#so everyone has to justify my choices instead of just being proud of them

[w0nderland]

Ugh I’m experiencing sad girl hours but I don’t have anyone to talk to about it which contributes to the sad girl hours

[vigilskeep]

do you have a preference for bethany as a grey warden or circle mage? or does it depend on your hawke?

all bethanys are good bethanys but i’ve come to the conclusion that circle mage bethany will always be first in my heart and i’d LOVE to discuss why

act 1 bethany feels powerless and lonely. she hasn’t had a fellow mage at her side since her father died. she’s caught between guilt at what her family has had to sacrifice for her sake, and resentment that it’s a sacrifice she never even asked them to make. she didn’t choose to be an apostate like her father did. nobody ever gave her the option if she wanted to spend a lifetime on the run, endangering everyone who loves her, rather than accept the world she lives in. she’s a twenty year old who just lost her home and half her family; is it really any wonder that she’s as drawn to the relative stability of a life in the circle as she is afraid of it? a life where she wouldn’t be marked out and isolated, but among people like her, who understand more than even the most well-meaning non mage sibling ever could? why does being born a mage make it her job to fight this, instead of take the life she’s given?

a bethany who goes to the wardens is pushed there by her desperate sibling; a bethany who goes to the circle personally agrees to come willingly, despite hawke’s protests. it’s a minimal but very defining change in agency. her experience in the circle, too, is what she makes of it. we see little of the life she builds there, but she is clearly able to excel and be recognised for her own merits; even if it weren’t mentioned in her dialogue how impressed they are with her training, and in her letters how she has taken on the role of helping with the young initiates who also in game clearly look up to her, we constantly see her at the first enchanter’s right hand. bethany’s circle mage dialogue in the dlcs—some of the best dialogue in the game, imo—makes it clear that not fighting the circle is a choice she’s made. she tells anders, “i’m not leashed”, “i can pretend to be miserable if you want, but i’m not”. she tells aveline, “life is what i need it to be.” if hawke offers to help her escape, she says the circle is comfortable... for now. she’s smart, she’s capable of defying and deceiving the templars when required, and she’s making her own decision to do her best within the circle and see what comes of it. maybe it’s not healthy for her to give in to her imprisonment. in protective older sibling mode, i hate to see her talk like that about the mistreatment and danger she faces, as if it’s acceptable. but what both hawke and bethany can get from the circle mage route is that her life outside the circle can’t really be freedom either until it’s her choice

in the circle mage route, bethany can’t be badgered into learning her own self-worth by well-meaning lecturers. she has to learn from her own experiences, and choose the mages’ fight on her own terms. thematically, i think it’s one of the most compelling thoughts on the topic of the circle that da2 has to offer: someone with an open mind experiencing it, being grateful in some aspects for what it offers, exploring that it may not be as bad as some apostates fear and it may be possible to salvage a life from it, but still absolutely ultimately learning from it that mages deserve more. she says so outright: that her time in the circle is what she needed to “see the need to free my fellow mages”. not just learning the value of the life she once had and her own freedom, but taking up an active purpose that also brings into play the community she gained from the circle. it’s a brilliant, nuanced arc for her and it makes me so so proud. it also makes you see the chantry explosion with a distinct perspective and in, i think, its best light: as a call to action that sharpens the battle lines into focus, and acts as the final catalyst to let mages see what’s necessary past their fear. for me it’s hard to imagine what i couldn’t justify, watching my little sister finally believe her freedom is worth fighting for

narratively, it’s my favourite route for hawke’s overall story as well. bethany going to the circle defines the stakes of da2, with meredith’s sword permanently at your little sister’s throat, creating a desperate tone no other type of playthrough can offer. the warden route on the other hand distances her from the story, making her cameos feel sudden and stilted. the conclusion of da2 is very much about circle mage bethany, both her life and her way of life on the line, hawke finally able to defend or take up arms against the last of their family. by contrast, when grey warden bethany shows up to take whatever side hawke does, it gives the impression to me that she’s only talking like she’s completed a character arc during the last straw because, well, the writers know this is where the game ends. we don’t see or earn her progress. the circle mage bethany route also feels like hawke’s choices are really challenged, rather than hawke making an executive decision to “save” bethany in yet another way she didn’t ask for, and then basically waiting until she comes around to it and apologises for being mad

that being said, i adore bethany getting to fully express her bitterness and anger as a warden, and i think her hatred of that path makes her one of the most interesting warden characters in the entire series. it also involves her unlearning her repression of her negative feelings, a repression which absolutely continues to be at play in the way she defends her life in the circle and downplays its horrors for the sake of those that love her. the warden route definitely has its merits. also her warden staff does fire damage which is LITERALLY her thing why tf does her circle mage staff do nature damage i hate it here genuinely

[annoyinglandmagazine]

@tolkienfamilyweek Day 2: Siblings

You know what gets me about Celegorm and Curufin specifically? They are quite possibly two of the least redeemable characters in the Legendarium (saying a lot) and are equally fucked up but in fundamentally different ways. Curufin believing in his father absolutely even after everything and still being convinced in his righteousness and resenting others for standing in the way of what the sees them as morally entitled to whereas Celegorm just doesn’t think in terms of right or wrong anymore, he’s not trying to be ‘good’ he has a goal and he’ll take any path available to achieve it.

Purely selfish in both cases but Curufin has a god complex (or more like he puts Feanor on a pedestal and agrees with his god complex) and hates the Valar with a vitriol and has successfully bent himself over backwards to consider all his actions entirely justified. Whereas Celegorm genuinely doesn’t bother justifying himself at this point and has the ‘well we’re all doomed anyway so who the fuck cares anymore?’ attitude to future actions. He doesn’t hate the Valar for the same reasons some of the others do, he doesn’t distrust them or believe they’re evil, he feels his people were abandoned and resents it because he knows he was in the wrong but Morgoth is very clearly worse and haven’t they suffered enough yet?

Very different and terrible kinds of evil, but equally evil. Do they really understand each other’s moral compass (or lack of it)? Probably not, but they accept it anyway. They know that nothing they do will ever disgust or horrify the other because they’re both as bad as each other and there’s something freeing (if decidedly unhealthy) about that lack of judgement.

I am so obsessed with the dynamic of two mass murderers with no morals whatsoever never once contemplating stabbing each other in the back because they love each other just as much as any of the heroes love their family. Think about it, Curufin has his father’s name, his face, his skill set, and we know these are the things that Curufin would consider of utmost importance. There’s no way Curufin doesn’t think he should be on a throne, he was most probably out for Fingolfin’s and canonically out for Finrod’s. But he wasn’t out for Finrod’s throne to take himself, he wanted to place Celegorm on it.

He thinks insanely high of himself and thinks he’s worthy to be a king but he clearly believes Celegorm just as worthy and has trust that his brother would value his input and treat him as an equal, which doesn’t seem that far fetched because, even with all the clashes you’d think would come between two strong personalities like them, they ruled Himlad jointly for years with no power struggles. What’s more it seems like this was by choice, that instead of ruling their own realms, which you’d imagine proud people like them would want to do, they preferred to share Himlad in an equal partnership.

Curufin is so terrible even his own son, and presumably wife, can’t bear to be around him anymore but Celegorm? He’s never going to leave him, never, they are always going to back each other up and everyone else will suffer for it.

One of my favourite moments with them is when everything goes to hell, they’ve been banished, Finrod’s dead, Luthien escaped and then, to top it all of, they try to get revenge on one maiden and a mortal and not only get utterly trashed but Celegorm’s dog who he’s had since childhood and kept as a companion through everything up until this point finally changes sides with no warning whatsoever and chooses Luthien over him (on another note, what the hell Huan? You seriously haven’t had moral qualms before now? Even if this was the last straw for you could you not have picked a better moment than when Celegorm looked like the only person who was going to stop his brother being throttled to death?)

So Curufin’s almost died and Celegorm, after they got absolutely humiliated and have lost everything due mostly to the two people in front of him and he’s not known for his ability to control his anger, is ready to leave. After Curufin is released Celegorm takes him unto his horse and starts to ride off with him before Curufin initiates again and fires after them. Celegorm is the hunter among them, presumably he’s far better with his own bow and he definitely wants revenge, but he doesn’t shoot after them. He’s willing to give up his revenge for his brother’s safety and that’s more of a show of love for them than anything else could be.

All I’m saying is that if they didn’t get to die in each other’s arms and be together at the end they’d been rushing to side by side their whole story….

[jenyifer]

Breaking Boston Pt9

The firework scene. Nick and Boston make some character choices I don’t think would happen. I can’t justify them… so I’m sorry that part is a little lackluster. But we are getting to the end and I will do the heavy lifting with the fix’s. I wish Boston had the possibility of having his friends back at any level. I wish Sand Ray had been there for Nick. Worried about him. I know they are happy etc but be happy and also be there for their friend. I don’t want Nick to be alone just as much as I don’t want Boston to be alone. These are getting harder and harder to write so if you want to skip I don’t blame you

Narrative is pushing Boston hasn’t changed and Nick hates Boston. Nick looks so annoyed and done with Boston throughout this I wonder why he went. Boston having a gallery of his in bed things is what he wanted I don’t know why Nick would be hurt by this. Boston doesn’t sleep with everyone he photographs and he’s been respectful about not showing people his photos of Nick so.. idk why Nick gets so upset he says he’s wasted a year of his life. That is so destructive toxic thinking. Yes he and Boston want different things but it’s not been a waste Nick has grown maybe the pain is too fresh.

Jenny’s fix: Boston talks about being excited to have a new life in New York. Boston talks about how he wants to better himself for the next time he sees his friends they’ll be proud to have been his friend for so long. I don’t want him to look at Nick during this. He’s already come to his conclusion he doesn’t deserve Nick and the talk they will have later is going to rip him to shreds. Nick says he wants to live his life for himself this upcoming year. Graduate and move towards his goals while being happy with the person he is. Go for a self narrative don’t tear Boston a new one.

Okay so… we are supposed to see that Boston regrets his decision here. I’m not going to linger on the slut shaming I don’t mind that but I do mind Nick acting like Boston is crazy for expecting this so in my fix this is changed for the better

Jenny’s fix: Nick hugs Boston as they count down but on his shoulder making sure not to press to close just let him know Nick is there. Then at midnight boston goes to kiss Nick tentatively and Nick instead dodges and kisses Boston’s cheek saying “thank you for the year come talk to me when you are ready.” Nick turns around and gives hugs maybe smoochies to Sand and Ray giving sand an arm squeeze to let him know he’ll be okay before he heads off to wait for the end with Boston. He doesn’t look back at him. Boston is in shock but he is trying to hold himself together he’s so scared but he wants to say goodbye to his friends properly. Letting his friends know he’s always a message away and he will be a friend they will be happy to keep. Then once TopMew leave Sand coughs and points in the direction Nick went and tells him to clear things up. SandRay will wait for Nick. Ray says he likes nick and not to hurt him because ray doesn’t want to snuggle him all night again. Boston tells him to fuck off but it’s affectionate before he goes off to find Nick.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

So do you guys remember my post about Jedi meeting their birth families and being chill with it? 

I’ve been thinking a bit - a lot, for like a year - about all the headcanons around Jedi’s biological people, and there are really only two possible cases that seem to get explored: the pure of heart, flawed but loving, desperate parents who ‘had’ to give up their precious child to the Jedi and didn’t feel they had a choice (most commonly seen from the more Jedi critical parts of the fandom, but not always), and the horribly abusive no good parents at all who gladly dumped their baby onto the Order (which appears to be the way of some Jedi fans to ‘justify’ the adoption into the Order as legitimate, which really shouldn’t be the point because adoptions are just as legitimate without abuse factoring in).

What’s kinda sad is how little we’re willing to explore all the possibilities, maybe because we don’t want to be perceived as on the wrong side of the fandom by our own pals. We all deal with just so much bad faith discourse that we smooth out any sort of human drama and nuance to try and have clear cut narratives that are so black and white that they must prevent bad faith interpretations. Jedi have to be perfect pure angels that have never done anything wrong to be recognized as good, because we’re afraid that if we write them in an interesting way people will jump on the opportunity to accuse them of all sorts of stuff.

Well, I’m tired of vanilla fics and good guys vs bad guys when dealing with purely human everyday stuff. Bad guys are for the galactic battles, the epic clash of eternal forces. When dealing with how Jedi younglings come to the Order, we can have plenty of amazing, heart-wrenching drama and warm, happy moments where all sorts of good and regular people have different goals and meet and clash without anyone being at ‘fault’ or being to blame for it. I want to see (*sigh* to write) complex, difficult situations that can’t be perfectly resolved but where people do try and everyone feels like a *person*.

With that out of the way, what about:

- the unanimously proud communities, so honored that their daughter will represent their people and traditions among the Order, wear their clothing and bear their name

- the desperate mother with proud relatives, who doesn’t want to give away her child, but feels pressured into it by well-meaning relatives. The Master feels her reluctance and tries to reassure her, but she insists that it’s fine - and it is, she wants it to be, she wants to believe it’s for the best but it’s just so hard...

- Stass Allie’s parents, who saw their niece Adi GAllia go to the Order a few years prior. Their two families are influential on Coruscant, but with Adi already in the Order, do they need to send Stass too? Will people think they’re making a grab for power? Will Stass be better off over there, with her cousin? 

- Tiplar and Tiplee’s parents. How many children do they have, besides their twins? Is it easier to let your children go when you know they will be together? Did they make the Master promise they wouldn’t be separated no matter what? Did they dress them in matching outfits, or were the Jedi the ones to come up with that?

- the teenaged single mom who cries tears of relief when she realizes her baby will have a good life

- the single dad who can’t bring himself to let his daughter go, because she’s his whole world. The Master presses, not fully understanding, because she would would give up everything for the good of her Padawan, including her relationship with him if need be. The dad still says no.

- the struggling addict parent who is glad to dump that kid (but who still wakes up at night crying, cursing the Jedi, cursing themselves - who get their life back on track for their next kid, maybe? Who meets more Jedi and is thankful after all, or who never does and stays bitter, but better...)

- the family using the adoption for clout, and the consequences for the Order PR-wise, with the younger Jedi having to let go of the bitterness and the anger

- the communities with their own customs surrounding the Force that the young Knight or the wise Master’s inexperienced Padawan struggle to grasp and accept

- the happy parents who are mildly Force-sensitive themselves but didn’t know (or did know, and expected some of their children to be sensitive too), with the Master or the Knight pondering what their own life would look like as a civilian, maybe a parent themselves, maybe giving their own child to the Order like those are doing now. Would they do it? If they could met that hypothetical version of themselves, what would they say about the life they have? 

- the superstitious, incredulous or religious parents who are just glad to get a real explanation for the floating rocks, instead of all the theories and the judging and the gossip

- the ones who are desperately poor, and so very grateful, and the younger Jedi struggling with this, wondering if that’s why they were given to the Order as well. Struggling not to judge, because they wouldn’t be happy to give up their own younglings no matter what, right? Learning to be grateful, and understanding, and compassionate. 

- the parents who decide to give their child away against the community’s pressure, finding comfort in the Jedi’s genuine desire to support them

- the siblings struggling not to feel betrayed by their parents’ choice - and the jealous ones, the proud ones, the amazed ones, the ones who were just toddlers and spend their life holding onto faded memories

And on the flipside to all of that, what about:

- the Jedi who find a baby among dead bodies, like Mace and Depa, and are so thankful they could save this one tiny light

- the Knights filled to burst with warmth and pride as the three of them get this little toddler to giggle on the way home

- the baby who has been screaming in the Force for weeks, wanting to go home, and who finally gets to feel a presence caressing his mind gently, telling him someone is coming

- the Masters who hold the little ones at night, when those who miss their old home feel lonely or sad, rocking them and singing to them

- the Jedi who have their niece, nephew, cousin, or sibling arrive in the Creche, who call their birth family to reassure them that it’ll all be okay, and yes, ‘the child will know who I am, don’t worry, we keep our names. I’ll help them along the way, I’ll keep an eye on them.’

- the Knight who shows up somewhere and experience a supersonic boom because that’s the one, this little one will be his Padawan, he knows it

- the Knight awkwardly trying to comfort the parents, but she can see that they can see that the baby has already latched onto her, and she senses their turmoil

- the Master feeling that the child won’t be suited for the life of a Jedi, and saying that, even as it’s so hard to turn away from those sparkling baby eyes and that little mental tug 

- the Padawan balancing babbling triplets on his shoulders, because they’re from a species that makes a lot of babies

- the Master-Padawan pair visiting a child a lot during the transition period, and bonding with the other siblings as well

... Just... a mess of relationships and love on all parts, with understandings being reached, people finding peace and joy, and the opposite of all that, all acknowledging that there are no bad guys here, just complicated circumstances.

[randomposterofstuff]

On the change of dynamics of Mikasa’s relationships with Eren and Levi

Author’s Note: Hi, all! I just wanted to share my personal analysis of two scenes that involve Eren, Mikasa, and Levi. The idea for the analysis just occurred to me randomly. And it made me think that these two scenes illustrate how much the dynamics of Mikasa’s relationships with Eren and Levi have changed over time. I don’t know if anyone has already made an analysis of this. But I just wanted to share my take on it. Haha. Fair Warning: This post is lengthy. Hahaha.

This is an analysis of two paralleling scenes involving Eren, Mikasa, and Levi. The first scene that will be discussed is the one where Levi beat Eren during the latter's military trial in Season 1. The second scene involves Levi striking Eren after the Raid on Liberio in Season 4. In the analysis of both scenes, I focused primarily on Mikasa's reactions. And at the end of the main analysis, I also posted my thoughts on what all of these could mean for Mikasa's relationship with Levi.

Also, SPOILER ALERT for those who haven't read Chapter 138 of the manga yet. While this post mainly analyzes the two scenes mentioned above, I also included some tidbits from Chapter 138 at the end to tie things up as neatly as possible. Hahaha.

So, anyway, here it goes:

-----

Season 1: The Trial

Back in Season 1, during Eren’s military trial, he was physically beaten by Levi. We all know that he did this to ensure that the Scouting Regiment/Survey Corps gets custody of him. The display was necessary to emphasize and prove that Levi, who is widely known as "Humanity's Strongest Soldier", is best suited to subdue Eren should he lose control of his abilities. Because of this, the Scouts were able to convince the Military Police and Premier Zackly that they should be given custody over Eren.

One of the most notable parts of this scene is how Mikasa was enraged by Levi's actions. Had Armin not stopped her, she would’ve probably lunged at Levi and struck him. At the time, Mikasa was gravely concerned about Eren’s well-being and was perhaps too furious at Levi to think about anything else. Because of this, she probably did not immediately realize that Levi had effectively secured Eren’s relative safety at the end of the day. 

During the trial, the MPs spoke of planning to dissect him, among others. Conversely, the Scouts proposed that he participate in an upcoming scouting expedition to determine whether he is a threat or not. They also suggested that Eren be placed under Levi’s direct supervision so that he could be subdued in the event of an incident. While the latter proposal still entailed some degree of violence, it was far less hostile and more beneficial to Eren than the MP’s proposal. 

Screenshots taken from Season 1, Episode 14 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

It is also worth noting that her primary concern during this time was Eren’s well-being. Mikasa is not cruel or heartless towards others. But it is worth noting that she was more concerned about Eren than the fact that he could have been a grave threat to so many innocent people. During this time, humanity inside the Walls was still ignorant of the truth, so the apprehension and fear directed towards Eren’s powers were justified and understandable. Yet, despite this, Mikasa was mainly singularly focused on Eren.

This is one of many instances which illustrate how she allows her affections for Eren to impair her judgment. She cares about him so much that sometimes her emotions get the better of her.

-----

Season 4: The Aftermath of the Raid on Liberio

Now, flash forward to Season 4 during the Raid on Liberio. When Eren was pulled onto the airship, Levi expressed his disgust and disappointment in Eren’s actions and behavior. He drove his points home by kicking Eren again. When he did so, Mikasa, probably out of habit and instinct, moved to intervene before Armin stopped her again. The difference here is that this time, she did not express anger towards Levi for beating Eren again. Instead, she had a sad and torn expression on her face.

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 8 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

This is an indicator of growth and change on Mikasa’s part. While she still had the urge to protect Eren, she knew that because of what he did to the citizens of Liberio, Levi’s anger and disgust were justified. As a matter of fact, she herself was distraught when she saw the bodies of innocent civilians and children scattered on the battlefield. And what distressed her even more was the fact that Eren – her childhood friend, adoptive brother, and literal savior, was the cause of all the destruction.

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 7 of the “Attack on Titan” anime

During this time, Mikasa had already begun to notice that the Eren she once knew was no longer with them. However, probably because of personal sentiment and their shared history, she still cared for him. It is likely that Mikasa still hoped that he would change for the better during this particular time. Even so, she is now wise and mature enough to not turn a blind eye to his terrible actions.

It can also be said that Mikasa is now better able to properly analyze the situation as a whole instead of just focusing on Eren. She understood the gravity of the problem and therefore acknowledged that Levi was in the right for feeling disgusted and disappointed. And maybe it can be said that she couldn’t blame him for kicking Eren again. (Lol.)

-----

What This Means for Levi and Mikasa's Relationship: Having Common Ground

As for what all of this means for Mikasa and Levi's relationship, I think that it can be said that Mikasa now has more common ground with Levi than Eren. 

The affection she has for Eren is rooted in a shared history and the kind of person he used to be before he became their ultimate enemy. Before the truth about the world and Eldians was revealed to the inhabitants of Paradis, Eren and Mikasa were long-time friends who worked hand-in-hand to achieve their common goals. The first was to keep humanity within the Walls safe from the threat of the Titans. And the second was to uncover the truth surrounding the mystery of the Titans. However, their relationship began to deteriorate when they finally learned of the truth, and when Eren gained access to his Attack Titan's ability to see the memories of its future and past inheritors. Over time, Eren began to slowly but surely drift away from her to the point that they had completely lost their common ground.

Conversely, her connection to Levi is based on trust and comradeship. Indeed, there aren't any explicitly romantic interactions between them (not yet, anyway. Lol.). However, it has already been established that Mikasa trusts Levi as a leader and as a fellow soldier. In the same vein, Levi also has faith in Mikasa's abilities. More importantly, it has been shown that Levi is capable of great empathy and that he has the best interests of humanity as a whole in both his mind and heart. This is another thing that he has in common with Mikasa. While she was heartbroken at the fact that killing Eren was the only way to stop him, she ultimately chose the rest of humanity over him and her feelings for him. She was even the one who dealt the final blow in Chapter 138. On this, I think that her act of choosing to kill Eren and actually seeing that choice through was her way of finally letting him go and choosing to move on from him. It's true that she said that she won't forget him, but then again, it's possible to move on from someone without forgetting them.

In relation to this, I think that it's symbolic (and perhaps even foreshadowing of events to come in Chapter 139) that Levi was the one to help her kill Eren. It's symbolic in the sense that by helping her kill Eren, Levi was the one to help Mikasa move on from him. It's also worth noting that when Mikasa declared her intention to kill Eren, Levi seemed to look awestruck and proud. He followed her lead - meaning that he trusted her resolve.

Images taken from Chapter 138 of the Shingeki no Kyojin manga.

This is particularly significant because, in the past, Levi (along with a few others) nearly always had to placate Mikasa whenever a dangerous situation involved Eren. Levi was completely aware of how reckless she could be whenever Eren's safety was in jeopardy. Even in the events leading up to the final battle, Mikasa still protested whenever anyone suggested that they kill Eren. However, when it came down to it, Mikasa decided that she would be the one to kill Eren. And when she asked for everyone’s help, he did not question her. Instead, he chose to trust her and believe her.

Perhaps this will lead to a deeper connection between them in the aftermath of the battle. Maybe this can be a foundation for the relationship that they will have in the future.

Anyway, that's all for now. I hope that this post makes sense. Haha. I'm sorry if it's a bit convoluted and messy. Lol. Let me know what you guys think!

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[flowerflamestars]

I'm in a very angry-with-the-IC-and-Rhys-in-particular mood, and since I'm just rereading Daylight I was wondering, what is going through Rhysand's mind throughout the events of Daylight? Because it's basically his entire life CRUMBLING around him and I'd love to see the mental gymnastics he does to fit it all into his "I'm the good guy, actually" narrative. Or just his general reaction.

this is a FABULOUS question, thank you!

Daylight! Rhys is, in my opinion, the closest to a canonical (pre-acosf) character representation that I go for. He's so SO fucked up, and sublimating and burying all that trauma has, of course, failed, and it's all manifesting, in all these different directions.

To understand the level on which Rhys is losing his shit, it's important to go back to the very beginning: Rhysand, to Rhysand, is always, always the hero of the story. The down on his luck knight with truth in his heart. The struggling, just man.

He CANNOT seeing beyond himself for even a second. He casts himself in the most important role, as the only person whose personal consequences exist.

His mother, at probable great risk, takes him to Illyria to be trained- the precious, first-born, godly son of Night. To learn to fight- to learn, presumably, her culture- to see what that culture is reduced to, a harshness he will on day have the power to change. Rhys had to be, at some point, a great hope for Not High Fae denizens of the Court.

What does Rhysie learn? Illyria is harsh. Illyria is bad. Backwards and cruel.

He hates his father for...presumably, the crime of being a pretty traditional High Lord? Rhys hates the cruelties! the Court of Nightmares! the broken system!

So what does Rhys do when he has power? he fires everyone. He doesn't like them, he doesn't like whatever they did under his father...so instead of hiring new people, he removes himself entirely from a potential role in changing/mitigating those policies. See also: the Court of Nightmares, cowed occasionally, but not in any way governed by Rhys.

But he's the hero! He's destroyed the oppression! His Court of Just his Bros is made of women and Illyrians!

(Rhys removed the terribleness from his direct experience...because only his experiences matter)

So, Rhys in his head: the struggle, the hero, the man just trying to do it right.

Which brings us to Daylight....and Feyre. I know we can attribute the way the characters stop even remotely being sympathetic between acomaf and...everything else...to poor writing, but I also think there's some (maybe accidental but PERFECT) character work there: in acomaf, pre-acknowledged bond, Feyre is an important possession/ally- she's on the same level as the other members of the Court of Dreams, if the jewel of the collection, a high point in the story Rhys tells himself: HE saved the HERO OF PRYTHIAN

(which...let's not even touch on the fact that the deal he makes in acotar is CREEPY and he can only justify it later. she wasn't someone he wanted to work with in acotar- she was a vulnerable, hot young woman he fully took advantage of)

And then they're mates.

And then, slowly but surely, Feyre's personhood disappears. For two reasons: 1) Feyre is on a pedestal so sky-high it blots out everything. Good, pure, true hero Feyre whose adoration Rhysand needs like air. the happy end of his story, the prize and the salvation, the one who sees him.

and 2) ultimately, to Rhys, Feyre is an extension of him. A symbol: his happiness, his peace, his endless power, what he fought to keep.

She's his whole anchor staying sane, which isn't great, considering...ya know, everything. But the Story is Over. They are Happy.

Except- except- nothing is over. Post fifty straight years of torture, a freefall into war and fuckery, teen marriage and literal death, the consequences for all those things AND THE SHIT RHYS WAS PULLING LONG BEFORE AMARANTHA TURNED HIM INTO A CHEW TOY, are still present.

But now, he has something to protect. His golden future. His puppy Mate.

Because Feyre's safety is the safety of his power and vice versa. Anything he does is justifiable because the loss of Feyre is Not an Option. She is Happy. They Are Happy.

It bleeds into everything- and then it intensifies, because this is the breaking point.

The Az/Lucien thing and Feyre incredibly hurtful blindness? No Rhys isn't going to interfere- Az is so private anyway- if Feyre believes its a romantic bond, Feyre is right, she knows her sister, not that it matters because Elain is totally out of her mind.

Sending Cassian to Illyria? Illyria is a backwards shithole right? They're fierce fighters and that's what Rhys values them for- as the hammer of his power- and nothing else? why would there be anything else? Look at them fighting and hurting each other.

Nesta runs and Cassian is left throwing himself in battles actively trying to die and Rhys? Rhys is totally smug. A problem that hurt Feyre and his brother is GONE.

But it's not gone. Az isn't talking to anyone- and Rhys thinks this probably means Lucien is probably, finally fucking him- but even Feyre understands that Azriel knows where Nesta is. When this is proved (when Elain surfaces and they have the very fun kitchen fight) Rhys isn't happy- but he understands. Azriel has always felt responsible for broken things.

But thats not his job, it's Rhysands job, and Rhys has already made that tough choice for the safety of his own: Nesta has no place here. When she resurfaces inevitably, broke and wanting something, Rhys will stop her before she gets close enough to upset (hurt) Feyre. It's his job.

Cassian goes missing, and Rhysand sets upon what will become his eventual move: Illyria's value is strength. (a martial strength that belongs to RHYS). But they think they can take from him? They can destroy their own best chance? (Rhys recognizes Cassian's value to Illyria even while, you know, ordering him to slaughter Illyrians) They would threaten his power? hurt his family?

Rhys will not allow a world to exist where Feyre can be hurt.

If Illyria can't be controlled, Illyria will be put down, like the rabid creatures they are. (They were always backwards, Rhys thinks. Freeing my mother was the one good thing my father ever did)

But Cassian lives.

Rhys asks Azriel if he's been cursed. Az laughs in his face.

And Cassian is a terrible enemy to have. The strategies the loyalists are using? His, filtered through Rhys. The magical contingencies? Cassian and Az, trying to prevent bloodshed.

Feyre thinks, for a long time, that maybe the rebels have Nesta. What else could compel Cassian to even care? these people keep trying to kill him. they want to kill Rhys. the brothers suffered in the frozen mud at the hands of these monsters, what is Cassian doing?

And then the massacre happens.

And Feyre sick to her stomach, cries when she hears. Rhysand thinks about a little hazel eyed boy who'd never had a bed, a present, who'd been nothing until Rhysand plucked him up- a little boy who'd grown into a dangerous man, who'd just killed every person who ever contributed to his pain. Rhys thinks, knowing he'll have to punish Cassian for this, that it's over.

The camp lords are dead, it has to be over.

(Azriel hears and understands- because he knows damn well Cassian was something before Rhysand, and after despite him. That beneath those repeatedly broken ribs is a heart that was once so big so save him, grown strong enough now to save everyone who was like them: forgotten, abandoned, used.)

It's not over. The mountains are burning. Banners fly on northern wind in a language long dead. They're singing, the spies say, they call him dawn. Loyal-heart-as-dawn.

It's Cassians name. Not that Rhys, who never knew more than a few vile insults in the language of his mother's ancient, proud people, understood it then.

Rhysand, the long-suffering hero of his own story, has been betrayed.

He can risk no more- it's time to end this madness. It's Feyre's idea to use Elain- it's Feyre who is left crying, a betrayal Rhysand will never forget- when Elain, who they've given everything, Elain, perhaps just as broken and wretched as her eldest sister, refuses to help keep Feyre safe.

(Elain refuses to participate in what she sees as genocide, but as we've established, what consequences exist? the ones Rhys feels right in front of his face)

Azriel, Elain, and Lucien run.

Of course, if both Feyre's sisters are capable of betraying her, of course, both of Rhysand's brothers would as well. They are one in the same, aren't they? Marked by destiny, by fate for this hard and terrible work- of course it hurts. Of course- but Rhysand will stop it from hurting Feyre any more.

There's one force in the world that can stand in truth against Illyria. The Darkbringers- their ancestral, ancient conquers.

(Yes, I do think Rhys knows the shitty, shitty history of his court! He just doesn't care! He didn't do it. He's different. He's in Velaris with the common people. He has wings. He's not his father.)

(He is, in fact, far worse)

When he thinks of it, it seems perfect. Illyria will be destroyed- a loss, but a safe one. Keir, will, almost certainly, also be destroyed or at least critically weakened.

Rhysand will stand alone, the man who was willing to do anything for peace. He will rule over an emptied playing field, secure in a world where Feyre is safe.

The Hewn City empties, the armies march- Rhysand holds tight Feyre's hand, says nothing about the fact that nothing, nothing, will stop Keir from killing anyone in front of him when battle starts, and reaches once more for Cassian's mind.

His brother, his friend, his loyal right hand- he begs him to come back. To come home. That they can put down this rebellion and in his love for Cassian everything can go back to how it is meant to be, all of them together.

It does not occur to him to address the hundreds dead. The system he was complicit in and responsible for that ground a culture to dust and ash- what matters is brother against brother should never have turned, and Rhys, in his kindness, will offer Cassian this last chance for honor.

Rhys doesn't want Cassian to die- he wants Cassian by his side- but he will drown the world in blood before he'll lose his crown and hope and Feyre.

And when Cassian dies, falling to the earth in Rhysand's arms, Rhys thinks of penance.

A circle closed.

But of course- Cassian wakes. Death is not done with her right hand anymore than the contract between Lordship and land in immutable. Cassian brought the magic back, brought Illyria back.

Rhys is fighting for something personal- Cassian is fighting for a whole world and future, with everything in himself.

When the new border is drawn, Rhys doesn't despair- sure he's shaking, he's covered in Cassian's blood, his twelve thousand year old walls are smoking and the whole world smells like fucking Nesta Archeron- he's been the victim of curses before.

He won't let it keep him down. He'll be fine. He has Feyre, they're safe. Illyria is going to implode- and maybe, maybe, he'll save some of those that remain when the violence is too much, when they need a real High Lord.

They'll come home. Just like Feyre's sisters will. Rhysand's brothers. They fought for peace and Velaris has it- it is their home.

It's what they fought for, the happy ending, and it's all worth it.

It has to be worth it.

[my-bated-breath]

Closing Thoughts on Vincenzo

No one asked, but here you go.

I watched the last two episodes of Vincenzo yesterday, but even in the midst of my viewing experience I was able to synthesis and analyze what I was enjoying and not-enjoying, what worked and what didn’t work (for me), so that itself says something about how immersive it was. Of course, Vincenzo is a great show — the action is sharp and satisfying, the schemes are elaborate and spectacular, the humor is cracky yet genuine, and the characters are so, so lovable. And I loved the romance side plot, because yes, I am weak. Still, the last 2-4 episodes strained some of that, and this is my take on why I felt not exactly disappointed, but underwhelmed in the final stretch. I’m also including what I did like at the very end, as that makes sense with how I’m structuring this kind-of-analysis.

spoilers below

Tension, Stakes, and Pay-off

The tension in Vincenzo has been ramped up ever since the death of Vincenzo’s mother, loudly and painfully declaring in that moment that “this is not a game” (contrary to Vincenzo telling Hanseok in jail that he’s toying with him). This leads to a chilling confrontation between Vincenzo and the antagonists while also uniting the residents of Geumga in all-out, unapologetic war. And there is no more game of chess — just one of cat and mouse, with Vincenzo descending upon his prey.

Hence, Vincenzo is noticeably less soft, and he strikes Babel with the steel of his resolve. His schemes feel much more sinister than mischievous as they had been before; he is ending this, once and for all. So, how does the show amp up the tension and stakes from there?

Well, it’s all in what I said before. The tension is teased out in Vincenzo stealing everything Hanseok has ever treasured and then taunting/threatening him in prison, and then with the Babel villains descending into chaos and desperation. The stakes, however, are less noticeable, because Vincenzo is kind of obviously winning. The stakes have already been established with Vincenzo’s mother, then paid off with her death, and then paid off even more with Vincenzo mercilessly seizing the upper hand.

That’s why I feel like Myunghee and Hanseo’s death just... happened. Because it’s been 3 whole episodes since Vincenzo has founded this new resolve, that sort of dragged out follow-up loses its thrill and gratification. They’ve been defeated now, completely and totally. But so what? They’ve been on the losing end for more than 3 hours of screen time now, and even their last resort of a counterattack didn’t hold much narrative weight (which is something I’ll get to later). Their deaths are not boring to say the least — I saw a post that said something similar to “Myunghee, a woman who danced to the music of others’ pain, died dancing to her own” and “Hanseo, a man with no heart, has a hole drilled into that empty cavity.”

But their deaths also happen very isolated from everyone else, not just physically, but emotionally as well. It’s almost as if Vincenzo’s clapping his hands and saying, “Let’s wrap this up now, I’m getting a little tired.” And while I wouldn’t say their deaths are unnecessarily cruel, given everything they’ve done, I don’t think Vincenzo does this in response to anything particularly substantial. Is this for his mother’s death? For Chayoung’s injury? For everyone else? Well, maybe, but it sure didn’t feel like he was contemplating that during or after torturing them. If I put the Vincenzo from the beginning of the show there in those two scenes vs Vincenzo from the end of the show, post character development and all, I think the only difference would be that beginning-of-the-show Vincenzo would still be unfamiliar with Babel’s crimes and see this as a waste of time.

A sort of side note: Now, one of the strong points of this show is its use of comedy in its otherwise very serious schemes (I still thinking about episodes 8 and 15 all the time). But with the impending climax and increasingly serious tone, there was no comedy to make said-serious schemes as engaging to watch. So now unable to rely on one of its greatest strengths, the show must rely on emotional impact. Or similarly: narrative weight.

Narrative Weight

In episodes 19-20, Chayoung is shot, Hanseo dies, and Chulwook is stabbed (and you think he’s going to die but he doesn’t). Who said there was no emotional impact in these episodes again?!

Oh right. Me.

Beyond Hong Yuchan and Oh Gyeongja’s death, injuries and fatalities suffered from our protagonists’ side don’t really have that many consequences. You can argue the consequences of Hanseo dying is that we’re all very sad, but both we and the characters are barely given a moment to grieve before we have to move on. What does Hanseo die for? He dies as an abuse victim just beginning to break out of the cycle he was trapped in, and that itself isn’t necessary a bad narrative choice, and he dies as a warrior in this Mafia vs Conglomerate war, but what does he die for? If it’s for Vincenzo and Chayoung to live, they pretty much get lucky with Hanseo running out of bullets. If it is to show that he had changed, and that this tied into some greater theme of redemption, then his death really isn’t really given enough thought for it to resonate well. I would’ve loved to see Vincenzo reflecting on Hanseo learning to trust and love again, despite all the mistakes he made in the past, and how that influences his own decision to embrace his version of villainous justice. But no. This is something I only thought of after reading a few Vincenzo posts and trying to justify my own moral for the show.

Don’t forget that Chulwook almost dies too. Like I genuinely believed he was dead, shed a tear for the daughter he would never meet, and then the show went like, “Guess what? Psyche!”

I’m not very fond of that injury/pseud-death-but-not-really.

And now we have Chayoung, the person who Vincenzo is the closest to. Don’t get me wrong, I amso weak for her never giving into Hanseo and asking for death over Vinceno getting hurt, for guarding Vincenzo from the bullet, for Vincenzo’s shocked and empty eyes, for Chayoung’s glazed gaze, for him desperately and powerlessly hugging her tightly because that’s all he can do for her now. Afterwards, she’s in the hospital, her shoulder is recuperating, and there’s a nice Chayenzo parallel to episode 4 when Chayoung was waiting by Vinny’s hospital bed. But afterwards afterwards? She’s just in the hospital. Sidelined from the climax.

Vincenzo told her, “I will finish this, for you.” That could’ve worked, because we could’ve seen Chayoung emotionally or spiritually with us during the climax and Myunghee and Hanseo’s deaths. But like I mentioned earlier, it really didn’t feel that way. Ultimately, the narrative tells us that Chayoung’s injury just means she can’t strain herself for a couple of days, despite initially delivering it so dramatically and emotionally.

As one of my friends said while we were discussing this episode: Vincenzo is the titular character, but Chayoung has so much to care for too. Her father died because of Babel, and she said, “We should share the danger.” Instead, we got a decentish-but-slightly-underwhelming scene where she is driven to see Vincenzo off. Okay then.

Characters

Speaking of, Chayoung receives much of the short-end of the character development stick in the last 4 episodes. I found this to be acceptable in episodes 17-18, and she does have that moment where she looked uncertain and nauseated at the death of the “hunting dogs” before shoving down her misgivings, clinging onto a facade of strength as she says “this is what I wanted.” Also, even though it wasn’t episode 14, I wasn’t complaining about the Chayenzo moments either.

But still, this is the second most important protagonist in the narrative and nothing about her really changes in these last few episodes. Nor does she experience catharsis alongside Vincenzo, emotionally or otherwise. There had been some buildup about whether or not Chayoung can swallow the cruel path that she has chosen, but if she’s not even the given the chance to make her own decision on said cruel path, that’s just wasted set up.

(I know that during the Babel Tower party-fiasco Vincenzo told Chayoung that he originally wanted her to push the button that’ll kill one of the hunting dogs, but then decided against it upon seeing Chayoung’s wavering face, but like. Narratively, if she was the one to press it, and then we had some follow-up character arc about her coming to terms with her decision... Oh, we could’ve had it all.)

Another thing I want to point out is that Chayoung has been a foil to Vincenzo in that she represents the happiness, love, and innocence now unattainable to him. (This is just his view, by the way, since Chayoung isn’t exactly innocent herself, which he could’ve seen if the show had only taken this direction.) That is to say, Vinceno’s most interesting character moments are drawn out of him by Chayoung: In his apartment, when they are under the ceiling-stars, and she asks him whether he has ever killed anyone. On the rooftop, when they decide that Hanseok must lose everything before he dies, and he promises to her that he’ll stay in Korea to see things through to the end, in direct contrast to himself at the beginning of the show. In the highway pass, when she embraces him after a gunfight, the closest he’s ever grazed past death. When they drink makgeolli together and he tells her about what her father wanted to say to her. When they sit together by the riverside and she tells him that his mother would have been proud of him.

One of my favorite parts of episodes 11-12 during the gun fight is just how emotionally present Chayoung is, despite not wielding a gun herself, or even being anywhere near the action. I’m not sure if I’m getting this right, but I think this is the first time Vincenzo had killed people on screen, so to see Chayoung embrace him so tearfully afterwards almost felt like he was being reminded of his humanity. And this also shows that Chayoung, despite saying that she would feel distant towards Vincenzo if he did have blood on his hands, loves him closely, so closely it hurts.

We think about Vincenzo, what it means to be a consigliere, and his distorted flashbacks of flesh and blood and killing and losing himself, and that teddy bear, slowly panning out to a child, staring at him in fear. We think about how is it possible for him to love again? Can he even know what love is?

Then Chayoung appears, a woman whose very presence unraveled the mystery that is Vincenzo. But the moment that Chayoung’s development was stunted, that was the moment Vincenzo lost his foil, and we, the audience, lost the ability to see how his past, present, and future reconcile.

Themes: Loving in Sin

In episode 20, Vincenzo and the monks have a conversation about whether he was worthy of love or not before being told that he was Vaisravana — and though he could never be accepted by Buddha, he would be appreciated at times, and he would have his own role to play too. I like this conversation a lot in concept. In execution, it would’ve left much weightier an impact if only we had seen Vincenzo’s journey to reconcile his villainy and humanity play out more, if we had a glimpse into the moral conflict warring in his mind. The last time the drama showed that to us — not told it to us — was with the death of Vincenzo’s mother.

I would add more, really, but I feel like my review up until here says everything I want it to. In my opinion, there was no real epiphany that Vincenzo reached upon hearing those words from the monk because he hadn’t reflected on it enough for there to properly be one. And the ending to Vincenzo and Chayoung’s romance would’ve felt a lot better if it was Vincenzo choosing to love her despite his fear of himself, despite his belief that he could only hurt people. (Also that ending monologue wouldn’t have felt so tacked-on, like, oh wait this is supposed to have a theme right? Here, this is vaguely related, right?)

Because a lot of this emotional potential was not quite met, I think the finale also had to resort to some cheaper ways to make us feel for the romance, such as Chayoung rushing to see Vincenzo off and Vincenzo leaving the diplomacy-relations party early (he very poetically disappears while walking behind this sculpture, but I thought it was hilarious that if the shot didn’t get cut off there in another 2 seconds we could’ve seen him walking out of where that sculpture thing blocked him lol).

Overall though, I’m pretty happy with the romance’s ending, at least conceptually. The way they incorporated the story of cow herder and weaver girl and the bridge of pigeons (not magpies!) that will allow them to see each other again every year was so bittersweet, and as someone familiar with this myth, it made me very nostalgic. Also, I do think it works better with Vincenzo’s themes that he would be apart from Chayoung in some way. They each have their own lives to lead, but although they met by coincidence, they’ll remain by each other’s sides by intention. He is a villain, and so is she, but villains love tenaciously.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑀𝑎𝑓𝑖𝑎! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝐿𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴 𝐺𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑇𝑜 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟/𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑

Little continuation to this post.

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, supporting, justifying or encouraging mafia activities or lifestyle. This is all fictional and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

You found yourself no longer being afraid of him. Sure things started off completely bad, but he redeemed himself through the care and protection he gave you both. And little by little, your son started to warm up to Hongjoong, eventually becoming quite attached to him. Even though you guys hadn't exactly placed a label on your relationship, it was more than clear you were obviously more than friends.

He enjoyed spending time with you and your son. He especially enjoyed taking him out, with your permission of course. It was in one of those times he took him out to eat. While waiting for the food to arrive, your son took out a deck of cards to pass time.

"Hyung! Wanna play poker?" The little boy asked so innocently it made Hongjoong chuckle.

"Do you know how to play?"

Even with the boy's enthusiastic nod, Hongjoong wasn't actually expecting a game of poker. After all, he's a child. But to entertain him, he decided to play along, even pretend to lose just to make him happy.

But Hongjoong was really surprised when not only does the kid indeed know how to play, but actually won the game. Hongjoong just laughed, thinking it was because he wasn't really trying, but another round, and the boy still beat him.

Hongjoong just blinked slowly, trying to face reality: a 5 year old boy actually beat his ass at poker...... yet he couldn't be prouder.

"Not bad at all." Hongjoong ruffled the ball hair.

"Aww is he your son?" The waitress asked when she set down the plates of food in front of them.

Hongjoong looked over at your son, who had a hopeful twinkle in his eyes. Hongjoong smiled before confidently stating:

"Yeah, he's my son."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

If you thought Seonghwa wouldn't leave you alone before, now it is 10 times worse. He was always showing up at your house, and you couldn't exactly tell him to leave. One, he's your boss and he's still terrifying, and two, your daughter adores him and is always running to him when he comes.

So you have to constantly put up with him being around, although before it was because you didn't want to get involved with him. Now it was because you were getting too attached to him yourself and you were afraid of that.

That didn't stop Seonghwa. Sooner or later you'd officially be his, but for now, he resigns himself to just helping you with your adorable princess, as he likes to call her.

"What are we going to play today?" Seonghwa asked her, expecting her to take out her dolls or her Candyland board game.

He most definitely was not expecting her to bring out a mini sized roulette wheel to the living room. He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What? She wanted it and it's not harming anyone." You shrugged.

Seonghwa saw this as an opportunity to get something from you and actually decided to bet: if he won, you'd have to officially go out on a date with him. If your daughter won, he'd buy her anything she wanted, and in this case, she just really wanted ice cream which she'd been craving since she got sick. It was a done deal and Seonghwa thought he'd win. He's played the game so many times in his work, he felt confident.....

But after so many rounds, somehow that tiny girl in front of him seemed to accurately guess the winning number, leaving him stunned. You just laughed as he had no choice but to admit defeat.

"Well it was worth a shot......but a deal's a deal."

Picking up the girl, he kissed her cheek and smiled at her.

"Now let's go get you that ice cream you wanted princess. At least you're willing to go on a date with me."

You couldn't help rolling your eyes at his statement. Maybe one day, you'll say yes.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Seonghwa's words ended up becoming a reality: Yunho and you had been married for over a year now and you were still much in love with him as ever. He was happy and proud to finally call you his wife and to show off his son anywhere he went now.

He especially loved taking him with the other guys and their kids to their weekly game nights. Usually the kids would simply run around and play with each other while they sat around the table and play a round of Blackjack. More than one of the kids got interested one night and the men started to teach them how to play.

"So basically, if you get close to 21 without going over, you win." Yunho explained to his son.

"I wanna play!" The little boy exclaimed enthusiastically.

Seonghwa mixed the cards up and handed them to Yunho. Yunho set up the game and turned to the boy.

"Ready?"

To his surprise, and everyone else's, his son beat him in the game. Nobody was really expecting it since he'd never played it before. Yunho was astonished himself.

"Play another round. I wanna see the outcome!" Wooyoung encouraged them.

And after Seonghwa shuffled the cards again, they took turns flipping the cards over. Yunho thought for sure he was going to win since the boy decided to call stop at 16. But when he flipped his card over, it totaled to 28, meaning he automatically lost. Everyone erupted into laughs.

"You just got owned by your own son." Mingi chuckled.

Yunho wasn't upset though. He was happy that his son won. Seeing his giddy smile when he won made him feel content.

"You know, if it had been someone else, you would have been mad that you lost." Seonghwa said to him once they were cleaning up.

"Yeah, but how can I get mad at him? Not with that sunshine smile he gets." Yunho smiled.

"Yeah that's exactly what I thought....which is why I rigged the cards when I shuffled them." Seonghwa confessed.

Yunho turned to him in shock.

"You what?"

Seonghwa began laughing at Yunho's expression.

"Thank me later." Seonghwa winked at him.

"Wait! How many other games have you rigged?!"

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Some things never changed: Wooyoung and Yeosang were still close as ever. After all, they were not only best friends but also brothers in law. And Wooyoung loved coming over to play with his little niece, who was now nearing 5 years old.

She was such a curious little girl. Like her father, she hardly talked, but would always seem to poke around whenever Yeosang and Wooyoung would play a game amongst themselves. She especially was interested when they would play Roulette, she loved watching the wheel spin.

Sensing her curiosity, Wooyoung picked her up and sat her in his lap.

"All right baby girl, wanna help out Uncle Wooyoung? Pick a number."

That's how it ended up going: the little girl would point to a number, not sure what it would do, but for some reason, Wooyoung would end up screaming in victory.

"I'm telling you! This kid has powers or something!" Wooyoung said, holding her up higher and kissing her cheek.

You came in the room just as he was parading her around.

"What in the world are you doing with my daughter Wooyoung?" You asked, knowing your brother was up to one of his shenanigans again.

"Celebrating the fact she helped me beat your husband and now he owes me 500 dollars. Haha!" Wooyoung released his unique hyena laugh.

You turned to look at Yeosang and gave him a questioning gaze.

"Did you just teach our daughter how to gamble?"

Yeosang raised his hand to argue.

"In my defense, it was all Wooyoung's fault."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San felt so proud of his son. Not only did he just beat him at poker, but he never even taught him how to play himself. He simply learned by watching him play with Mingi whenever he came over.

"Do you know what this means Y/N?!" San of course had to tell you about this accomplishment.

"That you're sleeping on the couch for teaching our son to gamble?" You replied, not at all happy with this information.

"It means our son is a genius! Y/N! You and I created a really smart kid! Isn't that amazing! Aren't you proud of him?" He exclaimed.

"Choi San, I'd be proud if he had won a spelling bee, gotten straight A's or won a soccer match, but knowing our son can play poker at 6 years old is somewhat concerning to me."

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Honestly San, how could you teach him those types of games?"

San gasped.

"Were you not listening? I told you! I didn't have to teach him! He learned himself by watching me and Mingi play!" He repeated himself.

You squinted your eyes at him before walking away from him.

"You're still sleeping on the couch." You said.

San began to whine.

"Oh come on Y/N! It's not that bad!"

"Why not teach him to play monopoly instead? Family friendly games?" You called out from the kitchen.

"Monopoly?! Are you insane?! That devil game destroys relationships!"

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Mingi knew that he was screwed the minute he allowed his daughter tag along with him to Yunho's house. But he couldn't say no to her when she was looking at him with those doe eyes and pouting lips.

"I want to go with daddy." She begged, tears threatening to spill out.

So there Mingi went, bringing in a 4 year old to his best friend's house, where the other mafia members were also gathered.

"Stuck with babysitting duty?" Yeosang asked him when he came in, his tiny daughter on one of his arms.

"Don't make me say something in front of her." Mingi warned.

"Ok ok, settle down you guys. And let's try to keep it PG for the princess here." Yunho said, trying to keep the environment safe.

Clearly Jongho and Yeosang didn't understand that since they took advantage of the fact Mingi was occupied in a phone call to teach his daughter the basics of blackjack, which she caught on quick. Mingi came back to the scene and was shocked.

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Mingi screeched.

"Language." Hongjoong reminded him.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" Mingi picked her up from Jongho's grasp.

"Playing! Want to play with me?" She pleaded with him.

Mingi thought that one round wouldn't hurt her. They'd play, they'd leave and he'd pretend like this never happened. But it did hurt. It hurt him when his daughter beat him, not once, but 5 times! Because she liked the game so much and kept asking him to play again and again.

"Can we play with mommy when we get home?"

Mingi's heart sank as he realized how you were going to react when you found out he took her to Yunho's house and she might have become a blackjack enthusiast.

"Uh.....sweetie how about we don't tell mommy about this? Hmm?"

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

"Are you ready to get your butt kicked yet again son?" Wooyoung smirked at his 7 year old son.

"I'll beat you this time old man!" The little boy held up his fist, making Wooyoung chuckle.

Although Wooyoung had wanted a little girl, he loved his son to death. He was his best friend, his playmate, his new partner in crime, and more often than not, it resulted in both of them getting in trouble with you. He was the exact replica of his father, personality wise that is. Physically, he resembled you more.

You were disappointed when you found out Wooyoung had been teaching his son to play, not just poker, but every single card game known to man. But boys will be boys, and your son was just as competitive as his father and vowed that one day he'd beat him in one game.

"Keep dreaming buddy." Wooyoung would usually respond to him.

But the day finally came. Your son beat his own father and mentor in a card game. Wooyoung just stood there for a minute, contemplating if this was reality.

"What the fuck just happened?!" Wooyoung completely forgot that he shouldn't swear in front of his kid. As if he didn't forget almost every day.

"I beat your sorry ass old man!" The kid began running around with joy.

Wooyoung stared at him in disbelief.

"You cheated didn't you?! I demand a rematch you little demon."

Wooyoung began chasing the little boy down. You came in the room, wondering what all the fuss was about. You managed to scoop up your son in your arms.

"What is going on around here?" You demanded to know.

"Boomer here can't accept the fact I kicked his shitty ass." Your son stuck his tongue out at Wooyoung.

You widened your eyes.

"Where on earth did you learn those words?"

Wooyoung looked at your son, silently begging him to blame Mingi or Yunho. But the little boy grinned at him evilly before responding:

"Daddy did of course."

You whipped your head to Wooyoung, who just started laughing nervously.

"Kids say the darnest things these days....right?"

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You absolutely refused to at first. But you gave in and started bringing your daughter to work with you because Jongho kept insisting. The other people would often fawn over her cause she was just the most adorable and precious being they've ever seen.

Jongho doted on her the most. People were shocked to see him hold her in his arms, gift her endless presents and overall just show a side of him they'd never seen before. You were surprised yourself. How on earth was this young mafia boss so good with kids?

You hated to admit it, but you actually felt more relaxed than before. Now you knew Jongho would never use your daughter against you and spent time with her because he found her cute. So you had no problem leaving her alone with him at times.

During one of these times, you were busy making several calls to different people and checking certain 'materials' that needed to be looked over to make sure it was what Jongho ordered. Having been satisfied that it was, you went back to the office and found Jongho and your daughter sitting across from each other, cards displayed in front of them.

When Jongho saw you, he smiled.

"Hello there Mrs. Choi." He'd often call you that just to tease you.

"Jongho, I swear if you are teaching my daughter poker or any card game-"

"Relax baby. We're actually just playing speed. I'm not dumb enough to teach a 3 year old girl any sort of those things. That's something Wooyoung or San would do." He interrupted you.

During his conversation with you, he didn't realize the little girl had already finished up all her cards, making her the winner. Jongho looked down at the 5 cards he still had left. He turned to you and frowned.

"See? Now you made me lose."

He sighed and looked at your daughter's smiling face. It was contagious and it made him smile as well.

"But since it's you I don't mind at all." He cooed at her, cupping her cheeks in the process.

He then turned to you.

"You however, it was your fault I lost. You should make it up to me." He said as he lifted your daughter in his arms as if she were only a feather.

You rolled your eyes.

"And how do you want me to make it up to you?"

Jongho smirked at you. Since the beginning, he had been asking you constantly to be his, and this time, it was no different.

"Say yes."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[aotopmha]

Attack on Titan in 2020

I've sort of dropped doing detailed chapter posts on the series because that type of writing wasn't very fun for me anymore and I have taken a liking to a bullet point kind of approach where I list the elements that stood out for me in the chapter or make a separate post for some specific topic I'd like to talk about in it.

I've started like 10 different posts to attempt to talk about AoT this year and I always end up with incoherent rambling because of all of the elements I'd love to to talk about.

This year's chapters were 125-135 and this year's episodes episodes 1-4 of season 4.

The anime episodes in particular have given me a lot of food for thought, so I'm just saying fuck it.

I think the biggest misstep of the story for me will forever be the fact that it decided to use fairly specific historical imagery.

The Eldians are clearly supposed to have allegorical equivalency with Jewish people, but the Jewish people were never the oppressors. There weren't any Jewish empires. That's conspiracy theory bullshit.

But on the other hand, the series clearly takes great effort to not stereotype any of the groups it's portraying and gives complex reasons for what both sides do. It's one of the few Japanese series that I've seen not stereotype Middle Eastern-coded people (Ramzi and Halil) or black people (Onyakapon). Everyone are people, it says. It even champions diversity:

(Chapter 118)

It is also very much true that a bunch of fascist states use long-term history as an excuse for their actions:

(Chapter 127)

Nation did X 2000 years ago therefore our conquest of them is justified.

This makes discussion about the series' themes like a minefield.

The people who are very critical about its imagery are right, but the people defending the series aren't wrong, either because it condemns all of those nasty ideas of conquest and hurting innocent people.

You can't have a more clear-cut condemnation of genocide:

(Chapter 127)

If you combine all of these details instead of zoning in on them one by one, to me what the story is saying is that *even if* all of that conspiracy bullshit is true, innocent people don't deserve to be slaughtered no matter the reason because they are still people who have their own feelings, thoughts and wishes.

The story clearly gets the baseline, but fumbles the details. I decided to look up some more discussion surrounding this these past few days and I just wish there was more good faith discussion about it. A lot of it feels like a moral superiority contest.

I think it's these kind of flawed stories that actually deserve detailed scruitiny over stories that are rotten to the core because they are *almost there*. Talking about them is a good topic starter in what to do and not to do in a story like this.

Speaking of rotten to the core, I think the absolute highlight of the chapters this year is Eren and some of the chapters this year finally gave me a pretty clear picture of what is going on with him.

Context from 123 certainly helps, though:

(Chapter 131)

This is about Eren's perspective. He can't accept the destruction of Paradis.

It's not that this solution was inevitable looking in from the outside (which is one of the interpretations I see around for Eren's actions), it's that *Eren* can't see any other way out of this except the most extreme because of all of the horrible things he has seen from the outside world. It is very similar to the way suicidal people can only focus on the negative.

You can tell them everything is going to be okay, but those words won't reach them because their mind won't let them and loops them back to those negative thoughts.

Eren can't see the ice cream or silly clowns. But he can see how the other Eldians in the league of Eldians are willing to push Paradis under the bus. He can see how Grisha's sister was killed. He can see how racist and cruel Marley is towards the Eldians in Liberio (and how the people have racist leanings towards other nations, too).

He can only see those bad things. But he also understands how everyone outside of the walls are human just as the people inside of the walls are.

So he is torn to pieces by guilt.

He doesn't want to do this, but he can't see any other solution.

This is why I also think he can't rob his friends of their agency. He is fighting for them to have a good future:

(Chapter 133)

(Chapter 131)

What really stood out to me on a revisit is that Eren considers himself much worse than Reiner.

I've seen criticism on how the story pushes the narrative of both sides being the same and this detail is really important to me because this is the story acknowledging that what Eren is doing is worse and gives all of the following exchanges about this the context of it being a similarity in principle.

Both sides have killed for what they think is right and have to deal with how they have killed people. This is such an important detail in the Uprising arc, too, where Erwin firmly acknowledged that overthrowing the government might not actually be the right choice by him. It was simply what he saw as right. On a narrative level this avoids absolute truths and preference of one character perspective over the other and once again makes it about individual perspectives.

The theme of individual perspectives is so ingrained in this story at this point in my eyes that it's another cornerstone in understanding what is going on with Eren to me.

I think it's great.

I also really appreciate Annie and what was done with her in this chunk of chapters.

(Chapter 127)

There has been this narrative going around that proposes that the story is in Eren's corner too much. But these chapters are nothing but questioning Eren and Annie is one of the main voices in this. It's the Marleyan girls, really and I think this is a very necessary part of making the narrative work. Once again, it separates the narrative and character perspective.

It says that the Paradis side caring is about character perspective, not what the narrative sides with and Annie is even sympathetic to Mikasa in that instance.

She gets it. Unexpectedly, I think Annie might play a bigger role in taking down Eren than expected. Her character arc about deciding to no longer go with the flow because she doesn't want any more tragedy to happen is basically calling for it.

(Chapter 128)

Another element I've seen brought up is the fact that nobody seems to address the Bert-sized elephant in the room, but some of our characters are certainly thinking about him.

This is such a thematically strong element and really interesting because Connie joined the military to make his mom proud and be a good soldier. This is the motivation behind his claim when he says they are going to save the world. But what does becoming a good soldier mean, exactly?

Well, apparently possibly gunning down people you care about.

This moment is so good because it's another moment where the idea of glory in war is taken down a peg.

The moment with Connie declaring they're going to save the world is so often criticised, but it is actually turned on its head in 128. There is no heroics in this. This is actually Connie's big "killing a person" moment because it strips away the final bit of comfort in killing in war, the excuse of killing for good moral reasons.

It is also a wonderful complex evolution of the series' themes. Trost was about fighting monsters. In the Female Titan and Clash of Titan arcs some of those monsters turned out to be human. In the Uprising, Return to Shiganshina and Marley arcs all of those monsters turned out to be human and here in the War of Paradis arc, everyone is human and the only separating system is what everyone views as right.

I really hope the anime will let this chapter breathe a little bit more.

Moving on, I guess it is time to address the rumbling.

I love it as a horror spectacle.

(Chapter 130)

And I really I think it needs to be non-CG when animated. CG is fine in spectacle battles, but not in horror settings because it is too clean.

The rumbling needs to be disgusting and dirty.

Chapter 132 gave me one of the few moments in which I truly cared about Levi. I think him telling Hange to dedicate her heart was a very good moment to cap off their relationship. He sent another SL commander to fulfill their duty.

The speech about hatred in chapter 134 also stood out to me. I think it definitely should be fitted in there somewhere in this, but I also see a bunch of criticism for it.

I want to point out that this is the side of present Marley talking here. It's the military dictatorship.

It's the Nazis. I think the Nazis should feel regret for exploiting innocent people and admit they're wrong.

I also like how the horrors here are undoing the brainwashing and showing the truth to the citizens.

I guess you could read it as heavy-handed, but it is also something that needs to be addressed and in principle, it's not wrong.

I'm also going to put a mention of Historia here. I've talked about how this is my biggest and most glaring problem with the series because of how thematically unfitting it feels, but I've also talked about it in many posts. I wanted to focus more on other stuff in this post.

So now, we make it back to chapter 135.

I think having stewed on it for a month now, I like the element of mindscrewing our cast with the Titans of the people they love is the strongest element of it. It's making them face their personal traumas and we also get some great character moments and payoffs from it.

Mikasa ended off the year in a very good note in my eyes.

Even this deep in the story, this chapter left me in a situation where I have no idea how things might turn out.

I might have rough ideas, but not anything specific and that's fun.

Well, this is it on my retrospective.

2021 is confirmed to be AoT's final year of publication as volume 34 is set to be the story's final volume.

Those who hate the story can finally be free of it and those who care for it, can look back on it with fondness and sadness and many other emotions and evaluate.

It's been 7 years for me. What a wild ride.

So, I'm asking everyone, what are some of your observations on AoT in 2020?

Is there anything you'd like to add or do you have any observations or counterarguments for anything I've said?

I'd be curious to see what everyone else thought of AoT in 2020!

[what-the-witch-stuff]

Allright. Elliott thread that nobody asked for. Part 4

The words you read seem to be some alien gibberish? Try these first:

Part 1   |    Part 2     |   Part 3      

Don’t worry guys. It will be over soon, I promise.

Bevore we start: This happened yesterday.

And I basically turned into that iCarly gif, where she’s on the Computer, sippin’ her drink and goes: interesting.

Because look who we have here. Our future husband acting all self-aware? Right after I assumed in my last post that he never talks about the possibility of his failure...

Elliott, do you know that I talk shit about you on Tumblr?

Please stop breaking the 4th wall...

To safe at least some of my ‘credibility’, he followed this up with something along the lines of:

“No, no...I am not fishing for compliments. Which does not mean I don't appreciate them ;) “.

Sure. Whatever.

In comparison to that:

A few in-game days previously, I had a cut-scene with Leah, where the player can suggest that she should organise an art show. And there, Leah openly communicated her fears of ppl not liking her art. I was surprised about how open she was, given that it was probably her 2nd heart event or something (?). It's interesting, how Leah (who I perceived to be more reserved than Elliott), was so willing to let us know about her insecurities. Meanwhile, Elliot seems to brush these thoughts aside rather quickly and returns to his nonchalant, graceful self.

I always thought that from the two of them, it might be Elliott who is more vocal about his emotions. But now, Elliott doesn't seem to wear his heart on his sleeves as much as I thought he would. Which changed the way I think about him quite a bit. Maybe he is more likely to hide behind platitudes and a self-assuring smile, after all.

And what can we take from this, when we would want to write, let’s say a scene with Leah/Elliott friendship dynamic?

What do you guys think?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyways, before I was so disgracefully exposed, I was roasting Elliott’s life choices. To which I now gladly return to.

You see, the "issue" I see with Elliott is, that he plays into a trope:

The brooding hermitic author, who turned his back onto society in favour of finding inspiration in nature.

While this might sound thrilling and "romantic", we know that Elliott is not the best candidate to conform to this lifestyle. Just compare, how we as the player, manage to form quite strong relationships with everyone in Pelikan Town just by talking to them regularly.

We see Elliott outside the beach-area quite often. But aside from Leah, he does not seem to interact with anyone much. I don't know if there are statements about Elliott made by other characters, to have some inkling on how they feel about him. But its quite remarkable, how all other friendships outside to his connection with Leah, are not explicitly known as canon (?).

After a whole year living in this town, previous to our arrival, I would suggest, that Elliott might still be very much an outsider. He even remarks how, with our arrival, it will be nice, to no longer be "the new guy" in town.

But the problem with that might have been Elliott's reservedness, to begin with. Polite, but yet, maybe, quite impersonal. All pleasantries and platitudes as mentioned above. It all plays into Elliott's refusal to experience the comforts of a normal lifestyle in favour of pursuing his art.

And I love how Elliott just brushes that aside as if its nothing. I'd really love to know: what would have been his plan b, if his debut failed?

Worst case cenario: What would he'd done, if he ended up stranded in Pelikan Town, penniless and unsuccessful?

Where would he go? Is there a place he can return to? A previous home, previous friends?

I don't think so.

But, dedicated, impuslive, sweet, dumb Elliott just thought to himself:

“I can do that. How bad can it be???, it will be fi~ne.It will be marvellous!

Authentic, truly!

It will be superb pictouresque and that is all I need to write my novel....”

Thanks Yoba. You’ll keep doing that please.

And then we also have interactions of the likes of:

“People have scaped a living off the sea for thousands of years....

I just go to the grocery store.”

A different thought I had on Elliott kind of plays into what I already said previously. But I will adress it as its own topic.

The downside of Elliott’s ego.

As much as we explored the rather whacky / chaotic elements of his character and how he does stupid shit for prestige itself, it is interesting to see what happens when the player challenges his self-dramatisation.

I keep re-thinking if and to what degree Elliott can laugh about himself.

He is not one for self-deprecating humour, I think.

I can imagine that to be more Shane’s thing.

We see different scenarios, in which Elliott reacts differently to things not going his way. One of the positives is the whole “A tiny crab made a home inside his coat pocket”- story. I have seen two interpretations of this scene. And both are dependent on the tone, in which you read his dialogue. One group thinks he is just complaining yet again.

On the other hand, you could read it more like:

“My, look what we have here. Can you believe that [y/name]?!“.

I think that Elliott does not appear to be angry or annoyed at all in that scenario, too. He could have vented to the player, how he needs a new coat, now.  But he simply leaves it at that. And you know what?

But, there are other times, where Elliott reacts negatively to the player not doing what he wants you to do. Meaning:  your reaction to him or your behaviour in a specific situation. Let's look at his 2nd (?) heart event at the Stardrop Saloon. He comes up to the bar, finds himself in the mood for company, and orders wine for you and ale for himself. 

New Headcanon:

That little crab still lives there! It will probably live there long after you two get married. And he will feed it scraps from the dinner table even though you ask him not to.

Whatever...Sounds Cute. 

My first reaction to that was: “aw, wHaT a GeNtLemAn!!!”. My second reaction was my inner feminist having a temper tantrum because: “how dare a man, to assume what I want to drink!” 

New Headcanon on Elliott and gender roles, anyone? Or is it given, that with him being a good old fashioned lover boy, his expectation on any relationship dynamic might be more traditional?

As much as I find Elliott charming and all, this could be a great red flag and, again, beautiful material for character-conflict. Maybe Elliott needs to learn to not take everything at face value. Maybe he needs to learn, how to take a joke. Especially those made at his expense.

However, when the question arises, what the two of you should drink on, he will not laugh if you say “your doom”.

This is not something he sees as sarcasm or as a joke. In fact, you lose 50 friendship points! Like holy shit. That in itself is not much, but its a game-penalty. He is actively reacting negatively toward you. This is one of the few times, where your decision actively has an impact on the friendship-metre. Of course, that statement could be delivered in a non-joking matter. Which then justifies his reaction.... sure.

But even the fact that Elliott chooses, to not downplay or gloss-over your comment, leaves me with the following interpretation:

He hoped for a charming, flirtatious interaction. All you had to do, was to play along. But you ruined it.

Just imagine a situation with a little bit of miss-communication and a version of Elliott that is a little too proud for his own good and *chef's kiss* we have drama.

Me to Elliott and Farmer-OC: fight! fight! fight! fight! :D

All of you reading right now:

omg can't you just chill??? We are here for the fluff :(((

Also: depending on how it's written, that could be one of Elliott's major character flaws. The one that is not cute at all!

__________________________

I wanted to take some jabs at Elliott's likes and dislikes. But as it turned out: Yes, you can turn Duck feathers into quills. I had this funny headcanon that Elliott wanted to be extra special by choosing duck feathers as his preferred writing instrument. And I was all like: “use a pen!!”.

But then I found out about the Unobtainable Weapons-List and Elliott’s pen is one of them. Okay, whatever. 

And then I asked google how to make quills. And while duck feathers are not the preferred or most popular option, there is also nothing that would speak against it, as long as the feather’s shaft is durable enough. So that theory has flown out of the window pretty quickly as well.

The only thing that comes to my mind instead is, how Elliott would still need a digital manuscript for publishing. But me screaming: “Where is your Laptop Elliott??? You need a computer! Its the 21 century!!!” is not half that funny anymore.

I guess I’ll end it here.

I hope you enjoyed this completely useless stream of consciousness.

I will now continue playing Stardew Valley and indulge in all my other quarantine-born obsessions.

I wish you a wonderful day and happy farming.

[nyerus]

Hi, nyerus.....If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite MXTX characters (top 5 from each novel)? And why? I'm sorry if you've answered this question before.

Thank you so much for asking! I would love to! (Apologies for the delay, and also for how long this is lol....)

TGCF

1.) Xie Lian: I could write forever about why I love him, but XL is just a really great character who subverted my expectations. He's gentle and compassionate, but also funny and snarky on the inside. His character arc is the classic hero's journey but told out of order. So we meet him when he's already wise and world-weary, then get to see what he was like before, and how he finishes his journey later on. He's extremely inspiring, to show that our choices and our actions are what make us, and ultimately no one can take those from us.

2.) Hua Cheng: This is no surprise! I also just adore HC for being a very intense character! He's completely devoted to XL and that zealotry is very unique in a character. He's 100%, not 50, not 75. While he has a lot of relateable aspects, this part of him is utterly fantastical, on the level only myth and fable can achieve--which tracks. After all, he isnt a Ghost King for nothing. In the story, he is the embodiment of the purest devotion, no strings attached.

3.) He Xuan: I actually like him for the same reasons as HC! He too is a walking fable, only instead of devotion, he represents vengence. (They're actually like foils of each other, which is quite neat.) I really adore his arc, and how murky his whole character is. It tells a cautionary tale of how sometimes, our worst enemy--the one who makes us most miserable--is often ourselves. SWD wronged him greviously, but HX's obsession with vengence ultimately prevented him from getting the peace and recompense he wanted in the end. Absolutely stellar storytelling.

4.) Mei Nianqing: While I often question his motives and methods, he is still a really good character. Caught between wanting to be a mentor and protector to XL, but still loving (platonically or romantically, that's up to you) JW. He's the only father figure in XL's life that actually took him seriously, even if he did have to come around to it. But ultimately, he was proud of who XL became even before he ascended. He was just terrified of XL drawing the attention of the one man he shouldn't--and did. However his belief in superstition and fear of Hong Hong-er also makes sense, even if it's sad. MNQ is also just a quirky and fun dude lol.

5.) Mu Qing: I really like how complicated and murky MQ's is in terms of his inner turmoil. I'm somewhat similar to him in the way he thinks, and it's real work not to make things worse for myself by expecting the worse. His background makes him naturally suspicious of... basically everyone, all the time, and it's honestly understandable. Ultimately, he does understand that you can't make assumptions about people's intentions by projecting your own insecurities onto them--which I think is something everyone can relate to. I really like his subtle journey of self-realization and self-forgiveness, and he ends up far better for it.

MDZS

1.) Lan Wangji: I love the fact that LWJ was just so ready to Night Hunt himself to death upon the loss of his beloved. As you can tell, I really like complicated characters who have extreme traits, haha! That being said, I just also really like his stoicism and reliability.

2.) Wei Wuxian: Naturally, it's hard not to love WWX! He decided "yeah maybe the ends do justify the means" and went for it. To us, he is the hero. To the regular people of the world? Whose ancestors were dug up and disturbed to be used by the Yiling Laozu? His blackened reputation is not without cause! (Like... JGY literally has done more positive and helpful things for regular people than Wangxian, but those metas already exist lol.) Once again, his gray morality is what makes him so damn good, and can be debated at length!

3.) Jiang Cheng: JC gets a bad rep, but oh boy he doesn't make things easy for himself at all. However if I was in his position, I probably would be much worse off. He lost EVERYTHING, and still trudged on because there were people who depended on him. His hatred of the Wens also makes sense in the context that... that's often how humans react to and process extreme trauma. We find something to blame and *waves at literally every major conflict since the dawn of time.* (His rumored torture of innocent people due to that is reprehensible, of course, but given that MDZS is a book about how rumors can make or break someone's life... we should take that line with a grain of skepticism, much like all other hearsay.) He's not typically the type of character I like, but I found him really interesting to read.

4.) Jiang Yanli: I really love JYL, who decided to be the emotional backbone of her family from the time she was a child. It was an undue and extremely heavy burden to bear, but she did all of it without complaint. That's strength. I think many elder siblings can relate to her having to step up and be the third parent, when the actual adults fail at it.

5.) Wen Qing: I really like her arc in the novel, where she makes some of the hardest decisions anyone will ever have to make, over and over and over again. I don't typically love very "rough" characters, but she has ever right to be that way (and it makes sense for her character, and isn't just a tacked-on character trait like hair color or eye color in a CC), and honestly I want to marry her very seriously.

SVSSS

1.) Luo Binghe: Probably the most misunderstood main character of all of MXTX's works. LBH is neither truly a crybaby nor is he a ruthless maniac. He's right in the middle, in the valley of misanthropy. And yet, he knows just how to use his charisma to get his way. Cunning and devious, intelligent and ruthless. Meanwhile, he craves love and intimacy--something he could only ever dream of.

2.) Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan): Extremely refreshing to see an transmigrator know how to handle transmigration almost flawlessly. (Me reading/watching other works with this trope and wanting to tear my hair out at the protags = me sympathizing on a personal level with SQQ.) This also proves to be SQQ's fatal flaw!! His knowledge of the novel is both a boon and a obstacle to him, and prevents him from understanding the other characters as people until he lets go of his pre-conceived notions. And of course, his snarky as heck inner dialogue is amazing.

3.) Liu Qingge: I don't actually even know why I love LQG as much as I do. He's just neat.

4.) Tianlang-Jun: Honestly same goes for TLJ. He's just great though, and I have a blast reading about him. He wanted to see the good in humanity, and ultimately comes around after writing them off.

5.) Yue Qingyuan: He's a fascinating character. Harmless on the outside, but a quagmire on the inside. His love for Shen Jiu was quite... problematic, in that he saught forgiveness from SJ, without actually ever taking the time to understand him or to make amends. Patronizing and judgemental, yet willing to let SJ get away with literally anything because of his own unresolved turmoil, etc etc. Fascinating.

[yuthoe]

Day 22: Reunion (MONSTA X: Yoo Kihyun)

TODAY'S LATE PROMPT FOR MTM IS:

Day 22: Fake Dating

ah yes, one of the favorite tropes in fanfic and i did not do it justice at all lmao. truthfully i was really excited about this, but the fic took a left somewhere and grew its own mind or smth. i think the poor writing is a combination of burnout and getting really distracted lmao.

tried to make kihyun the savage guy that he is, but still polite and considerate and i think i did that???? question mark???? please tell me what you thought about this lmao, i've never been to a high school reunion (except for my grandma's) and will never go to one anytime soon.

PAIRING: Yoo Kihyun x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff, mild angst. WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, swearing. WORD COUNT: 1,769.

---

“Act natural,” you say as you smooth down the lapels of your friend’s coat, dust some lint off the shoulders. “Like, just act like normal. We just have to say hi to a few people and then go after an hour or something.”

Kihyun is looking you over as well, straightening out the sleeves of your shirt and making sure your hair is nice and styled and perfect. “I’m taking that as a go signal to tease you in front of everyone then, gotcha.”

You roll your eyes and take his hand, tugging him towards the glass door of the events hall. “Very funny, but you know what? These people might buy it even more, so go ahead.”

He intertwines your fingers as he pushes the door open for you. There’s a smirk on his face that says you’re going to regret what you just said. “If you say so," he says, as you pull him along with you.

Everything is decorated like a senior prom from the early 2000s--balloons everywhere, streamers hung up on the walls, a disco ball suspended in the middle of the room. There's a stage set up at the far wall, and popular tracks from your high school days play softly on the sound system. People are already mingling, table hopping when they see a familiar face.

You go to the small registration booth off to the side, Kihyun in tow, and sign on the space next to your name, walking away quickly to find a table. It's easy to weave through the thin crowd to your spot, and thankfully no one goes up to talk to you as you settle in.

A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you deflate against the seat; Kihyun chuckles at the sight.

"Why are you so nervous? You were so confident when you asked me out,” he says, smirking at your flustered state.

“Hey,” you counter, sitting up straight and pointing at him. There’s a smile of embarrassment threatening to crawl up your face, but you force it down. “This isn’t a date. I didn’t ask you out—I respectfully asked if you could come with me to my high school reunion and pretend we’re dating. There’s a difference.”

He tilts his head and laughs. “Okay, fine, this isn’t a date. But you’re shaking like a hamster, dude. What’s got you so jittery?”

Before you can open your mouth to say something smart, a yell of your name behind you makes you stop. Suddenly a flurry of pink silk ruffles envelops you, cold metal bracelets press against your face and neck, and a tinnitus-inducing squeal is blasted in your ear.

“OMG, I can’t believe you made it!” The offending classmate plops down the seat beside you and… you can’t say you remember her. You know you have a questionable memory, but you can’t recall anyone with a scarily-toothy smile and long acrylic nails. “I was wondering if you were gonna show today, I missed you!”

You smile warily. “Yeah, I thought I’d stop by, just for a bi—,”

“And who is this with you?” she interrupts, gaze fixed on your friend now.

Kihyun still has a polite smile on, eyebrow raised and patiently waiting for you to introduce him. You meet his eyes and take a steadying breath.

“This is, uh. Kihyun. My boyfriend.”

Your batchmate immediately extends a hand out to him. “Hi there! I’m Danhee. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Kihyun grasps her hand and shakes it firmly. “Likewise.”

Danhee (apparently, that’s her name. Still doesn’t ring a bell.) turns back to you, props an elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand. “So what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you say, twiddling your thumbs under the table. “Work’s keeping me busy, mostly. It’s pretty—,”

“Great! How’d you two meet?” Her eyes are sparkling, in that menacing way you’re familiar with when someone is hunting for gossip. “Probably work, right? I know Y/N isn’t that outgoing so I doubt—,”

“You know what, I’m gonna go get a drink.” You turn to Kihyun, desperate to get away. “You want a drink, Kihyun? Cool, I’ll get you something.” The chair screeches as you push away from the table and make a beeline for the buffet.

The air conditioning helps cool down your flaming face as you leave to get some reprieve from the suffocating air of the table. No matter how much you wrack your brain you can’t seem to remember anyone named Danhee; maybe she was in another class and part of the popular clique, a group you tended to stay away from.

You take a deep breath, surveying the array of finger food and wonder briefly what the main dishes are. The arrangement is no different from the ones you’ve seen at company parties—save maybe for the small picket signs that have slang from your high school days speared into some of the food. Despite looking delicious, you feel nauseous at the thought of taking a bite.

The drinks corner offers coffee, the kind that tries to pass off as Americano but ends up tasting more like candy because people keep putting too much sugar in it. It’s what you and Kihyun call “conference coffee” and shit on for the entirety of the conference you’re attending, even as you keep drinking it because there’s usually no other choice. Water is an option, as well as a fruit punch of some kind. If you’re being honest, you’d really like a beer right now, but you know the alcohol won’t come out until later.

In addition to the mound of paperwork you forced yourself to finish earlier, this week has just been plain exhausting. You’d hoped that coming to the reunion would help you relax, but apparently not.

Ice cubes clink as they go down the tall glasses. The coffee, however sugary it turns out to be, still smells heavenly and wakes you up some. You water both servings down a bit, if only to tamp down the syrupy sweetness.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. Kihyun moves into your line of vision, brows slightly scrunched. “You okay there?”

You don’t answer, thinking of words to say that won’t make you look pathetic in front of your work partner. You’re usually great at explaining and justifying your actions to your superiors, but words fail you this time.

So you just shrug and hand him his drink. “Can’t say for sure.” You take a sip and cringe; your mouth feels like it’s coated in a thick layer of sugar. Kihyun watches you and decides wisely to put his drink down, but pours two glasses of water.

“Do you know her?” he asks, concentrating on the drinks.

“Danhee? Nah. I mostly avoided her type back then. Being around them made me uncomfy.”

“‘Cuz she looks like a part of the Plastics from Mean Girls?”

You scoff. “No,” you say, but smile all the same as you walk back to your table. “Because I was a loner and operated on the mindset of ‘I’m not like other girls’ throughout high school.”

Kihyun laughs loud. “God, I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” You sigh as you sit back down. “Thankfully outgrew that in college, though. Turns out being surrounded with a lot of open-minded people does something to your personality, and,” you open your arms, presenting yourself to Kihyun’s amused smile. “Now you have me, your beloved hardworking partner that throws snark at you everyday.”

If anything, his grin gets wider. Kihyun raises his glass of water, and you toast. “I’m proud of you for becoming so mature.” He takes a drink, making faces like he’s downing whiskey instead of regular water. “Although, apparently not mature enough to just ask me out plain and simple.”

You want to strangle him, you really do.

He’s right, though. Part of the reason why you invited him as your plus one is for moral support and to show people that the wallflower can also nab a man as great as Kihyun. But the other reason is that you’ve wanted to ask Kihyun on a date, but just didn’t know how to without embarrassing yourself.

You sigh and take a swig of your water. “Yeah, well, can you blame me, though? We always keep professional at work and I barely see you outside the building, so I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask.” You’re not lying—Kihyun being here is only possible because you left the building at the same time last week and asked him then before you chickened out.

He tilts his head in assent and takes another sip before crossing his arms on the table to whisper at you. “How about we make this a date, then?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling like you can’t believe he suggested such a ridiculous thing. “What—here? My high school reunion that I only invited you to because I didn’t want to be alone?”

And maybe it’s the trick of the light, but you think you see his eyes go soft. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but we’re here anyway. There’s free food, shitty coffee, and some entertainment.” He tilts his head to the stage, and you follow his gaze to where a couple of your batchmates are discussing something, mics in their hands. “Whether it’s the good kind of entertainment or the cringy kind though, we’ll find out soon,” you hear him whisper.

In theory, you have nothing to lose. Nothing really to hide. Perhaps the worst part of the night passed when you had that panicked moment with Danhee earlier, and all that’s left is to enjoy the night. You can still leave in an hour or two like you planned, but now with a higher chance of getting a few drinks afterwards, too.

So you make your decision and look back at him. “All right, Yoo Kihyun,” you say. “You’ve got yourself a date.”

His smile morphs into a smirk, the trademark confident grin making a small shudder run down your spine. You try to keep your composure as he slides a hand to your thigh. “Perfect. Wanna bet you’ll last an hour before you want to leave?” His fingers are massaging your knee, soft hands gentle on the meat of your thigh.

You scoff, grabbing at his hand to make him stop. “Deal. I’ll bet you an hour and a half.”

And before you turn your attention back to the stage, you see his smirk again, excited for the challenge.

[rethesun]

Harry Styles does not queer bait

If you hate long posts and don’t want to read click this for the shortest and only version you'll ever need.  

https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/wx57ex/harry-styles-queerbaiting

I'm glad I've been on the right side of things the entire time. I never accused Harry Styles of queer baiting ever, and I often defend him in the same way I would any individual. I partially disagree with the article because they say only fantasy/art can queer bait. Maybe I misunderstood them, but I don't see it that way alone. Do you know who queer baits? Large corporations that go all out for pride month & films that have obnoxiously stereotyped queer characters. We need to retire the idea of individuals queer baiting unless they have 100% said they are hetero. If you don't know for sure, then you can't claim queer baiting because then you're assuming that someone has to come forth as straight in some way and that straight/cis is the default. Queer people are under no obligation to announce themselves.

More: In Harry's last Guardian interview, he repeats his sentiment that his personal identity is not something he is currently putting up for discussion in the press. He questions the press' desire to know about pop stars' sexuality: 

Interviewer: You mean, why ask the question? 

Harry: Yeah, I think I do mean that. It's not like I'm sitting on an answer, and protecting it, and holding it back. It's not a case of: I'm not telling you cos I don't want to tell you. It's not: ooh this is mine and it's not yours. 

I do not speak for everyone in the LGBTQ+ community: The above extract from the guardian interview is why I'm not pressuring myself to label my sexuality for now/maybe forever or decide to come out as unlabeled. Whether with any intention or not, Harry has softened barriers for some things to feel less taboo/daunting. Most of us do not want to subject ourselves to different treatment, especially if it's negative. Not all of us have the privilege to do so either. 

I agree, it is not justifiable, and he's right to question them. Being open to everyone isn't easy. Now imagine yourself no less human than right now, but add millions of eyes on you. It's insensitive to assume about someone when they could be doing their best/what is comfortable—please let's stop invalidating what we don't understand.

Even More: When you are straight/cis, you have it simple. You don’t have any pressure or fear and nor do you have to conform or ask yourself if you need to come out. If you do want to share for any reason, you just say you're straight/cis because there is no backlash and everyone moves on. Harry has never said such a thing. Straight people flaunt their sexuality everywhere every day and then said straight people dare to question and complain about queer people's self-expression. Queer people do not demand or feel entitled to personal information about straight/cis people. Note: Heteronormativity is not the default; it's just the conditioned and performative norm. Harry has always indicated queerness and exploration of that. Gender is fluid, and so is sexuality, but many people are not ready for that either. To explore is 100% valid, and anyone who says no to that is trying to control something very personal. After all these years of being a fan, if you are still confused, maybe you weren't paying attention to H, or perhaps we are meant to be confused, or perhaps we all see what we want to see, and maybe I am wrong. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter because it's no one's business. Remember that last line. I'll come back to it. 

I would never want to be one of the people who pressure someone to conform or share their personal journey in the way I see fit. I would never be angry until someone made things official as if things need to be official for something and someone to be valid. Note again: They don't. To go from annoyance and harsh judgment to suddenly sweet praises such as, 'I'm so proud of so and so' that makes my heart sink and my stomach turn.

Further: On the whole, people should not have to feel pressure to share their sexuality/gender or whole life story (btw not to say we don't care, we are more than open to listening and care about it) for "fans" to have empathy for them in the first place. Then here they are sharing some things and getting invalidated by people again. Sigh, not everyone is meant to like or understand you and that’s okay, but there is no need to be disrespectful. I digress. Recap: Sexuality and gender is a personal thing no one else can have power over. For those that expect a definitive statement from queer people, here's a news flash, sometimes people change their minds before and after sharing such personal things. If someone's sexuality, gender identity, or choice to be open and transparent about it is vital to your judgment of them and whether you will stick around, I'm sorry, but that is conditional, and therefore you prefer the idea of someone. Further, people are allowed to not share until they are ready or never share at all. Anyone who doesnt relinquish the fantasy that they have a say or don’t show grace and instead act entitled for others in this simple sense worries me more than a little bit. 

Final thoughts: What Harry does do is remain vague and leave things up for interpretation. Not only does that keep prejudice or conservative/religious fans from removing their loyalty cards, his image remaining malleable. Allowing Harry to make changes as he sees fit and feels like doing without adding pressure or explaining himself to anyone who doesn't have access to his privacy. That is valid. If that is queer baiting to you, you are missing the point entirely, and you don't know the definition of queer baiting. However, it’s understandable and valid if people get confused and/or feel some ways. I resonate with this entirely.

Now, what kind of person would want to be vague for the sake of prejudiced friends? In my mind, vagueness won't make real friends. However, fans ≠ friends, that is the catch. To make it far in this business as someone big and serious, sometimes you have to appeal to a broader demographic, so vagueness is advised as necessary. Hypothetically, if you were in that position as an artist, you could go the Zayn route by telling people off (mad respect) or going the standard way by being inclined to vagueness, which sometimes turns into a slow transition to transparency as the artist feels more carefree/gains more respect over the years. (understandable)

[an-annyeoing-writer]

Chanyeol x Reader: a day from humble slave’s life. [+18]

Word count: ~5k 

Warnings: s*xual themes, slavery, objectification, minor fat shaming. Please, don’t mistake this with non-con, for it’s not, but if you feel like an impression may trigger you too, simply don’t read it.

This is a fantasy. As much as I tried to portray Chanyeol’s personality accordingly, it has little to do with how I see him as a person, and - especially - with who he really is. Nonetheless, this is NOT meant to insult anyone.

The story was originally a birthday gift for my friend, and therefore, Reader’s age is specified and it’s also mentioned to be her birthday - forgive me that ^_^

7 A.M.

Even before your eyes open, the first streak of consciousness is how you welcome the world.

It’s not going to be a good morning, you think at first; your eyes are sticky as soon as you try to pry them open, your muscles ache, your hair is a mess. How disgraceful, you think. You can’t show yourself to the world like this. Thank God for the attached bathroom.

Look pretty, you were once told, that’s all you can do well.

The words, back then, didn’t sound half as appreciative as you considered them now. But with time, they became a motto, a goal, a purpose. They did say that you’re not good for anything else, but they also said you’re good at this one thing.

Look pretty for the one who deserves it. Whatever your Owner shall want to do with your body, you shall obey.

And if He doesn’t say anything, if He doesn’t even look at you, living His life as if you didn’t exist, then the least you can do is be pretty as to not offend Him: you owe Him your best quality, after all.

The shower is over, the make-up done, the clothes, selected carefully, wrapped around your silhouette as to expose what’s the best in it. The corset is so tight it hurts. But it’s worth it if that’s what He wants.

Off to eat a breakfast. The corset’s gonna get even worse after you eat, but that’s also the price you agree to pay. Eat, to stay healthy: not stuff yourself, not pleasure yourself with sweets. Eat to stay healthy and not cause Him any problems, so that your body stays in the best shape. He expects no less.

He’s there, you realize with surprise. He doesn’t stay around too often and usually doesn’t eat the breakfast at home. But He’s there, sitting in the dining room. Someone is serving Him a breakfast: one of many others, men and women, that He owns. They’re useful, you think. They can cook, they can keep the house clean.

All you can do, is to look pretty.

So you bow deeply as soon as you see Him, and when His gaze finally meets yours, you kneel on the floor next to the door, eyes on the ground as to not annoy Him, letting Him enjoy the sight of what He owns. It probably looks weird, you think, a woman kneeling on the floor with other people around, not an intimate situation at all – she’s not His lover, after all, just a property.

You don’t know if He looks at you, but your posture is perfect as if He did.

When He stands up and goes to the door, you dare not to look up.

When He’s right next to you, His fingers find your lips and put a small chocolate on your tongue, a token of approval; the chocolate is so, so good that you melt in its taste, and you take as much of it as you can, playing with it in your mouth long after He leaves without a word.

*

10 A.M.

Everyone knows, more or less, what’s His job: the exact crimes remain unknown, though, and His secrets stay safe: no one in the house would ever dare to spread them around. And it’s not like it’d be easy to do, either – only some of you are allowed to leave the house in the first place, and you’re not one of these. There’s no reason for you to leave, anyway, since everything you’d need: cosmetics, clothes – there’s nothing more you’d need, right? – other people only give you, and you’re given the exact things that suit His taste, no room for you to do wrong. There’s no reason to give Him surprises, either: you’re like a product, a window’s curtains that are changed to their owner’s liking, not picked randomly in a shop, but chosen by what he likes and what suits the rest of the house.

Your dress now is made of the same purple fabric as sofas in the living room when you’re called over and enter the spacious room with huge windows; a few familiar faces sit in various places all around – not your friends by any means, but people you just saw here before.

“Are you, for real?” one of them says. Your Owner laughs in response.

“See for yourself, Xing” He answers and motions you over.

A small movement of His fingers, a signal you’ve been taught long ago.

On your knees, it says, and you instantly catch the cue, a bit nervous at first, glancing at the stranger’s face just to make sure he’s alright with it: out of pure politeness, because you know that even if he didn’t like it, you’d still do it – it’s not him you’re here to obey, after all.

You don’t ask questions as you unzip his jeans, all the modesty gone as your lips wrap around his cock, as casually as it’d be to hand him a glass of water, no objections: you’re so good, so obedient.

You glance to your side with your eyes slightly blurry from tears. You see an amused, but content smile on your Owner’s face and that’s all the motivation you need to grow bolder, to suck harder. Your throat is not so good just yet, it still needs to get better, you realize, and you choke yourself on the man’s length, punishing yourself for not being good enough. It amuses them. You feel their eyes on you, a quiet sound of someone taking a photo, tears run down your face, your makeup smudged, your hair messy from where the man grabbed it, holding onto it as he set a righter pace for you to follow.

When he cums, you hold still. You swallow what you’re given.

“Thank you, sir” you say in a rough voice, your throat strained. The man smiles at you kindly, and you can’t help but smile back.

You know better than to ignore your Owner any longer though, and you turn to face Him, still on your knees of course, eyes on His shoes.

“Look at me” He instructs. You obey.

He stares at you with a smirk.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” you reply honestly.

“You can go. Don’t interrupt us.”

Your duty is fulfilled. It feels so good to be useful.

*

1 P.M.

You’ve been sitting in your bathtub for what feels like hours, but it’s okay, it feels good, the water stays warm, your bathroom is so luxurious you can’t help but savor every minute of having access to it: not owning it, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Everything in this room belongs to Him: the tub with heating system, the thick walls, the expensive cosmetics and the softest towels, and, of course, you.

How much do you love to be owned? He asked you once: do you like where you are, what you are?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you just say that to please me?

I mean it, sir.

Do you, really? Come here, then. Show me how grateful you are. Let your mouth convince me, but not with words.

It felt intimate, to be allowed so close to the one you looked up to. Being allowed to please Him was a blessing, and you wished you’d do it more often, but never dared to ask: you’re too low to demand His attention, so even if He was to say no, it’d be a waste of His precious time to consider your plea in the first place.

So instead, you savored every moment He allowed you, as much as you savored the memory of His small groans, the way He relaxed under your fingers, leaning back in His armchair and not even looking at you, but clearly enjoying this little paradise His humble slave served Him. Oh, how well He trained you, you know just what to do to make Him feel good. He deserves the best of you for He’s the one who gave it to you in the first place.

The memory sends a pleasant tingling down to your core and your fingers instinctively reach down, willing to relieve yourself.

But you stop yourself halfway.

You’re not meant for receiving pleasure, stupid, you remind yourself. There’s a smile on your lips at the thought. You’re good, you won’t do this, it’s not something He’d enjoy knowing of, and therefore there’s no reason to do it.

You choose to stay desperate and you’re proud of this choice.

There’s knocking on your room’s door.

“[F/n]? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Come out, I have something for you!”

“Ah, five minutes!” you call back.

“I’ll wait, then!”

You choose to rest just a little bit longer. She can wait, you decide. The water is just too warm.

*

1:30 P.M.

“Seriously, I thought you died in there” are the first words you hear upon leaving the bathroom. Your friend seems annoyed and it’s, truthfully, justified. But then her face brightens up. “Ah, look, I’ve got something good!”

She has boxes with various types of food sprawled over your bed, variety of tastes, mostly healthy, but some sweets as well, and these are mainly things you haven’t tasted in ages since you didn’t really consider yourself worthy of such luxury.

But then, you haven’t seen her lately, you missed her: she always brings something good to share, either be it food or jewelry you can wear for some time before returning it. These are little breaks in your routine, small pieces of something different than you usually experience. It’s good to recall how usual, human life looks like, even if you’re back to your own usual self soon later.

You notice a new, leather collar wrapped around her neck. You feel like you’d look good in one if you had it, too. Your Owner just never thought of idea as such, but who knows, maybe He’ll see her and decide it’s a good one? You can always hope for it.

“What’s that?” you ask, picking a random box. It smells good, sea-like.

“I have completely no idea, but it tastes good” she replies, stuffing her face with some vegetables she holds with sticks. You learned already that as much as she likes food, she never uses her brain to memorize any dish names. It’s not like she has too much brain to begin with, so who cares, anyway. She’s not a cook, but a slave like you, a different kind, but just as devoted and happy with her place. “Ah, try this.” She fetches some sort of candy and puts it by your lips, reminding you briefly of what happened this morning. You take the candy, it melts in your mouth almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her lips are on yours instead, and you taste the pepper with cinnamon she just ate; it’s a strange connection, but it tastes good, and, somehow, it suits the candy’s flavor still present on your tongue.

You feel stiff at first, but quickly melt into the sensation. You weren’t caressed like this in ages, your mouth has only one purpose on daily basis; it feels nice. Her hand is soon on your breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of your silk bathrobe. She doesn’t wait long before pushing the fabric off you, your fresh and clean body, exposed to the air, getting still hotter with every passing second.

The door creaks and you two finally part; your eyes are on the man that stands in the door frame, his eyebrows raised at your friend as she lets out an awkward laugh.

He rolls his eyes, only half-amused with what he just saw.

“We’re going home” he says sternly. Then, without bidding you a good-bye, she gets off the bed and runs to him, and soon, you’re left alone. You didn’t even notice that your robe was off all this time.

But at least you get to keep the food, right?

*

5 P.M.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He doesn’t invite you over for dinner often, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible. Yet, your stomach is still full – it wasn’t a wise choice to eat that much at once. You feel like you will blow up if you eat a gram more of the pork in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, I ate earlier” you explain yourself. It’s not a reply that satisfies Him, but He doesn’t pry, and you hope that He will just brush it off.

“Eat.”

You don’t object, you know you can’t. Your stomach is so full you want to throw up. You take a bit of the pork and slowly munch on the meat, hoping that it’ll become more bearable with time. You don’t want to stretch your stomach like this, you’ll feel hungry more often, and what will He say if you gain weight?

You have to endure.

“What did you eat?” He asks.

“Quinoa with vegetables, fish, oats with milk, candy” you answer truthfully. There were some other funny combinations that you consumed, but you decide these are the essentials.

“Hmm, that sounds like a lot. What if you get fat?” He asks calmly.

“I, uh… I don’t think it’s possible if it’s just one time” you try to state so as humbly as possible, but you feel like no matter what you said, it wouldn’t sound good. Maybe you should have apologized instead? Asked Him to be merciful?

“Are you trying to argue with me?”

“No, sir” you answer instantly, your face showing fear at the thought; you wouldn’t dare, no, never. He seems to see it, the way you shiver at the accusation, and He smiles. You’re relieved. You know that He may punish you, that He may use it as opportunity to give you pain, and even tell you that you deserve it – to not feel bad about doing it to you. However, knowing that it’ll give Him satisfaction, that He won’t do it because He’s authentically mad at you, but just wants to play with His toy, is what makes you happy and excited for what’s to come.

For now, at least.

“I thought so” He just says and goes back to His meal.

Just as He told you to, you continue to eat your portion, trying to stuff yourself as much as possible, knowing that your stomach will hurt even more, and thanking God for not wearing the corset any longer.

“On your knees” He suddenly says when you’re almost done. You don’t object, you do as you’re told. “Crawl there” He motions you to sit nearby, not too close to him, off the rug and on the cold panels, hard under your knees.

He leans chin on His hand, watching you, almost bored.

“Make yourself vomit.”

You swallow your saliva nervously and glance up at Him, hoping that He’s just joking, testing your reactions. His face doesn’t change though, and, as you hesitate, His eyebrows raise in doubt. Will you do it? Will you humiliate yourself as a punishment? Will you ruin yourself once again, not through sex, but through being genuinely disgusting in front of Him?

Will He even like it? How could He enjoy such sight? Won’t He feel sick, since He barely just ate? Is it really what He wants?

“What are you waiting for? Did you not understand me? Or should I go over there and push my own fingers down your throat? That’d be so gross. You don’t want me to dirty my hands, do you?”

You quickly shake your head. Of course, no, He doesn’t need to do something that disgusting. You’ll do it, you can do it.

You push your fingers into your throat until you feel the food go back, and you close your eyes tightly, throwing up all over the floor, sensing it dirty your legs, but refusing to look at it. It feels disgusting, painful, the acidic sensation in your mouth making you want to throw up again.

“Look at me.”

You obey. Your face is still twisted in disgust and He watches you, almost unmoved with the scene that just unfolded.

“Gross. Wash the floor, and yourself. Can’t keep it clean today, can you?” He snorts. “I’m not hungry anymore” He announces suddenly, then stands up and exits the room, leaving you on your knees among your own vomit, allowing you to dwell on your pathetic, miserable self.

You sit there, breathing heavily for what feels like an hour at least.

Then you stand up, still dirty, and still disgusting, probably stinking, too.

And for some reason, it feels good, because you just did what He told you to, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than listening to your Owner’s commands, no matter how destructive and unpleasant would they be, and how unwanted and unattractive they would make you seem.

*

8 P.M.

You lie in your bed, exhausted. Your skin feels dry from all the washing today, especially since you spent so long in the tub earlier. You have your thin robe back on, and your eyes are getting sticky from how tired you are, so you close them and let your body relax. That’s so good, that’s so comfortable.

You don’t know how long you lie there, drifting off despite the early hour, before something rouses you out of the blissful state. You open your eyes and look around: the room is empty, lamps still off, but some of the street light entering through the windows allows you to see the surroundings rather clearly, especially since your eyes already accustomed with the darkness.

And said surroundings are quiet and empty, but your instinct tells you that you should get up just because, and you choose to listen to it: you’re not that tired anymore, you got a bit of rest and this day is far from over.

You stand up and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, its soft light brightening up the whole room, although not too intensely.

The door suddenly opens and a woman speaks to you from the corridor.

“Master wants to see you. Go to his room. Hurry.”

With that, she leaves, and you’re dumbstruck for a few seconds. You quickly realize your mistake: it’s not the time for you to be slow or hesitate. Whatever He wants, you’re here to deliver. It surprises you, though, He never makes requests like such. You wish to know if you should change into something more elegant, more suitable, just in case He’s not alone – the bathing robe exposes a bit too much and you’re worried that He wouldn’t appreciate it right now. Yes, more precise instructions would be appreciated.

But with what you’ve got, all you know is that you should hurry. You don’t take nor change anything, then, only making sure your hair looks presentable – the makeup is already gone, but it will have to stay this way – you fix the belt of your robe, too, not wanting it to slip by accident since you have nothing underneath.

You get up and go. You know where to go, although His room and yours are a few corridors apart – the mansion is big and you need to pass through all the most important places to get there, including the door to one of the living rooms and other servants’ bedrooms.

You knock on the door after a short hesitation: not too quiet, not too loud – it’s hard to measure, you rarely ever knock on any door, not to mention the door to His very bedroom.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

The bedroom is not that much larger than yours, but it seems more personal – there are souvenirs, ornaments, belongings that you don’t get to own, things that prove He owns this place.

And then He’s there: in sweatpants and nothing else, droplets of water randomly running down His back where He didn’t dry them with a towel, or where they slipped from His wet hair. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for long though, because He grabs a shirt and pulls it over His head, and you lower your gaze, realizing that staring probably wouldn’t be approved.

“Bend over the table” He instructs, still not looking at you. He walks around the room and enters the attached bathroom, doing all these small evening things: skincare routine, perfumes that seem to help Him sleep and so on. You stand where you were told to, trying to stop yourself from peeking curiously; it takes Him a few minutes of completely ignoring your presence before He finally sighs and turns to you.

He stands behind you, out of your sight. There’s a silence for a few moments before He suddenly pulls on your robe and throws its lower part over your upper back, exposing your behind. His hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you lower, pressing you against the table’s surface. You don’t flinch.

“Spread your ass” He says, and you obediently move your hands to your cheeks; it feels awkward at first, the air hitting your most private parts, although you know already, there’s no private, and all of you belongs to Him only, all of you is for Him to see, judge and use. “More.”

It almost hurts and you wish you knew what exactly He sees back there; but you don’t. He doesn’t touch you, and a part of you wishes He did – you crave His touch, but you’re aware of your place, you learned to act accordingly.

You jump slightly when He unceremoniously pries your pussy open with His fingers, your hands tremble slightly – it feels so good, His fingers feel so good you could come just from feeling them on you, no matter where, really.

“I heard it’s your birthday today” He says suddenly. His two fingers dive into you and you struggle to keep your composure; your thoughts fly away before you manage to form them into an answer. He pulls His fingers out, spreading your apparent wetness all over your folds. “Is it true?” The touch disappears for a moment and you finally get a chance to breathe.

“Y-yes, sir” you force out.

“I see.”

His fingers are back there, rubbing you slowly a few times, as if checking for any deformations – of course there are none, but He checks nonetheless.

“What’s your age now?” He asks. You wonder if He really doesn’t know, it’s not like He has a reason to care.

“T-twenty one” you mumble in a strained voice.

“Twenty one. In centimeters, that’s how high heels you can only wear from tomorrow on, understood?”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

His hand must be stained with natural lubricant, you realize, as He moves it higher, smoothly pushing one finger into your ass. It’s a miracle you manage to stay still. He doesn’t dwell much on that place though; instead, He pulls out and neatly puts the robe back into place.

“Up and face me.”

Sometimes, you wish to be roughed up – to have your hair pulled roughly, to be manhandled. But He never does that. You know your place. His word is enough to make you do whatever He wants, so why be rough? He’d get unnecessarily tired, and you’re not worth of His sweat, are you?

You stand in front of Him, eyes down, His breath on top of your head, you almost feel His body warmth – you didn’t notice He’s so close, but He is, if you just reached out…

He doesn’t hesitate before pushing the robe open, exposing your front. His hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing it so hard and so suddenly you almost scream, your knees trembling. You force yourself to stand straight, but God, does it hurt. He pinches your nipple, no gentler, but at least doesn’t keep it for so long. He does the same on the other side, and you swear you’ll have them all purple tomorrow, and it lasted less than a minute. They hurt so much.

As soon as He loses interest in your breasts, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to soothe it. His hand moves to your chin instead, forcing it up.

“Open” is all He says and you obey. “Wider.” You try to, but it’s not enough. Pushing fingers into your mouth, He pushes your jaws even further, to the point it hurts and you feel like it will soon break. But you don’t object. He pulls on your tongue – it’s hard not to pull back. You gag as He pushes His fingers deep, but – thank God – takes them out before you can repeat your act from earlier.

You pant when He finally retreats and the contact breaks.

“When was the last time you came?” He asks as soon as He decides you’re in the state to provide an answer.

“T… three weeks ago, sir” you mumble.

“That’s not too long ago, is it?”

“Not too long…” You whimper slightly, confirming.

He doesn’t really hold you accountable of this on usual – only when He, for some reason, feels like making you a bit more desperate, a bit more pathetic. But it’s not something that happens often. On most days, He doesn’t even care for your presence, so even if He – or anyone else He approved of – decided, on rare occasions, to use your pussy for a change, He couldn’t care less if you came, as long as you didn’t make His own experience any worse.

But then sometimes, just sometimes, He wanted to see you struggle.

“What’s the longest you went for?”

“A-a month, sir…”

“Well then, what about we make it two?”

You gulp.

“If you wish so, sir…”

“But that’s starting from tomorrow. You will come today.”

Your eyes snap up at Him as He turns around and sits back on His bed, crossing His legs leisurely. You don’t dare to move from your spot – a good choice.

“Kneel down and touch yourself. Leave the robe on, but don’t cover yourself.”

He watches you with a small smirk as you get down. Your pussy is already exposed; you spread your legs as far as you can and lean slightly forward on one hand, the other finding the most aching spots.

Your Owner watches as you start to rub yourself – and you’re shook about how little it takes for you to find yourself on edge.

“Stop.”

You press your lips together, holding back a whine that tries to push through your lips. It hurts, you wish you could just make yourself come, you’re so needy, so starved for it, it’s been so long…

“Give me your robe.”

You don’t ask. You take the fabric off, fold it neatly and stand up, head low, reaching out with your both hands. The man takes it without care, throwing it onto the floor, far from you.

“Go to your room now.”

“Yes, sir…”

You glance briefly at the clock on the wall – it’s almost nine. And you only wonder, how many people will you pass by, going through the cold corridors, with your pussy leaking and your breasts slowly turning blue.

*

11:49 P.M.

You’re asleep when the door opens again – the sound waking you up slowly, your sleepy movements incoherent as you try to turn the light on. You stop though, as, in the darkness slowly dissolving in front of your eyes, you recognize the silhouette that just welcomed you. Your hazy mind doesn’t proceed it fully though, yet, and you don’t know, what would be the right way to react – stand up? Kneel down? Out of no cue, you stay where you are, watching with wide eyes as the man approaches your bed and sits on the mattress.

His hand finds the edge of your sheets and pulls them away from your naked frame – you often slept naked, and now that he rid you off your usual evening attire, it feels like an even righter thing to do.

“S… sir…?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

You stay in your place, your eyes following every movement, and when his hand cups your sex, your breath hitches and you struggle to stay still – of course you struggle; you want to grind down, to prove how needy you are, like a bitch in heat.

But he said, don’t move. So you don’t.

He spreads your legs a bit and teases you, stretching your entrance a little just for the sake of his entertainment, like most of the things he does to you, anyway. But then he suddenly stops and starts to gently rub your clit. You press your lips together. It feels so good, so hot, you wish you could moan, scream for him.

But he said, don’t talk. So you don’t.

His other hand is soon on your hair and he pulls you up, not too gently, but not unnecessarily roughly either. His face is so close, his eyes boring into yours. What did you ever do, to deserve a proximity like this? To deserve that much attention? To deserve his hand pleasing you so well, so good?

Nothing, is the answer. You’re not worthy of it, yet he gives it to you: how generous of him, isn’t it? To be touching the filthy animal you are. He’s so good. He feels so good, and you struggle even more, trying to keep yourself together and hold back for the sake of feeling it just a little longer.

“You may come, if you want.”

“Sh… should I?”

He smirks.

“Do you want to?”

You hesitate, a second too long.

His hand disappears and you’re left panting, writhing, squeezing your legs together for friction, but feeling as though nothing can satiate you as well as his fingers did, and you finally let out a cry. How vulnerable.

When you come back to your senses, you feel his eyes on you and quickly return the gaze – you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him, never. You may have lost your mind for a few moments, but it’s back there – figuratively, for you’re just a dumb whore, there’s no much mind left in you.

“I told you, that you will come today, but you didn’t listen.” You quickly glance at the clock – it’s 00:02. Oh, God. Oh, no. “And now that your birthday is over, I don’t need to hold back, do I?”

You want to say that he shouldn’t hold back regardless of the day, but you soon realize it probably wouldn’t be in your best favor.

And that he doesn’t really need your approval.

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