okay so we're agreed, that was the scene where Billy and Martin finally gave into their desires as they rehearsed late into the night in Billy's trailer
We are agreed indeed.
Martin always does the chest grab. And in the most recent reanactment, he didn’t take it off even when Billy turned. Like, Martin??? Whatcha doin?
But yeah I already know there’s gonna be an influx of Kreerence posts coming from me. The tension and subtext were all there, no way of anyone denying it. Johnny had Kreese on a damn leash in S5, man was desperate for reconciliation, and the fact that we’ve never seen him act that way with anyone else is just SO good. Proves that there’s a special something there, whether it’s requited or not.
I can’t decide between fucked up evil couple kreerence where Kreese is still a too rough, possessive dick, or soft kreerence where Kreese forced himself to apologize and be better for Johnny, and it’s all domesticity and tough but not too tough love. Or any sort of mix of those :3 though he’d never deserve him for what he did, Johnny might just decide to forgive and try.
(Picture Johnny dragging Kreese around golf n stuff, who’s grumbly and looking at everyone judgmentally but carries all of Johnny’s stuffed animals and snacks for him and gets rewarded with a sweet smile and kiss on the cheek.)
(Thank you for reminding me of this, Phoenix, for I am twirling my hair. Look at them 😭 This is another peak kreerence moment.)
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Ser Volta’s sword seems to drink in the light.
It’s a strange thing, that sword. Sen is, for all intents and purposes, a squire; but he is never asked to polish it or sharpen it. He never carries it. He can count the number of times he’s actually touched it on one hand. Sure, Ser Volta is rather anal about his possessions, but he also has no qualms about forcing Sen to carry his shit all day every day—at least, insofar as the sword isn’t involved.
So Sen asks one night, when they’re roughing it out in the cold winter woods on some backwater planet in the outer rim. Ser Volta has his sword between his knees as he sharpens it. Even the sound it makes when the whetstone grinds against it is strange.
Ser Volta’s eyes—golden in the firelight—do not leave the sword.
“Observant,” is all he says. Sen waits, but he doesn’t add more until a good minute or so passes.
“So what’s the deal with it?” he prompts.
“I’m not sure I want to burden you with that knowledge.”
“Totally normal things to say about your sword.” Sen eyes him. “I can handle it.”
“I know—but I’m concerned about your curiosity.”
“My curiosity?”
“Yes. Your curiosity, and your proclivity for doing the opposite of what I tell you to do. In this matter, I cannot risk your disobedience.”
“I’ll be obedient,” Sen says earnestly. “Like, so obedient. Like a dog. I’ll bark. You want me to bark?”
“Don’t bark,” Ser Volta says, his eye twitching in the way that Sen can pretty much activate on command. He sighs. “I will tell you, if you promise to listen to what I say this time.”
“I promise,” Sen says solemnly. Ser Volta looks at him. Sen looks back at him. Ser Volta sighs again.
“All right.” He sets aside the whetstone and rests the sword across his lap. Gazes at it. “This sword is… unique.”
“Unique.”
“Yes. It is a sword of legend.”
“What kind of legend?”
Ser Volta gives him a look. Sen purses his lips.
“Right. I’ll let you talk.”
“Thank you.” Ser Volta turns back to the sword. “The legend itself is… fragmented. Little of it remains. All that is known is that this sword—The Dark Sword—has a mind of its own, and a will to do evil. To wield it is to do battle with it; to pit your will against its will. Every moment it is drawn from its sheath is a moment that you must fight to maintain control.”
Sen stares at the sword. He’s half tempted to tell Ser Volta that he knows he’s fucking with him—but something about the sword, something about the way it seems to eat the light, something about its mauve-black sheen…
He doesn’t question it.
“Freaky,” he says quietly.
“Very,” Ser Volta says grimly. He wipes off the sword with a cloth and sheaths it. “Again, do not touch it.”
“Aww, you don’t have faith in my willpower?” Sen asks, leaning over as Ser Volta rises to his knees. Volta locks eyes with him.
“When it comes to the sword? I barely have faith in my own.”
Sen is speechless as Ser Volta turns and crawls into his sleeping bag.
He doesn’t ask about the sword again.
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