#and summarised the fighting more than I meant to

[factorialsotherfandoms]

TW: panic attack, non-graphic self harm, reckless behaviour, fear of drowning

This is like... a bit 5K of Pac and Philza actually bonding for once...

Fear claws into Pac's heart just as easily as his fingernails dig into his palms. There's nothing wrong, objectively there's nothing wrong, but he's been alone all day. It's not at all like working with Mike; he's been trying to decorate the Favela, but his breath keeps catching and his thoughts keep stopping.

He can hear the fountain beneath the warpstone, and he wants it to /stop/.

He knows anxiety now, he knows it, he knows this is what it is, and when Fit found the blood in Chume Labs and the empty graves he made him promise to call him if it happened again. It's happening now, Pac can feel it building, but there's nobody awake. He checks it again, and still it's only him.

So he does the thing he does next best. He holds his breath and he thinks of nothing and he builds. More trees, more ponds, more fountains - anything and everything he can think of. Give the Redeemer a sombrero, then think better of it half way through and take it down. Start returfing the football field, only to decide to put it back because making the goals muddy is just ugly. Hang up more banners, pull them down, add a bit to the fences, swap them for iron, then concrete.

Breathe in, breathe out, there's nothing wrong it's just anxiety.

(But it is wrong, everything is wrong, the back of his brain where Mike sits is empty, not just asleep but empty, torn away and - )

Mike's in the Order hospital, Pac reminds himself, and begins to walk that way.

( - and there are eyes at his back, ready to take him again and - )

Pac forgets to breathe. He drops to his knees in the middle of the street, and scrabbled his hands in the dirt.

Pac checks the communicator again. There's a few more people awake, but... No Fit, no Tubbo, no Mike, no Bagi or Forever... Of the handful of people, the one he knows best if Philza - and while he's happily looked after the man's children, and he's been quite happy to chat or fight together in the past... Philza Minecraft is a legend, and he's never really spoken much without Fit there as a buffer.

But the other option is staying here alone, and he promised Fit that if he started feeling like this again he'd ask someone for company.

He takes a deep breath, and sends a message.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I visit?

As soon as he hits send, Pac slams it shut. He pushes it against his head, shuddering while curled up in a ball. He clings to the communicator, his link to the outside, so hard it leaves indents in his skin.

"It's okay," he whispers to himself. "It's okay, you're okay, there's nobody here to watch you."

It doesn't help; he tries it anyway.

The seconds drag on into minutes, and Pac's fears overwhelm even his attempts to comfort himself.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're safe," he promises himself, even as he claws at his knees, at his face, at his hair and at the floor - anything he can reach to force himself to remember his place.

He hums songs he loves, shuts his eyes and tries to dance along.

He slams hands over his mouth and freezes when he tries.

Too loud, too loud, they'll find you - quiet, quiet, quiet as a mouse and quieter still. Hide amongst the rats, and hope nobody spots you curled up there...

The communicator pings.

In a scramble Pac pulls the lid open, shaking fingers quickly clicking him through to the correct screen.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: sorry m8, missed the message

Ph1LzA whispers to you: still need something or you get it sorted?

What does Pac say? The loneliness is getting to him and the walls are caving in and he can feel something watching from inside his spine? That Mike is gone and he's remembering a /before/ he wants to forget, He can't say that, he really can't.

But what sounds like a normal response which might get him a conversation...

With shaking hands he types whatever comes to mind.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: I am just missing Fit

... Not that. That absolutely does not sound like a request for company.

This time Philza's reply does not take nearly as long, though still longer than anyone else Pac ever messages.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: yeah?

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you want some company? I can put down a sharestone

Pac's heart settles back into place - maybe slightly too high still, but far closer. He didn't mess it up too badly - maybe English is just like that - he didn't even have to ask again.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: please.

It's another minute or two for Pac's anxiety to build and him to cling to the communicator before he recieves a reply.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: red sharestone, name should be obvious

You whisper to Ph1LzA: obrigado

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you're good

There's definitely some emotion to reading those words; Pac pushes it aside, and grabs his warpstone. Moving to the main warpstone for the warehouse seems like too much, so he simply sends himself to spawn.

Only there does he pick himself up, activating the red sharestone. It takes a few scrolls to find the new option, but once he does it earns a small laugh. He selects it, and lets his body be pulled through space.

Where he arrives is cold, deep snow all around, and an icy ocean before him. Pac tugs his sleeves down over his hands, and looks around.

Whereever Philza is, he isn't immediately obvious.

"Philza?" he calls. "Felipe?"

There's a splash as Philza trident-jumps out of the ocean, his paraglider flipping open at the zenith and allowing him to drift safely down to the ice. Pac watches him drift down, the water dripping off him freezing as it falls.

"Hey," Philza calls, once back in voice range, arm moving as though to wave before suddenly remembering he needs to hold the paraglider. "Sorry about that; spotted another jelly and had to get it before it ran off."

Pac waves him off, "it's okay, it's okay, do you need any help?"

Philza squints at Pac a moment, and Pac squirms beneath it. After a moment, though, he just shrugs, "just hunting for rainbow jelly."

"Rainbow jelly?"

"Like the French use to make themselves all rainbow," Philza grins a bit. "You can use it to make glass like that, too. Chayanne wanted some, so..."

Pac thinks of the children, hurting and asleep and under the Federation's "care", the only guarantees of their safety the ability to visit, and the knowledge the Federation knows what is coming if harm comes for their children.

"For Chayanne?" He asks. "I'll help."

"Feel free to hang onto it - if you don't use it, he'll appreciate the gift when he wakes up."

When, not if, even if Pac can see Philza hesitates too.

With that confidence and the thought of their children, Pac doesn't even consider before throwing himself into the water. Behind him he hears the somewhat distorted sound of Philza laughing, and the man throwing himself in after.

Pac spots a couple of the comb jellies, and kicks off towards them. Philza seems to see another group, as he takes another route.

Hunting animals for their innards is one of the few times that sweeping edge is worth it on this island, and so Pac takes out his sword. It only takes a hit to take out the jellies, small as they are, and then Pac just has to scoop up their remains. From there he spots another - deeper - and swims after it. And another, and another - Pac loses himself to the chore, simply collecting jelly for the happiness of a child.

He thinks he's finally calmed down, when he spots another in a cave. Pac doesn't even think about it as he dives in after - but very quickly, it gets very dark.

Too dark.

He tries to ignore it, to push through and find the jelly even as memories start to loom and the dark closes in.

Breathe in, breathe out, remind yourself your helmet is in place and with that much Aqua Affinity you're fine.

It's not the underwater prison again, it's not, it's not.

Just find the jelly and get out...

On instinct he reaches out for Mike, and finds nothing.

Nothing.

Mike? What happened to Mike?

The most frustrating thing is always that he knows, he remembers, but in the dark and the wet and the unnatural silence it doesn't matter. His breathing picks up, and he twists and he turns, looking - screaming - for Mike.

Rationally, he knows he's lightheaded because hes hyperventilating. But in his heart, in his fear, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything because he's alone in the wet and the dark and he /can't do this anyone/.

He wants Mike, he wants Mike, he wants Fit and he wants Mike.

Where is Mike, why can't he reach him, where is he where is he why can't he feel him in his mind?!

He's screaming for them, he thinks, even as tears stream down his face and he twists in the water. By now he's helplessly lost, not even able to find the exit he cane in by. Whatever light there was is gone, and he doesn't even quite remember why he's here.

He twists and he fights, trying to fend off hands that aren't there - only to get his leg twisted up in the seaweed and somehow everything is even worse and worse and worse. He tugs and tugs, but the seaweed grasps tighter - he sees dark prison walls overlaying dark, broken caves, and he sobs as he realises he is going to die here.

He screams again and wonders how he still has air; something responds this time, and he begs it for bitter, screaming help.

A small light he cannot focus on, and hands find their way to his leg. In a panic he twists, kicks, fights - nothing, nothing, nothing can touch him - it's worse than the seaweed, to be grabbed by a hand.

"Shit, Pac," a familiar voice calls, an odd quality to it. "Fuck, I'm just cutting you out, Jesus mate no need to break my nose."

The words don't make sense, not entirely, but seconds later Pac finds his leg free - still entangled, but the seaweed cut from the floor, and he does his best to swim away.

Right from the seaweed and slamming into the cave wall.

Hands grab him again, and say something, and he fights them all the same. Seconds later he's being dragged and pulled and - oh, god, this is how he's going to die.

He goes to fight before remembering, actually, dieing might not be so bad actually... At worst he'll respawns, at best he'll be with Mike again.

It's just as that thought crosses his mind that his head breaks the surface of the ocean. Pac gasps for air and, by the time he's processed that, he's being hoisted and yanked up onto the ice.

He's frozen, he's freezing, but he shakes off the worst of the water and shudders as sunlight presses into his skin.

He's crying - sobbing even - on his hands and his knees, blind terror all about him as he struggles to breathe.

"Aw, mate, you could have said no if it was gonna fuck you up."

There's someone else here; Pac's eyes glance around, only to find Philza there. He can't tell if the man is a friend or a foe or just an acquaintance to be embarrassed around, but the man shrugs off his bag and opens his arms in a familiar gesture.

Pac falls into them, and hides. A hand finds his hair, and another his back, and something very dark curls around to protect him from icy wind. He does not cling back, just cries to the sound of slightly awkward comfort, sucking it in.

"You're okay," the words sound so much more believable coming from someone else. "You got out, I've got you, you're safe, you're okay."

The words are whispered into his skin, and they're not quite a balm but they are a promise and a kindness none the less; he is promised safety, and he knows the man around him can provide.

He just... Did not expect that provision to include himself, only friends of friends as they are.

Pac breathes, and it comes easier now - the air is cold, but between the darkness and Philza's chest he is safe. Slowly, slowly, as he remembers what limbs are Pac reaches out a shaking hand to the void.

It finds feathers; the darkness tenses, and then relaxes to his touch.

Pac, in turn, relaxes with it.

"You good?" Philza eventually asks from above.

"Sim," Pac replies, gathering himself a little more, hiding himself in a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, that was embarrassing."

"We've all been there mate," Fit's friend says.

The wings peel away, and Pac can see them properly - tattered edges and all. Sees how they droop, and the strain in Philza's shoulders as he uses his hands to fold them, and his backpack to keep them in pace.

"Shall we get somewhere warmer?" he asks, before Pac can comment. "I've got a treasure map to somewhere near that mesa you and Fit showed me, if you've still got the warp?"

"Are you sure?" Pac's hands shake as he checks his things.

"Eh, I'm pretty sure it's an iron dungeon," Philza replies, pulling out a map and squinting at it. "I was saving it to troll Etoiles with, but I could actually do with more iron. And someone to deal with mobs while I mine it. You, me, and some skellies - sound good?"

Pac isn't sure; he doesn't want to think, though, he does know that. Dungeons are supposed to be his and Fit's /thing/, one half the time someone intrudes on. The offer almost feels insulting, but...

But when Philza felt bad, they offered him a dungeon - he so clearly means to offer the same. Like for like, not pity but a trade.

"I want the tracks and redstone," Pac tries to sound steady, and knows he fails. "I'll save it for Mike when he returns."

"Sure, I don't even know where to start with that shit," Philza takes Pac's hand, and leads him along a safe route over the ice. "If we go back to that haunted rock area, then glide back towards the mesa? I should be able to find us on the map from there."

Pac nods, placing his hand on the warpstone in advance. Philza's joins it, and together they warp away.

---

Thankfully it is dawn, and any monsters are gone this time - there's just the beautiful sunrise over the haunted sea. The sun is rising, not setting, but Pac waves to it anyway and hopes that, somewhere, Bobby can see.

Philza makes half a laugh as he finds his glider. Pac searches for his own, and tries not to remember the night on the cliff - him and Fit, him and Fit, but also Philza, laughing about cannons and resting in one another's arms, only for Philza to pull away first and let him and Fit be.

Pac instead thinks about friendship, and how Fit would abandon everything for Philza just as Pac would give it up for Mike, and how it seems that isn't limited to just them. Because Philza didn't send him home, just as Fit also kept close to an oddly behaving Mike. How it doesn't really matter, because in the end they both agree with where the other stands.

Pac instead thinks of nothing, and throws himself off a cliff after Philza.

For one glorious second he lets himself fall, before pulling out his own paraglider and following Philza down.

He lands on Philza's boat, and they drive it back to the mesa. It's filled with the sort of talk that means nothing, and with Philza humming tunes to the air. For a man who claims to be musically dead, he manages it well.

It's also noise, white noise to blur the absence in his mind.

"Here we are," Philza gets out first, and offers Pac a hand out. "We should be pretty close. These things are a bit of a nightmare to find, being underground, but I'm sure we'll manage."

To his surprise, Pac is passed the map while Philza puts away the boat. He has to turn it around to orientate himself, but once he has Philza gestures for him to lead the way. Philza puts himself on Pac's left - the side he holds the map, whilst his other has his scythe, shield turned out against the wild.

Pac tries to think of something to say, and what comes out is, "so did you go looking for a big cannon, or did you just stumble into it?"

The comment draws startled laughter from his companion as they walk, having to stop a moment to let him gather himself. "We knew we were going to see one, but we're exactly looking. You find them all over the coast in the UK, and I think some along the Thames too? A lot have been removed, but we like our old crap, so a couple of the old forts are still open."

"So you're saying you come from a land of many large cannons."

"Yes, Pac," Philza laughs again. "Yes, I do; don't you?"

"We have other large things instead," Pac tries to smile, but he knows it looks off. "Like diamonds."

"Diamonds?"

Pac can see Philza looking for the sex joke, and suddenly realises he doesn't actually want to explain what he meant. So instead he says, "quality over size. Even a big diamond is small."

That draws more laughter, "yeah okay mate; Fit's a lucky boy then."

That almost has Pac dropping the map he's holding as he chokes. Philza grabs him, holds him steady, gives him something to cling to with Mike and Fit and Richarlyson and Walter Bob all gone. Something there, some support, something to stop him choking on himself.

"Too much?" Philza's voice is gentler this time.

Pac nods, hiding his blush in his hands even as he leans on Philza.

"Alright," Philza says, handing him a bottle. "Drink some water, king, and we'll get this dungeon cleared. And no more dick jokes until Fit's also here to suffer. Maybe we could even come up with some new ones, just to tease him next time we all meet up."

Pac takes the bottle, hiding in his hood as he does as he's told. Philza takes the map and they continue to walk as he sips at it, hiding himself and his face in the bottle. Philza makes sure to stay in sight, keeping idle commentry going.

At this point, Pac is reasonably sure Philza knows something continues to be wrong - but then so did Fit and Pac when Philza had that strange... Maybe hallucination? Fit says it probably wasn't, and Pac trusts Fit, but whatever it was it was unsettling and strange.

Philza seems fine now, though; maybe one day Pac will be fine too.

It is about ten or fifteen minutes walk to the dungeon. There's nothing on the surface to mark it, just Philza squinting at the map, and passing it to Pac to check.

Once they agree, they dig; Philza calls 'race you!' and begins a staircase.

Pac lives for adrenaline; he starts digging straight down.

Somehow he doesn't hit lava.

He does end up falling from the top of the dungeon into a crevasse, fails to find either a water bucket or his paraglider, and breaks his leg. It's terrifying, and he's alone as he sees his death message flash up in chat but - maybe - it's okay. There's Aypierre laughing and Baghera offering help, and Philza on his black paraglider swooping in from the ceiling to assist.

"You good?" Philza asks as he pours a potion out over the wounds, his eyes almost glowing in the low light as Pac's bones knit together.

Pac leans forwards to check his prosthetic while his body heals, twitching only a little with the pain. The fall knocked a few screws loose and bent some of the metal out of shape, but it's an easy enough fix with a hammer and screwdriver. He'll check it over properly later, or maybe swap it for his spare until he has energy for it, but it'll hold for the day.

"All good," Pac confirms, as he pulls his jeans back down.

He can see Philza side-eyeing the prosthetic, and shifts; the man says nothing, however, just helps Pac up and types out an 'all good we're just dungeoning' to calm the global chat.

And then he looks at his map.

"You've got us near a corner," Philza turns his communicator to show Pac. "If we just start here and work around to the left, we shouldn't miss anything."

Pac nods, and pulls out his grapple. Together they pull themselves up and onto the ledge, and the dungeon begins.

It starts simple - Philza takes out a spawner, while Pac works on the skeletons, then they swap so Pac can loot the minetracks. Trading the mobs on and off, Pac cannot help but notice how Philza even when on mob duty prioritises looting, catching the attention of a swamp of skeletons and sending them on a chase over barrels as he smashes them open and grabs the contents. Only when he can carry no more does he start fighting, laughing as he does.

It's a nice laugh, that one.

He laughs too when Pac fights, hacking away at the iron blocks he claims to want. With every other hit there is a call of "good hit!" "nice one!" "you're doing good, Pac!", and Pac can feel himself starting to grin as well.

Together they dance in a dungeon much easier than the one Phil joined Pac and Fit for, able to let loose without worrying for the giant magma cube around the corner. They keep an eye on each other, and watch their backs, and Fit's deep voice is so clearly missing between them without feeling like a void.

By the time it is finished, they are both laughing, bone-dust covering their clothes and their tools and the world in their hands. Philza gives Pac some of the iron, and they take his staircase - not Pac's hole - out.

They don't talk about what comes next, but neither of them reach for their warpstones. Instead Pac picks a direction and walks. Philza follows.

They find a hill a little way out, surrounded by flower fields but empty of them itself. Philza lights it up with his slingshot, despite it still being around midday, and Pac makes hot chocolate for them both. Pulls out chairs, too - blue and green - and places a coffee table between them.

He sits on the blue and Philza looks at the green and says, "are you sure I'm okay to sit there? I don't wanna intrude."

Pac looks at the chair - it was just habit, just what he carries - and curls up his toes. "It's fine," he can hear the sadness in his own voice. "Mike isn't here, he wouldn't mind."

"Do you mind?"

"I got it out for you."

"Alright, king," Philza finally takes the seat and the hot chocolate, leaning back into the cushions. After a bit he adds, "these are good chairs. Maybe I should invest in something better than mine."

"They're not expensive," Pac replies. "And they're comfy! I have one instead of a bed."

He wonders if he should have admitted that - he knows people worry - but in the crash of the panic attack and the fighting it's hard to keep his mouth shut.

Philza just laughs though, "yeah? I've been using one of those wooden ones. You know? Basic ones, just in a fancy wood."

"How do you not have splinters?!"

"I'm good with my hands - what else can I say?"

They both laugh at that one, a joke which actually lands. There's something comfortable and comforting about it. The laughter drifts into giggles, drifts into sips of hot chocolate - quiet and together. Pac makes a point of not watching as Philza gets himself comfortable, untangling his wings and stretching them... Not to full width, but wide.

It's only when one brushes his arm that Pac dares to ask "what happened?"

"Hm?" Philza looks up.

"To your wings?"

"Feds fucked them up when I arrived," Philza says it like its nothing, but there's bitter pain in his words. "By purgatory they'd healed up just enough to fly, but then carrying Tubbo through meteor strikes and radiation... I can't regret it, I /won't/ regret it, but they're fucked again. I can hold them up so it seems better, but they hurt worse than before."

Pac wants to say he's sorry, but he doesn't think it would be appreciated. Instead he says "thank you for saving Tubbo."

"I couldn't just leave him," Philza says. "He's my friend too, you know?"

"I know," Pac fiddles with his cup. "You're a good man, Felipe Minecraft. I'm not sure I'd do it."

"I think you would," Philza says, with more faith in Pac than he's ever had in himself. "If it came to it. You're also a good man, Pac - if you weren't, I wouldn't let you have Fit."

It's an admission neither of them acknowledge. Instead Pac flops, exhausted, against his chair. "I'd do it for Mike. I miss him."

"I can't imagine," Philza's wings stretch a little further, stroking against Pac's cheek. "But, I'm sure he'll heal. And once he does hold him close, okay? Because you never know when you'll loose him."

It's obvious, of course Pac will try to, but there's pain in Philza's voice, and Pac thinks of a memorial on a wall and a child living in the footsteps of a ghost, and maybe Philza can imagine better than he thinks he can.

Or maybe Philza means he can't imagine, because he knows.

"Did you love him?" Pac asks instead.

"He was my best friend."

Philza's voice breaks on the word, and Pac knows both that he has to stop, and that Philza knows just what it is Pac fears. Even if he calls it different, even if they didn't share one mind... Pac should not have asked.

"I'm sorry."

"You did nothing wrong; it hurts, but in hurting I remember him, you know?"

There's a long silence, in which Pac tries to know what to say, and Philza stares absently at soft clouds on the horizon. Even in Portuguese he would struggle, and Philza is certainly not looking to his translator.

Maybe Philza and Fit are not as Pac and Mike; Philza has already lost his Mike. Or, perhaps, both are true, and even if Pac looses his best friend, someone will be there to keep him whole.

It's a nice fantasy; he knows Philza's wound bleeds open even now.

"I have never been without Mike before this island," Pac eventually admits. "At least... I was seven when we met, he was five. I've heard his thoughts since I was ten, and the first time he ever fell silent was when I was put in that water prison."

"Shit," Philza closes his eyes as he swears, leaning back. "Earlier, with the water... You should have said something, Pac, I wouldn't have judged you. Fuck knows there's shit I can't do anymore."

"I didn't know it'd be that bad," Pac hesitates after those words. "It hasn't been before. Today is just... bad? I already felt bad."

"And you came to me for company, and I made it worse," Philza says. "I am so, so sorry mate - I didn't mean to, I just- It was for Chayanne."

"It was still better than being alone," Pac replies. "The second time our connection broke was when he was taken - I haven't heard him since. Even asleep, even unconscious, even when I was in a coma... We could still feel each other. Not now. It's lonely no, and it's been so long..."

"Pac..." Philza's voice catches. "You shouldn't have to make those choices... You shouldn't have to put up with my whims just not to be alone, mate, you should have just said; we could have gone to the dungeon, or the favela, worked on the train tracks... You didn't have to swim."

"Fit is gone, Mike is gone, Richas is gone," Pac twists his hands. "You were helping me. I wanted to help you - I wanted to do something for Chayanne too! He is a good egg."

"He is," Philza smiles softly, taking the distraction for what it is. "The best. But, king, are you going to be okay?"

"When am I not?" Pac asks, as he thinks of happy pills and his own blood trailing the floors of Chume Labs.

Philza gives him a distinctly unimpressed expression and, yeah, fair, "I'm serious, Pac; I don't have plans today if you just wanna chill somewhere. Here, my place, your place, the Favela... if the karaoke's working, we could steal a room? Hell, we can just keep heading outwards and find some more dungeons if you fancy violence instead."

"... Are you sure?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" Philza asks. "We don't get to hang out as often as we should - if you'd rather get some rest, I won't stop you. Just thought I'd offer."

"Karaoke then?" Pac suggests, if only for some structure to keep the anxiety from seeping back in.

"Sure. No promises I won't fall asleep on the couch, though."

Pac laughs. It is weaker, but it is more real. "No promises, no promises here either."

In time they do, of course, fall asleep on the couch - and that is where Fit will find them in the morning.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp pac #mike and techno haunt the narrative #what is that conversation at the end idk they ran away from me #it was supposed to be about the shitty prison system #it very much is not #god this was a long one #I wanted to write it so bad #but christ 5k of continuous narrative is a lot #I've put scene breaks where they teleport #and summarised the fighting more than I meant to #but its still all one continuous scene really #and oh god was it hard to stitch together #multiple scenes so much easier for longer >.< #okay enough complaining about writing hope you enjoyed #I'll get it to ao3 when I can #but that means at least spellchecking #but oh god I'm tired after this #I've been writing it for... eight hours #on and off but without doing anything thinky between #just replying to occassional email or watching a video about a snake while I have lunch

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 1 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, mentions of past toxic relationship and manipulation, sexual themes, implied death

“I cannot believe you met Nat's sister before me!” You exclaimed as you threw yourself down on your sofa and glared up at the ceiling, furious at the universe's mockery. 

  “Dude, I know! I wanted to call you but every time I was about to, someone started shooting at us again,” Kate said with a huff. “But I got her number and told her to text me next time she's in town…she hasn't been responding yet so it might be a fake number,” you could hear the pout.

  “Kate!” You whined, earning a curious glance from Marty who jumped up onto the sofa to settle down on top of you.

  “I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you,” she tried.

  “I'll hold you to that,” you huffed until a smile crept onto the corner of your lips. “So tell me everything,” you grinned as you held the phone closer to your ear. You always loved hearing about Kate's missions. Having known the young archer since before you managed to introduce her to her favourite hero, you had witnessed Kate's adventures transgress from more delinquent than crime fighter, to taking on the KingPin single handedly. You were confident her first fight with aliens was right around the corner. 

  At that, Kate lit up, springing into an animated recollection of everything that had happened in the past few days. Her account was no doubt exaggerated and a little out of order with how often she got side tracked with minute details, but you were able to gain at least an overview of the events that led their paths to cross. In short: widows. 

  Yelena had been able to trace down the small group of assassins who had slipped under her radar, due to their inbuilt paranoia now that the red room’s foundation had crumbled, and led her to New York. The widows, acting on their manmade instincts, had made some trouble in town that Kate had stepped in to deal with without knowing the full scale of what she faced. Fortunately, Yelena had jumped in just in time to stop Kate getting killed but in the chaos of it all, the widows got away. 

  After a great deal of persistence from Kate, Yelena eventually gave the archer the rundown and in doing so got herself a companion for the rest of her time in the city until they were swiftly able to find the widows once more and release them from their chemically induced trance. 

  “So what was she like?” You asked once you had processed Kate’s story. 

  “Total badass,” Kate summarised. 

  “Knew it,” you muttered as you scratched behind Marty’s ears.

  “Anway, I gotta take Lucky for his routine checkup so I’ll talk to you later,” Kate said before you could ask any more questions. 

  “Good luck, Lucky,” you called down the phone, hearing a distant woof in return before the call ended. You immediately opened your messages. 

  Me: yelena was back in town??? You typed out furiously. It took less than a minute to get a response, that meant that Nat was probably doing paperwork.

  Nat: haha yeah, you guys meet up?

  Me: no she was too busy hanging out with kate!! 

  Nat: i didn’t get to see her either :( you frowned as you read over the message, surprised that Yelena hadn’t gone to see her sister when she had the chance. 

  Me: what?? :( you paused, tapping your thumbs against the sides of your phone.

  Me: you free for lunch? 

  Nat: come by the tower? She was definitely doing paperwork. There had been so many times in the past where Natasha had been too swamped with paperwork to go out with you for lunch that you had developed somewhat of a routine for you to go and have lunch with the Russian as she worked. Much to her credit, her ability to hold a conversation while recollecting her missions was admirable. 

  Me: omw

  “Come on, Marty. We’re going to the tower,” you said as you patted his back. Your dog was quick to scramble off of you and make his way to the door, grabbing his collar and leash off of the hook while you grabbed your jacket. You took it from his mouth gently and fastened it on before making your way out. 

  It didn’t take you long to get through the security at the Avenger’s tower. In earlier years you had some issues, especially with the addition of Marty, because you had to sign in as a visitor even though you were accessing floors visitors couldn’t. Eventually, Tony had gotten you a pass that let you whizz through the gates and checks. 

  “Hey, Steve, how’s it going?” You greeted the soldier as you entered the common room. 

  “Hey kid, not so bad. I haven’t seen you in a while though, how’ve you been?” He asked as he crouched down to give Marty all the attention he had been anticipating. 

  “Same old,” you shrugged, settling into an easy catch up with the blond as he recollected his latest pop culture enrichments and visits to see Peggy. The pair of you didn’t get to talk for too long though, because Nat appeared at the other side of the room with her arms crossed across her chest. 

  “Mind if I steal this one away, Rogers?” Natasha asked with a slight grin. 

  “Course not, see you around, y/n,” Steve chuckled as he picked up his lunch and took it away. As soon as he did, Marty dashed across the room to the Russian with his tail wagging madly. It was obvious who his favourite was in the tower, same as you. 

  “Hi, Mutt,” Natasha cooed as she pampered the dog.

  “I told you not to call him that,” you said with a roll of your eyes even though it was hard not to smile every time. 

  “Why not? That’s what he is,” Natasha pointed out as she stood up and gave you a fond hug. You went through to the corner of the conference room with the sofas where Natasha had her laptop and two plates of pb&j sandwiches. 

  “So how come you didn’t get to see Yelena while she was in the city?” You asked right away. You and the Russian had never had a small talk type of relationship. 

  “She hadn’t been planning to come to the city in the first place, that was just where she was led to, but once she had handled everything she needed to, she was being called to chase another lead,” Natasha explained with an air of disappointment. 

  “I guess between Kate and the widows she was more than preoccupied while she was here,” you said as you reached for your sandwich and pondered Yelena’s general mission that took up so much of her time. In fact, it seemed to be an almost constant thing. 

  “Yelena’s been at this for what? A year now? Is she anywhere close to being done with it all?” You asked, knowing that the scale of what the young Russian had taken on was great but that the work she put in was greater. 

  “She reckons so,” Natasha said with a spark of hope in her eyes that was impossible not to catch. “I want her to come home, wherever that may be to her,” the spy admitted, knowing that her sister wouldn’t want to stay by her side forever. 

  “Even if you’re not home, you’re a pretty great timeshare.” You thought that was a nice thing to say, but the pb&j sandwich Nat threw at your face said otherwise. You grinned back at the redhead, knowing she didn’t have to worry about Yelena growing distant with her again and hoping the same would always apply to you. 

*

“So if Steve could lift mjolnir and they ruled Asgard together, would that make them some kind of power couple?” Kate asked as she leant against the wall next to your door. 

  “Like work husbands?” You rummaged around in your pockets for your keys while the archer continued. 

  “Royal work husbands,” she corrected. 

  “You’ll definitely have to ask them at the next party,” you chuckled as you eventually found your keys and started opening your apartment door. 

  “I wanted to ask at the last one but I thought as it was my first time meeting them that I should-”

  “Kate Bishop.” You and Kate spun in the direction of the voice as you fumbled for the light switch. “Y/n l/n,” the Russian continued once you had a light on her. 

  “Yelena!” Kate exclaimed with a broad smile as Lucky immediately dashed over to the blonde. Marty stayed close to your side as you stared at Yelena in awe while she greeted the labrador. “You know you don’t have to break into everyone’s apartments the first time you go to them, right?” The archer asked, placing her jacket on your coat rack while you continued to stand glued to the spot. 

  “I did not break anything and you were taking forever!” Yelena argued defensively as she stood up and set her eyes on you. “Y/n l/n,” she greeted. You could feel her assessing you, just like her sister had the first time she stood where the blonde was. 

  “Yelena Belova,” you said, taking in the Russian in front of you. Her blonde locks were loose over her designer jacket that had various broches scattered across it and had been matched perfectly with black trousers that fit comfortably enough to highlight her figure. She was clearly someone who took pride in how she looked and you understood why, she was beautiful. 

  You watched a smile inch at the corner of her lips and wondered what kind of assessment she had made of you. Had she noticed that your eyes had lingered a little too long on the curve of her hips or trace of a smile? You swiftly looked away, reminding yourself that maybe you shouldn’t be looking so intently at Natasha’s sister. 

  “It’s about time you guys met, huh?” Kate said as she glanced excitedly, though oblivious, between you both. Yelena was still looking at you, a fact you were aware of because her gaze was as intense as her sisters. 

  “Of course, my sister’s told me a lot about you,” Yelena informed as she observed you take Marty’s lead and collar off. 

  “Likewise,” you said with a brief glance in the Russian’s direction in hopes of avoiding picking up on any more of her perfections. “What brings you over here?” You asked to at least distract yourself. 

  “A lead,” Yelena tore her eyes away from you and moved to where Kate was sitting comfortably on your sofa. 

  “Already? It’s only been a few months since you were here last.” You listened to the pair converse as you strolled to the sliding glass panel that separated your bed from the rest of the studio apartment and threw your satchel down. 

  “This is bigger than last time,” Yelena explained, her voice dropping to that of a serious one. “I called Natasha but she didn’t pick up,” the Russian huffed. 

  “She’s in the Philippines,” you added as you reemerged, meeting Yelena’s emerald eyes. “They all are.”

  “So you want us?” Kate jumped in, clearly unbothered that she was the Russian’s second choice. 

  “I heard you’re good with tech, think you can access this?” Yelena held out a small device in your direction. You took it without letting your fingers brush and recognised the device right away. It was a sort of USB stick, though slightly modified so that it couldn’t fit into any ordinary USB port. You hadn’t seen one in a while but fortunately you had an adapter you could use to get started on it. 

  When you didn’t confirm if you could in fact access the device’s information, Kate didn’t hesitate to do it for you and started asking the blonde what her plan was and how she could help and how come she didn’t respond to the memes she sent her. Instead of listening, you brought out your adapter and set to work on analysing the task ahead of you. It didn’t take long to realise the coding it required was advanced. Not too advanced for you, but enough of a challenge that you wouldn’t be able to hand the device back over that night. 

  “It’s gonna take me a while,” you admitted openly to the Russian. “I’m sorry, I know it’s probably time sensitive but it’s just a little-”

  “It’s okay, y/n l/n,” Yelena was quick to assure. In your line of work, you weren’t used to patience so you looked at the blonde sceptically, wondering if she actually understood how long ‘a while’ could be. “Just text me when it is ready and I will come back.” Oh. So she did know. 

  “You can stay if you want,” you offered as Yelena stood up. She gave you a smile, one that you knew you would be thinking about for the rest of that evening because it felt like it was just for you. 

  “Yeah, it’s friday night and we have jello shots in the fridge,” Kate added, already setting off in the direction of the kitchen. 

  “Some other time,” Yelena said as she went to leave. 

  “So you do know how to use a door,” you couldn’t help but quip as Yelena stood in the doorway. 

  “See you soon, y/n l/n,” Yelena smiled with a glint of something promising in her eyes. The moment she shut the door you spun around in your chair to face Kate. 

  “She’s kinda intense.” Kate shrugged as she carried a tray over with a few snacks and shots on. Anyone else would have thought she lived with you. 

  “You get used to it.” 

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you muttered as you joined the archer on your sofa. She didn’t miss your comment. 

  “She’s also kinda cute though, don’t you think?" Kate commented as she flicked through your tv. You didn’t answer until you finished your first cup of jello. 

  “I guess,” you said nonchalantly. Kate hummed, about to pry further to confirm her suspicions when her phone chimed. 

  Yelena: meet tomorrow at central park? Bring the bow and arrow

  “Be careful, Kate,” you vocalised your concern. 

  “Always,” she assured with a nudge to your shoulder. “Guess that means these are all for you though,” the archer said, pushing the shots your way. Just as you downed the second one and Kate picked a film, your own phone chimed. 

  Unknown number: you need better locks on your window

  “Did you give her my number?” Kate looked over at your screen and chuckled to herself. 

  “Nope,” she said simply, amused that the blonde had managed to get it on her own. 

  Me: i dont usually have to worry about spies breaking in you typed out, choosing not to mention that you lived in a S.H.I.E.L.D apartment as that clearly wasn’t adequate enough.

  Yelena: really? How have you made it this long?

  Me: im kind of friends with the best spy in the world

  Yelena: we’re friends already?? You rolled your eyes at that and bit back a smile. 

  Me: we’ll see ;) 

  You turned your phone off and took another shot just as your phone chimed again. Kate gave you a questioning look as you ignored the device and tried to give all your attention to the tv. “I knew you guys would get on great,” she said smugly. 

  “She’s pretty cool,” you admitted nonchalantly before sneaking a glance at your phone once more. 

  Yelena: see you soon ;)

>>>

Slam.

  You jumped, spinning around to face her as she stepped into the living room. You never hear the keys jingle on the other side of the door. You never even hear the door open or the two steps into the apartment before she slammed the door shut, eyes already set on you. The control she had over deciding when you’re aware of her presence had always been something your girlfriend found entertainment from and took full advantage of. She never hid that, she didn’t have to. It wasn’t like you were actually going to voice your discomfort. 

  “Hi,” you greeted, cautiously searching Rae’s eyes for any indicator of what the mood of the evening was going to be. She doesn’t respond and that’s what you were hoping she wouldn’t do. Instead, she looked at the screen behind you as she ventured forwards. You glanced back at the monitor and can’t see how it’s anything of much interest. To anyone else it might be, but your girlfriend had seen it all before. 

  “Find anything good?” She asked as she stood so close to your side that her arms were brushing your own. 

  You were on NASA’s website, the secure part, the part you had to do some amateur hacking to get into. You had done it before. In fact, you frequented the site from time to time though not nearly as much as you used to. It had lost its appeal since the first time aliens invaded and had put an end to the question of life on other planets. S.H.I.E.L.D held the information that was of real interest to you, but NASA uploaded prettier pictures in their reports. 

  “They think they’ve found a black hole that’s going to collapse in on itself in a few thousand years. Last month S.H.I.E.L.D said Carol Danvers confirmed it collapsed years ago,” you shrugged. Your girlfriend hummed. “How was your day?” You asked after a long moment. 

  “Shit. I need you to look up a report for me, something under the name Dmitriev,” she continued. You didn’t push it, no matter how much you wished you could talk normally about your days like other couples did. Instead, you made your way into S.H.I.EL.D’s system as your girlfriend disappeared to grab a drink, knowing it could take you a while to get in in a way that ensured you wouldn’t be detected. Dozens of challenging (though not impenetrable) firewalls later, you were browsing the system as Rae spelt out the name to you. Nothing appeared. You heard a frustrated huff behind you and tried again in an encrypted corner of the system. Nothing. You could feel the fuse shortening, closing in on something eruptive. 

  You swallowed the small lump in your throat and tried to take a moment to think. You had never searched anything specific in S.H.I.E.L.D before, only ever browsing through the categories that caught your interest, making you question more what your girlfriend wanted with such specific information from the division. She had never asked for anything like that before, only ever sharing your curiosity in what was going on beyond your atmosphere. Hacking wasn’t your job, just a hobby. 

  You heard the barstool scrape across the wooden floor a couple feet behind you and a dull clink as Rae set her drink down on the worktop and sat down, eyes boring into the screen the same way they did to you when she wanted something you were reluctant to give. Then an idea came to mind and you hurriedly ran your homemade scanner extension over the screen, revealing a single report file titled ‘Dmitriev’. Rae was at your side in an instant. 

  She didn’t stop you from opening the file yourself, nor did she say anything as you realised you were reading a forty page document about a Hydra operative that was currently in a S.H.I.E.L.D safehouse. You frowned as you read on, willing yourself to stop because you knew information like that was harmful to possess and that you had put yourself in danger the moment you opened the document. Yet you continued and sat there in silence for a full half an hour. You only stopped reading once you felt light kisses being peppered along the side of your neck. 

  “Good job,” Rae muttered against you as you craned your neck and she moved to straddle your legs. Her lips moved to the side of yours as she held your face in her hands, helping you forget all of the questions that were building. She always had a way of making you disregard right and wrong. “Good girl,” she continued and finally kissed you properly. Your head was spinning, it wasn’t often she got like that. 

  Her hand ventured into the waistband of your sweatpants in a silent promise of a long, tender night. She was gentle, insatiable and rewarding at every moment’s peak until you had nothing left to give. You were entirely consumed in one another both in motions and mind, as though there was nothing outside of your proximity and an illusion that nothing would ever compare that connection of sensations. She was your universe and it was devastatingly easy to forget that you were far, far less than that to her. 

  Rae’s strikingly good mood lasted for several more days that you were glad to have cherished. Your willful illusion of peace was shattered when she threw a vase at you, one that you had bought a few weeks prior. As the emptiness crept up on you, so did the questions about your S.H.I.E.L.D search that you would never ask aloud, until one night, when Rae was out with people you had never been introduced to, you returned to your computer and went through the motions to find the file. This time, when you opened the document, blood red letters covered the entirety of the first page. 

  ‘Deceased’. 

  There were several new paragraphs in the document. You didn’t read them. You logged off the sight, turned your computer off and went to bed. What you didn’t know couldn’t haunt you. 

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #marvel #white widow #black widow #natasha romanoff #kate bishop #yelena belova smut

[ahmedmootaz]

Personally, I quite dislike the Dante = X/Ayin theory, in part because of how what (admittedly little) we've seen of their past self acts completely different from him and also because it would make the world seem a lot smaller, yknow?

But I would very much like to see him again, this time talking through the light in a similar way to Carmen. He's a man who spent so much of his time devoting himself to some else's dream, what would he think of what it's become, of what *she's* become during all this time?

With the knowledge gained through his time as X, as well as his insights towards his own self from the other A's as well as his guilt from his actions, I feel as if he's more poised towards becoming a guiding light to others, an alternative from Carmen's overwhelming acceptance of one's current self. Especially as Dante has shown a lack of self esteem and prioritises others over themselves, I think it would do them some good to have a conversation or two with Ayin. With some of their abilities seemingly having a connection with the light (like how they can tell monsters, distortions and abnormalities apart as well as being able to hear the voices of distortions) I do think it's a possibility in the future of Limbus' story - though farther from where we are now.

In the Divine Comedia, there is a part wherein Dante becomes aligned with God's love, and given how A and C are basically God in the light, I believe that at one point or another wherein their goals may align, fighting together for or against something or other.

Sorry for rambling, but to summarise: I feel as if Ayin as a character is one better suited to act as a guiding hand in Limbus rather than going through it all as another blank slate. His current status as one in the light allows for him to act as more of a mentor, which I believe suits him better.

Dear Anonymous,

Yeah, I agree that bringing Ayin back through the same 'twist' of LC would be a tad lame, which is why I do think it would be a much, much better way to say that he's in the Light, but at the same time, part of me wonders if his character can be done justice like that.

I mean, we knew enough about Carmen to realise that she's definitely changed from her pre-Light self, but I simply don't feel we've gotten enough of Ayin on screen, and given how Carmen gets a lot more spotlight than he ever does and yet so far in Limbus her presence, while tangible for sure, is quite muted...Eh, I dunno. It could be the Ayin fan within me clamouring for him to get something more than the 15 minutes of screen time the PMverse gives him so far.

Although part of me does think he'd interact with Dante one way or another...maybe with him being the 'funny voice only the main character can hear' trope to some extent. After all, we know Carmen's voice in the Light is a lot more...eldritch, in a way, referring to her victims and Abnormalities as 'children' and pushing people to Distort...it would be funny if Ayin was just very normal, snarky, and wholly unsupportive in comparison.

-"And there it goes. Your chance to get a Golden Bough. You lost it to a circus of madmen and a woman old enough to be your granny."

="Listen man I'm trying here okay?!"

-"Yeah, guess what, I also tried in life and it didn't stop people from trying to tear me a new one. Man up and take the scorn like you're meant to."

="I got some Golden Boughs before you showed up and started talking in my head, you know?!"

-"Yes, and now I'm wondering if those were flukes."

="Why are you like this?"

-"Do you want an alphabetical list or a numerical one?"

Hehe, thank you for sharing your thoughts, Anon! Until next time, be well, take care, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #limbus company #my writing #ask #ayin

[little-red-fool]

I wanna learn about silver tongue I love abyss lore

Heehee I’ll gladly talk about Silvertongue and his backstory. I don’t know as much about Forgotten Realms lore as I would like to so correct me if anything seems inaccurate, also I haven’t fully fleshed out his lore yet but this might still be quite long because I like rambling lol so I’ll try to summarise it a little (also I might have changed some of the Dark Urge lore to fit his backstory too whoops).

*cracks knuckles* Ok so as a bit of an overview of his character, Silvertongue originally started off as a half-elf bard when I made him, he was also chaotic good but I was able to develop his character a lot more when I decided to ship him with Raphael and made him chaotic evil instead because I thought two evil bards would be really funny, which then led me into researching into Forgotten Realms lore; I found out that cambions can also be half demons in some versions of D&D so that’s why he’s like how he is now.

I’ll talk a bit about his backstory now that you have a brief summary of his character. Whilst Silvertongue’s a half-demon cambion, he’s still a half-elf in game so I decided to make his mother a high elf, although like other cambions she died during childbirth, and I like to think that the reason is because like some animals (such as spiders) he ate his way out of her womb rather than being delivered naturally. Although he was born in Blood Tor, he was very quickly transported to Toril where he grew up in an orphanage in human society (possibly in Baldur’s Gate but I haven’t decided), and for the most part his demonic heritage wasn’t prominent and he fit in well with the other children despite the odd outburst and rampage which were few and far between and wouldn’t last long—he was always drawn to music as a child which lead him to learning how to play violin and flute, and that started his career as a bard when he was a teenager. As he grew older though it became harder to hide his heritage and his urges grew stronger and more difficult to manage, he became more malicious and deceitful, as well as more sadistic, which then escalated and led to him attacking and killing a few people. After this happened he was hunted down like an animal when people discovered his heritage so he fled the city. It wasn’t long after this that his father—a demon—managed to track him down and bring him to the Abyss, saying that he would fit in better there and that his talents would be appreciated more.

This was when he came back to Blood Tor, where he spent his mid twenties to his late fifties. Whilst there he was a vassal to Beshaba and served as a manservant in the court, sometimes directly assisting Beshaba. When he was older he was drafted into the Blood War as a soldier and was trained to fight. He was originally sent on raids with other demons to the City of Strife to steal souls from the Wall of the Faithless, but later on he was sent into proper battles in Oinos, and much later he was stationed in Avernus up until recently. Whilst Silvertongue had a few mortal friends on Toril, he didn’t really have any in the Abyss due to the untrusting and malicious nature of most demons, however he was close with a couple of other cambions that also served under Beshaba at the same time as him. They were also drafted into the Blood War alongside Silvertongue, however one was killed during a baatezu attack in Bloor Tor, but he managed to save his other friend from an orthon attack, however this meant that he suffered many injuries and his clothes were tattered—he still wears the coat he wore from the orthon attack as he views it as a symbol of pride and a reminder that he saved his friend. Silvertongue is probably around 300 or so years old (give or take) so he served in the Blood War for over 250 years, and he was a decent soldier. He was often picked on due to his diminutive stature compared to the other demon soldiers, however what he lacked in strength and size he made up in agility and stealth. That isn’t to say he’s weak though he could still easily rip a human in half.

Now that I’ve given you most of his backstory I’ll talk about the events that took place recently to when BG3 starts. This part is also linked to the Dark Urge backstory, which I altered a bit for Silvertongue’s backstory. Although he was still fighting in Avernus, he started going on missions to Toril in order to disrupt devils from gaining souls from mortals, and for this he went to lots of different cities, one of these being Baldur’s Gate. This is when he ran into the cult of Bhaal, and long story short he ended up becoming involved—he didn’t worship Bhaal but he thought that having the Bhaalists on his side would be useful. Not too long after he met Gortash, and he found out about his affiliation with Bane, and learned about the Crown of Karsus and the Elderbrain, which is when Silvertongue forged the plan to use the Elderbrain and the ilithid tadpoles to turn the people into mindflayers as it would completely destroy the devils’ ability to recruit mortal souls as mindflayers were soulless. Him, Gortash and Ketheric carry out the plan etc etc and during these times Silvertongue keeps occasionally returning to Avernus to continue fighting in the Blood War.

This is right before the events of the game, as he was in Avernus when the nautiloid passed through it at the beginning, and due to being half-elf and therefore somewhat mortal he was swept up by the nautiloid and infected by a tadpole. Similar to some of the other companions—such as Wyll and Gale—Silvertongue’s stronger abilities and a lot of his power were sealed due to the tadpole’s influence, and he was trapped in his mortal aspect with very little magic. His current goal, like the other companions, is to get rid of the tadpole in order to regain his demonic aspect and his powers so he can continue to fight in the Blood War, although reluctantly—he recognises that it’s his duty and it gives him the opportunity to maim and kill others, but he’s still quite connected to his mortal lineage and he likes the thought of retiring, or at least living in Toril rather than continuing to fight in the Blood War.

Alright now on to him and Raphael (and a bit of Haarlep). Their first meeting was interesting, Silvertongue immediately clocked Raphael as a devil and tried to attack him, whilst in my interpretation of Raphael he’s never fought in the Blood War himself and has only witnessed it from afar so he can’t easily distinguish a demon when they’re not in an easily recognisable form, so he just thought Silvertongue was a bit jumpy and paranoid. I haven’t gotten Silvertongue past Act 1 yet, so whilst these events haven’t taken place yet I’m still going to refer to them in past tense for ease. Raphael manages to figure out that Silvertongue’s a half-demon at Last Light and that he was a soldier in the Blood War, which is what prompts him to get Silvertongue to kill Yurgir. In Act 3 I think Raphael’s contract would be slightly altered for Silvertongue, instead offering to remove his tadpole rather than giving him the Orphic Hammer. In exchange Raphael still receives the Crown of Karsus. Since Silvertongue has spent most of his life in the Abyss and hasn’t encountered any devils in a peaceful or conversational setting, he doesn’t really know how tricky they are and the weight of their contracts and how binding they are, so he signs Raphael’s contract; Raphael keeps his word and removes his tadpole. Unfortunately, with Silvertongue having grown attached to his companions and hating authority figures, he decides to break into Raphael’s home to nick the Orphic Hammer so he can free Orpheus, but he doesn’t take his contract as he just thinks it’s some old piece of paper, he doesn’t think that it actually holds any power over him or his soul. As you might know if you break into Raphael’s home without stealing your contract he, uh, incinerates you. My interpretation of this is that the player character then becomes one of his debtors trapped in his house, which is exactly what happens to Silvertongue. Fortunately his companions were able to escape with the hammer, however Helsik then closed the portal because let’s be real who wants a rampaging devil chasing after you into Toril, so essentially Silvertongue is stuck there as his soul is bound and his companions currently had no way of breaking him out.

Raphael doesn’t have as much power over Silvertongue as his other debtors due to his Abyssal heritage and not being fully mortal, so Silvertongue still has some freedom and is (mostly) sane (or as sane as he was before becoming a debtor), he’s mostly just bound to the house and unable to harm Raphael. Silvertongue is not happy about his situation and spends the first couple of weeks essentially throwing a huge tantrum and destroying half the furniture. He meets Haarlep during this time and since I headcanon Haarlep as being an enslaved tanar’ri (thanks to this post which completely hey this place isn’t too bad, it’s warm, I get a bed aechanged my outlook) they hit it off well pretty quickly, so they became quite close and shit-talked Raphael. It took a few weeks but Silvertongue realised that hey this place isn’t that bad, it’s warm, I get a bed and free food and I’m not constantly praying for my life and I don’t have to kill devils 24/7 for hundreds of years so he very quickly becomes a lot like a house cat, although he also realises that whilst he might be stuck with Raphael, Raphael is also stuck with him, which gives him the motivation to be an absolute prick but in a petty and mischievous way rather than an overly destructive and murderous way. Raphael absolutely hates this at first but over time they get more comfortable with each other and less antagonistic, which then evolves into a slight fondness (well more of a mild love-hate relationship), and I think that’s all up-to-date.

I’m so sorry that was so long ajdnshdndn but I really enjoyed infodumping about Silvertongue’s backstory, thank you so much for this ask!

#asks #my oc #bg3 #bg3 tav #dark urge #bard #half elf #cambion #demon #silvertongue #bg3 raphael #blood tor #toril #beshaba #city of strife #wall of the faithless #oinos #avernus #baatezu #orthon #bhaal #enver gortash #bane #elder brain #mind flayer #ketheric thorm #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #haarlep #devil

[vigilskeep]

Other than the whole murder-exile thing, how was Yrsa’s relationship with her brothers?

oh yeah other than the minor fact that one convinced her to murder the other,

i kind of have to preface this with the lore i've invented for their mothers, who in my hcs were all different women. bear with me here. to briefly summarise: yrsa's mother hekkata was the queen of orzammar, king endrin's legitimate wife. trian's mother lady rosdrada was another noblewoman, who endrin took as a consort when queen hekkata initially failed to have children. bhelen's mother gwenef was born artisan caste and was a dressmaker in the queen's retinue until she bore the king a son and was raised to consort

the reason all this is relevant is because they were each very much crafted as their mother's legacies, or at least trian and yrsa were, as both hekkata and rosdrada firmly intended their children to take the crown. they had a tempestuous rivalry, each seeing their child as more legitimate and promising. when trian and yrsa were younger, they were allowed to play as siblings and train together, and there is still some of that fondness there they try to ignore (and often find easy to ignore, considering how irritating they now find each other. but they still fight the exact same way, they have the same laugh). the older they got, the more they were pressured to see each other as competitors, especially by their mothers. that conflict only truly took on its sharpest edge a handful of years before dao, when hekkata died on a deep roads expedition. yrsa abandoned her more relaxed youthful ways, convinced it was her duty to fulfil her mother's wishes and make herself a real challenge for the throne, while trian absorbed his mother's bitterness that, with hekkata gone, endrin still refused to ever take rosdrada as his new queen and confer that legitimacy on trian. (there was actually a scandal over rosdrada pushing too hard for this, leading people to whisper that hekkata's death had been arranged by her too, and rosdrada's loss of favour and reputation meant she has lived a mostly secluded life in the palace ever since. which i mention because it adds to their resentments; they both lost their mothers in different ways and can blame it on each other's.)

bhelen was never seen as a threat in the same way. gwenef was taken under the queen's wing in friendship after she became a consort, having always been part of the queen's retinue, which is why it's natural for yrsa to see bhelen as an ally even when he's serving as trian's second (which, since bhelen obviously resents it, i would read as perhaps a superficial conciliatory measure pushed by endrin? one which is in itself fairly dismissive of bhelen's status). but while the queen was fond of gwenef, gwenef's son's rights were also casually dismissed. because of bhelen's relative youth and gwenef's lower caste origins, it was never expected he would put together serious political backing like the kind hekkata and rosdrada had been preparing since before their children were born, or do anything but be a spare to live his life in service of whichever of his siblings was crowned. while yrsa feels deep down that it will always come down to a fight between her and trian, leading her to reluctantly take the offensive against him in the origin because she believes it an inevitability, she truly never considers bhelen a threat. she's genuinely fond of her little brother, who she was allowed to always consider a sibling, but was also always allowed to ignore. if i wanted to be uncharitable i'd say she was fond in the way you're fond of the family dog: because it's uncomplicated. it never occurs to her that he could make a gambit like this or would want to, just as it never occurs to her not to assume the worst of trian. what she really inherits more than anything from her mother is those fatal mistakes

#yrsa aeducan #sorry for the heavy blocks of lore but this is all so interconnected in my mind there is no way to really talk abt it without the rest #anyway this stuff is all being updated as i go but this is where i think its at rn if that makes sense

[tableintheteacherslounge]

Abbott Elementary S03E05 thoughts

I LOVE YOU BARBARA HOWARD

That cold open was funny as hell - “Brother, sister, and maam” I burst out laughing in the first minute

What did Jacob and Gregory experience at Melissa’s bar??

“But that was last week” melissa are u okay? Are u refusing to admit your breakup hurt?

The bros <3 i lovee jacob and gregory’s friendship and the way it has developed SO MUCH

“Now im just one musketeer and theyre two assholes who dont invite me to things” IS SO FUNNY 😭😭😭

“Step practice is more important than homework, if any of ur teachers disagree i can and will fire them” Ava 😭😭 she’s been 10/10 this season but especially this episode, one liner after one liner, getting janelle that emmy I see you

Don’t mind me just a workwives shipper noting the difference in reaction barb has between ava touching her and melissa touching her

SISTER SLOSS I AM IN YOUR WALLS I HATE YOU HOW DARE U INSULT BARB - and the way Barb then covers her lips no it makes me so sad (AND the way she wears neutral colours the rest of the ep)

This whole barb scene is just great jacob moment after great jacob moment, but the darts skills are particularly relatable

It makes me so sad that jacob and zach have been fighting, I know a break up is the best thing but :( I thought they’d get married and janine would be a bridesmaid (if not maid of honour)

Honeymoon, hell, stuck here 😭💔

“It just so happens its never me” 😣 barb honey 🥺🫂

“WHAT IS A CHOIR IF NOT A SORORITY FOR THE LORD” see one liner after one liner!!!!

Okay this whole melissa story imma just summarise here - I don’t get it. Melissa introducing herself to someone is straight out of character (is it meant to be development? idk i dont get it), the fact they actually were qualified and janine and mel were wrong feels flat - it would’ve felt like a better end of the story if they were right, it didn’t even feel like there was a beginning middle and end just they suspected the teacher and were wrong. Something was missing, maybe it’s because Janine’s at the district idk, but this whole arc felt rushed and shoe horned in to the ep.

As soon as janine said she was making a tough decision I couldn’t wait to see what actually dumb unimportant thing it was so v happy to be right

Jacob just end it instead of dragging out the pain 💔

Jacob watching the eras tour! I’m desperate to know his favourite era

“Sorry I had to take that” “we saw you dial” lmao

“No sister sloss its the same one” “Same several” OOH THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

I’ve actually wondered about Barb’s piercings for ages bc it seems ooc so seeing it addressed was for me actually

The gasps and the sponge squeeze LARRY OWENS U WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

Love love love the casual non binary rep and that it was just normal

Barb opening up to ava 🥺🩷 I loved this moment so much, Barb’s faith is such a big part of who she is and to know that it hasn’t always been simple and straightforward and what singing in the choir means to her it’s just so 🥺

Not to make everything gay but the pause and look to camera for “I’m … friends with some of abbott’s more colourful teachers” barb did u almost come out? (And does colourful mean 🏳️‍🌈 [and does that include melissa] or shady (definitely includes melissa)

Ava setting up barb’s concert 🥹🥹🥹🥹 I’ll cry

Melissa was so so proud oh my goodness 😭 proudest wife ever

Give me Barbara’s full album

Let me hear her whistle tone

Overall:

I’ll miss u larry owens please come back

Janelle and chris are coming for their emmys / nominations

Barb 🥺🩷

Idk what that melissa janine story was

Still need more mr johnson

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary season 3

[sor-vette]

❝𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲❞

You knew three things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Secondly, he was the devil and thirdly, which Jimin himself insisted to be true, was that he was in love with you.

• type: Jimin x reader • rating: SFW • w/c: 6.3k • main masterlist

• genre/about: fluff, friends? to lovers? very much romantic vs. emotionally constipated feat. adulthood feat. extremely pining Jimin because when the guy is the pining one is peak intellect fight me, the reader has specific zodiac placements but other than that nothing bodily wise is mentioned

• c/w: mentioned attempt to coerce someone into drug abuse, mention of past eating disorder, discussion of self-image issues, mildly suggestive

• a/n: was just rifling through my drafts and remembered this was a thing. I liked it even though it's unfinished and kinda sappy

• permanent taglist: @ilsan-seoul; @chimchimmarie; @pinkcherrybombs; @introlxv

There were three things that needed to be known about Park Jimin, was what Tilla told you while you had jogged to meet her boyfriend's roommate. In order: he was a Libra Sun, Gemini Moon, and Cancer Rising, which can all be summarised in one category - he was incredibly flirty. Though Tilla insisted she had already said Libra Sun whatever that meant and that there was no other, literally no other, bar for her Namjoonie, that was as ethereal as Jimin. Those were the things that preceded his fine name - good looking to an insane degree and flirty. Hence why when you had glimpsed the top of his bleached head, you had already swerved hard left then and remained the only one from the clash of two social circles - Namjoon's and Tilla's - as an absolute mystery.

Tilla once again insisted that she had already made everyone aware of your Scorpio Sun status...whatever the hell that meant.

Now, some years, not a lot but some years gone, you knew three more accurate things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Really, not even being an eternal sceptic -

"It's that Capricorn Moon of yours, I'm telling you," Tilla declared, passionately waving around a fork and accidentally sending a piece of egg flying into Namjoon's face who was unsuspectingly sitting by the neighbouring cafeteria table. A victim in many cases. That's how they met actually.

- not even being an eternal sceptic, could sway that despite the occasional, human hiccup, Park Jimin was an attentive and caring man. Secondly, he was the devil.

As you had gawked at the suggestive photo of him, grabbing his crotch, long tongue poking at the corner of his full lips, the entire shebang and acknowledging that he made that sort of lewd act look artistic, you knew that Park Jimin was an ocean if not the whole world of hurt. When you confronted him over the group breakfast, why would he ever send such a thing, he had only smirked over a cup of orange juice and after innocently fluttering his eyelashes, asked whatever did you mean. Of course, not five minutes after another picture had followed.

All of that could be ignored, pushed, shoved, burned and forgotten if not for the third thing.

The third thing which Jimin himself had insisted to be true.

Which is that he was in love with you.

You wake up one day and you're an adult. An adult with bills to pay and taxes to be deducted. You work away in a job you don't like but don't dare to change because unemployment is no joke and you live in a studio apartment too small that costs too much and is not in any shape or form of any resemblance to the appealing pictures of the white and green variety found on Instagram. Your socks have holes and your shoes let in water when it rains too hard. You're so very lonely but you've given up on the dating scene because the fear of being messed up, being damaged is too vast. Dating is hard. Opening up to people is hard.

There is very little romance to be found while you wander on a path that feels like a wrong choice but you don't want to think about it too hard yet because what if you had messed up and what if you will end up exactly like hundreds of others, figures in the disgruntled mass, all chasing a dream that maybe didn't even exist.

It's all very bleak.

Except for Saturdays.

Saturdays are these nice little blankets of comfort where nice things are possible, given, of course, that you spend money on them but that doesn't matter. You can sleep in, then tuck the sheets that need a wash over the bed and grabbing only your wallet to name, venture out into the city. You've got your tote bag, because nowadays everyone has them and you stroll, briefly careless, underneath the sun. And then you can get a coffee of your choice and an overpriced something that the barista swears their soul for and you can sit and dream in the plushy chairs of the ambient little coffee shop.

It's as near to perfection as you can get.

If not for Park fucking Jimin.

You're not a university student anymore and you're far from high school, all the romantic nonsense of meet-cute, friend of a friend and such are well over - you're simply too old for it. It must be some ultra ironic twist of fate for him to look into the shop window just at the moment when you look out. He freezes mid-step and meets your gaze, recognizing you in an instant, well because...because supposedly he was in love with you.

It was a damp July night and cicadas were in a full shriek all around the small meadow. You passively watch from the sidelines as Namjoon and Tilla sway together, completely in their own world. Namjoon had gone through your immaculately designed trials and tribulations from hell and made it through with passable grades. And in spite of the habitual threats of emasculating him with a corkscrew and the rather deep resentment for their romance, you are, in the end, happy for these two baboons and hold your fingers crossed that they will not contribute to the divorce rates and instead be one of those couples, farting next to each other in their old. Or whatever the fuck they did.

You guard your champagne like it's a lifeline because holy hell Yoongi was snorting that shit by the litres and you salute quietly to yourself - to the end of an era.

He outdid himself this evening. Absolutely stunning visuals from Mr Park. It's just an objective fact, you think to yourself.

But... but Jimin is also there. Jimin was...complicated. For you, at least. He's looking at you. He was always looking at you but it never quite grows into being creepy. It's simply peculiar. By now it's been already four years since you were begrudgingly introduced to each other and you've made peace with being in his focus.

"I like you," he suddenly says, the light breeze ruffling his hair.

You laugh awkwardly but Jimin doesn't.

"Uh...I like you too."

"No, no," he shakes his head. "I'm in love with you."

After a stilted pause, he continues.

"Strange, isn't it?" his smile seems bizarrely self-conscious. "To be in love?"

What do you say when such a thing is just dropped upon you with no warning whatsoever?

"Guess so."

Well, probably not that.

Jimin left quickly after. Went on the world tour or whatever models did and you don't see him anymore.

Usually, the confession meant the end of the movie, the culmination of the plot, the beginning of the happy ever after but this was real life and as such there was nothing, just the fearful pondering of what could have been better and self-congratulatory pats of what was avoided. He becomes a voice in your head, forever confusing you as to why would he say such a thing and a distantly familiar face printed on the covers of laminated, high-end magazines. 

Yes, all the cuteness, all the cliche romance is over. But if you believed them, which you didn't, but if you did, then the image of Park Jimin bounding towards you with a smile so wide his eyes did the thing of narrowing into thin lines, would be the only one who'd fit the scenarios.

"Hello, stranger," he beamed, hooking off the mask and advancing forward with great speed and agility. It was that grace of an unceasing charmer. Cancer Rising. Whatever that meant. You scamper upwards, weighing between a hand wave or a nod of the head and then you're left standing still as Jimin hugs you. Not a casual press against the side hug but a bone-crushing, enveloping-you-fully-until-all-you-smell-is-my-cologne type of hug. The breed of which you've missed dearly.

It takes him a while, a couple of wags from left and right, to step back and skim you over. As he's smiling wide you focus on that one crooked tooth in his mouth. One, neat little flaw to remind you and everyone else that he was, in fact, a human being but unfortunately this was Park Jimin and even his flaws were at their worst merely endearing.

"You look lovely," he praises and you clear your throat. Did he have to be so sincere about it?

"You too. Though you must hear it often."

He inclines his head.

"I like to hear it from you. Thank you."

You hum, glancing down at your occupied seat. Jimin does too.

"May I join?" he asks.

"Sure."

You meant to say no. Did you? Did you really? There's nothing wrong with talking a bit with Jimin, right? Catch up? He was a friend of a friend, anyway.

And also the guy who was in love with you.

Okay.

Alright.

Like that makes sense.

He pulls the chair and nestles into it, running his hands through his hair. You had seen nearly all the colours of the rainbow on his head. How he had even a scalp to hold onto, the world may never know.

"How have you been?"

"....I've been here."

He gives a gracious laugh. Jimin was always so quick to laugh.

"And is it nice here?"

You glimpse outside.

“Not really."

He chuckles again. It must be the condensation from all the coffee making. The shop was getting quite toasty.

"What about you? What have you been doing?"

You fetch Jimin his matcha latte, declining his offer to pay back.

"Worked nonstop, pretty much," he shrugs. "I went on a runway once, but I stopped doing it when I developed an eating disorder and my manager suggested to do cocaine."

You are left sitting with your mouth wide open like a fool.

Jimin's eyes crinkle as he smiles at such a thing. Like it wasn't fucked up as all shit that it happened.

“I'm better now though. Kicked that piece of shit away."

Everyone knew that everyone had self-image issues. That was the selling point, it was profitable for even the objectively perfect to be doubtful of themselves and spend thousands and thousands on diet pills, form-fitted clothes, alternative "healthier" eating which was the same look-obsessed culture now rebranded itself as wellness. Yes, you comprehended that but it didn't make it any less unbelievable to hear someone like Jimin, Park the motherfucking Jimin, openly reveal that he didn't like how he looked.

He curiously watches your brain gear and error over and over again.

"Don't apologise if that's what you want to do?" he laughs, quietly, shyly, as though he'd done something wrong. "It's not your fau-"

"I just think that's an atrocious fucking horseshit," your mouth runs on auto-pilot because your brain is lacking. It was never a good combination.

"What is?"

"For anyone to ever think you're not beautiful."

"And to...to suggest drugs? What the fuck is wrong with these people?" you snarl, gripping your coffee cup with pulverising strength, briefly wondering why Jimin winced. Did he not like the coffee? He had never complained before…

Unbeknownst to you, Jimin blushes bright red because it's the brutal honesty in your tone that truly does him in. He was used to the saccharine compliments that seeped like poison from strangers' mouths, designed to reel in and it never failed to be vile. But he still found enjoyment in hearing the odd little praises if they came from you. You who had no ulterior motive. Oh, how he knew about the lack of any motives. Truth be told just fifteen minutes ago he had yelled at himself "enough!". But all the attempts to forget you had boarded a plane, flew to the Himalayas and tossed themselves from the highest peak the moment you appeared on the other side of the window. Not even he himself quite understood this thing he had for you. What he did know was that he despised matcha latte but never had the heart to correct you so he suffered through it the times that you got it for him. And that was perhaps more of an insight than he could ever explain to others or to himself.

"Don't know," he replied casually, "I didn't stick around to ask."

"That's good. Are you..are you actually fine, though? Or are you doing your thing of lying to not seem like a burden?"

He smirked mirthlessly.

"I'm actually fine. Dealt with it."

You leaned back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

"So, how's Joontill?"

You snort.

"Enjoying the fine Australian weather."

Jimin frowns in confusion and you mirror his expression.

"They're in Australia right now?"

“Well, yeah. Namjoon got that internship at Murdoch University. They're doing some kind of study about the Coral Reef. Tilla is finding herself on a new spiritual journey. Something about crystals."

More than once, you had looked at Tilla and Namjoon and thought that there were more commonalities between a tiger and a cockatoo than those two. Nevertheless, the two weirdos persisted in their mutual obsession with each other.

“I knew that, it's just...I was meaning to stay here for a while and they offered me their place to stay until I found my own."

"Maybe they left you a key in a mailbox or something," you ponder.

“Maybe," he agrees and sips on the drink.

“So, you're actually settling down? Can't be! Mr Eternal Bachelor?"

"Oh, yes, truth is indeed stranger than fiction. I'm settling down here. Since I'm not doing runways anymore, I applied for a place in a local fashion and lifestyle magazine. I'm done chasing the glory," he exhaled snidely, eyes momentarily darkening at what clearly were fractures of some sour memories.

"That's nice," you lightly remark, careful not to prod at anything still aching. "What will you be doing?"

"Writing, editing, maybe modelling," he took a sip of the coffee, flinching again. 

He must hate it, so why was he still drinking it? 

"Sort of jack-of-all-trades help."

Both of you agree that it's a needed start over. Seemingly only minutes pass but then the barista reminds you that they'll be closing in fifteen minutes.

Dishes of pastries have piled all around and when you look outside, with a stiff neck and even stiffer backside to your surprise the sky has turned dark. Unavoidably, like all good things did, Saturday had come to its inevitable end. The air is fresh and cool outside and your cheeks glisten with unexplainable heat. Jimin stretches with a smile, whining at the sore muscles. The lights of the nearby fruit vendors starkly remind you of Joontill's wedding night and so, still operating on a basic instinct of speaking first - thinking never, the question simply rips out as you linger in each other's presence.

"Do you still like me?"

Jimin, who was in the middle of saying goodbye, freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. He stands like that for a moment and then smiles as though you were sharing some private joke. 

"Yeah," he laughs. "Yeah, I still do."

"Scorpio venus," Tilla enunciated like you were not getting some rudimentary piece of common knowledge. "If he's making eyes at you, you're doomed, sis."

You put the powder brush away with a sigh. All you asked was did she knew why that Jimin guy had been gawking at you at her boyfriend's party.

"Ain't your boy-toy the same house?"

“Those are placements, not houses," Tilla amended, hanging upside down on the bed, lollipop sticking out of her mouth. "And yes, Joonie -"

"Joonie," you scoffed.

"- is also Scorpio venus. How do you think I know I'll get my guts rearranged this night and tomorrow morning?"

You crinkle your nose in disgust.

"Gross."

"I'll be going now," he sighs and it is mind-boggling to you how he does that. Confesses and then proceeds life as normal. Most people would be digging themselves in a ditch, you first and foremost, but not Mr Park. He had told you twice already that he fancied you and then simply left.

You bite discreetly on your lip. What would happen if you would cast everything aside? Take him by the hand and lead away? Well, the thing would be is that he would probably fall out of love the moment you'd fall into it. That's why there was the term "timing". Time was a precarious thing and often changed with every passing wind. And you were well aware of how painful it'd be to actually fall in love with Park Jimin. You had been dancing on that edge for years now and as such had tethered nicely to the side of inactivity. Even if you found out that loitering around him in person made you irrationally want to kiss him.

As you part, each walking in your own separate directions, you think of being so sneaky by waiting until the very last second to glimpse back at him. Just once. But as you do, you find that to his credit, Jimin was already looking.

"Shut the fuck up," you growl not even bothering to lift your head from the pillow. Tilla doesn't have to say anything. That smarmy, annoying little face of hers shouts more than words ever could.

“I did not speak!" she objects but with a tint of amusement. The weird subject of you and Jimin had entertained her for years with no signs of stopping. Behind her, there sprawls the beautiful vistas of the Australian sea, the sun high in the sky while outside you can perhaps glance at a faint glimmer of stars aimlessly wandering through space.

"Oh, I do wish you would just seize the bull by the horns. Jimin's fine enough of a stallion and by rumours -"

"Don't you dare to discuss Jimin's dick out loud!"

Somewhere outside of the camera comes Namjoon's grumbling threat. When Tilla points her phone at him, he can be found with a toothbrush lodged in his mouth, tugging his shorts over his ass.

Unfortunately not an unseen sight.

“I've got eyes only for you, babe."

"Liar, liar, tiny thong on fire," he casts her a stormy glare. "You were thirsting over those surfers all day. I know."

"Oh, you do? Why don't you come here and punish me then."

"Please, I beg of you, there's only so much vomit I can project!" you interrupt, physically gagging at the unfolding scene.

Tilla merely rolled her eyes and you try not to ponder too much on the fact that judging from the peculiar angle one of her hands must be tied to the bed.

"But back to you, listen, I know it may be hard to believe, only for you of course, but Jimin is still carrying a massive fucking torch for you. If you don't do anything, that flame will go out."

“So? Wonderful! I want it to go out!"

Tilla's eyes soften.

"Babe..."

You shake your head once more.

“No, don't pity me."

"I'm not pitying you! It's just that it's not really a plan - to move to Alberta, adopt seventeen dogs, go insane one night and then die from hypothermia while streaking outside, after which your dogs feast on your decomposing flesh."

You regard her with a raised brow.

“Why ever not? I've spent my entire life with that plan."

Tilla sighed leaning back into the pillows. Her wrist was indeed locked in a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs.

“You know you are capable of love, right?"

“I've loved you my entire life," you are quick to agree.

"And Namjoon."

“Doubtful."

Tilla smirks and Namjoon groans somewhere in the distance.

"Know your place, boy-toy," you bark at him. "I was here first."

"She was," Tilla interjects, pointing one solemn finger off the camera. At this point, Namjoon mutters something about "women" and exits stage left.

"You know I'm not saying you should jump Jimin because he's gorgeous and nice and has the hots for you-"

"That's exactly what you're saying."

"No, well, maybe a little bit, but it's fine if you reject him because you don't like him or because you know you won't regret it. But do you remember Katie?"

Could you ever forget the little wench who'd stolen your purple, fuzz covered purse bedazzled with the words "icon"? It was a vicious and unjust crime that took weeks to get over.

"Do you not regret punching her in the face that day she came to school with your bag?"

Of course, you did. Being a seven-year-old who had not yet hit a growth spurt such as yourself, Katie then seemed so invincible and tall. But now as an adult, having the sage wisdom and knowledge that one famed day you'll knock out not one, but two dudes of senior class when they tried to pocket your hard-earned money, you deeply mourned the fact that you hadn't given her the knuckle sandwich that heinous skank clearly deserved.

"My point is, don't let Jimin be another Katie. You're so bitter already, god knows, we don't need you to be any grouchier in your old."

"Ha ha ha," you mock her dryly but deep down you knew she was right. It was that mutated, single-celled organism called a brain you both shared like any other friendship that lasted longer than most marriages. "Anyway, I'm surprised you let him stay over. You're usually so twitchy about anyone touching your stuff."

Tilla frowned and a sickly squirming feeling rose in your stomach.

"I didn't? What are you talking about?"

"Jimin said that until he'll find his own place, he'll stay at yours. Went to look for the spare key and everything."

She shot upright in terror.

"Namjoon! NaMJOONIE!"

Immediately, the doors burst open.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Are you alright?!"

“Did we actually say "yes" when Jimin called us about staying over?!"

"I did say "yes"," comes his bashful voice. "But I didn't mean it for him! I meant it for you, considering what we were in the middle of..."

These horny amoebas.

"You picked up the phone when you were having sex?!"

Tilla graciously ignores your outrage.

"Do we have any spare keys?"

"Of course, not. It's unsafe."

If group chat messages were true, then Yoongi moved back to Korea three months ago and Hoseok had left across the country to finally finish his degree in contemporary dance, that means -

A ring by the door.

- that you were the only one in the city that Jimin was familiar with.

You and Tilla exchange glances and slowly, annoyingly slowly, upon reaching the same conclusion as you, she blossoms into a broad smirk. When you rip open the door, the phone still in hand, you find Jimin there, knuckles suspended in the air, clearly not expecting the eager welcome.

"So, a funny thing -"

"JIMIN!! HELLO!" comes a scream from down your thigh.

"Oh, hello, Tilla!" he leans down to wave at her, smiling brightly. "You seem to not have left me a spare key, Mrs Kim-Hogen."

"Uh, yeah," Tilla glances nervously to the side where no doubt guilty Namjoon was hiding outside the camera. "Well, you know Joon, all butterfingers.""

"Or skilled fingers. Are those handcuffs I see?"

As he was leaning down, a chain previously tucked underneath Jimin's shirt falls out. It sways in the air, back and forth and you have this small but really rather intrusive thought. Would it sway like this in your face when he's on top of you? The thought vanishes with an aggressive shake of the head.

"Why yes, they are," Tilla purrs. "Whoever said that long-lasting relationships are a drag needs to find themselves a better partner. I'm the happiest I've ever been. Don't you forget it, angel!"

"Oh, I'm nothing if not a hopeless romantic, Mrs Kim-Hogen," and with that chain still dangling, he has the absolute gall to look up and meet your gaze. "Just my person's quite stubborn."

No. You're not doing this.

“Okay, well that's enough of that," you huff.

“WAIT NO! There's so much I want to ask him! What happened to the fashion show? What happened with Mi-Ran? Are you settling dOWN JUST FOR-"

You smack the phone shut, tired of serving as a tripod so these two gossipy bitches could discuss their sexcapades. No, you did not want to hear any of the details of what they both got up to, thank you very much. The thought alone left a sour taste in your mouth. The phone is tossed on the sofa. It bounces back and falls onto the floor.

Naturally.

Jimin crosses his arms behind his back.

"So," he begins awkwardly.

"So," you echo.

It's weird. You're strangers but not really. You're sweethearts but not even close. You're friends but were you?

It's all so very odd.

"I understand if you don't want me to crash here but on the off chance, if you say yes, may I ask?"

Smooth. He has engaged the Libra as Tilla would say.

"Yes," you dumbly answer, without hesitation gripping the door in a panic. You did not just agree to it.

Jimin too seems shocked. His eyes are wide and his mouth is falling slightly open. There's that crooked tooth again.

"Yes? Wait, yes, as in, I can ask or yes as in..." he exhales a shaky breath. "As in I can stay with you?"

"Yes, you can stay with me," you drawl. No, that was not what the shards of brain masquerading themselves as an intellect told you to say. You were meant to say that you're truly sorry and you wish you could but the space is simply too small to allow another person in. But as such you say neither of those words, the sentiment coming from your mouth is quite the opposite.

"You sure?" he clarifies and you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to stay on the street? Because one more -"

"No, no," Jimin laughs, hastily waving his hands. He's practically glowing and you turn to glance away. "I'd rather stay here, thanks."

"Well, then, come on in."

He shuffles inside and you note the lack of baggage. He also didn't have any in the coffee shop. The only thing he carried was an unassuming bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Chanel?" you point at it, with an arched eyebrow as he shimmies through the small hallway, trying to shrug his jacket off.

"What? Oh, no, an airport at...Berlin, I think. It's hard to keep track of all the places I was." Showoff. "Why Chanel specifically?" he grunts, kicking his shoes off. It's only by a miracle that you have spare slippers available. They were fuzzy and adorned with large cows but he'll have to suck it up. To his credit, Jimin doesn't even bat an eye.

"Oh, I don't know," you reply after a moment. "I just thought that Chanel was your breakout."

A teasing smile is back on his face and you turn your back on it, switching on the overhead lamps in the living room.

"Hmm, I wonder how you knew that."

"...Tilla told me," you stubbornly refute, peering into your fridge to offer as a snack.

"And not those magazines on the table?"

Your eyes snap to the offending objects, recalling that underneath the odd bill and notebook, there did sit a varied collection of Jimin's faces. Harper's Bazaar, L'Officiel Hommes. Pieces he knew you had no interest in. When drunk on a political debate night one night, you'd sparred with Namjoon for about thirty minutes about how journals like these were nothing but laminated drivel and the fact that they were grey was just about the only thing that differentiated them from yellow pages.

“Wrong subscription," you brush away and Jimin chuckles while taking in your house.

His eyes are wide and his gaze curious. With a reminiscent smile, he inspects your diplomas, most of which he was there to witness in the audience. You remembered, when you got your honorary diploma, the so-called summa cum laude, after long hours and tears and breakdowns. He had been the loudest to cheer you on. So loud, he, in fact, beat not only your entire family and Tilla combined but also made himself noticeable in the eyes of the university choir's leader. Your classmates had teased you on and on about what supportive boyfriend you had and you were so happy that day the distinction didn't seem worth pointing out. Your hands tighten around the fruit plate. Had he...liked you already then? No, impossible! Impossible. Wasn't he dating someone around that time? Christine? Magnus? Rosa? You couldn't even recall. The point was, there wasn't a day in university Jimin's life that was spent in a bed unwarmed. You smack the plate perhaps a tad harsher on the table than strictly necessary.

Jimin giggles on the side. Despite much of your protests, Tilla had hung up some of the childhood polaroids you both shared, making for rather nostalgic, albeit embarrassing mementos.

"Oh, my God, look at those cheeks," he coos, pointing at a five-year-old you, wrenched in a tin foil spacesuit. The combined result of watching both E.T. and Back to the Future a day before the "what do you want to be" theme day in the kindergarten.

"And the pigtails! This is gold. I must capture this!" he pulls out his phone and before you can throw something sharp in his direction, the mortifying embarrassment is already stored in his gallery.

"You share that to the group chat and I'll-"

"-emasculate me?" he finishes. "Yes, I know. I think you've threatened to do that over a hundred times and yet here I stand - still endowed."

"Don't test your luck, Park," you growl, arranging the final orange slices. "Any day now. It could happen any day now."

He snickers and sits down by the table.

“I like your home," he says, swaying a bit. "But why is it so small?"

“Oh, I'm trying to save up as much as I can. This place already costs an arm and a leg. Hard to imagine what bigger spaces would rip off."

Jimin pops a grape in his mouth.

“True."

“Do you want ramen, perhaps?"

He tilts his head.

"As a food, not as a pickup line," you threaten him with a knife that was used to cut the oranges. Jimin quickly tugs it aside.

"Sure. I'm just wondering since when did you get so nice? Did you miss me, perhaps?" he clicks his tongue and leans in with a mischievous smile illuminating his face.

"Don't say nonsense," you snap back but you did. Just a little tiny bit. Sometimes. On the oddest of days.

While the water boils you get down to business.

"There is only the couch that you can sleep on. It's a pull-out, but still a little small overall. You're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with a pull out though I much prefer the keep in method," he wiggles his eyebrows while leaning against the countertop. You push past it.

"As you can see there's not much to explore. The door on the left there is the bathroom, door on the right just this weird storage space. Any questions?"

"You’ve got a partner?"

You close your eyes and exhale rather dramatically. 

"Say goodbye to your penis, Jimin," you grimly mutter and move towards him with a melon scooper clutched tightly between fingers. He rushes backwards, laughing. 

"I’ll take it as a no," he blurts out, looking too unconcerned for someone whose life hinged on the kindness of your rotten soul. “It’s just so I would know what to do if someone rushes here while I’m there naked on the sofa.”

The water boils and you pour the packet into it, stirring absent-mindedly with Jimin’s eyes locked on the back of your skull. 

"And, of course, so I would know whether or not I’m free to seduce you."

You drop the seasoning into the water. 

"What makes you think you can seduce me?" you casually reply, fishing out the plastic. "It hasn’t worked in all the years we’ve known each other."

He crosses his palms underneath the chin, appearing for a second misleadingly angelic.

"Yes, but I wasn’t really trying then. All in all, it’s getting quite pathetic on my end to pine you after all these years." 

It’s just the steam from the pot, it’s just the steam from the pot, that’s why my face is so warm, you tell yourself. 

"So I’ll take this opportunity to be straightforward with you."

You really didn’t need for him to be any more straightforward. He already confessed - twice! - what was there even left to do?

“And if you’re not my girlfriend/my wife/my fiance by the end of this, I guess…" he trails off into silence. The humour in his voice had drained and you find yourself fearing the end of that sentence. As much as you would prefer Jimin not to waste his time on you, ultimately and with no little amount of heinous selfishness it would still sting to have these feelings be lost. You let out a small groan.

Make up your mind woman, you scold yourself, let him go if he wants to go. Yes, it's for the best. You and Jimin were simply incompatible. Worse than being two opposite magnets, you were brown and he was blue, mixing them together would just make a sludge, a neither that nor this colour which was both dull and unusable for any self-respecting artwork. Some people could be the opposite and meshed well, green and blue, Tilla and Namjoon, some, you and Jimin, was a no go. 

As you’re weighing the matter in your own metaphors, you don’t notice that Jimin never actually finished the sentence. The threat was largely only reserved for himself. “I guess, I’ll leave you alone.” But he never had the guts to say it out loud, scared that it would come true if he did.

Your eyes droop dangerously low. You and Jimin had made him a place to sleep, using decorative pillows and extra fleece blankets for now. He told you that his stuff was still being shipped. He had washed the dishes while you made a quick run to the store to get him some toiletries. He was given his towel and the apartment was coated in the small glow of the living room lamp. Quiet music was swimming through. Jimin said that he’ll turn it off. It was strange to have him here. To have anyone here. The second Tilla and Namjoon had gotten married, her absence gradually grew more and more until now she was in Australia. It was unusual, but you found that you didn’t mind it just yet. 

“Hey, __________,” Jimin whispered and your ears naturally perked at the sound of his voice, all the way from your lofted bed. 

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t….don’t believe too much what these papers say about me.”

There was a hint of frailty in his tone and you’re once again brought to the fact of how horrible these last few years had been for him. The times that he appeared in yellow pages were not tremendous in the count, but there was never a single good entry. Just the clubs, the arrest, the reckless spending and driving and so forth. 

"Don’t worry," you murmur back, eyes closing. "I never did."

At first, Sunday comes like it had a thousand times before - lazy with sleep weighted eyes, and the gnawing realisation that the fun is halfway over. Tomorrow is Monday and it’s just hours, once again hours away from Doing The Labour. It’s exhausting to Do The Labour. As you pull a pillow over your head, scoffing at the sunlight streaming through the window, you whine to yourself - you don't want to Do The Labour. But the hunger grumbling in your stomach is a stern reminder that you have to, want to or not. You lift your head up, groggy and squinting in the pouring light. You stretch, something cracks, and there's a persistent, mysterious ache somewhere in your back. Adulthood. But as you climb down, opening the window to let in the fresh, morning air, you glimpse at Jimin sleeping on the sofa. Dark hair messy on the pillow, soft snores rising from his open mouth.

The gust of morning breeze rips through the curtains and he shivers, instinctively pulling the blanket nearly up to his ears to protect himself from the unwanted elements. You smile and then for the first time in a very long time you allow yourself to sit and simply gaze into the city. Dogs and their sleep weary owners trudged in and out of the park, runners in their never-ending mission to make everyone else feel lazy took laps amidst the freshly opened shops, half-abandoned construction and the occasional stray cat. Together and separate - the life of a city.

And when Jimin wakes much has changed and yet nothing really. The Sunday like many before this one is spent quietly, with a nameless, bright cartoon in the background, coffee made, and yoghurt to be enjoyed. Despite what your fears always insisted, it's actually quite simple. You're still you and he's still him and you're both here in this small apartment, on this lazy Sunday morning because you want to be here. It's just that simple.

As Jimin shuffles over, still partially sinking into slumber, you quickly delved into a bowl of non-sugar non-fat diet no-additive greek yoghurt just not before sprinkling a handful of strawberries and half a pack of chocolate chips. 

Jimin smiles over his cup of coffee. 

“I like to eat healthily,” you establish, shaking the very last of the chips into the bowl.

“I can see that,” he bites his lip to not laugh and the chain around his neck dangles in the air as he reaches down to lay a light kiss on the side of your cheek.

© sor-vette, 2022

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #bts x reader #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #jimin fic #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic

[trifectum]

“LIAVOSSO’S GALACTIC JOURNAL! - entry one: the Mantisi.”

This is one of the first of perhaps quite a few entries into what is basically just an easy way to summarise the nature of the various species in this universe. No music this time - but do read on! The remainder of this post is basically what the writer (Liavosso) has written in unity with it - on a separate piece of paper.

“Well - this hasn’t been a great start for what I was hoping would be a fun and easy way to recall my encounters with people… first they fight me on sight - then I discover their blood is WAY too good at staining! Like, I’m trying to shake off the ‘evil probably-cannibal Demon-monster descended from a famous murderous bounty-hunter with a Void-thing for a limb’ narrative, and here I go getting alien blood on so much paper that I might as well paint with it!… and I did - but dammit I had nothing to colour with!

But anyway! Anyway… the first entry of my journal is dedicated to the Mantisi - or more accurately - the White Herald. What I aim to do in each addition is have a model of a certain species pose so I can sketch them in all their glory and write about what I’ve learned about them - as well as my opinions and experiences with them. While I couldn’t do that here, I hope next time they are a little more… non-weird. Now, anyone who knows the White-Herald probably thinks I’m a bit mental for picking them first, but I have a good reason: my daughter (adopted) is a descendant of a White-Herald royal - which does incentivise me to get them out of the way early… She doesn’t mind me killing them - if you’re wondering - they aren’t exactly her favourite people.

So - first thing to mention: biology and history! The Mantisi are unusual, in the sense that they are one of the first milky-way residents (in this iteration of the universe) to gain the knowledge of genetic editing. Now, most Mantisi just got two legged variants and removed wings - and left it there. But the White-Herald… they went mad with it. They edited their features, their minds, even their natural defences, to look more like my subspecies - the Vyrocepters (not very well - but they have a ‘plan’ for that). To save time - and skip hours of lore about who did who and what that meant for whoever else - my Mum boinked one of their albino ones a long while back, and a big cult developed to preserve and advance that particular variation of Mantisi in order to somehow create viable offspring with anyone of my species. So, all White-Herald royals are albino, and have the more… ‘bug-like’ lower bodies, while their soldiers are two-legged, and are a dark shade of green. You won’t get too many who look more like other heralds - but there are some weird mutations for… obvious reasons. Things like four arms, multiples pairs of wings, and durable shells. Ok - so not much of that was biology than it was history, but again, this is a hectic start.

I’ll put this in too, because everyone asks - yeah they do have the same ‘fun-time’ organs. It’s a common thing with Mantisi that people think what goes on downstairs does much more than sit on a different bit of the undercarriage depending on which one you come across, but no - all of them tend to be compatible. At worst the top half of a royal has the soldier placement of the appropriate parts.

Ok! Next bit, next bit… what was the next bit… oh! My opinion! It’s not great. To me, the White-Herald are a stain on the race as a whole, and the universe they inhabit. I personally couldn’t see myself liking any one of them, even with my daughter in mind, and I doubt they would really ‘like’ me, despite their obsession with trying to make a bug and a mammal (I think we’re mammals - GenoDemons I meet won’t specify) work. So I’d say avoid them. That… might also be a good summary. Ok - next time I’ll have this sorted - with the Lybadora. In the meantime I’m gonna figure out how to phrase all this. Blade’s been a help, but in the end it isn’t my dominant hand and it can’t explain things well unless it’s in a pickle. Until next time!”

#art #illustration #oc #monster art #original art #narrative #worldbuilding #journal #liavosso

[gofancyninjaworld]

I meant I think he might not sorry 😭 I think he'd bring back too many chicks to his house and Saitama would get tired of it in the first day

Ah, it's okay. :D

Yes, there would be a huge and incompatible culture clash between Suiryu and Saitama, wouldn't there?

But more seriously?

I went hunting (in vain) for an old post of mine in which I'd been asking why the story was having so many people warn Genos about Saitama. Guess I have my answer now.

Saitama is a terrible instructor. He has no technique to impart and his teachings... may be simple, but they’re completely uncompromising and unbelievably harsh. To summarise 1 - If the heroes run and hide, who is left to fight? You may never run away. 2 - Heroes stand up to powerful bad guys and monsters. Even if they’re alone. 3 - Continual improvement, there's no slack for any reason. Together, they’re a recipe for a shortened life of pain.

Not to mention that Saitama doesn't appreciate the extent to which the world has changed since he started training. It may only have been 3 years, but when it comes to the frequency and average power of a monster attack, his advice to power through at all costs sounds like a Baby Boomer advising a Millenial to just take on a bit of extra work to afford a mortgage.

I used to joke that it was a good thing his disciple had spare parts, but no one's putting this Humpty Dumpty back together again. If Genos survives, he's not coming back the same.

Seriously. Saitama has no business taking on a disciple. To his credit, if he made the mistake of offering a discipleship to Suiryu, the latter would bounce inside of the first day.

All that said, if Genos does come back, I bet he'll still follow Saitama. Because he's a crazy fanatic in his own way. They're a lot more like each other than one would initially suppose.

#OPM #asks #Saitama #Suiryu

[rhinestonerainbow]

Heard about ur infodumping urge and came to ask you about ur thoughts on russ and mudz’s dynamic; I feel like it doesn’t get talked about enough and want to hear other ppl’s opinions on it :v

*chuckles* I've been waiting for this one.

I've seen the take go around here that they're like "Divorced but never married" and I- kinda agree?

Obviously, they both had a rocky start together. Not only, because Murdoc kidnapped Russel and brought him to Kong Studios against his will, but also because Murdoc consistently picked on 2-D who I do think Russel considers as a best friend. Then that with Paula happened, which probably also didn't add much to Russels opinion about Murdoc and I don't think we even need to mention Plastic Beach.

So, personally, I think that they tolerate each other, for the other band members and because they've been together for so long now, but do they like each other? No. Murdoc consistently makes remarks towards Russels stature and weight (even if it's just meant as a joke, it's pretty hurtful), and I feel like Russel is a very observing person in general so he obviously knows that Murdoc is not a good person, and that you can't trust him. He also probably finds a lot of the things that Murdoc does at least morally questionable if not downright wrong, and as I mentioned before he obviously sees that 2-D, his friend, is suffering heavily under Murdoc which I just know for a fact he has a distaste for.

I think that Russel is also the voice of reason in the Band besides Noodle, and that Murdoc is often annoyed by his concerns, and I think that Russel has, more often than not, brought out Murdocs conscience that he wasn't even aware he had anymore.

They're just, almost polar opposites, maybe there are moments where they genuinely get along with each other, but they're very rare and far between and it's more of a tolerating than anything.

This is one of the reasons why I'm so surprised that Russel just joined the cult like that. First of all, man has heavy religious trauma, and second of all, he knows what kind of person Murdoc is and he knows, that whatever Murdoc is doing definitely won't be used as a force for good. Which, maybe Russel also has an urge to protect the others, and maybe he's also kinda the glue that holds the band together. I think without Russel and his calm nature and his ability to be a rock, basically that grounds them, 2-D, Noodle and Murdoc would just break apart.

Also, Russel probably had physical fights with Murdoc outside of the Paula incident, I can see them getting into a fistfight.

So summarising it:

Tolerating- but not liking. That's their dynamic.

#gorillaz #gorillaz murdoc #murdoc niccals #gorillaz russel #russel hobbs #can I tag this as russdoc? i just will #gorillaz fandom

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Nobody

Y’know how Knives Out is one of those movies that I was concerned about discussing because I knew I was going to be repeating boring details rather than focusing on the movie’s message? That I was contributing to a noise complex because I loved it and I wanted to be able to love it in all angles and share that love for it and hopefully encourage you to love it too? Nobody is a movie in that same genre, but in this case the actual plot, sure, whatever, you’ve seen this, you know the kind of movie it is. It’s a physical stunt based action movie about a Dangerous Man Pushed Too Far. You don’t need spoilers for this, that’s how the movie’s trailer presents it.

And for a movie about physicality in stunts, its physicality is amazing. You can see best-of scenes on youtube, of moments of an entire movie’s worth of holy shit combat scenarios, and they’re the kind of scenarios where you’re meant to regard the world as full of physical objects that are by default stronger than a human’s body, more dangerous to a human than a human is to it. For a surprising number of desks and people using them, you are not tougher than your desk in a straight up fight. That means that when Nobody wants to represent a person engaging in violence with another person, the world around them matters in a wholly material way.

And that makes me think about how easy it is to make a movie like this. Or isn’t.

It’s easy to make these kinds of movies, and I mean it because there’s no end of people who have made an industry out of all the things that go into these movies. The fact that every gun that exists has a meaningful but legally distinct ripoff mass produced enough that you can get safety rated lightweight metal boxes for repeated action sequences with realistic moving parts, produced at scale. They have to be easily produced, you don’t get a cultural phenomenon like the Cannon Group mash-up sequel factory if these movies are too hard to complete. The difficulty does not come in the doing but rather in the how of the doing.

To summarise: The floor for getting a movie like this made at all is very low. The ceiling for how good a job you can do making them is stratospheric. One of the ways you can represent ‘looking good’ in this genre is about doing things that look extremely dangerous, within acceptable standards of danger, and that tends to be the specific, repeatable craft of physical human stunt work.

Computer graphics can do a lot, and I think, based on what I can observe, there are things computer graphics can improve or enhance — like vehicles, backgrounds, removing supports and struts, they can make a fight scene look a lot better. There’s this fight scene that guys like me (and it is, mostly, guys) talk about in these movies, from a movie called Old Boy. The fight scene is a long take with no visible cuts or edits, with minimal props, set in a narrow hallway, with the camera showing the world from ‘inside’ one of the walls, slowly panning along a detailed, multi-stage fight. It is an incredibly well done form of what it is, and it’s using a lot of the tools available to action movie scenes. As an example, the goons in the fight are armed mostly with long sticks, to create vertical spaces, so you can track the action.

It’s great! It looks cool! It’s also got computer graphics in it.

You can ask a lot of nerds about this fight and ask, hey, where did the director use computer graphics to enhance this shot, and a lot of us will say something to the effect of ‘they didn’t, did they?’ which isn’t true. When Oh Dae-su is stabbed in the back? That knife is entirely added with VFX, and makes that scene look even more vicious than it otherwise is.

I bring up this extensive discussion of Old Boy because it’s influential to a whole generation of live action depictions of violence. There are people who are making movies who got into making movies, or redoubled their interest in making movies, after seeing something like Old Boy. I can’t draw you a causal link on the production side, but I can point to a history of ‘people discovering Old Boy,’ and then ‘lots of shows trying to do something like the hallway fight in Old Boy.’

And good! It’s good to try and recognise your influences.

But…

I want to say there’s a ‘movement’ in movies right now but I mean I don’t know that. I can just point to these influences, these hopes, and the idea of making something like Old Boy isn’t even necessarily from that root. There was the long shot fight in Daredevil from the Netflix Marvel Universe, and the similarly impressive hallway fight for The Punisher even if it wasn’t a one-shot kind of story. Then you can just point to John Wick movies, which feel related even if you know the sourcing of the entire ethos of John Wick is much more about stunt professionals getting to take charge of the movies themselves. This involves a related set of skills that, in order to properly replicate combative violence in a form that does not just have verisimilitude to a lay audience but doesn’t present (obvious) impossibilities to an audience that does know things about (say) reloading a gun, the movies have to train everyone involved in the production of the film in a lot of related skills that aren’t just the physicality of controlled, safe, violence. To learn how to do violence safely, one of the skills you need is doing violence unsafely, and as a direct result of this training, you create people who need to understand how people are hurt and the limits of being hurt.

Basically, right now, Keanu Reeves might be legitimately one of the most dangerous people in the world in the context of just the sheer physical skills he possesses even if he’s not got the emotional centre of someone who will actually hurt people for fun.

And those people made a movie about Bob Odenkirk playing the role of John Wick Too.

Thing is, I really liked the movie Nobody and most of what it makes me think about is how you can do something so familiar, but if you do it well, it’s still fantastic as an experience.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Media #Story Pile

[f1]

Sainz admits he was 'struggling a lot' in Saudi qualifying as Leclerc targets fightback from P12 on grid

Carlos Sainz wasn't content with his qualifying on Saturday at Jeddah as the Spaniard secured fourth on the grid and couldn't fight for pole – but his Ferrari team mate Charles Leclerc was happy to at least be in the scrap for P1, even as he weighed up his chances with a 10-place grid penalty on Sunday. Sainz qualified on the second row alongside Mercedes' George Russell but said he had a "strange" sensation in Q1, which hurt his chances in Q2 and left him "exposed" with just one set of new soft compounds for Q3. "I was struggling a lot, mainly sector one I had a bit of a strange feeling with the tyres, with the car, I just couldn’t put that sector one where I wanted," said Sainz. READ MORE: Battling Perez for victory ‘not the target' says Alonso despite qualifying on the front row at Jeddah "It meant I lost a lot of confidence in Q2 having to use another set of tyres and leaving myself exposed for Q3, which wasn’t ideal. Clearly I didn’t have my best day, but tomorrow’s race day and tomorrow is where points count." He added: "I was expecting myself to be in the fight and for one reason or another that I still need to analyse, I wasn’t. so, a disappointing day but still, tomorrow is the day." Sainz qualified behind Russell on Saturday night Leclerc meanwhile had mixed feelings on Saturday night in Saudi Arabia. The Monegasque driver was 0.155s off Sergio Perez's pole time but ended up 12th on the grid for Sunday's race with a 10-place grid penalty for taking engine parts beyond his allocation. "On the one hand I’m really, really happy with my lap, it was really on the limit, so on that I’m very happy," said Leclerc. "On the other hand it seems that Red Bull is really on another planet right now so we really have to work to catch up because even on a track like this, they seem to be much quicker than we are. "But tomorrow we have 10 grid places’ penalty which puts us a little bit on the back foot. But I’ll try to do a good start. It’s going to be tricky as everyone has more or less the same race pace, apart from Red Bull again that is in another league, but yeah, I will do absolutely everything to come back [to the] front." READ MORE: ‘I don’t feel connected to this car’ – Hamilton upset after ‘miserable’ Jeddah qualifying Leclerc fought for pole but has a 10-place grid penalty to contend with With Leclerc starting well behind Sainz, he was asked whether he could help his Spanish team mate in the quest to score points on Sunday. "Yes, if there’s the opportunity to do so I will," replied Leclerc. "On the other hand I also need to score some good points so I will do absolutely everything to come back in front. Then if there’s one opportunity during the race where I can do something for him to gain some points for him I will, obviously." FACTS AND STATS: Perez matches Alesi, as Alonso grabs best Aston Martin start since the 1950s As for Aston Martin's pace, which saw Fernando Alonso qualify second and Lance Stroll fifth for the race, Leclerc was not surprised. "It’s just a 'thing' now. They are just really quick. So yes, not a surprise," he summarised. via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

#F1 #Sainz admits he was 'struggling a lot' in Saudi qualifying as Leclerc targets fightback from P12 on grid #Formula 1

[wing-chun-versus-mma]

Wing Chun Versus MMA? Which is better?

It is interesting to note that there are many videos talking about “Wing Chun Versus MMA or Mixed Martial Arts” and trying to compare which style is better. Some videos often portray the latter to be more superior than the former. However, I think that it is wrong to compare these two martial arts because one is for self-defence, while the other is for sport. So, which is better? Wing Chun Versus MMA? Let’s talk about the difference between self-defence and sport martial arts first.

Wing Chun Versus MMA? Which is better?

Some martial arts are meant to be used for self-defence, such as “Wing Chun” and some traditional styles of karate such as “Gojo-Ryu” and “Uechi Ryu”. Whereas, other type of karate styles such as “Shotokan” or “Shukokai” are more sports orientated, focussing more on tournaments. Even karate, which was originated in “Okinawa”, was traditionally meant to be for self-defence but then was developed more into sports karate in Japan. The reason, why it is important to differentiate between self-defence and sport martial arts is because both have different environments. In sport martial arts, you usually fight in some kind of a ring, where your main objective is to score points. There are also rules to adhere and you also have a time limit. Whereas for self-defence, your main goal is to defend yourself against your attacker and hence, there are no rules as to which techniques you could use.

Do you prefer to learn self-defence or sport martial arts?

Some people prefer to learn martial arts for self-defence, while others would like to be more competitive and would opt for sport martial arts instead. Sport martial artists like the thrill to test their skills against other fighters to see who is better in that particular art.

So, now you understand the difference between self-defence and sport martial arts but might still be wondering which style to learn: “Wing Chun Versus MMA? Which is better? It all depends on what you like to learn and whether you like to learn martial arts for self-defence or sport.

In hindsight, I learnt a style of karate called “Shukokai” and studied it for around 8 years. When I was young, I thought it was a good style and did enjoy most of the lessons but now, when reflecting on the past, I noticed that it was more sport orientated because it was focussing more on tournaments. I was so naïve back then because I did not know that there are so many different styles of karate and also, did not realise that karate originated from “Okinawa” as a form of self-defence. If I could learn karate all over again, I would pick a more self-defence style of karate, such as “Gojo-Ryu” or “Uechi-Ryu” as opposed to sport karate. Hence, I am currently learning Wing Chun and, in my opinion, I believe that Wing Chun is better for self-defence, while MMA is more for sport. So, to summarise the question “Wing Chun Versus MMA? Which is better?” you might ask? It depends on which style you would like to learn but importantly, make sure that you find a good teacher and a school with some kind of equipment to train with.

[grewlikefancyflowers]

‘Intrusion’ extra, what it says about Jiang Cheng’s role in MDZS, and how Wei Wuxian looks back on his past with the Jiangs

I said back in like June that I’d write meta on this and then put it off for a few months, oops! Here we are, finally!

First things first, both the ‘Intrusion’ and ‘Iron Hook’ extras are not just silly romps featuring married wangxian and fanservice, as some people seem to believe?? I’d say both of them clear up pretty neatly, for those that are still confused, points of contention in the fandom - such as Wei Wuxian’s heroism, and Jiang Cheng’s role as an antagonist. Specifically, if his actions were justified or sympathetic, and if he was punished unfairly by the narrative.

The first and most obvious statement made in ‘Intrusion’ is the parallel between the story of Young Master Qin (YMQ), and JC and WWX’s youths. I’ll summarise quickly the relationship between YMQ and the fierce corpse that has been bothering him.

They grew up together in YMQ’s grandmother’s house, since they were a similar age they played together

The fierce corpse (FC) was a servant in YMQ’s grandmother’s household

The grandmother took a liking to FC, and he was in some ways treated less like a servant, and more like a member of their clan, and was allowed to attend school with the other boys

YMQ specifically notes that his grandmother used to praise FC a lot

YMQ describes a story at the school in which someone answered a question, and FC incorrectly claimed he answered wrongly. When FC pushed the matter, the other students became annoyed and drove him out of the class

It is very heavily implied (to the point where ‘implied’ isn’t really the right word) that ‘someone’ was YMQ, that he had actually answered the question wrongly, and that he felt shown up by someone he felt should be below him proving so, and that he led the other boys in driving FC away

FC left the school and didn’t attend again

I probably don’t need to lay out where the similarities are…?

In response to YMQ’s story, Wei Wuxian (rhetorically) says this - ‘“Regarding the solution to that problem, in the end, who was right and who was wrong?”’

Aside from just exposing the kind of person YMQ is, in reference to a story wherein ‘FC’ is clearly a stand in for WWX, and YMQ for JC, MXTX’s decision to highlight specifically that it was FC that had the right solution to the problem is not insignificant. Nor how she specifies that he was the instigator of FC’s expulsion, while hiding behind the mob mentality of the other students.

Another interesting detail is that YMQ deliberately obscures the truth throughout the chapter, because despite his refusal to acknowledge it, possibly even to himself, he knows that between him and FC he is the one in the wrong. Similarly, JC obscures the truth about WWX, to the wider cultivation world during the period of WWX’s ‘downfall,’ (Ch.73) but also, more importantly, to JL after WWX’s death. JL believes that WWX ordered WN to kill both JZX and JYL (Ch.42). Of course, if JC did not have a guilty conscience, he would not feel it necessary to lie about these things. Or rather, convince himself that they are true, as he still blames WWX for the deaths of his parents’ and JYL and the end of the story (Ch.102).

YMQ’s attitude about servants is bad enough that it upsets Sizhui quite a lot, and shortly after their interaction with him, we have this exchange between LSZ and Wangxian.

‘Lan SiZhui thought about it, “I do not know either.” He responded with honesty, “He never did anything truly evil, but perhaps I find it difficult to deal with people of such character. I do not particularly like the tone with which he mentioned the word ‘servant’…”

He paused at this point. Wei WuXian was oblivious to it, “Typical, typical. Most of the people in this world looks down upon servants. Servants sometimes even look down upon themselves… Why are you two looking at me like that?”

Halfway through, he interrupted, not knowing whether to laugh or frown, “Stop—is there a misunderstanding here? How could I compare? Lotus Pier isn’t the usual household, after all. I’ve beaten Jiang Cheng up way more times than he’s ever beaten me!”

Lan WangJi didn’t say anything, but instead gave him a silent hug. Wei WuXian couldn’t help but smiled. He hugged back, stroking Lan WangJi’s back a couple of times. Lan SiZhui coughed. Seeing how confident Wei WuXian looked, not at all sensitive to the word ‘servant’, he was finally at ease.’

There’s a lot going on here...

Firstly, WWX definitely does not think badly of himself because his father was a servant, because WWX doesn’t think badly of servants. It is also true that Lotus Pier wasn’t so strict with hierarchy as other sects (Ch.51, Ch.71), and that WWX and JC sometimes playfully fought on equal terms in their youths. But WWX was also very clearly treated badly in the Jiang household due to his status, notably by YZY (Ch.51, Ch.56, Ch.57, Lotus Seed Pod extra), JC does also repeatedly enact real physical violence against WWX, that he simply brushes off (Ch.56, Ch.59). You could argue that the example from Ch.59 is under extenuating circumstances and therefore should not count, but the same excuse cannot apply to Ch.56.

Knowing this, Lan Wangji’s response to this, to hug WWX, does not feel casual at all. Instead it comes across as if he is offering comfort, which WWX accepts.

Finally, this exchange finishes with ‘Seeing how confident Wei WuXian looked, not at all sensitive to the word ‘servant’, he [LSZ] was finally at ease.’ To me, this seems to suggest that the entire purpose of this was not at all reader directed exposition about how good and equal the Jiang household was, but rather a WWX-typical veneer meant to appease LSZ’s concerns (taking a moment to quietly fangirl about how good MXTX is at ‘show, don’t tell’). Also suggests that WWX is aware on some level that he was treated badly, and LWJ is too - presumably, it is something that they have spoken about.

Continuing with the story of YMQ and FC…

YMQ returns to his home village as an adult wearing a jade pendant that belonged to his now deceased grandmother

FC asks to borrow it, YMQ allows it, thinking FC is missing his grandmother

FC returns telling him he has lost the pendant, YMQ thinks he has actually sold it, and has him beaten, it is very heavily implied that he breaks his leg

In the present, YMQ admits that he doesn’t actually think FC would have gone so far as to sell something of his grandmother’s

This is reflective of JC’s attitude towards WWX throughout his life, with regards to how he frequently comes to the worst conclusions about him, without having any real evidence, and lashes out at him for it. I spoke about this a bit before here. Most notable example is probably during their conversation in the demon-slaughtering cave wherein they discuss WWX’s defection, and JC decides that WWX is acting carelessly and playing the hero, though admits himself that WWX is following the Jiang Sect’s teachings, then declares WWX an enemy of the cultivation world behind his back.

The ambiguity of FC’s death, and YMQ’s role in it discussed in part 3 of the extra is referencing WWX’s own death, and JC’s role in it. In the end the conclusion is that whether or not YMQ was responsible, FC did not hold him to it.

In the end, FC is content to simply throw some fruit, and punch YMQ in the face in vengeance for his death, and even goes out of his way to avoid hurting LSZ when he is fighting him. He returns the jade pendant, that he really did lose and not steal, and goes back to resting peacefully.

WWX, LWJ, and LSZ’s views on YMQ’s fate are as follows

‘Lan WangJi gently tugged Lil’ Apple’s rein, his voice calm, “He was fortunate.”

Wei WuXian agreed, “Indeed. Young Master Qin has got quite the luck.”

After some time, Lan SiZhui finally couldn’t hold his words back any longer. Sincerely, he spoke, “But I still feel that only one punch might be a bit insufficient…”’

JC didn’t even get a punch to the face. I’d say he got off very lightly indeed.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #jiang cheng #jc wank #wei wuxian

[vigilskeep]

Hi, I'm sorry if this has already been asked, but I'm fascinated with your character Minerva and was wondering why she didn't betray Jowan to Irving?

ah good question thank u for it!!

minerva is a pragmatist about the circle. she's very aware that a certain number of mages die or are made tranquil and she's in the mindset, at that point in her life, where she's been taught to accept this as a necessary evil. which actually ends up meaning she knows more than anyone that if this is true irving will go ahead with it. she has a very realistic idea of who irving is and what he does. but it's been easier to conceptualise all those losses as um a statistic than it is to face the immediate threat to the person closest to her. especially when her way of dealing with it all has been to say that mages who die or are made tranquil didn't try hard enough, didn't study hard enough, didn't fight hard enough on their harrowings. she rationalises it that way because it means if she just tries hard enough and is polite and gifted and perfect as she always is then nothing's going to happen to her. but she knows how hard jowan tries. so it isn't right. it isn't fair!

the other thing is that in my canon, my amell, halliserre amell, was made tranquil a few months before dao starts. minerva had a bit of a fiery relationship with them (i'd like to summarise it as fierce academic rivals with benefits, jhghsfdgsk) and their tranquillity was a huge and sudden recent shock. that definitely affects minerva's decision-making here. though she tries to rationalise by blaming halliserre themself in that case (halliserre chose to submit to tranquillity rather than undergo the harrowing), she knows deep down there's more to it than that. it's a complicated and painful topic to come up again so soon, it makes her just that bit angrier with the templars and irving, and it makes the danger feel very real

but all of that is kind of blurring the main issue which is that jowan is like minerva's brother and she loves him. the above factors are kind of what allows her to actually do something about that, but the motivation is simply that she cares about jowan, he's her closest friend and the only person more important to her than irving, and she very much thinks it's her job to protect him. she's more skilled than he is, more socially capable than he is; it is and always has been her role to protect him from the templars, even if it that only meant helping him with his studies or calling in favours with senior enchanters. being able to do all that is what has made her feel comfortable with how much she's betrayed herself to be the ideal circle student in the first place. it proves keeping your head down to get influence works, that it's not just selfish, that in the long run it means mages are better off. so if she can't even protect him, then what's the point of it all? it's probably worth noting, too, that minerva's fatal flaw is arrogance: if she's always been able to look after jowan before, what's one more time?

i actually have this really fun um super rough dialogue snippet somewhere in my word doc from when she was little, um, talking to karl thekla actually. and she's being disapproving of anders while hes like benafflecksmoking.jpeg because that's the whole dynamic lmao. she's like, why would you spend time with someone like that, he's an escape artist, the templars hate him, he's not going to make it! (this last said in a kid's deadly serious tone where she expects it to be heard as a totally damning accusation.) and karl is like [in the voice of a very tired young academic] minerva what would you say if i told you, i don't know, your friend jowan wasnt going to make it. and she totally freaks out. shes like thats a lie, dont ever say that, hes trying with the spells, hes going to get it! she's only a kid she's nearly in tears over this immediately even though karl's the furthest thing from a threat and he barely meant anything by it. it's always been the one thing that makes her lose her head. she cares so much about keeping up this perfect image except this one thing, right, she's got this perceived weaker nobody mage trailing after her. she's supposed to be able to keep this one person safe and that will make it all worthwhile. and what she has to learn is that even for all her sacrifices and good behaviour, the circle simply does not care. there's nothing it won't take

#minerva surana #on a creator's note rather than an in-world note i knew from the start i couldn't create a character who would betray jowan #because i was trying to create a character who would eventually betray alistair #betrayal to betrayal is not an arc so i had no interest in it; not betrayal to betrayal very much is an arc and one im hugely interested in #i also think the kind of cognitive dissonance here where minerva believes in the circle #but at the same time refuses to accept what it plans to do to jowan is super interesting #and narratively #sets up the path minerva is on and where the circle is heading #as well as gives her a bit of a redeeming quality i think. minerva's not a wildly likeable person at the beginning of this story #and she continues to be... controversial let's say (and i say it with a great deal of affection). it's her most redeeming trait #as well as one of her most interesting #that even if she can be emotionally or socially treacherous. #even if she can throw away someone's ideals in front of their face. even if she gambles with people's happiness #if the people she loves are in what she considers true danger she will have their back #the amount of risk involved is inconsequential

[opalsiren]

things mako mermaids got right that weren't featured in h2o:

a large supporting cast: by the time we get to season four numerous land people are aware of the existence of merpeople and are able to support them in hiding the secret. i understand why the h2o writers chose for the girls to only tell their boyfriends about their identities, and obviously budget constraints are a concern, but i think the extended family ensemble just works

older mermaids: this is only something small, but i like that we get to see slightly older mermaids like rita and veridia actually in their mermaid forms. it’s something that we didn’t get to see on h2o that i personally would have vibed with *shrug emoji*

some of the particulars of mermaid-ness like mermaids having beautiful hair, being terrified of cats, and having a penchant for seafood couldn't exist in h2o for obvious reasons, but i'm going to shout them out here since i think these were clever and creative choices on the part of the writers especially poseidon’s existence since i maintain that the only thing missing from h2o is cats and have assigned rikki an elder lady cat named gramps

characters's parents being told about their mermaid status: of course this is only something hinted at the end of season four. still it’s something i would have liked to see on h2o. i’m glad that zac’s parents eventually learned about his true identity and could presumably help him to navigate both worlds to which he belongs

land person-turned-mermaid losing their tail, but it's a good thing: in the og series the audience is meant to read gracie giving up her tail as a bad thing, since it caused her relationship with max and her friendships with the girls to end. charlotte losing her tail is not supposed to be a bad thing for the audience, but as a charlotte sympathizer it’s pretty heartbreaking to watch. evie’s admittedly half-hearted arc in gaining a tail and then losing it is quite refreshing in comparison. she is able to go back to her normal life and is no longer burdened with the secret when she finally accepts what has happened to her

mermen: the concept is yawn-inducing for me, but considering the amount of 'lewis/zane/ash/will become mermen' fic which circulates, i'm going to go ahead and say that introducing mermen was a good choice. dissenting opinions accepted at this time!

things mako mermaids got wrong that h2o also got wrong:

the stringent heterosexuality of every single character: i understand that we’re talking about kids’s shows which aired in the early 2000s, but must near every single character end up in a heterosexual union?

lack of racial and ethnic diversity: most of the characters in h2o are white, and the characters of colour are periphery at best. there is more diverse representation in mako mermaids but it isn’t always handled in the most, ahem, tactful way (e.g the whitewashing of mimmi, the miscasting of weilan, etc.)

misogynistic writing resulting in pointless female rivalries: see, for example, nixie and evie getting into a cat fight in early season one over a pair of shoes. that scene was written by a man, i just know it

characters that are not from australia having australian accents: i can kind of give h2o a pass for this one since bella (and will, now that i think of it) may have spent a good chunk of her childhood in aus and picked up the accent, but why does weilan, who has never set foot there until the final season, speak with an aussie twang? no seriously, if anyone has an explanation for this bar 'casting an actor to do a chinese accent would have been too much bother' i'm all ears!

the ever-evolving cast: why does no one who acts in the makoverse want to stick around for more than one season? half the supporting characters of h2o season one don't appear in season two, and half of those remaining characters don't appear in season three. it's worse on mako mermaids as the main trio of mermaids is constantly changing. how is the viewer supposed to get attached, let alone watch characters develop organically over a number of seasons, if the mains keep getting replaced?

things mako mermaids got wrong that h2o managed to get right:

the visual appeal of its magical jewellery: this one is entirely subjective, but i’m just going to say it: the moon rings are ugly. especially compared to the iconic h2o lockets. i suppose it could be argued that the lockets were designed by a human to blend in with the world of land people, while the moon rings are from the mermaid world so must appear more bright and fantastical. this doesn’t detract from the face that they are garish and artificial looking. also, if you're attempting to hide your mermaid identity on land, why wear a ring that has a mermaid on it? the mind boggles

mermaid tails: someone else made a more detailed post on this, but the mako tails suck, especially compared to its predecessor. they look weirdly discoloured, almost unfinished, don’t have the same dexterity, and are too light to the point of flimsiness. what i will say is that the silvery-blue merman tails are cool. still, if it ain't broke and all that

i don’t know how to summarise this point into a snappy sub-heading, but the way that each h2o mermaid has unique powers particular to them that just adds something to the world. not to mention the hand gestures! of course northern mermaids, eastern mermaids, and southern mermaids have different strengths, while individual mermaids may be proficient in different areas. it also makes sense that a large pod of mermaids would share the same powers, rather than having individual powers specific to them. still i think the elemental associations in the original series helped to round the characters out better, and it’s something i missed on mako mermaids

i don’t know where to include this bit, but the different aesthetics of the show lend themselves to two entirely different experiences. the visual aesthetic of mako mermaids is sharp and vibrant and colourful, with a higher production value. however as a zillennial there’s something comforting about the crappy production value of the og series and the muted tones used in the colouring

feel free to add!

#anyway i put like. very little thought into any of this analysis. so please feel free to nitpick #i wanted to include something about like. the h2o relationships being written better. but again that's kind of subjective and also nostalgi #goggles are a factor. but i think in a way h2o benefitted from having mostly the same mains and a shorter series since it makes the #relationships seem better and more sustained or whatever #also. why does nerissa have an australian accent when she's from the northern pod. #other things to consider are the way that the mako mermaids universe is much more expansive and like. lore-oriented. while the h2o girls #deal with a lot of 'everyday' mermaid shenanigans. in my dream season three scenario for h2o the girls find other pods of mermaids across #the globe. but again budgetary constraints are a thing and i like h2o's approach to dramedy writing so #if someone has that post on the differences between the tails handy hit me up! #.txt #h2o just add water #h2o #h2o: just add water #mako mermaids #queue