explain. so what do you think’s happening with that?

also gethen being sophie’s father seems pretty likely but why didn’t forkle recognize him? unless he was lying to keep sophie from knowing he was her father but it doesn’t seem very hard for him to say he knows gethen without revealing anything about that

Great questions! I can only theorize, but I think the primary reason for people saying Sophie looked like Jolie (it was more than Vertina, including Edaline, and said multiple times) was as part of suspecting her of being Sophie's bio mom/the confrontation with Brant.

The constant comparison planted the seed that they might be related, kinda as a very early intro to the bio parents search. She doesn't start a real search till much later, but it continues the ruminating on it brought by Prentice so we can get there. And by looking like Jolie, she enters a unique situation when dealing with Brant, bringing his/his and Jolie's story to light and forcing him to confront it. It's like Jolie's brought back to life in spirit, which affects how Brant responds and kicks off his reveal/betrayal

But we don't see much if any mention of the similarities between Jolie and Sophie after those things happen, so I assume it's served its purpose and the similarities between them are coincidental, if convenient.

As for Gethen, of course there would be a lot of questions for Forkle about how he managed to get a Neverseen member in on Project Moonlark. But I presume you're referring to the scene on pgs 595-597 ish in Everblaze? Rereading it, and this is being very particular, Mr. Forkle doesn't seem to say anything that suggests he doesn't know Gethen. He doesn't say much at all, just that he remembers fighting off Gethen when he came for Sophie, and that they'll move him somewhere he'll feel more like talking--because he does have info Mr. Forkle doesn't know and would want, even if they've met in the past. And what he says could be an intentional move to not reveal what he does know, while also not faking ignorance. Because even if he does know Gethen, everything he said still stands. Perhaps he thinks the less Sophie knows about Gethen in general, the better, so he doesn't mention anything the kids don't find out themselves

So perhaps he did recognize him, and just didn't say anything because that's safer than lying and potentially being caught. Especially since the kotlcrew are really pushy at times. Simpler to just keep them out of the loop on that one--after all, the Black Swan has no problems keeping secrets and withholding information, which is especially true when it comes to her parentage. He can do what he needs to do with any additional information he has separate from the kids; they don't need to be involved in his behind the scenes work.

I think one of the main questions for the Gethen theory is: why? Why would Mr. Forkle pick him, and the answer would probably involve him having a regular identity Mr. Forkle thought he could trust before it was revealed he was Neverseen. Basically same as the Fintan theory, we just don't know that for Gethen so there are more questions.

There are gaps and questions in every theory, so none of this is certain, it's just a potential explanation.

[tobiotetsu]

the beast’s beauty

fushiguro toji x f!reader

description: because of your father's mistake, the infamous toji zenin forced you into imprisonment in order to pay his debt. however, what you never expected was to fall in love with the monster he was.

genre: angst, historical au, 18+, mini series

warnings/tags: explicit smut(vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, will add more) violence, mentions of stockholm syndrome & misogyny, blackmail, character injury, blood, profanity, mdni, grammar mistakes

a/n: thank you to everyone showing love for this series!!!this is a little mellow chapter hehe! blogs are truly appreciated <3 (taglist: open) (wc: 1.3k)

general masterlist

part one ♕ part two ♕ part three ♕ part four ♕ part five

The only smell that filled the air around you was the stench of cigarettes. Your father was a drunk so booze wasn't an unfamiliar scent. smoking, however, wasn't a habit he developed. Your throat seized a coughing fit before you could open your eyes.

Your bare shoulders felt a cool stone behind them as you regained your full consciousness.

What happened?

You clenched your clothes as you remembered the last moments before you were taken.

Your father had sold you away in a bet.

The air in the dark room stank, but you breathed it in deeply in an attempt to calm your mind. Your eyes scattered around the room in hopes to know where you were. The room was almost pitch black. The only light that seeped through was from the cracks in the door.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to pound your fits against the door and crumble it into pieces and run home. Run home to your father. To the man who did this to you. Tears welled up in your eyes merely at the thought. Through everything that you two have been together, through you playing the role of the parent to the one who was supposed to take care of you. You thought he had the decency to still care for you.

Your breath gathered speed and quickly turned into a panicked state. In attempts to inhale more you loudly gasp, hoping that if you breathed in enough of the wretched air, you'd wake up from this nightmare.

Before you could compose your thoughts, the illuminated door frame began to shake. The high-pitched jingle of keys was the only sound that filled the room. Your breaths had completely stopped. Everything in you froze, unprepared for who or what was going to appear.

Your eyes hadn’t gained their complete visibility yet so you weren't able to see the detail of the figure in front of you. He was large. His frame filled 80% of the doorway. He had something in his hand. You pressed yourself into the stone wall behind you in an attempt to move as far from him as you could.

As you shuffled your legs, you felt heavy resistance and great pain. A small yelp escaped your lips. You looked down and your dress was in tatters. Below the fabric, your eyes were met with rusted metal shackles. Your right ankle looked bruised as dark purple marks peaked under the shackle. Your left however was far worse. Wrapped in cloth and decorated with deep red patches. “What did you do to me?” your voice came off more threatening than you thought you could muster. You stare at the man in front of you. You can see him slightly better now. He was wearing a black wool sweater now. Its sleeves were rather large, even he had to roll them up slightly. The object he was holding was a metal bucket and a rag.

“I didn't do shit. You did.” the man took a step closer to you. Your fingertips curled into the fabric of your dress. Fear coursed through your veins but for some reason, you didn't dare show it in your eyes. You continued to look straight at this man.

“Excuse me? I kidnapped and hurt myself?” you couldn't help but satirize this whole encounter.

“You've been in and out of consciousness for 4 days now. Day 1 you did that trying to get away,” he said pointing to your ankle. He crouched down in front of you before continuing. “And yesterday you did that,” he said as he hovered above your shoulder. You didn't even notice the marks forming on your shoulder all the way down the right side of your back.

As the distance between you two halved, you finally could see his face properly. He looked cold. Not temperature wise but his soul looked cold. There was no warmth in his eyes. There was no remorse, no hope.

You needed hope, and the longer you looked at his eyes the hope in your own died as well.

“Please, I can give you money. I-” Before your pleas could finish he interrupted you.

“I don't need money. I need the guns your father sold. They’re one of a kind and fucking expensive.” His words were law. No matter how hard you bargained, he wouldn't free you. He set the bucket beside you and wet the rag in the fluid. His rough hands rang the cloth out with ease and he moved to place it on your shoulder.

“Don’t!” you dodge his hand quicker than he expected. “Don’t fucking touch me”

The man sighed and threw the rag into the bucket. He stood and leaned his body on the wall opposite to you, waiting for you to pick up the rag. You weren't going to give in, you wanted to protest and this was the only way you knew of.

There wasn't a clock present but you were sure at least 15 minutes went by as you two stared at one another. You gathered more pieces of him. He favoured his right side, as his pressure is never fully on his left. His hair was cut recently; the tips of his hair looked frayed and jagged.

He was the first to break the silence as he pushed himself off the wall and dug into his back pocket.

“Your wounds are going to get infected if you keep at this” His words gave you a good laugh.

“And why would you care?”

“I need you to be alive. I can’t exchange a dead daughter now can I?” you sharply inhaled at his words. “And what did I say before? I don't break my promises.” a small smirk pulled at his lips for barely a second before it disappeared into his permanent frown.

You gulped at his words. You had no reason to believe this man. He kidnapped you. He may hurt you or even worse. But maybe it was that piece of hope that was at the back of your mind. You didn't have anyone at this moment. You doubted your father would save you; he never did in the past.

“Fine” your mumble was all he needed as the man began to unbuckle the shackles at your feet. Swiftly, he looped one arm under your calf and the other one pressed tightly against your back. His fingertips felt rough to the touch. He picked you up with ease.

“I can walk!” you shouted without thinking about your inquiries.

“Yeah and then you're gonna break a hand next trying to run. Hell no”.

He walked quickly up the stairs and into a small hallway. Two doors were facing each other. The man carefully stepped into the one on the right. It was a washroom. The room was lit by 3 candles. There was a small window in the room accompanied by a chair, sink and a large tub already filled with water.

You were placed on the chair near the sink. The man scratched his neck as he gathered fabrics and placed them on the side. Once again he took his previous position as he led against the sink waiting for you. It was then that you slowly realized what was to happen.

“Are you going to leave?” you raised an eye as you stated the obvious.

“And have you jump out the window?”

“I won't run,” you stated.

“And I ain't leaving”. “Then I'm not going to get in the tub.” you protested firmly. Your words seemed to do nothing as the man took a step toward you and crouched to eye level.

“Listen, either you take the corset off, or I'll rip it off your body myself.”

[ tag list: @meepmoop12w @tojishugetiddies @thepsychicartist @blkmystery @wo-ming-bai @heyitstacy ]

[florisbaratheons]

It just amazes me how stupid and unprofessional the producers/creators of this show have been. One thing that particularly grinds my gears is how they've torn apart the supporting characters in this story, like Jeyne Arryn and Cregan Stark, completely erasing the very important roles they play.

"This story is about the Targaryens, and the Targaryens only." - Sara Hess

Great, but these characters are key to the story about the Targaryens. Cregan in particular because he was central to ending the story. And yet they erased his introduction, his relationship with Jacaerys and the whole reason why he sent the smaller army first hand and then came south at the end. The audience is gonna be clueless on who he is when and if he shows up in the series finale. And then these multiple interviews that Tom Taylor gave saying that his short appearance was just a little tease for now, only to delete his appearance in the finale? Like yes, it makes narrative sense to not combine him with Roderick Dustin, especially after having him go on and on about how he had to stay in Winterfell in 2x01, but why bother filming it in the first place? I mean, these interviews that Tom gave are very indictive of him knowing he was supposed to return for a role in season 3 and then they're like "Whoops, we goofed, never mind?" Tom likely turned down roles because he was expecting to return and they changed their mind at the last minute.

[teyamskxawng]

Rite of Passage

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

The rundown: You and Lo'ak mutually agree to paint each other for your coming of age ceremony. Although you're both growing older, some things never change.

Warnings: language, Reader and Lo'ak being painfully oblivious, Reader swearing up and down that she hates Lo’ak’s hands but she really loves them, just lots of fluff and stupidity, characters are aged up

WC: 5.5k

A/N: This was my attempt at writing a light-hearted lil fic that I don’t feel obligated to stretch out into a series. It's basically word vomit idrk how I feel about it, but anyways!! Another one for the Lo’ak lovers (me) lol <333

The highly anticipated season had finally come around once again—the annual, collective moment in which the entire Omaticaya clan came together to celebrate the time-honored induction of their youth into the world of adulthood. Over the course of several grueling months, the young Na'vi had been put through their paces, overcoming demanding rites of passage and thus earning their coveted standing within the tribe.

The lively and uproarious ceremony was more than just a celebration. It signified a crucial stepping stone in the journey toward becoming accomplished members of the Na'vi society. And this year, Lo’ak found himself among those transitioning from childhood into adulthood, moving one step closer to joining the ranks of his higher-ups.

He’d finally be treated like an adult, he’d finally get to exercise free will outside of his parents' strict and demanding orders. He’d get to celebrate with all of his warrior friends and probably consume way more drinks than he should, but that was all part of the adventure. He’d be a free man, and he couldn’t fucking wait. 

But as thrilling as the entire experience was panning out to be, there was this nagging sensation at the back of his mind—something that clouded his thoughts like a veil of unease.

It was customary for each young Na’vi to be adorned with intricate body paint before attending the celebration—a powerful symbol that represented their transformation from childhood into adulthood. It was akin to casting off one’s previous life and stepping into a new, mature version of themselves.

Each unique design would act as a shroud, allowing the individual to leave behind their former innocence and emerge reborn, strong and prepared for all of life’s challenges.

While most of his peers had already secured mentors, close friends, or even lovers to skillfully adorn their bodies with intricately painted designs for the ceremony weeks before its commencement, Lo’ak had nothing. Despite all his accomplishments thus far, he’d yet to find someone to help him present himself in a manner conducive to the age-old tradition. Which was a big problem.

Lo’ak had been struggling with the idea of asking you to paint him for the upcoming ceremony for weeks on end. It was something that weighed heavily on his mind, but he just couldn’t figure out how to approach such a delicate yet meaningful conversation with you. Embarrassingly, he found himself losing sleep over it all, tossing and turning in his hammock, replaying scenarios in his head, trying to find the right words that didn't seem to exist.

You and Lo’ak shared practically every experience and milestone throughout your lives together. You went through the same rites of passage as Lo’ak to be welcomed into the tribe as warriors. Given your close bond, it was natural that Lo’ak would want to be the one to paint you for the ceremony as well. Unfortunately, just as with asking you, he stumbled when it came to bringing up the actual topic. It was going beyond the casual interaction of friends—this was a formal event, steeped in tradition and significance. The whole situation left him feeling overwhelmed with stress and anxiety. 

But still, Lo’ak understood the weight of the tradition: it was all about deep connections and honoring those who had played an essential role in your life. Last year, he recalled watching Kiri as she painted Neteyam for his coming-of-age ceremony. As per tradition, this year Neteyam painted Kiri, a symbol of their familial bond and reciprocal support. It made sense, but at the same time, there went two of his potential options. Tuk was way too young to know what she was doing, and it’d just be straight-up embarrassing to have to ask either of his parents to do it for him. That would defeat the purpose of the entire ceremony; he was supposed to be an adult now, no longer reliant on his parents.

There was no doubt in Lo’ak’s mind that you’d be the perfect partner for the adornment process. You weren’t just a passing acquaintance; you were one of Lo’ak’s closest friends. Your friendship was strong enough to withstand the toughest storms. But still, Lo'ak couldn't shake the feeling that asking to paint each other would somehow cross a line between friendship and something much more intimate. It’d be embarrassing. And what if you had chosen someone else already? What if it was some other guy? Lo’ak’s stomach dropped at the thought.

And now, as the day of the ceremony had arrived, Lo’ak found that he still hadn’t mustered up the courage to ask you about the painting ritual. His anxiety mounted as time slipped through his fingers like sand. He was so screwed.

As you approached the Sully family’s tent, the faint sound of metal slicing through the air caught your attention. A knot of unease tightened in your chest as you hesitantly pulled back the tent’s entrance, revealing Lo’ak sitting alone in the dimly lit space. He was cross-legged on the ground, wholly engrossed in spinning his dagger in circles on the floor, his quick fingers directing its every move. As used to his stupidly reckless behavior as you were from years of friendship, your eyes still narrowed at the sight. You swore he was two seconds away from slicing his finger off and bleeding out right there in front of you before the ceremony even began.

So much for his adulthood.

Lo’ak’s ears twitched, and his trance-like concentration suddenly broke as he sensed your presence, his focused expression softening as he turned his gaze to meet yours. Momentarily distracted from his dagger, he rose to greet you, meeting your eyes with a look of genuine confusion.

Lo’ak eyed you up and down before stating matter-of-factly, “You’re not painted for the ceremony yet?” He didn’t phrase it like a question—more like an observation. And that was a little unfair, because it wasn’t like he was dressed in his body paint either.

Feeling a tad defensive, you retorted, “Neither are you,” as you made your way deeper into the heart of the tent. As much as his words had sparked annoyance in you, a secret wave of relief washed over you as you realized that Lo’ak wasn’t ready for the ceremony either. That could mean good news: maybe he hadn’t found a partner for the painting ritual yet.

There was still hope.

For days, you’d been meaning to ask Lo’ak about the whole rite of passage painting thing, but every time an opportunity presented itself, you’d back out like a little bitch. You honestly didn’t even know why you hesitated. It shouldn’t have been difficult to approach him about it. Lo’ak had always been your closest friend—you’d trained together, learned to tame your ikran together, and even completed your Uniltaron one after the other. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d agree to be your partner for the significant culmination of everything you’d accomplished together. It was just that the entire ordeal of getting someone—a good friend or otherwise—to meticulously rub paint all over your body felt so… affectionate. You and Lo’ak weren’t affectionate. Just thinking about it made you feel like there was a cascade of woodsprites flurrying around in your stomach.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of those persistent thoughts, when Lo’ak’s voice invaded your musings.

“Yeah, I don’t know who’s gonna paint me. Haven’t had time to ask anyone yet,” he said nonchalantly while reaching down to retrieve and re-stow his dagger.

He was avoiding eye contact, his yellow eyes aimlessly darting around the tent. You found it hard not to roll your eyes at him because it was so obvious he was lying about being too busy. You’d literally just caught him goofing around with an entire weapon moments ago. However, it didn’t really come as a shock that Lo’ak hadn’t approached anyone about it yet. Social graces weren’t his strong suit, and mustering up the courage to ask anyone to play such a role in his rite of passage couldn’t have been easy for him.

But still. Either way, you made up your mind; it was clear that things needed to move forward somehow. Regardless of the situation and awkward challenges it presented, you couldn’t sit idly by anymore; both of you were running out of time, and it’d be stupid to continue dancing around the matter at hand.

Resolutely, you decided it was best just to be upfront about it and get the whole thing settled once and for all—for both of your sakes and for the sake of friendship. Maybe it wouldn’t be as awkward as it seemed.

“Okay. I’ll do you, and then you can do me,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips without any real finesse. It was as if the sooner you could get those words out, the sooner you could escape the oncoming wave of embarrassment threatening to wash over you.

However, Lo’ak’s reaction caught you off guard.

His eyes widened in surprise and his eyebrows shot upward as he averted his gaze from yours. He couldn’t seem to look at you, his attention inexplicably drawn to an unremarkable spot on the ground near your feet. You scrunched your face up in confusion as you tried to make sense of his bizarre reaction. It wasn’t until you gave yourself a moment to process and then reprocess the words that had spilled from your lips, that you realized how they might have sounded to Lo’ak’s stupid teenage boy brain.

Trying to push away your own mortification and distract the both of you from the burning color that you were sure was spreading across your face, you acted on instinct, reaching over and smacking Lo’ak upside the back of his head. It was a necessary move to kill the dreadful silence that engulfed the tent.

“Ow! The fuck?” Lo’ak screeched, nursing the spot where you struck him as if he had genuinely been injured. He had always been overly dramatic.

“Just sit down,” you told him, trying your best to maintain a casual demeanor.

Despite the twinge of awkwardness still lingering in the air between both of you, you firmly gripped Lo’ak’s arm and pulled him back down into a sitting position on the floor. With Lo’ak seated and somewhat calmer now—even if he was still rubbing at the supposed wound on his head—you made your way deeper into the tent to rummage for the supplies needed for the body paint.

Jake and Neytiri were always well-prepared, making sure they had an ample supply of materials for when the time came to don their traditional war paint. Thanks to the countless hours you spent with the Sully children, navigating their tent was like second nature to you, and locating the necessary items was a breeze.

With a mortar and pestle full of bright white pigment in one hand and a bowl of water in the other, you re-approached Lo’ak, who was sitting patiently, waiting for your return. As you stood there, you studied Lo’ak’s face and allowed your gaze to wander down his frame, trying to visualize the patterns and symbols that’d complement his warrior spirit. Eventually, feeling inspired, you took your place in front of him.

Making yourself comfortable, you positioned yourself on your knees, making use of the extra bit of height, before you reached for the mortar and pestle and meticulously ground the white pigment into a fine powder. You drizzled in a small amount of water to create a smooth paste that would soon adorn Lo’ak’s face and body.

As you mixed the paste, your thoughts began to wander. Despite your focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t ignore Lo’ak’s piercing gaze. It seemed to bore right through you.

It still baffled you just how much Lo’ak had grown in such a short amount of time—it seemed almost sudden. For as long as you could remember, you and Lo’ak had been virtually the same height. There was even a brief period during your early childhood when you stood a bit taller than him, and you never let him forget it, teasing him about it every chance you got. But now? Things were so different.

It was like Lo’ak had shot up overnight. Not only was he growing taller by the day, but he was growing stronger as well. There was no denying the obvious changes in his physique. And it wasn’t like you were trying to notice the changes. It was impossible not to see the way his arms had filled out, the way his shoulders had broadened, the way in which even the slightest movement would cause the muscles in his stomach to ripple.

Just like they were at that very moment, as Lo’ak nervously shifted under your intense scrutiny, self-consciously crossing his arms over his chest.

Right, because you were definitely staring at him. You mentally chided yourself for letting your focus wander so far off course.

Swallowing hard, you turned your focus back to the task at hand. As you stirred the paint, pouring all your effort into getting the consistency just right, you tried to ignore the fact that the once-casual atmosphere between you and Lo’ak was now laced with an undeniable undercurrent of tension.

Out of nowhere, Lo’ak abruptly asked, “Is it gonna be cold?” His question caught your attention, and in a way, you were grateful for the sudden interruption. Your mind had been racing with thoughts of how you’d manage to paint any area below Lo’ak’s shoulders. But you decided to cross that bridge when you reached it.

“You tell me,” you quipped in response, placing the mortar filled with paint on the ground beside you. You dipped each of the fingers on your left hand into the paint, discovering that it was indeed really cold. You did the same with your right hand before lifting both sets of paint-covered fingers toward Lo’ak’s waiting face, wondering how the hell you were supposed to begin.

Truthfully, you hadn’t come up with any elaborate painting patterns or designs in preparation for the moment, which was somewhat concerning. The entire ceremony was meant to be personal and special, something that required contemplation and reflection for at least a few days before actually starting the painting process. Yet there you were, just 30 minutes away from the start of the ceremony, and not a single thought in your brain.

Despite your lack of planning, Lo’ak was calmly sitting right in front of you with his full trust placed squarely in your hands. So, without any further hesitation or delay, you decided to just dive in and let inspiration (and the trust of Eywa) guide your hands.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pressed your fingers to the edges of Lo’ak’s eyebrows before slowly trailing them across his forehead and then swooping them down along the bridge of his nose. You tried very hard not to laugh at the way Lo’ak flinched from the sensation of the cold paint touching his skin.

Momentarily, you took a step back to assess your progress and decided that it didn’t look half bad. The realization fueled your enthusiasm enough to continue painting. Coating your fingers in the paint once more, you continued to glide them confidently over the smooth contours of Lo’ak’s cheeks in swift strokes.

As you neared completion, you observed that all that remained unpainted on his face were his lips. They looked strangely bare. You weren’t really sure whether they were supposed to be painted or not. But the idea of touching Lo’ak’s lips, even just with your fingers, caused your heart to pound erratically within your chest. It was so bad that you were contemplating just backing out and moving on to the next part.

But just when you were about to give up and move on, unintentionally, your eyes met Lo’ak’s. It seemed as though he was reading your mind; he knew exactly what you were thinking as he studied you intently. There was no turning back; he had already noticed your hesitation.

Trying to maintain focus on the art and not let yourself become overwhelmed by how close you were seated across from Lo’ak proved challenging. You could practically feel the soft warmth of his exhaled breaths as they caressed your face. It made your spine tingle and caused goosebumps to rise across your arms.

“Close your mouth,” you ordered firmly, hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the air. He obeyed, immediately pressing his lips together with exaggerated swiftness. With a soft smile, you slowly raised both of your hands to his mouth. You gently placed two painted fingers on his mouth and traced them down his lips. From there, your fingers continued their journey along the curve of his jawline.

Taking another dip in the paint, you allowed your gaze to wander across the entirety of Lo’ak’s unpainted body. With your internal pep talk in place, you decided to just dive in. Maybe if you did it casually enough, everything would be fine. You softly nudged Lo’ak’s crossed arms apart with the backs of your hands. Your fingertips began their descent from the sides of his neck and moved deliberately across the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Silently reassuring yourself that it was nothing more than your overactive imagination when Lo’ak ever-so-slightly shivered under your touch, you diligently tried to make things move along as quickly as possible. Dipping your fingers into the paint once more, you adorned his shoulders with bold, white swirls that seemed to dance and move on their own.

Gradually moving further along his muscular form, you traced delicate lines that wrapped around each sculpted bulge of his biceps and along the contours of his forearms.

As your focus moved even lower, you took note of your favorite part of his body: Lo’ak’s uniquely impressive four-fingered hands. Upon reaching each digit one at a time, you spread long white lines down their length with seemingly natural precision. You let your instincts take over as you continued to create patterns and shapes on his skin, fully immersed in the fluidity of your motions.

You decided to save his chest for the very end, knowing just how awkward that part of the process was going to be—and truth be told, you really wanted to delay the moment for as long as possible. The silence within the tent was almost deafening, and you couldn’t help but send a silent prayer to Eywa, hoping with all your might that your hands would remain steady and not betray your mounting anxiety.

Dipping your fingers into the paint once more, you hesitantly approached Lo’ak’s chest. You were doing everything in your power to avoid making eye contact and ignore how tense his entire body was. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves, you quickly drew a series of intricate loops across each of his pectorals and then traced symmetrical lines down the center of his chest. Those lines continued, gracefully curving around the sides of his ribcage.

With every passing moment, it felt like the two of you were collectively holding your breath, neither wanting to break the fragile bubble of silence that had formed around you. 

Concerned for both your well-being and your sanity, you decided it’d be best to wrap up that part of the painting process as quickly as possible. It wasn’t until then that you finally allowed yourself to exhale. You exchanged an awkward glance with Lo’ak, silently affirming the palpable tension surrounding you.

“Okay. I’m done,” you announced, gently sliding the container of paint toward Lo’ak. You dipped your fingers into the nearby bowl of water, absentmindedly scrubbing away traces of the drying paint, which turned the water a cloudy shade of white. Your words acted like an instant wake-up call, abruptly jolting Lo’ak back to reality from his trance.

His focus had been so intense while you painted patterns across his chest that he inadvertently stopped breathing altogether. The sudden, sharp inhale that followed the sound of your voice served as evidence of that fact. That realization was enough to make you lose your own composure—just a tad.

You made a half-assed attempt at suppressing the grin that threatened to break past your lips, so you weren’t really surprised when Lo’ak extended his arm and slowly began to tug the bowl of paint toward him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The seemingly innocent yet still very suspicious act instantly put you on high alert. All you could do was watch in horror as Lo’ak suddenly immersed his entire hand into the paint. Your eyes widened in fear as he slowly lifted his paint-covered hand and began to edge closer to you, moving the dripping monstrosity in the direction of your face.

“Wait. Lo’ak, wait!” you warned, frantically shaking your head in an attempt to dissuade him from what you already knew would be an outrageously idiotic plan.

A glob of paint dripped from his saturated hand onto the floor between the two of you. You warily watched its continued pooling descent, leaving a bright splatter of paint on the ground that Neytiri would definitely kill you both for making.

“Just trust me, y/n,” Lo’ak insisted, the stupid grin on his face somehow both charming and alarming at the same time. It was more of the latter. You absolutely didn’t trust him.

“Lo’ak. Don’t you dare...” you began, your voice wavering and your ears flattening against your skull in weary anticipation.

But Lo’ak was undeterred by your protests. They only motivated him further. Barely giving you enough time to shut your eyes and mouth, he guided his entire paint-coated hand onto your face. The combination of the cold paint and the warmth from his hand sent shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you pressed your hands on the ground beside you, every fiber of your being screaming for you to get up and run. Far, far away from him.

However, Lo’ak wasn’t about to let that happen so easily. Somehow anticipating your attempt to recoil away from him, he brought up his other hand to secure the back of your head, making sure that you weren’t going anywhere. You sputtered loudly at the sensation of being literally smothered, and of course, nothing on Pandora could’ve stopped Lo’ak from laughing uproariously at your suffering.

“Stop moving! You’re gonna ruin it,” Lo’ak tried to sternly warn you while unsuccessfully stifling his laughter. He clearly found it all very amusing.

You couldn’t fucking breathe. You tried to communicate as much to Lo’ak, but you were sure your words sounded like nothing more than a strangled garble of sounds.

Eventually, Lo’ak seemed to take pity on you and lifted his paint-covered hand away from your face. You instantly gasped for air, finally unencumbered by his prolonged attempt at suffocating you to death. However, your relief was short-lived as you tasted the bitter, acrid flavor of paint on your tongue.

“You got it in my mouth, dumbass!” You complained with a groan, making sure not to swallow anything. Your disdainful tone only seemed to delight Lo’ak further.

“No one told you to eat it,” Lo’ak retorted with a dismissive snort. He was walking that thin line between playful banter and genuine ire. You could seriously kill him.

You narrowed your eyes at the little shit in front of you and desperately tried to rid yourself of the unpleasant taste by frantically licking at your arm. You probably looked completely unhinged, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Lo’ak made a face at your display, crinkling his nose in disgust.

Left with no other option, you did what any sane person who was minutes away from being welcomed into adulthood would do—stick your now paint-covered and saliva-slicked arm out toward Lo’ak’s incredulous face. His shock and horror at the development were priceless.

Lo’ak barely had time to react as you swiftly thrust your arm toward him, but his lightning-fast reflexes won out in the end. Always one step ahead, Lo’ak knew you and all of your little tricks too well. It was like he could read your mind. In the blink of an eye, he was already crossing half of the tent in a mad dash. He backed away from you with his hands raised defensively in front of him, like someone facing an untamed beast.

“Chill…we don’t have to do this,” Lo’ak cautiously pleaded with a slow shake of his head, his tone dripping in a mix of seriousness and amusement.

But you were undeterred. “Yes we do,” you deadpanned determinedly and slowly continued advancing on Lo’ak, coercing him to move toward the back of the tent. Your eyes never left his, maintaining a fierce stare as the situation continued to escalate.

Without warning, you lunged at him like a predator going for its prey, stretching your arm out in eager anticipation. It was so close—just inches away from Lo’ak’s face—but he was quick to react once more. He grabbed hold of your biceps with an iron grip, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You couldn’t help but hiss at him in frustration, feeling utterly defeated by the massive strength disparity between the two of you.

Lo’ak’s eyes locked onto yours for a split second before focusing on another target: your mouth. His expression changed from one of caution to sheer amusement as he caught sight of something peculiar—and apparently hilarious—about the sight.

His grin stretched ear to ear, nearly swallowing his entire face, as he blurted out, “Oh shit. Your entire tongue is white!”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and your eyes immediately widened with alarm. Because it definitely couldn’t be safe to consume paint. There could’ve been poison coursing through your veins at that very moment, making every passing second one closer to your tragic demise, all thanks to Lo’ak and his stupid hand. 

But despite your mounting panic, Lo'ak remained utterly unfazed. He obviously found the situation amusing, as evidenced by the way he wasn’t even trying to suppress his unbridled laughter.

“One night,” you vowed through gritted teeth, “I swear I’m going to sneak into your tent and cut every single braid off of your head in your sleep.” The more you thought about it, the more serious the idea became in your mind.

Lo’ak merely tilted his head, and an annoyingly attractive grin stretched across his face. “Oh, yeah?” He taunted, vehemently nodding his head along with what he knew was just another one of your faux threats. “And then what are you gonna do?”

As he spoke, Lo’ak tightened his grip on your arms—a bittersweet reminder that he was well aware you weren’t going to do shit to him in his sleep.

You eyed the unpainted underside of Lo’ak’s forearm, which rested directly in front of your face, and a childishly impulsive urge overwhelmed you. Without giving it much thought, you leaned in and licked a long, wet, white stripe along the length of his arm. The unexpected action elicited a shrieked “Bro!” from Lo’ak, who could only blink at the sight of your tongue, still pressed to his now-slobbery arm, in disbelief. You reveled in his reaction to your sudden move, despite how immature it might’ve been. He deserved it, and you had no regrets.

However, as fate would have it, the impromptu moment coincided precisely with the return of the entire Sully family to their home as they prepared for the upcoming ceremony. Jake and Neytiri led the way in, followed closely by Neteyam, Kiri, and Tuk. All of them. The five family members entered the tent one by one, each grinding to a halt as they caught sight of you and Lo’ak’s odd exchange in the far corner.

A few beats passed as everyone’s eyes darted back and forth between you two. The silence was palpable, and the tension continued to rise like an invisible fog that filled every corner of the tent. It finally dawned on you that it'd probably be a good idea to remove your tongue from Lo’ak’s arm.

Taking matters into your own hands—or, more accurately, your tongue—you gingerly began to distance yourself from Lo’ak. You took a cautious step sideways, followed by another one, making sure there was a healthy amount of space between you both. You hoped that would somewhat defuse the situation while also giving off the impression that nothing out of the ordinary had transpired—though it was clear you weren’t fooling anyone present.

The awkwardness still hung heavily in the air as each second felt like an eternity passing by. You could only imagine what thoughts and judgments must be running through everyone’s minds.

The silence in the tent was so profound that you could probably make out the gentle sound of a leaf falling from a tree outside if you really tried. The quiet was unsettling. It made your fingers itch. You found yourself tucking your hair behind your ears, trying to find some purpose for your idle hands instead of having them dangle awkwardly at your sides.

Opposite you, Kiri tried to conceal her knowing grin behind one of her hands. As to what she knew that you didn’t, you were utterly clueless. Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel unnerved by her expression. Similarly, Neteyam chewing on the inside of his cheek in an uncharacteristic effort to maintain his composure did little to alleviate your discomfort.

It wasn’t long before Tuk broke the silence with a question, curiosity twinkling in her eyes. “Is that a handprint on your face?” she innocently asked, pointing a tiny finger at what was definitely a handprint on your face.

Five sets of curious yellow eyes darted back and forth between your face, Lo’ak’s conspicuously stained white hand, and the matching white handprint wrapped entirely around your arm. Feeling their collective gaze upon you, you decided that you weren’t even going to try to talk your way out of the situation. “Yeah. It is.”

Without missing a beat, Neytiri swiftly turned her attention towards her youngest son as she hissed out his name: “Lo’ak.”

And thank Eywa for that. At least somebody had your back.

Lo’ak’s voice tended to reach an almost comical high-pitched tone whenever he was aware that he had done something wrong, and this occasion proved to be no exception. He glanced over at you with equal parts guilt and defensiveness in his wide eyes.

“It looks cool, though!” He insisted, trying to justify his actions. He waved his hand close to your face, as if the gesture held the power to magnify his point and erase any doubt you might have had. You squinted at the offending white hand hovering in front of your face before hastily swatting it away as if it were an annoying little bug.

Lo’ak grinned in delight at your visibly pissed-off demeanor, which only seemed to fuel his determination to get under your skin. He appeared to forget all about the looming presence of his entire family as he defiantly stuck his hand back in front of your face. And you were not about to let that happen again. You were probably going to have nightmares about his hand. Pivoting toward Lo’ak, you shoved him away from you, probably a little harder than necessary, judging by the way he stumbled a few steps to the side from the force of it all. But he was laughing as he re-straightened, not at all deterred by your outward hostility.

It was mostly feigned, anyway.

Neytiri watched the exchange between you two with amused exasperation, her eyes twinkling despite her best efforts to remain stern. She let out a soft ‘tsk’ as she shook her head, unable to fully suppress the tiny smile that crept onto her face. She reached down to gently grasp Tuk’s hand before leading the child further into the tent.

“Jesus,” Jake muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly struggling to maintain what little patience he had left. Jake would always throw that foreign word around whenever you and Lo’ak were together, but you still had no idea what it actually meant. “Just—finish up, alright?” He threw an exasperated look toward you and Lo’ak. “No more shenanigans. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak mumbled, his expression a mixture of mischief and feigned seriousness. He waited until Jake and the rest of his family were out of earshot before turning back to you.

“It looks cool,” he said again, his face breaking into a genuine, broad smile as he stepped back to take in the masterpiece he had just created. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the intricate design of his handprint that adorned your face. Giving himself a little nod of satisfaction, he crouched down to pick up the paint once more, eager to continue where he had left off.

You couldn’t see your own face, of course. But secretly, you had to agree that it probably did look kind of cool. You’d never openly admit that to him, though. There was no need to inflate his ego any further. Still, deep down, you knew you'd be proudly sporting your best friend's four-fingered handprint at the coming-of-age ceremony that evening. To you, it symbolized the unbreakable bond you both shared.

From his seated position on the floor, Lo’ak’s eyes rose to your face, a single brow raising in amused confusion at your idle form. Dismissing his reaction with a shake of your head, you couldn't prevent the warm smile from stretching across your lips as you settled back down in front of Lo'ak.

end

[megolololo]

why shockwave is the most fatherly decepticon (even more so than soundwave):

(aka i’m delusional and smitten)

every character in every medium revolves around a theme. a theme in a novel or a show or a film tends to be an idea that will be explored in both the subtext and text of that medium.

shockwave’s theme, surprise, surprise, is creation and rebirth (in most tf media). his whole character is concerned with the parenting of either himself (as a way of rehabilitating after empurata) or of others (predacons, his little bots in cyberverse, or even his subordinates like tarn)

now, you might ask, what sets shockwave’s fatherliness apart from soundwave’s? how is he any more fatherly than soundwave?

allow me to demonstrate with the following screenshot from guardians of the galaxy:

yup.

shockwave was everyone’s father, but soundwave was everyone’s daddy (no not like that)

still not convinced? allow me to introduce you or remind you of the concept of nature vs. nurture. ironically enough, for someone who is only a father, shockwave is the more nurturing one. soundwave is considered a father because he is a cassette player and his “children” are cassettes

in idw1 soundwave was actually more so adopted by his cassettes rather than the other way around. shockwave, on the other hand, birthed - even if not literally - and raised all the subjects he needed to raise to prepare for either war or for life

in idw1, shockwave was like a father to tarn. post-empurata, he still chose to call tarn the name that defined him the most: “damus.” not “glitch”, not “tarn”, which are all personas and not real identities (glitch = associated with his outlier power, tarn = leader of djd) but “damus.” shockwave knows the real tarn because he was there to raise him.

(extra note: to really drill in the fact that shockwave was fatherly to tarn, shockwave thinks “damus” is tarn’s real name while megatron, right before killing him, implies that “glitch” is. megatron is a military leader; he will favor the identity that holds the most militant potential. shockwave cared for tarn; he will favor the boy he knew when he was still in the academy)

we can even still see the effects of pre-empurata shockwave on tarn, who takes great pleasure in the arts and everything conceptually and fundamentally beautiful like poetry or literature or music. and guess who wanted to be remembered for “both his brains and his beauty”?

in cyberverse, he was actually kinda like a father to shadowstriker. he took her in after she was severely injured and placed her in his unit as a form as rehab, if you will (she wouldn’t have been able to go to more militant and armed units in such a condition). though he was less there to nurture shadowstriker, as she was already a developed adult, he was there to protect her. iirc, in a scene where they get frozen by this immobilizer, shockwave pushes her behind him.

it’s the same in tfp, where shockwave, near the end of the series, shoves ratchet behind him during the spacebridge battle and fires at other autobots. the enemy is LITERALLY next to him and yet he chooses to protect ratchet from stray bullets. and to address the predacon elephant in the room, he literally raised predacons. he petted them and comforted them and gave them sustenance to live and thrive.

shockwave is cold, rational, and is obsessed with logic, yes, but he assumes this logic from what he has observed and what he has experienced before, whether that before be pre-empurata or before the war.

could he have had a fatherly and caring figure before the war? possibly. could he have picked it up from how animals assume this role automatically, as if it was biologically and universally a logical thing to do? possibly. but have we ever considered that… it’s just part of his personality?

BuT but shoCkwAve dOesnT have EmoTions

if he didn’t have emotions and therefore no personality, he’d never feel compelled to lie or have any will to do anything. he is driven. a computer is not. a computer is told to do something and will output the most logical output based on its coding. he’s self-driven and autonomous with his decisions.

so, to sum it up, shockwave is nurturing, but because he is often overruled by the need to follow a strict diet of reason and self-motivated curiosity for knowledge, this part of him is always overshadowed. he’s not a good man. he will frankly never be. but he can be a good father if he only let himself be. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[mikashisus]

OLDER : O4. movie premiere

The blinding, continuous flash of cameras was starting to give you a migraine. First, your manager had yelled in your ear the whole way to the premiere because you had been so careless as to leak a part of your private life to the public, and now this.

Your night had been shaping up to be undeniably shitty, yet you kept an innocent smile plastered on your face for the paparazzi. They ate it up— your youthful glow, innocent smile, and attractive figure. It all made you sick to your stomach.

Not even two years into your professional acting career, and your life no longer belonged to you. You didn’t regret this path, you really didn’t. You had always dreamed of becoming an actor one day, yet you failed to think about all the side effects that came with stardom.

Now, after your second most notable role that provided you with fame you couldn’t mentally handle, you were learning how to deal with the weight of everything all around you. The only thing keeping you going was the support of your friends, and the presence of your coworker, Mr. Zhongli.

You met him for the first time on set on your first day of filming. Back then, you hadn’t realized just how big of a role you landed. The series would cover each nation eventually, but so far, it only covered Mondstadt and Liyue.

The very first movie was about the Archon War in Mondstadt. The second movie was meant to cover Liyue, but the director made the wise decision to split it up into two consecutive movies. The history of the Archon War in Liyue was too extensive to just numb it down to one movie.

Part one had already been released two years prior, and at that time, there had been a different actress for Guizong.

The original actress for the role had faced an untimely death. Because of the suddenness, the casting director had to find someone else to fill the role immediately. Since most of the scenes with Guizong had not been finished at the time of the previous actress’ death, all scenes that had already been filmed had to be redone.

You weren’t exactly sure what the casting director saw in you, but you were more than grateful for the opportunity to take on such a big role. Of course, you held a deep respect for the woman who previously had this role, and you promised yourself that you would do the role justice for her.

One of your main worries had always been what the public would think of you after finding out that the role of Guizong had been passed to another actress. You worried about not being as good an actress, or not playing the role the way it was meant to be played.

There were so many doubts: were you really cut out for this role? Would you really be able to fill the shoes of such a great and beloved actress? Would the viewers like you as much as they loved her? Would they hate you?

That was when your on-screen lover entered the fray.

Mr. Zhongli was a renowned actor. He had been acting for most of his life, and was favored particularly by younger female audiences because of his handsome looks and gentlemanly attitude. With his comforting voice and soothing presence, you quickly relaxed and began to open up.

Looking back on everything, you were incredibly thankful for his help.

A gloved hand placed itself on the small of your back as a tall figure came to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Looking up, you caught the gaze of the coworker you had just been thinking about. He always seemed to show up when you were thinking about him.

He sent you a dazzling smile, and you could feel your knees buckle. You returned it dumbly, your eyes shamelessly trailing down his figure to study his outfit choice. An elegant suit and tie ensemble with gold embellishments and silver engravings on the shoulders. It looked nearly identical to one of the outfits his character wore in the movie. It really, really suited him.

You didn’t realize you were staring until he lightly squeezed your waist and focused his amber eyes back onto the paparazzi. Clearing your throat in embarrassment, you knew the public would begin to question the long stares the two of you had been giving each other for quite some time now.

You knew they’d shame you for liking a man that was old enough to be your father, but you really couldn’t help it when he was just so… so…

He tugged you away from the cameras, turning his body in such a way that shielded you from their view. “You look absolutely stunning,” he muttered into your ear, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “That color suits you, my dear.”

He had a habit of calling you “my dear” ever since the two of you got closer during filming. The rest of the cast would continuously tease you about this whenever it happened.

Letting out an involuntary giggle, you smiled up at him. “You don’t look too bad yourself, grandpa.” You snickered as he exhaled deeply.

It was a running joke among the cast that Zhongli was a grandpa because he was older than most of you. Of course, he didn’t mind the jokes one bit. Sometimes he even participated in making them.

He squeezed your waist again, another small habit that formed during filming. Whenever you were about to start a scene, he’d promptly squeeze the side of your waist or your hips and smirk at your little yelps. Then, he’d walk away with this smug look on his face while you yelled at him.

“Y/n!” The voice of your close friend, Ganyu, called out.

Zhongli’s arm retracted from your waist, not without giving a final little tug first. You sent him a small glare before greeting Ganyu with a smile.

“Ganyu! Oh, look at you! You look absolutely gorgeous! I’d get on my knees for you, but I don’t want to ruin my dress.”

Ganyu was wearing a tight, black and blue dress with sparkles littering the hem. The dress reached her feet and billowed out at the ends, and had a slit on one side. The top of the dress had a sweetheart neckline, with thin red ropes lining the edges. Her sleeves billowed, allowing her arms room to breathe. The outfit was completed with black heels and an elegant hair piece that kept her hair tied back in a bun.

She usually didn’t fancy these types of dresses, as they weren’t really her style, but it looked magnificent on her.

Pink dusted Ganyu’s cheeks as she waved you off. “Oh, stop! Have you seen yourself!? The guys won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you!”

Zhongli interjected before you could say something in response. He chuckled, “They won’t be the only ones, it seems.” His amber eyes settled on you once more. He was staring at you so intensely that it made you feel smaller under his gaze.

You let out a small laugh of disbelief as Ganyu’s eyes widened. She cleared her throat awkwardly, “Well, ready to head inside? Almost everyone is in there already. We were just waiting on you two.”

Zhongli slid his arm around your waist once more, pulling you close to him. “I think this calls for celebration,” he said, sending you a smile. “For a job well done on the movie.”

You nodded. “I agree. You were amazing, as always.”

He chuckled, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. “I meant you, my dear. You were absolutely fantastic in that role. I think you lived up to everyone’s expectations.” He paused. “So… will you take me up on that offer?”

Moments before the two of you had stepped outside, Zhongli offered to buy you dinner and asked if you would like to spend the rest of the night with him. You agreed, for obvious reasons.

Your breath hitched. “Of course. How could I turn down Mr. Zhongli?” you teased. “Jokes aside, yes. Where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about Xinyue Kiosk. The food there is most exceptional.” He had a nervous look in his eyes, one that you knew all too well.

He was nervous about not being able to impress you. Luckily for him, you were already impressed by his charm.

With a newfound confidence surging within you, you eagerly took his hand and held it tightly, intertwining your fingers. You brought your other hand up to rest over the back of his. He smiled sweetly at the action, giving your hand a small squeeze.

“I trust your judgment,” you told him. “After all, you are a distinguished man.”

He clicked his tongue and let out a small laugh. “You jest. I enjoy simplicity as well.”

“Simplicity, huh?”

The word reminded you of your hometown and your parents, who preferred a minimalistic lifestyle. Some of their ideologies had passed to you, though you hated to admit it, and you liked a simplistic life as well.

However, being a famous actor meant you couldn’t have that kind of lifestyle that you wanted. It meant that you would always be shoved into a life of expectancy and glamor.

As the limo driver opened the door for you and Zhongli, you slipped inside and crossed one leg over the other. Still having a firm grip on Zhongli’s hand, you rested it on your lap and let out a small sigh.

The man beside you rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand in soothing circles. “You have a look on your face.” He muttered.

You glanced at him. “I was just thinking about home. And food.”

That prompted a small huff of amusement from him. He raised a brow. “Care to tell me about ‘home’ during dinner?”

Your lips twitched up into a smile. “Only if you’re willing to listen.”

prev. | next | masterlist

NOTES: written chapter this time. i’ll be doing this from time to time since originally this fic was not supposed to be a smau at all. this chapter was supposed to be released WEEKS ago but this fic isn’t my top priority, so i didn’t edit this until now.

SUMMARY: when your acting career booms, the stress of the spotlight and your every move being watched starts to drown you whole. the only escape from a complete all time low comes in the form of your attractive coworker, zhongli— a distinguished and slightly older man that you can't seem to stop thinking about.

TAGLIST — open @theprinceofkhaos

[mayzi33]

******SPOILERS, SO MANY SPOILERS AHEAD.*********

I have so much to say I'm afraid my brain might explode. So I'll try to keep calm despite still being at the verge of tears.

When I first started this book series, I thought it would be the usual light, cutesy fantasy about friendship and family. And oh boy, OH BOY WAS I WRONG.

On a side note, something I'd like to point out I noticed, from the first book to the third, the lighting on the cover progressively gets darker. Of course, representing the story itself as the plot gets darker as well. On the last book, it's still dark, but there's a light coming from Janner, Kalmar and Leeli, like they finally reached sunrise after a long, ruthless night. Something i'm pretty sure was said at some point on the books themselves, about no matter how long the night is the day will always come.

Anyways. Back to the topic at hand. As the story progressed, I keep growing more and more connected to these characters, and each chapter I rooted more and more for the Jewels Of Anniera.

I'd like to add that I'm an only child, yet, somehow, I can tell Janner is one of the best eldest sibling characters ever written. My whole life I've only watched siblings around me and their relationship with eachother, especially on the eldest's side, and somehow, Janner reminded me of every friend, family member or random stranger I saw on the streets someday that have siblings.

Janner is such a complex character. He is by no means perfect, but he does have a golden heart. One of the things I was most impressed by was how the author described Janner's feelings, whatever it was the longing for his father, or just feeling burdened by his siblings. And yet, no matter what Janner is feeling, the narrator never invalidates his feelings or antagonize him. Janner is a child, a child who went through a lot. He is allowed to miss a father he never had just as he is allowed to sometimes be annoyed for always having to make sacrifices for his siblings. But one of the things I admired the most about Janner (along with everyone else I'm pretty sure) was his character development. At the first book, he'd roll his eyes at the mere thought of having to look after his siblings and saw them as a burden. At the second book, he learned the hard way how much Kalmar and Leeli matter to him, and how it hurts to be away from them. On the third book, he took pride on his title as Throne Warden and role as the eldest sibling, being devoted to protecting the High King and Song Maiden. And at last, on the last book, he leaves pride aside. He doesn't take care of Kalmar and Leeli because it's his duty, because it's honorable, neither because that's what he has always been told to do. He does it because he loves them above all else, because he finally sees how strong the bond the three of them share truly is, because he feels the blessing the Maker has gifted them, and how much stronger they are when they're together.

Janner is a kind, brave, clever, beautiful boy.

And I will forever believe that they managed to get him the water from the First Well to heal him. I will nor accept any other ending.

Kalmar. At first, the typical goofy, troublemaking sibling, more like a comic relief. But again, OHOHOHO BOY... DID THAT CHANGE.

I definetely did not expect for them to take the turn they did with Kalmar. I could tell that he would have some character arc mainly towards maturing and taking responsability, but I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE LIKE THAT. Seeing that bright, easy-going, smiley little boy loosing his usual joyful personality when he was fanged, slowly loosing his sanity and growing on his self loathing was really something painful yet beautiful to watch. Like Janner, he also had to learn his lesson on the hardest way possible. An extrovert kid like him, having everyone turning their backs on him and looking at him with hatred, and yet, he learned to keep his head high, like a High King. (the phrase "keep your head held high or else your crown will fall" is literally perfect for him.) And most of all, seeing him risk his life to aid a strange cloven, (that turned out to be his father) grant the Hollowsfolk his forgiveness despite everything they did to him, show mercy and compassion to the Fangs despite everything they did, all of these things make Kalmar an inspiring ruler, and leaves me assured that he will be a great king after all.

Now, Leeli, sweet, pure-hearted Leeli. I will be honest, at first I was afraid that they would make her the typical "overly nice and overly fragile female character", but again, BOY WAS I WRONG. (I don't know how many times I will repeat that, I apologize.) At some points in the books, she didn't have as much spotlight as her brother and I felt like she was kind of being thrown aside. But there's always a turn the books take that make her lack of spotlight at first worth it. So young, the youngest of the Jewels Of Anniera, yet she has seen and done so much. Has a bad leg, needed to use a crutch since she was little, yet that literally never stopped her. She strives to keep up with her brothers, and despite his kind personality she shows she can be festy and even scary when she wants to. (I will never forget that moment in the second book where she was yelling at the trolls and fangs and they were actually eager to obey her lol). She hates it when people assume she's weak and often refuses help, proving she's perfectly capable. But at times, she does need help, which shows us all it's okay to have someone to rely on. She was the link between Janner and Kalmar, no matter how much they argued nor how mad they were at eachother, she was always there for both of them and connecting them back together. She may not be able to fight like her brothers, but she found her own strenght. Her music, something that has always brought joy and hope to others turns out to be an ACTUAL weapon. She kicked a Green Fang to defend her puppy, she was the first one to see the pain and kindess through Peet, Nugget sacrificed himself for her showing how her strong her love for others really is, she stopped A FREAKING DRAGON from killing her grandpa, she led an army of dogs, she defeated countless fangs with nothing but her song. One of the best child female chracters I've seen in a while. She is feminine, has her weak points, but she finds her strenght, not in swords, punches or bows but on a whistleharp. I love her so much I can't describe it.

I love all of these kids so much. I am *proud* of them. I know it's a weird thing to say about fictional characters, but these books just make me feel this way. I can't name a single character I didn't connect or feel empathy with.

Nia, such a strong, independent woman, raising her children having lost her husband and kingdom, yet keep her head held high like the queen she is.

Podo, a man who has sinned, takes shame on them, yet shows that sinners can still be good people. Loves his family above all else, protected and took care of them until his last breath, might have been a little rough around the edges, but always showed a soft spot for his daughter and grandkids.

Artham, a broken man, haunted by the shame of loosing his brother, slowly, but surely, healing. Learning to move on by protecting his nephews and niece, making what was once a weakness a strenght.

Oskar, an old man that was always sitting on the library, letting go of his peaceful life and risking his life to accompany the Wingfeathers through thick and thin.

Sara, who was taken from her family, abused and had all her hope crushed, finding her courage back after meeting Janner and taking after him, being a sisterly figure, leader and queen ti billions of orphan children, and helping them find their strenght and fight for their freedom.

Maraly, a rude strander girl who was raised horribly her whole life by her abusive father, finally finding true love and a true father figure.

Everything about this story has touched me. A broken world taken by an evil monarch who turned to be just another broken soul, filled with hopeless people, people who had surrended to the darkness... Saved by three children, who brought light everywhere they went. A boy with scars, a boy inside a wolf, and a girl with a crutch. Kids who one day were mere peasants, the other were the Jewels Of Anniera, and a year later, heroes of Aerwiar.

I've smiled, I've laughed, I've been shocked, I've been scared, I've been mad, I've cried. I have red lots, and I mean LOTS of books. Different stories, different worlds, different characters. Yet none of them has touched me half as much as The Wingfeather Saga.

It has war, tears, bloodshed, betrayals, sacrifices and sorrow. But it also has love, joy, hope, laughter, wonder and light.

This story definetely deserves way more fans and recognition. I hope that with the new animated series (which I'll definetely watch later) it begins to gain more love.

Anyways. I really love this in case y'all couldn't tell already. Have a good day/afternoon/evening.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 18

An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2800

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

I think of all the phone calls I’ve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours I’ve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didn’t open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldn’t scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.  The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Price’s desk. It’s a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.

I’m not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I don’t think it’ll sound the same. There’s no way the man I’m about to speak to is the one I’ve known my whole life.

Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was “urgent”. I wasn’t sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet won’t tell me what they’re doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I don’t miss the excitement in his eyes when he says it’s classified.

Right now I’d rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. I’d rather be almost anywhere than here.

The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now it’s all on me. I feel Ghost’s eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just can’t. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also can’t help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.

I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.

And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.

“Y/n?” he asks, almost unsure – like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.

“Hi,” the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I won’t be able to keep it together. My hands don’t feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but can’t get the words to come into focus.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?” there’s just something to his voice, that I can’t quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like he’s only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghost’s eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.

“I’m fine,” my voice is strangely even. “They said I could see you again. That they’d make a trade,” the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly I’m standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word she’s saying.

“Oh my sweet girl,” he croons. “I want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

“Mom?” I latch onto the hopeful word. “Is she there with you?”

“No, but she’s somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. You’ll get to see her soon,” he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141’s extensive intel.

“Dad, I-I,” just like in the script, Price audibly warns me we’re short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. “They said I can’t talk much longer,” my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Price’s mouth. I’m convincing.

“Hey,” he says. “Soon enough we’ll have all the time in the world,” the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but you’d never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what he’s capable of now, the man I’m speaking to just doesn’t sound like the type. “But y/n, I’m going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141’s soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. There’s no way they’d trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.

“Those are the men they want?” I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.

“That’s what they told me to say,” my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, I’ll lose my concentration.

He sighs deeply, “I’ll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But I’m going to get you out, don’t you worry.”

I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. “Love you,” my voice cracks.

“Love you too darling,” the line goes silent for just a moment. “I’ll be in touch,” with these words, his voice significantly deepens. He’ll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141’s precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.

Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know I’m back in my own body.

“Well done,” Price congratulates me. He’s surprised I did so well. I don’t come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure – I normally don’t – yet the phone call was almost flawless.

“Thank you,” I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I can’t believe that is the same man I’ve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though it’s about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, there’s also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.

“Thank you, Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasn’t said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesn’t trust a soul. Especially now. “Within the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. We’ve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we don’t need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesn’t think you snitched again,” Price’s tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.

The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesn’t care about them, he needs me alive. They won’t have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.

“Any questions?” he asks. For once, I have none.

“No sir.”

“Right. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,” he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then we’re off.

I don’t know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.

When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. He’d take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.

Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.

Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. There’s so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes – like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so we’re almost touching, the heat of each other’s body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.

My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.

“Aren’t you dropping me off?” the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.

“No. We’re training,” he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?

“We are?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Ghost says. And if I’m not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.

Yet, Ghost doesn’t take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.

“Is this a joke?” suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.

“Negative,” the curt response is typical. He isn’t about to volunteer any additional information.

“What could we possibly train for in your room?” my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghost’s gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.

“I’ll show you,” he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type that’ll get me into trouble. “First, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?”

“I don’t want to think about the phone call,” I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I can’t believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought it’d be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But it’s overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as he–

“It’s not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,” Ghost’s head tilts as he gauges my response. I don’t speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldn’t see his face. “You were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,” he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.

“I’m not good at it. It feels like I’m not even there,” like the actions aren’t even my own. It’s a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they don’t feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?

“But you know you are?” his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think I’m slipping from reality?

“I know I am. It’s just easier to separate myself from what I’m doing,” I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe it’s my brain’s way of protecting myself?

“Y/n, if it’s too much let me know,” Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. “For this too.”

The second half of his sentence catches my attention.

“And what is ‘this?’” what does he keep alluding to?

Ghost’s delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. There’s a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.

“What’s your safe word?” his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. There’s an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One that’s about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.

“Safe word?” my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh.  He’s joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.

“Think of one, sweetheart,” he rasps. There’s that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.

“Um, I don’t – Soap, I guess?” his call sign comes to mind first.

“Not Soap. Something different,” his head juts to the side with disapproval.

“Okay. Fine. Pizza then,” I’m still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.

“Pizza,” Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders don’t feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?

Ghost doesn’t wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. He’s incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasn’t had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But there’s nowhere to go. The room is small and he’s closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. He’s forcing me to.

“The fuck are you doing?” I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.

Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghost’s sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.

There is no escaping what comes next.

Pt 19:

[saintsenara]

More ships! Severus Snape/Charity Burbage, Severus Snape/Petunia Dursley, Narcissa Black/Lily Evans, Narcissa Black/Remus Lupin

thank you very much for the ask, anon! lots of delicious ships here to get into...

charity burbage/severus snape

i'm going to start this one by pointing out something which features a lot in discussions of snape's relationship with dear old chazza b, and which i have elected to find annoying even though it's spectacularly minor:

in the book [or - certainly - in the original edition, which is what i have] of deathly hallows, charity does not say that she and snape are friends while pleading for her life. this is an invention of the films, which are rather more heavy-handed at hinting that snape isn't really a loyal death eater with blood-supremacist views than the text is.

but, nonetheless, she does still beg him to spare her... and so she must retain some belief in snape's capacity for goodness even though she must be aware, as a hogwarts teacher, that he murdered dumbledore only days beforehand...

which is to say that i love the idea of a bit of snarity [snurbage? burbape?] in a story which didn't deviate from the canon timeline. it is just exquisitely nasty to imagine the two coming together during the goblet of fire to half-blood prince period, initially just for something casual - since snape knows he can't commit to anything given his role as a spy - which then turned into something deeper he was occasionally driven to allow himself to imagine might be able to become a real relationship after the war...

...and then him having to look a woman he's fallen in love with in the eyes and arrange his features into a malevolent smirk while this is happening:

Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy’s wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.   “Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort.  Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!” “Ah, yes,” said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

and then to have to pretend to be completely unruffled as voldemort kills her in front of him.

delicious.

petunia dursley/severus snape

this is one i really, really back.

i’m fond of petunia, who i think is one of the most interesting characters in the series because of how full of contradictions she is.

and who i think is also a victim in fandom spaces of how the adult cast was aged up for the films [in canon, she’s only in her early twenties when lily dies, and the implication is that vernon is a good deal older than her]. her inadequacies, such as her inability to truly care for either child in the household, seem much more nuanced in a woman of twenty-three, who has a toddler and whose entire family is dead, than they do if she’s pictured as a middle-aged woman with considerable life experience.

and like snape, petunia teeters on a knife edge between various chasms: she's a working-class girl from the midlands made good in middle-class surrey, he's a working-class half-blood boy who spends most of his life in pureblood circles; she ends up with her whole life wrapped up in a square little house when she’s barely out of her teens, he ends up with his whole life wrapped up in spying at the same age; she hates the wizarding world and yet covets it, he hates the muggle world and yet cannot escape it; she loves lily and she hates her and she loathes her for dying, he… well, you know the rest.

all of these similarities - especially when combined with the long history of resentment between snape and petunia [she thinks he stole lily from her! he thinks she was the first person to try and keep lily from him!] - makes snetunia just so compelling.

and if you're convinced and desperate to really get into the mess, you're in luck - because you can read the magnificent regretfully, yours by @maria-de-salinas, which takes snape and petunia's bitterness and awkwardness and grief and guilt and remorse and turns it into something really quite beautiful...

narcissa black/lily evans

ok, so i'm afraid to say that narlily is one of those marauders-era ships which i don't fully get the increasingly popularity of - and so, if you do ship it i would be thrilled to get your recs and manifestos as to why.

my objection doesn't actually have anything to do with narcissa being a blood-supremacist [although i don't think i'd vibe with a story which didn't address this at all - and i'm not compelled by a common version of fanon!narcissa which has her as not sincerely holding these beliefs: she is just as much of a bigot as lucius] - i think something quite interesting could be done with narlily [as in all death-eater-with-a-non-pureblood ships] as a vehicle for an examination of the hypocrisy of blood-supremacy; and with narlily as a femslash ship specifically as a vehicle for an examination of how sex with a non-pureblood which has no chance of resulting in pregnancy would be more acceptable in a culture which is so obsessed with heritage and lineage than sex which could.

why i don't really think it would slap for me, though, is that narcissa always comes across in canon as someone who is conformist and a bit staid - largely, as i've written about elsewhere, because she feels a desire to perform according to the gendered conventions expected of a woman of her class background as a way of deflecting the shame brought upon her family's standing in polite society by bellatrix and andromeda's behaviour. lily - on the other hand - is famously a bit bolshy - cheeky and adventurous and argumentative and stubborn.

and so i simply do not imagine their personalities either working well together in any meaningful way or clashing spicily [they'd clearly both regard the other as not worth their time popping off at].

please change my mind!

narcissa black/remus lupin

this, on the other hand... yes. hook it into my veins.

they both live behind masks - hers of gendered social convention, his of self-loathing - which have, at their core, the idea that a proper witch and wizard must be "civilised". and while they both seem to prefer to embrace these masks, there is the potential lurking beneath them for both of them to break free and be wild and raw in the realities of themselves.

plus... imagine if you've also got the post-1981 context of lupin trying desperately to understand how sirius could have become the death eater who would betray james to voldemort and narcissa and lucius trying to establish the fiction that he was under the imperius curse during the first war with the ministry, well before they feel comfortable becoming as complacent in their conviction that voldemort's not about to return as they are at the start of the canon narrative.

lovely misery.

[infriga]

Some random Egghead meta about Vegapunk because he was on my brain today for some reason and I just wanna get it out of my head:

Honestly Vegapunk fascinates me as a character. I feel his existence as an individual gets overshadowed a lot by his existence as an important part of the overarching series/arc plot, but there's actually a lot of interesting things to think about regarding him as a person too.

One aspect that I probably think about the most is the mole plot regarding his satellites. Oda deliberately had him make several supposedly "negative" satellites, one being straight up Vegapunk's EVIL persona, and yet the one who truly turns out to be the traitor isn't Lilith, it's York. And sure, on the surface it's easy to say that it wouldn't be Lilith because that would be too obvious, but if Oda was just going to go for the surprise factor with this twist he would have had it be one of the more "positive" Satellites like Shakka (good) or Pythagoras (wisdom). In fact they were popular choices for theory crafters when the fandom was trying to predict who it would be. But he didn't go with that because the twist was based more on Vegapunk's actual character and actually makes a LOT of sense when we learn more about who he is as a person.

York is usually called Vegapunk's "greed" persona, but she's meant to represent more of a mix of greed, desire, avarice, hunger, appetite, even passion, etc, hence why her name is written in kanji as 欲 (yoku) which can mean all those things. With that understanding it's more understandable why her initial depiction comes across more like sloth and/or gluttony, after all her "job" is just to eat, sleep, and poop for Vegapunk, which may seem like a strange job for the "greedy" persona, but does fit the "appetite" or "hunger" aspect of the term yoku.

Obviously this comes with the benefit of hindsight but I actually kind of wish translators had translated her role to something more like desire or appetite instead of greed in most instances, since part of what makes the reveal a twist is that she really is more of an embodiment of "greed" as it's typically viewed despite appearing at first to be a less dangerous form of the concept. We're lead to believe that she's not as ambitious as she really is.

Ultimately I think the thing she represents is desire itself as a whole, unchecked by things like logic or wisdom or conscience. And knowing what we know now about Vegapunk's backstory, it makes sense why she would be the one to turn traitor, because Vegapunk's greatest weakness has always been his unchecked desire. I know some people might interpret it as being his naivety, but naivety on its own isn't a flaw or a weakness, someone can be naive and still make productive choices if they're smart and diligent and let their conscious and logic temper their first impulses. Naivety isn't always automatically a complete lack of wisdom or intelligence, it's a lack of experience, and that CAN be compensated for. Vegapunk didn't realize the extent of the government's cruelty, or the dangerous potential of his knowledge and technology in the wrong hands at the start because he hadn't yet experienced it first hand and he didn't try to compensate for that potential risk. If he'd tempered his desire for progress, for knowledge, for advancement, and exercised his intelligence and conscience, he likely would have realized the potential risks from the start and likely wouldn't have relied entirely on giving the government the benefit of the doubt because he would have prioritized being responsible with his abilities. He might have at the very least done more to gain leverage and have proper oversight over how his inventions would be used. This is something he eventually learned, as seen with stuff like his secret broadcast, but it came from hindsight after the damage was done, rather than from foresight.

A lack of foresight can be an issue, but what really drove Vegapunk's actions was, again, his desires overriding his common sense. The government was his meal ticket to the things he wanted, and he reasoned it away by saying that the means would justify the ends, up until he had to witness what those horrible horrible means really were with his own eyes.

Vegapunk's satellites don't only represent things like good, evil, wisdom, violence, intelligence, and desire, they specifically represent those aspects of HIM, and for all his flaws Vegapunk is clearly not an evil man. So it makes sense that Lilith would not actually be all that evil. And he is not a particularly violent man, which is why Atlas is not actually particularly violent at least in terms of the One Piece universe. Heck, Nami is arguably more violent than her. But Vegapunk IS very greedy. Not in the classic "wants to be rich and powerful" sense, except in terms of how riches and power would help him reach his true goals. He's covetous, he has an appetite, he is driven by desire. It is as much a strength as it is a weakness, it's why he has made so much amazing technology, and why he looked into stuff like the void century despite the risks, but it's also why he chose the government as his benefactors over the revolutionary army, it's why he built so many dangerous things without thinking of the consequences of who might weild them or how they might be used to harm instead of help. He always needed more. He needed more money so he could fund more projects, he needed more projects so he could make more discoveries, he needed more discoveries so he could gain more knowledge, and so on and so on. This is of course represented quite aptly by his ever expanding brain, not unlike the common imagery of an ever expanding stomach that represents gluttony. He may have meant well with how he wanted to use the knowledge and discoveries and technology, but, well, you know what they say about good intentions.

As he grew older, eventually his experience overcame his naivety, his wisdom and good conscience overcame his desire, and he finally stopped seeking more above all else and started trying to mitigate the damages and make up for the consequences of his actions. But York? York doesn't have that wisdom or conscience, she's just the desire, unchecked. And Vegapunk's remaining naivety ended up aimed at himself, when he didn't recognize the danger of that aspect of himself.

So with this full picture in mind, it makes total sense why York was the turncoat, not someone like Lilith or Atlas, because Lilith is only as evil as Vegapunk is, and Atlas is only as violent as Vegapunk is, and unfortunately, York is just as hungry for more as Vegapunk is.

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 7) "in my side"

moodboard by @hellishjoel (ty, honey ♥)

pairing: frankie morales/oc!river price (they/them) rating: E (18+) chapter warnings: deadnaming, misgendering, seriously there's a whole character that just dismisses river's entire being so if that triggers you or you don't want to read it i completely understand, one (1) panic attack, one (1) depressive episode, frankie being the best boyfriend in the world, possible food triggers (river doesn't want to eat while depressed), discussions of past abusive behavior (gaslighting, belittling, etc), if i missed anything lmk! word count: 3.5k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario

main masterlist | series masterlist

They had been at the mall for a couple of hours now, but Frankie didn’t mind. He enjoyed helping River pick out clothes, but he preferred when they went to thrift stores. Less people, fewer crowds. 

Plus, the thrift stores usually had something that he could fix up. He had been working with his hands a lot more lately in his free time. 

Now, he leaned against the dressing room outer wall, waiting for River to come out and show him a shirt they wanted to try on. Frankie smiled to himself as he thought about his partner. 

They’ve been official for six months now. It feels as fresh as when he first saw them at the Night Owl, and as comfortable as if they had been together for years.  They spend an equal amount of time at their respective apartments, and visit each other on their lunch breaks frequently. Frankie isn’t sure he has ever been so happy in a relationship as with River. In previous relationships, there was always an expectation of him. A role he had to play. With River, he can just be. They don’t expect anything of him. Except maybe his attention and love. 

And he had no problem giving them that.

“Frankie?” River laughed softly.

Frankie startled and turned his head toward his partner. “Sorry, Riv,” he smiled sheepishly. “Zoned out a little. Is that the shirt?”

River’s face softened at their boyfriend’s easy smile. The past six months had been some of the best in River’s life. They were so thankful for Frankie’s respect and patience.

“Yeah,” River nodded. “What d’you think?” They tugged on the long sleeves, pushing their thumb through the hole cut into the fabric. They twirled a little and did some silly, flirty poses for Frankie. He smirked, his eyes twinkling in interest as he shamelessly checked them out. 

“You’re insatiable,” River giggled, pushing Frankie’s shoulder playfully.

“Rachael?”

River froze, their entire body going cold in an instant. Their smile dropped and they shut their eyes, face pinched. They’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Riv? What’s going on?” Frankie stood, one large hand reaching out to cup their face. When River flinched slightly, his heart cracked, just a little. “Baby?”

“Rachael!” The voice chirped again, “It’s been so long! I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Tears welled up in River’s eyes at the sound of the voice. Her voice. Why did she have to come back into River’s life now? Of all times?

Frankie felt unmoored, suddenly lost for a way to comfort River. He was interrupted by a short, very pretty woman appearing at River’s side and clutching their bicep. She was blonde, and had an almost ethereal beauty about her. Frankie’s brows furrowed and his chest puffed up a little, feeling possessive. Who was this touching his partner?

River opened their eyes slowly, and when they did, Frankie didn’t see his partner in them. His Río. They looked completely numb. “Hello, Evangeline,” River said in a flat tone Frankie didn’t recognize.

Evangeline? Frankie blinked, his left hand tightening around the handles of the bags he was carrying. 

Who was Rachael?

“It’s been such a long time,” Evangeline sighed wistfully. “What have you been up to?”

River hadn’t turned to look at Evangeline yet, staring at Frankie’s chest and tracing the pattern of the t-shirt he was wearing today; Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. They swallowed around a lump in their throat and let out a shaky breath. “Working,” they answered simply.

Evangeline ignored them and turned towards Frankie, startling like she just realized he was standing there. “Oh, I’m so sorry! How rude of me, I’m Evangeline.” She said her own name like she was someone to know, and held out her hand for Frankie to take. He looked at her face, then her hand, then River, and decided against it. “I’m sure she’s told you about me?”

“Frankie,” he said simply, voice low and eyes never leaving River’s face. He had to get them out of here. “And no. They haven’t,” Frankie bristled, dark eyes finally landing on Evangeline’s face and finding her staring at him, accusation hardening her features. She was judging him.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

“Riv?” He said softly. River blinked away tears as they looked up at him, avoiding his gaze. This was the smallest he’d ever seen them and he hated it. He didn’t know where his confident, loving River went, and had no idea how to get them back. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually go by that silly nickname still?” Evangeline giggled.

River winced and bit their lip. They turned and went back into the changing room without another word. When Frankie heard them sniffling, his entire body stiffened.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Frankie snapped, finally finding his voice, and crossed his arms. He stood a good foot taller than her, but that didn’t seem to bother the petite woman. It didn’t seem like much of anything did. “And why are you calling them Rachael?”

“That’s her name, obviously,” Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Her real one. We dated. For a long time.”

Frankie squinted his eyes. This must have been River’s last serious relationship. He had only heard of her in passing, and certainly never a name or how demeaning she was. Not that they ever needed to, now that they had him.

He ignored the name part on purpose.

“You must be her new plaything,” Evangeline sighed, like she felt sorry for him, as she pretended to check her manicure. “It won’t last long.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember asking for your opinion. You can leave now,” Frankie grumbled, taking a step closer to tower over her.

“I’m just trying to help,” she rolled her eyes again. “This is what she does. She’ll keep you around for a little while and when she gets bored, or finds someone new, she’ll leave.”

Frankie sighed angrily, the bile in his throat starting to sting. He set the bags of River’s purchases down on the floor next to the dressing room and quickly turned toward the checkout. Making a harassment complaint would probably get rid of her easily enough. He squeezed his fists tighter at his sides, heavy work boots thundering across the linoleum. Before he made it very far, he heard the sound of heels clacking and turned back toward the changing rooms.

Evangeline was gone.

Frankie sighed and made his way back to River. He stood in front of their changing room and knocked softly on the wall next to the curtain. “Río? Baby? Are you okay?”

River felt like they’d been kicked in the stomach. They could barely breathe or stand. They were hunched over on the bench in the changing room and hiding their face in their hands. They sniffled a few times before coughing, their hand pressed against their chest to try and breathe.

“I’m going to open the curtain, okay?” Frankie’s voice sounded like it was a hundred miles away. Light from the store poured into the small room, making them look up. Frankie was illuminated by the shitty fluorescent lighting, but it was one of the most beautiful things River had ever seen. “Mi amorcito,” he said softly, getting down on his knees in front of them. He cupped their face tenderly and rubbed their tears away with his thumbs. 

“Frankie,” River sniffled, face pinched in pain.

“Shh, c’mere,” he soothed, pulling them down onto the floor with him so he could hold them close. He rocked them in his arms and pet their hair comfortingly. “Do you wanna go home?”

River nodded against his skin, their face buried in his neck. He felt the collar of his shirt getting wetter by the minute, but he didn’t care at all.

“C’mon, baby.” He patted their arm gently, encouraging them to stand with him. He laced their fingers together as he grabbed their bags, and led River out of the mall.

It took a few days for River to explain just what happened at the mall. They’d asked Frankie for some space and while he really didn’t want to give it to them, he also respected their wishes too much to argue. 

When River texted a picture of Jonsey napping on their lap and their Baphomet slippered-feet in the background, he knew he had the greenlight to visit them. He was at work when he received the photo, and he knew River knew that, so he waited. He responded with his own picture of his greased up hand and forearm and the hangar he was currently working in. He spent the rest of his workday thinking up a plan for that evening. 

River hadn’t seen nor heard from Evangeline in a long time. At least seven years. Hearing her voice again brought River back to a place they hoped they’d never return to.

River’s therapist told them that Evangeline was gaslighting them. They’d heard the term used before, but didn’t fully understand what it meant until Dr. Owens explained it to them. Evangeline had been emotionally manipulative and abusive, and even got physical once or twice.

She never accepted River for who they were and did everything in her power to downplay River’s feelings. River still didn’t understand why.

Evangeline would tell River that all of their dysphoria was something else. Everything River felt or even thought was strange or abnormal. Evangeline was the only one in the relationship that was of sound mind. River was already in a vulnerable place when they met, and Evangeline knew just how to exploit that. 

There was a chance that Evangeline did actually love River. When they first met in their statistics class in college, their connection had been magnetic. They did a lot of the same sort of things that River and Frankie did now, but River could see now how different it was with Frankie. River was never scared that Frankie would judge or make fun of anything they said. With Evangeline it was like trying to cross a minefield. Whether it was a new band they found, or exploring feelings about their sexuality, River could never predict what would set Evangeline off.

The straw that broke the camel’s back for River came when they wanted to get top surgery. Evangeline blew up, throwing things around her apartment because she was “tired of the weird nonbinary bullshit”. She didn’t believe it existed, and was convinced River was just looking for attention.

River left, changed their number, and never looked back. The night Evangeline tried to get into their apartment in the wee hours, they had the locks changed, too. 

A soft mrrp beckoned River’s attention from the floor. Jonsey tilted his head to the side as he looked at them before jumping up onto the couch. He walked his way over to them and got comfy on their lap, kneading the skin of River’s tummy like dough. River smiled sadly and scritched his face lovingly. When Jonsey started purring, they knew they would be stuck there for a while. 

Looking through their phone at photos of Frankie, they felt awful. They hadn’t told Frankie any of this, hoping that they just didn’t ever have to think about her ever again. Frankie deserved to know, though, and they wanted to get it out in the open and out of the way.

When they received the photo from Frankie at work, their heart thundered in their chest. They really did love him. They just couldn’t voice it.

Yet.

The smell of River’s favorite takeout place filled the air in Frankie’s truck. His stomach roared to life at the smell of noodles and vegetables. Chicken for him, none for River. He looked in the backseat at the giant pillow/stuffed animal of a bat he found at the store. He hoped they’d like it.

He pulled into River’s apartment complex and parked outside their building. He took a deep breath in the silence of the cab, grabbing the food and the bat, and kicked the door shut with his boot. He held the pillow close as he knocked as softly as he could with his boot against the door.

All the tension in Frankie’s shoulders left as soon as he saw River’s tired face. It looked like they hadn’t slept in a while. Their hair was in a high messy bun, and they wore a pair of boxer briefs, an old faded t-shirt with the words Sisters of Mercy across the chest, and their Baphomet slippers.

“Hey, baby,” Frankie hummed softly, a hopeful smile gracing his features. “Got you something to eat in case you were hungry.”

River smiled sadly at the food. They hadn’t eaten in days, and they probably looked like it, too. The smell of the food hit their nose, making their stomach grumble in protest. Frankie chuckled softly at the sound.

“Figured.” He held out the bag toward them before doing the same with the stuffed animal.

“And who– who is this?” River had to clear their throat in the middle of speaking, realizing they hadn’t spoken in days either. They set the food down on the coffee table as Frankie shut the door behind him, looking over the large bat pillow with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you hate it?” Frankie asked, biting his lip. He usually got Marisol a stuffed animal whenever she was upset. He knew River wasn’t a toddler, but he also knew that they deserved something soft, too. “I saw it at the store, and…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

River hummed and hugged the pillow close. “I love her,” they smiled up at him.

“Her?” Frankie grinned.

“Her name is Agnes.”

Frankie snorted. “Alright. Agnes it is.” He stepped closer to them as they hugged Agnes and tucked a few stray hairs from their bun behind their ear. “How are you doing, mi río?” He asked softly, cupping their face and rubbing his thumb across their cheekbone.

River’s eyes grew a touch sadder at the question, but they smiled anyway. “A little better,” they answered honestly. “Missed you,” they mumbled, setting Agnes down on the couch so they could wrap their arms around Frankie’s middle. They held on tight, squeezing the air out of his lungs but it felt like the first time Frankie properly breathed in days. He held them just as tightly, before kissing the top of their head.

“Missed you too, baby,” he hummed. “Was worried about you.”

River frowned and squeezed him a little more. “‘M sorry for making you worry,” they said into his shirt, the smell of oil and metal wafting off of him. The scent grounded them.

“Shh, no need to apologize, okay?” He pulled back a little, keeping his arms around them, but looking into their eyes seriously. “I’m always gonna worry about you. Even if I know you’re okay. You know I care about you,” he smiled, brushing the knuckle of his index finger against their nose softly.

River’s heart melted at the gesture, their cheeks growing warm. They smiled and looked at the bottom of his neck, a particular freckle catching their eye. They leaned forward to press a soft kiss to it before resting their head on his chest. Frankie held them close and rocked them gently.

River’s stomach roared, causing them to freeze for a second. Frankie chuckled and kissed the top of their head again. “C’mon. Lets get some food in you, yeah?”

They ate in silence. And when it wasn’t silent, Frankie was talking about Marisol or work. River listened intently, the sound of their boyfriend’s voice soothing them. Frankie put down his spoon after he finished off his fried rice, and grabbed some chopsticks. River’s eyes were glued to the thick fingers of his right hand, pupils dilating. 

“Baby?” Frankie smiled softly, picking up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and holding it above his plate. “Did I lose you?” He teased.

River jumped a little in their seat, their eyes snapping up to his face. “Hm? No,” they cleared their throat, picking up a piece of zucchini with their own chopsticks. They stared at the vegetable and bit their lip. They probably wouldn’t be able to finish the meal Frankie went through the trouble of getting for them. Their appetite seemed to have disappeared again.

Frankie raised a brow, face pinched in concern. “You don’t have to eat anymore right now. You ate most of your noodles, which I’m glad to see,” he said softly. “You can always finish it later.”

River nodded, feeling like they were on autopilot. “We were together for five years. I didn’t… I wasn’t… me, yet.”

Frankie froze, watching River’s face carefully. They were staring out into the middle distance, somewhere around Frankie’s shoulder. “Baby, we don’t have to–”

“Yes, we do,” River’s voice was scratchy, but firm. “I went to therapy after we– After I left her. She wouldn’t let me get top surgery.”

Frankie’s eyebrows furrowed and he set down his chopsticks, crossing his arms over his chest on the dining room table. The air in River’s apartment was still, the dim light from the kitchen making River’s dark features even darker. “‘Let’?” He asked quietly.

River nodded as they swallowed around a lump in their throat. “Yes. There were… rules. Well, unspoken ones. She never believed in, well… this,” they sighed, gesturing to their torso. “Still doesn’t, it seems.”

Frankie stayed quiet, letting them continue, despite wanting nothing more than to put his fist through the table in front of them.

“The… name she called me doesn’t apply to me anymore. My parents don’t even call me that anymore,” they whispered, a bitter laugh tacked on at the end. 

“Deadnaming,” Frankie mumbled softly.

“Yeah–” River looked up at him, a confused expression on their face. “You know what that is?”

Frankie smiled shyly, but sadly. “Y-yeah, uh,” he chuckled. “I’ve been doing some research. Only fair,” he shrugged easily.

Tears welled up in River’s eyes as they smiled, picking at the nail polish on their fingers. “You’re amazing,” they whispered.

Frankie blushed, but didn’t argue. This wasn’t about him right now. He rested an open hand on the table, inviting them to give him one of their own. When River gave him one of their hands, he held it firmly in his own, thumb rubbing against their knuckles protectively. “Go on,” he encouraged gently.

River sighed heavily and nodded. They talked for a long time. Explaining anything and everything about their relationship with Evangeline, who they were before, and what brought them to him now. Not much was different, just the fact that they were more secure in who they are now.

“Gotta be honest,” River said softly, voice a little hoarse from talking so much. “Was scared how you’d react to a lot of this. I’m not sure why,” they shrugged. They knew deep down that Frankie would never judge them, nor would he be scared. They’d been through too much together.

Frankie lifted their hand and kissed River’s knuckles tenderly. “I get it,” he nodded. “I felt the same way when I told you about the military. About Colombia. I wasn’t sure if you’d see me differently or not.”

River shook their head. “No. Love you too much for that,” they mumbled quietly.

A wide grin broke out onto Frankie’s face slowly, cheeks burning red. “Love you, too, Riv.”

River hummed happily, then froze. With wide eyes, they stared at Frankie for a minute. They pointed at themself, a silent question written all over their face.

Frankie laughed softly. “You did,” he grinned, standing slowly so he could be closer to them. He cupped their face in his big hands as he looked down at them in their seat. “Love you so much,” he whispered, kissing them properly, lips melding easily against theirs. 

River was completely lost in it, fingers tangled into the fabric of Frankie’s t-shirt tightly, like if they let go he’d disappear. They moaned softly into his mouth, a tear falling down their cheek. Frankie hummed in response, catching the tear on his thumb. He pulled away slightly to catch his breath and pressed his lips to their forehead. He kept them close like that for a little while, smelling the old dry shampoo stuck to River’s scalp.

“You should take a bath, baby,” Frankie said softly. River snorted into his shirt, face buried in his tummy.

“You saying I smell?”

When Frankie didn’t answer right away, River laughed, really laughed, for the first time since they were at the mall together. 

“I–I’m not!”

River rolled their eyes and smiled up at him, chin resting on his torso. “Wanna join me?”

Frankie raised a brow and smirked, but his face grew serious quickly. “Río, we don’t have to do anything like that–”

“I know,” River muttered. “I didn’t want to. Just wanted,” they bit their lip. “Just wanted to be with you.”

Frankie’s heart melted and he nodded, kissing the hook of River’s nose. “I think I can do that,” he winked.

River didn’t doubt that for a second.

a/n: if you're curious, this is agnes and river's slippers ♥

[gffa]

I might be in the minority, but Baylan Skoll is one of the worst characters I ever witnessed. He is nothing but an empty mystery box, yet people praise this douchebag. In fact, there’s nothing original about him: he looks like Emperor Valkorion, he acts like a Dooku wannabe, and he wants to “end the cycle”, mirroring Kreia’s nihilistic agenda. I feel like people only like Baylan because his actor, Ray Stevenson, died and doesn’t want to criticize the character out of fear of being disrespectful towards Ray.

I'm not trying to talk you out of your feelings, anon, but honestly some people just really like Ray Stevenson as an actor (that's me, it's not because he died that I feel obligated to enjoy the character, but because I genuinely liked the gravitas I felt he brought to the role, I liked him as Volstagg in the Thor movies as well, which was long before he died), they really like the aesthetic (some people are not immune to a light dusting of daddy kink), some people are really into that Dooku-style character (*raises hand again*), and some people genuinely like mystery box characters. That's just the way people work, they have different tastes. I can agree to some criticisms of Filoni's writing of the character (which is another thing some people will disagree with me on, too!), I do not have a lot of faith that his story would be satisfying on a purely text level, and I'm extremely wary of any potential recasting, but as the character of Baylan Skoll stands, I genuinely liked the weight and gravity he had, even if there wasn't a ton to go on yet. I liked teasing out potential in the character, that he'd turned towards a bullshit path but that I did feel a pull to the Jedi in him, I liked that he came across as a trauma victim who was coping very badly with that trauma to me, I liked the glimpses we got of his relationship with Shin. It's fine that you don't like those things, but I've gotten several messages along these exact lines, that supposedly people only like him because the actor died, and that's just not my experience at all. If you're coming into my inbox to say how much you dislike him, when I've been clear that I find him intriguing and liked him, then I'm assuming you're expecting a response along these lines. Sometimes I just really, really like characters who are clearly full of shit and on the wrong path, but I feel a pull to examine why they believe what they do, and I find them sympathetic even if I disagree with them. I'm an Anakin Skywalker fan, I love that character with my whole being, it's not a huge leap to also being a fan of a character like Baylan Skoll, especially when played by an actor I thought did a far better job than I was expecting from this series. Nobody's obligated to agree with me, because sometimes people just disagree and if it really bothers you that others like him, blacklist his name and we'll talk about other things we both do like!

[electronickingdomfox]

"Final Frontier" review

Novel from 1988, by Diane Carey. Not to be confused with the novelization of "Star Trek V: The Final Frontier", or Carey's "First Frontier", which is the one with the dinosaur on the cover. There may be no dinosaurs in this one, but it was pretty great nonetheless (and crazy as it may sound, I don't think that dinosaurs would have made it better in this case).

The story focuses on a so far unrecorded period in the Enterprise's life: that of its first mission. And by that I don't mean Kirk's first mission aboard. Not even Pike's. But its very, very first mission under the command of Robert April (from the Animated Series), alongside Kirk's father: George. There's tight action, ideological dilemmas, some funny humor, and Romulans (both good and bad), that borrow heavily from Diane Duane's Rihannsu series. The frame story, on the other hand, has Kirk reading his father's letters during shore leave, in his childhood farm of Iowa. While he reflects upon his life choices in the aftermath of Edith Keeler's death. The brief frame chapters, inserted between the main story, present thus a poignant, quiet counterpart to George Kirk's adventures.

I really liked the development of the new characters in this one, and had the impression of knowing them quite well, despite not appearing in the series (or barely at all). Robert April is the laid-back, gentlemanly and ideallistic Captain, and a clear counterpoint to George, the pragmatic man that sports a more militaristic approach for Starfleet. The narrative tends to side more with George's views, as April's decisions are usually ineffectual once the Enterprise enters hostile territory. Though ultimately, both of them end up understanding and adopting parts of the other's philosophy. In fact, at the story's climax, they're forced to stand up at the opposite side of their initial worldview. Thus, Jim Kirk is presented as the more succesful, balanced combination of both (it's a bit like Spock and McCoy's "reason vs. emotion", but translated to politics). Sarah Poole (April's wife in TAS) also appears as the ship's doctor; she has a lesser role, but was given considerable depth nonetheless. George's pirate-like friend, Drake, usually offers the comic relief. While the staple "noble Romulan" and "devious Romulan" are represented by t'Cael and Ry'iak, respectively.

In many ways, the Enterprise could be considered the main character, though. The story follows her baby steps as a yet-not-finished starship, her coming-of-age after being severely crippled and defeating her enemies against all odds, and finally her official baptism. There are sections in which the ship is even personalized as a sentient being, like a chilling scene where her memory is tampered with. Also, April and George act like two dads that can't agree about their child's true vocation.

I can't think of much to criticize this time, though there's a moment where it's stated that the Federation's constitution is directly based on the USA constitution, as the "prime example to follow". I don't know if this is an original idea of the novel, or if it ever was Roddenberry's intention (which could be, judging by episodes like "The Omega Glory"). But the whole thing was pretty eye-rolling...

Spoilers under the cut:

George Samuel Kirk (Sr.) and his friend Drake Reed are bored security personnel at a starbase. Until one day they're kidnapped by three mysterious individuals, who leave them unconscious. Upon waking up, George and Drake find themselves in the cargo hold of a small ship, and once they break free, George discovers it was his old friend, Captain Robert April, who ordered their abduction. April is gathering his most trusted friends (among them Dr. Sarah Poole, his future wife) for a special rescue mission (well, maybe he could have ASKED them!). A colonist ship has been stranded in the middle of an ion storm, and Starfleet has no means to reach it before hundreds of families die aboard from radiation. Thus, April has been tasked with testing a new, revolutionary ship, much faster and bigger than any other at this time: the first starship (you know which one, right?). This is the only way they could save those colonists in time. And George is introduced to a majestic first view of the Enterprise, still lacking a name, when they approach dry dock. April intends George to be his First Officer, as he values his insights above anybody else's. However, the views of the two men about the role of the starship soon start to clash: April wants it to be perceived exclusively as a tool of peace and exploration; while George argues that its weapon capacities shouldn't be overlooked, in order to defend the Federation.

At the same time, we're introduced in some chapters to Field Primus t'Cael and his Romulan warbird, in another sector of space. T'Cael is dealing with intrigues aboard, instigated by an upstart spy from the Praetorate: Ry'iak. Dispirited by the growing suspicions of his crew, t'Cael has become rather seclusive, though he still counts on the loyalty of Commander Idrys. The Field Primus' moderate views have made him fall out of favor with the Praetorate, as t'Cael doesn't think that the Federation has hostile intentions against the Empire, and disapproves of the stealth attack the Praetor is planning.

For its part, the Enterprise has finished preparations for departure. However, soon after they leave dry dock, there's a catastrophic failure of the sealing elements in the warp nacelles. The only two options seem to be, either ejecting the nacelles (and thus losing warp capacity to rescue the colonists), or let the ship explode. But George doesn't believe in no-win scenarios either, so he pressures one of the engineers to think creatively and find an alternative. Using the energy from the shuttles to seal the leak at the last moment, they manage to salvage the nacelles. Nonetheless, George is suspicious of the failure happening right at the most critical moment, so he asks Drake to investigate the engineers, as chief of security. Drake tries to find a saboteur (not very subtly) among engineers Saffire, Graff and Wood, but finds nothing incriminating. Despite Drake not knowing, the reader does in fact find out who's one of the saboteurs soon thereafter, as Saffire breaks into the starship memory banks and tampers with the systems. The malfunction is delayed until the ship enters the ion storm, at which point there's a massive failure of the warp engines and the artificial gravity. April receives a head injury, while the ship is hurled light years away, into unknown territory. Well, not so unknown: they appear right in the middle of Romulan space, and face to face with t'Cael's warbird.

Confronted with the massive starship, the Romulans start fretting over a possible attack from the Federation. But t'Cael chooses to believe April about their ship being disabled and there out of accident. As a show of good faith, he agrees to meet with the First Officer (as April is too injured), in neutral territory on a nearby planetoid. However, once t'Cael gets off the ship, Ry'iak seizes control of the warbird and kills Idrys (a death that took me by surprise, to be honest). Then, he starts shooting at the planet from orbit, attempting to kill t'Cael too. Since humans and Romulans had never seen each other before, George mistakes t'Cael for a poor Vulcan prisoner. And there's a rather comedic scene, where he "rescues" the Romulan from enemy fire. Once the mistake is cleared, George has to overcome his xenophobic sentiments and cooperate with t'Cael to escape the planetoid. The escape involving alien wolves too.

Eventually, the starship manages to rescue George and t'Cael, using the new transporter technology (well, they accidentally transport an alien wolf too, which creates a bit of a mess). T'Cael agrees to help the Federation against his disloyal swarm of warbirds, as he believes that, if the starship is captured, this will precipitate war between the Empire and the Federation. In the later chapters, there's a pretty intense battle between the Enterprise and the Romulan swarm. While George uses a very Kirk-like bluff to discourage further attacks from the Romulans (which, in turn, explains the eventual development of the cloaking device). With the saboteurs finally captured (and in one case, destroyed in a very grisly way), and the warp repaired, the Enterprise can finally return to home space and rescue those colonists.

Spirk Meter: 4/10*. Spock expresses his grief about Jim's decision to quit Starfleet after Edith's death. And at this moment, McCoy understands how much the ship and Jim mean to the Vulcan: "more than a career, more than a refuge, and certainly more than McCoy had ever guessed". Later, when Kirk regains his confidence and chooses to stay as Captain, Spock looks at him in the bridge and acknowledges his "deeply personal synthesis between himself and Jim Kirk".

However, the relationship between Kirk and McCoy is given far more prevalence throughout the novel, and that's why I'm separating the two dynamics. McCoy won't leave Kirk alone in Iowa at his moment of vulnerability, despite Jim's wishes. At first, he tries to lure him with an invitation to have dinner together. And when this fails, he just pops up in the barn, offering "mouth-to-mouth" resucitation (of all things!) if Jim doesn't answer him (unfortunately for poor McCoy, Kirk doesn't seem too eager to receive a kiss from him). Later, McCoy tries to comfort Kirk about Edith Keeler's death, and share his pain, while Kirk assures McCoy that her death wasn't his fault. He also says that McCoy was worth everything. And once Kirk announces his decision to leave the ship, McCoy gets very emotional and tries to reason with him. Just then, Spock appears in the barn and wonders if he's "interrupting something"; to which both of them answer that yes, he's interrupting. For a novel that doesn't actually deal with the TOS characters, they surely managed to cram as much homoeroticism between Kirk and McCoy as possible...

Apart from this, George Kirk has several things in common with his son. Not just being an absent father... but also having very "intense" relationships with his male friends. There's a bit of it with Drake, that April brings along, not because he has much use for him, but because he can't separate him from George. Drake also waltzes into George's quarters and plops into his bed as if nothing. But most of all, George and t'Cael develop a very, veeeery close relationship (for good or bad), and have all these tense stares at each other, and this desire to protect each other. Just so you get an idea of what I'm talking about:

"Like me, George admitted to himself, unable to bury the color that rose in his cheeks and forced him to look away from t’Cael for a moment. When he looked back again, there was a touch of melancholy on t’Cael’s face. [.......]

George moved closer, hoping his eyes conveyed the depth of his promise. Solemnly he said, “Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I’ll personally make sure you have a place in the Federation. I owe you that,” he added, moving still closer. “In fact, I owe you more.”

A sudden, unexpected warmth came over t’Cael’s face, and he broke his communion with the monitor to look affably at George. “That’s kind of you. It will be difficult.” [............]

Allowing their intimacy to linger, George returned the grin,"

Huh, George, didn't you have a wife and kids back at home???

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[gottiewrites]

Amazon MGM Studios is developing the YA novel “The Loneliest Girl in the Universe” as a feature film.

Variety released the news today:

Amazon MGM Studios is developing the YA novel “The Loneliest Girl in the Universe” as a feature film.

Joe Roth and Jeffrey Kirschenbaum (“Anyone but You,” “Fast X,” the upcoming “Jackpot”) will produce the film alongside Katherine Langford, best known for starring in Netflix’s hit YA series “13 Reasons Why”; Seldy Gray will oversee development for Roth Kirschenbaum Films.

The project is in early development at the studio with Sarah Conradt-Kroehler writing the script, from a treatment by Gary Dauberman.

The Loneliest Girl in the Universe was first published in 2017. It was nominated for the 2019 Carnegie medal, named one of Barnes & Noble’s Top 15 YA Books of 2018, and shortlisted for the STEAM Children’s Book Prize 2019.

Romy Silvers is the only surviving crew-member of a spaceship travelling to a new planet, on a mission to establish a second home for humanity. Alone in space, she is the loneliest girl in the universe until she hears about a new ship which has launched from Earth with a single passenger on board. A boy called J.

Their only communication is via email and due to the distance between them, their messages take months to transmit. And yet Romy finds herself falling in love.

But what does Romy really know about J? And what do the mysterious messages which have started arriving from Earth really mean?

Sometimes, there’s something worse than being alone…

I’ve been holding onto this secret for four long years, so I’m beyond thrilled to finally be able to share it.

The production company, Roth/Kirschenbaum, made Damsel (Milly Bobby Brown/Netflix), Anyone but You (Sydney Sweeney/Glen Powell), The School for Good and Evil (Paul Feig/Netflix), Fast X (Vin Diesel) and The Gray Man (Ryan Gosling), so Romy is in very, very good hands indeed.

A movie deal is, obviously, a dream come true. It’s not something I ever thought would happen to me. I feel lucky enough to get to keep writing new books, let alone for someone to make an adaptation of something that came out of my brain.

The Loneliest Girl in the Universe is a very special story to me. I wrote it when I was 22, fresh out of a physics degree. On the surface, it was inspired by some of the physics I’d learnt about deep space travel at university, but mainly it was propelled by the complicated feelings I had about technically being an ‘adult’ while really just feeling like a naiive kid. It was about internet dating, and fandom as a form of self expression, and my complicated relationship with girlhood (as someone who no longer really identifies as a ‘girl’).

Romy is one of the most precious character I’ve ever created. I poured so much of myself into her personality; her insecurities; her flaws and strengths. So many readers respond to her vulnerability (and mine) with deep love. People have told me that they would die for Romy. That she’s their favourite fictional character of all time. That she’s helped them process so much of their own anxiety, trauma and imposter syndrome. That she’s a role model for girls who are deciding to study science at university. As a writer, it’s the biggest honour to have created someone who feels so real and important to so many people.

I can’t wait for Romy to reach a whole new audience on screen through Amazon MGM Studios. The team at R/K have a very clear vision for Romy’s story, and so much respect for her journey as a character. I’m very excited to see what they create.

I have some experience of the TV industry in UK through my work in the Heartstopper writer’s room as story consultant, but movies and Hollywood are obviously a whole new ballgame. I’m excited and nervous to learn more!

For everyone who’s been with me and Romy since 2017, I hope the The Loneliest Girl in the Universe movie lives up to all your expectations, when it launches (which might be a while off!). Thank you for sticking with me.

And for new readers, you can read the book now. It’s published in the UK, Australia, USA, and in translation in Indonesia, Brazil, Poland and Turkey.

Goodreads

Amazon UK

Waterstones

Foyles

Audible

Amazon US

“A strange, witty, compulsively unpredictable read which blows most of its new YA-suspense brethren out of the water.” – Entertainment Weekly

“Black Mirror-esque. A fantastic slow-build drama. Lauren James is a genius.” – SFX

“Gripping romantic sci-fi thriller.” – Wall Street Journal

“This slow-burning psychological thriller has a killer twist that will make you gasp.” – Bustle

And while you’re all here, a reminder that my next novel Last Seen Online is being published on August 1st. A scandal occurs within the cast of the TV show that Romy writes fanfiction about in The Loneliest Girl in the Universe.

Goodreads

Amazon UK

Waterstones

Audible

Foyles

Fill out this form to receive a signed postcard of character art for Last Seen Online - open to anyone in the UK who preorders the book before 1st August 2024.

A contemporary YA murder mystery set in sun-drenched LA, for fans of Malibu Rising, We Were Liars and A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. When Delilah meets Sawyer Saffitz (son of Anya Saffitz, aka Hollywood royalty), she becomes hooked on a decade-old scandal. In her quest for the truth, Delilah uncovers blogposts written by the mysterious “gottiewrites” and is soon caught up in a world of greed, fandom conspiracy theories … and murder. And the deeper Delilah digs, the more dangerous it becomes – because someone is willing to kill to hide the truth.

- Wren x

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

ATHENA CYKES (ACE ATTORNEY)

1.) Despite supposedly being the MAIN CHARACTER of the game she was introduced in, she somehow still always ends up playing second fiddle to Phoenix and Apollo, to the point where she isn't allowed to take the lead on even so much as a single case. Instead of the senior lawyers standing to the side in a mentorship role like they do for literally EVERY OTHER PLAYABLE CHARACTER, Phoenix and Apollo keep stepping in to outright take over for her. She literally does not make it through even a single case without needing some male character or other to swoop in and hold her hand every step of the way, not only Phoenix and Apollo but once even Blackquill, her rival prosecutor, as well.

Why? It has nothing whatsoever to do with her competence level. It's a video game; her competence is determined by the player's, just like everybody else. It seems like the writers just couldn't STAND the thought of her doing anything on her own, or thought that the players would walk out en masse if it wasn't the Phoenix and Apollo Show every second of gameplay. (And yeah, it DOES sometimes take me some time to warm up to new characters, but that was the case for Apollo too! At least give me the CHANCE to judge her on her own merits rather than assuming that I'll immediately write her off!) Like, why did you even WRITE this character if you think so little of her?

2.) WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN. She's introduced in the middle of a male characters "trilogy" (Apollo justice) so the story is never about her. She appears in aa5 only to NEVER headline her own case IN HER INTRODUCTORY GAME and always fail unless a man comes in and saves her. Her own story is sidelined for Apollos. Next game, she only really appears in one case that's a throwaway and still can't do shit on her own. Ugh. She deserved to be treated better, more competent, etc.

3.) my girl is an attorney and a practicing psychologist at age 18 (youngest defense lawyer in the series) & is often shown to be more competent than her male colleagues, and yet is constantly pushed out/sidelined/generally treated like an assistant character rather than a lawyer (the assistant position in these games is usually reserved for characters who don't have law degrees/are generally not educated enough to understand the courtroom proceedings to their full extent. athena is none of those things but she gets treated the same way by the game because. well. we know why.) Instead of being the main playable attorney in her debut game, the story is taken over by her male colleague (WHO ALREADY HAD A WHOLE GAME DEDICATED TO HIS BULLSHIT BTW) & her development is ignored in favor of his in both her debut game AND her second game. Even when her backstory IS explored it's done via a male family friend of hers, meaning even when her OWN story is being told it's not even about her it's about simon's lame ass. for extra context here in her debut game she is only the playable attorney in one case out of five, while the other (male) playable attorneys were playable in all or all-but-one of the cases in THEIR debut games. capcom hates women sooooo bad

CARMELITA MONTOYA FOX (SLY COOPER)

1.) Carmelita has always been portrayed as a sexy badass, but the fourth game in the series does her dirty. Throughout the game she’s given the “bitchy ex-girlfriend” treatment and is always regarded as an unreasonable nag. In addition, they put her in an impractical miniskirt (previous games had her in pants), and there is a minigame where she is forced to dress like a belly dancer to distract some guards (including prompting the player to have her shake her ass for extra coins) and when she complains about this, nobody listens to her, and is then reduced to the damsel in distress in the final act of the game, when previously she has always been a major help in taking down the final boss. While not the main reason a lot of Sly Cooper fans hate this game, it’s certainly a factor.

[goldenharmony]

tumblr user goldenharmony im. head in hands. i am losing it over click link or whatever that show was called surely i dont remember. im fine (hello) please tell me you experienec with this show i neend to talk owiwiuwewiwijedhwejd.

LOL OK 😭

Idk how you discovered Link Click (or mentioned it in your reblogs), but I use MAL a lot and noticed that s1 was pretty high on the rankings during its airing.

Then later that year, I watched Gigguk's vid on Link Click since he's an anituber I like. I do laugh at the fact that I read the title and was like "Nah, it's not better than Steins;Gate :) " since that's MY favourite anime (and a time-travel one), and he basically implied that it wasn't as great as Steins;Gate when handling certain aspects LOL (although still is praising the series throughout this review). Fun Fact - his vid on Oshi no Ko is the whole reason I checked out the OnK manga eventually since I read Aka Akasaka's Kaguya-sama and wanted more but the premise of "simp doctor reincarnated as his idol's child" sounded rlly sus LOL.

It's why I was also kinda confused when later on MAL, I saw that Link Click had a s2 but didn't hear any hype for it despite hearing a bit for s1. I guess that was cause of Gigguk's influence on the anime community since I don't think he watched s2 so there was no big anime influencer hyping it up sadly.

Eventually late last November, someone in the AquaKana server was being very vocal on wanting to push the Link Click agenda soo I decided why not - its been a long time since I watched a time-loop series. She was also a huge fan of Steins;Gate so I trusted her judgement.

Watched ep 1 in original before having to switch to Eng Dub after cause I was not clicking with the show due to being distracted by a new language that I wasn't used to hearing yet 😭But after that, I watched a few eps per day, binged s1 ep 7-11 in one sitting, and then binged s2 in one sitting as well LOL. I was also was waiting for CFE results to see if I passed - my major career-defining exam and watching Link Click actively helped me not stress on the days leading up to it because my thoughts were preoccupied by it.

S1 gave me a Vivy/Violet Evergarden feel with its short stories, and S2 reminded me more of Death Note with it being a suspenseful murder mystery involving supernatural powers. One thing I loved is finding some stuff that Link Click does unique compared to other time-loop series. For example - actively trying to NOT change the past, and instead using the looping to understand how to resolve issues in the present. I also like it leaning into the thriller aspect more compared to other time-loop series I've seen.

CXS and LG also fall into the 2 looper categories that most loopers do. CXS being the impulsive and emotional type and LG being the stoic and serious type who has gotten jaded from all their looping.

Also I am pretty fine with how QL has been handled so far, since its not a "female character" thing to me in how she isn't as prominent as CXS and LG but more of a "character who isn't CXS and LG" thing considering the series has a lot of characters but we don't dive too deeply in most of them. Plus she's been handled much better compared to other anime series that have the set-up of "2 male leads in a suspenseful thriller show, with a girl as an almost secondary character". Thinking of Misa from Death Note and Lisa from Terror in Resonance, who are disappointing in their roles.

I also like how the fight scenes are actually well-animated since most non-action anime included fight scenes are....not great LOL.