#this is a very good scene for its own reasons too of course but

[youthofpandas]

once again thinking about the part of Demian where Sinclair paints a portrait of a girl, decides it looks like his best friend if his friend was a girl, mentioning the way the subject is both feminine and masculine, and then later concludes it is more than that: it is a representation of his soul, fate, inner self, his very life itself. the portrait of the girl cannot be him but it could be the face of a friend or a lover, the face of his future but not his own future (the girl is not like him nor should she be) just that of those he surrounds himself with. the gender... Oh, how desperately Sinclair yearns to break out of the masculine he feels trapped in and be allowed in both worlds

#kris actually talks #meow meow sorry thinking a lot about this Always #i need to write my big long post about this but theres soooo much to talk about #this is a very good scene for its own reasons too of course but #i really like the gender reading too like ohhhh sinclair you can be like her its okay... you can have demians strange gender... #this all being tangled up in the era where he's so depressed and miserable and really facing what growing up means

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

[uriekukistan]

JJK 261 ANALYSIS: What happened, how, why Yuuta made the choice he did, and a discussion of tragedy & major themes of JJK

MAJOR spoilers below the cut so please read at your risk.

i wanted to dissect what happened a bit, and address a few points i saw floating around since the leaks dropped. of course, these are all my interpretations, so feel free to disagree, i just had a lot of thoughts floating around that i wanted to put out for discussion.

I. Gojo was never coming back

first of all, i don't know how you guys expected him to survive bisection. i said this earlier in the day as my justification for why i didn't think gojo was coming back, prior to leaks, and i don't think i can say it any better now.

and this is just my interpretation of reverse curse technique, but if anything, yuuta in this chapter supports my theory. in the scene where he's on shoko's table and arata nitta says that he's used rct to keep the wounds from getting worse, but it might be too late for yuuta to recover. in that case, gojo wasn't coming back from being sliced in half. it's just not possible.

additionally, and this is another thing that i've said for a long time. he says right in episode 6 (i forgot the chapter) that his dream is to reset the jujutsu world raise up a generation of strong students that work together. that is why he became a teacher. this very clearly comes from his relationship with suguru, and it's one of gojo's clearest motivations from the beginning.

the problem is, in order to achieve this, he has to die. so long as satoru gojo is alive, he will have to carry the burden of being the strongest alone. his students won't have to work together, because gojo will just take care of everything. this is already in the works, with how many people have come together to stand against sukuna. if gojo lived and defeated sukuna on his own, this wouldn't have happened, and bringing him back would, again, reduce the need for his students work together.

unfortunately, gojo has been doomed by the narrative from the start, and his primary goal as a character basically requires his death to be realized in its entirety.

II. They're not heroes, they're jujutsu sorcerers.

yeah, i'm stealing megumi's line because it's true. he literally said it twice for a reason, and then yuuta said a repackaged version of it in this chapter ("we're about to fight history's strongest jujutsu sorcerer. if we can win by throwing away our humanity, we shouldn't even be arguing about this").

trust, all the characters are well aware of the ethical issues with taking gojo's body after he's dead, both with what it means for gojo, and with what it means for yuuta. but this isn't a story about heroism, this isn't a story about the power of friendship. if it was, yuuji would have saved junpei all the way back at the beginning of the series. it was pretty clear from the start that this wasn't going to be the typical shounen manga like that.

in fact, expecting it to be is unrealistic. it's unrealistic in real life too, if i'm being so honest. everyone wants to think they'd take the moral high road in this type of situation, but the reality is, when you're fighting tooth and nail against an opponent that is fighting dirty, you have to fight dirty too if you want to win, and i think that's what yuuta is trying to point out in this chapter.

this happens in real life wars which im not gonna get into examples because i dont want to start that kind of discourse, but like...it's so great to be idealistic and hope that virtue will triumph simply because it is virtuous, but i think if you take a look around, you'll realize it's true that good people do not get what they deserve simply because they're good (that's so megumi of me to say...). or if you think of it like a board game, if a player is cheating, it is infinitely harder to win without cheating yourself.

maybe this is a bit pessimistic of me to say, but you will not win a dirty fight without getting dirty yourself, and i think it's pretty clear that sukuna fights dirty.

additionally, it's shitty to see gojo be weaponized, and i understand that, but it plays into the themes about strength in jjk, which i will get into.

III. This was not an "ass pull."

i don't really have much to say to this. did you think yuuta wouldn't take kenjaku's technique? plus, kenjaku being eaten by rika is probably the only surefire way to ensure that they're dead and won't just hop to another body. i've already said why gojo wouldn't come back, but it makes sense that if yuuta were to copy kenjaku's technique, who else would he body hop into, if not gojo? there's already narrative evidence to support this action, from the guidelines of yuuta's technique, kenjaku's technique, and gojo's technique, to the character of yuuta okkotsu, which i want to do an analysis in a separate post for him, so i won't get into that right now.

idk...to me, all the threads connect, plus i felt like yuuta's return was foreshadowed pretty heavily in 259 & 260, with the mention of yuuta's plan that yuuji couldn't know, and then on the last page of 260, the comparison of sukuna and yuuta, so for me, i always thought that it was not actually gojo, but yuuta at the end of 260.

IV. Themes of JJK: The burden of being "the strongest," or even just strong

even many jjk fans see gojo as "the strongest," and nothing more, doing exactly what the narrative sets up as one of the chief problems of jjk. a lot of gojo's actions are spurred on by the burden he feels from being the strongest modern sorcerer. his entire character is built around this problem of the responsibility and burden that falls on someone who's considered to be "the best" at anything.

in fact, this is also a driving point for geto too, and the conflicts geto and gojo come into with each other, as well as geto's inevitable fall from grace. it all comes from this issue that's at the core of jujutsu society. gojo recognizes that, and, as i mentioned, that is why he became a teacher. so that no young sorcerers will feel the burden of being the strongest alone.

the problem is this is easier said than done. after gojo dies, this burden gets passed down to yuuta, and he feels that immense pressure, which is why he decides to do what he does. he says "haven’t we been pushing the burden of being a monster onto gojo-sensei alone? if gojo-sensei is gone, then who else will be the monster? If no one intends to become one, then I will!" and i think this really powerful evidence of the pressure and burden of being the strongest, and i think the word monster is really important here. the burden pushes people to be something they're not, a shadow of their true self.

it distorts morality, like with geto. it isolates people, like with gojo. it forces people to go to unspeakable lengths to uphold their burden, like with yuuta. it leads people with immense power to doubt themselves, like with megumi. it leads people to feel like a cog in the machine, not a human, like with yuuji.

this is sooo so important and a key theme of jjk, and this chapter in particular, and the driving force behind yuuta's actions.

V. Themes in JJK: Loneliness and Isolation

this one has, in my opinion, a bigger role in the story overall than just in this chapter.

as i mentioned before, gojo is lonely. the only person who could understand him was geto, and he turned away from him, and then died. he seems like a silly guy or whatever, but it's just a mask.

but geto also felt alone and isolated, and that's why he turned away. between gojo and geto, neither of them were able to put share the burden of carrying their strength alone, and it's what kept them apart and made their relationship so tragic.

arguably, and though he would never admit it, sukuna is also lonely, though it's buried deep within him and something he will likely never acknowledge, despite it, and his lack of understanding of love (arguably a symptom of his loneliness), are major reasons for the way he acts.

yuuta, though supported by maki, inumaki, and panda in a way that the previously mentioned characters are not, is still isolated. he alone carries the burden of his strength. he was also alone his whole life after rika died, and then again when he was shipped off to africa, away from his friends (yeah he had miguel, maybe i'm missing something, but i dont see them having that type of relationship.

not only that, but yuuta recognizes gojo's loneliness, and reaches out to tell him not to try to stand by himself once again, and gojo admits that's something he can't do, the reason being his relationship with geto.

even further, yuuji and megumi, the parallel to satosugu, are both deeply lonely, except for when they have each other. i mentioned in this analysis that the reason megumi can't just get up and keep going is because he's alone and has been for over a month. i want to get into this more in my next point.

VI. Where I think (hope) this leads for JJK

a satisfying ending for jjk, in my opinion, would be the resolution to this loneliness and burden of strength issue that has been present throughout the narrative. something like yuuji being able to save megumi and them being able to correct what went wrong with satosugu in their own relationship.

personally would like to see satosugu reach the ending they should have had through the itafushi parallels - let them save each other! but i do know gege said only one of them (the trio + gojo) will die, or only one will live....that was years ago maybe he changed his mind :D

we all want to see yuuji take down sukuna himself, but i think it would be a great resolution to see everyone take down sukuna as a team. no one person is alone, no one person has the burden of the strongest. i know i said this wasn't a "power of friendship" manga, and i stand by that, but i think this would be the perfect ending. yuuta throws his humanity away to do what he did in 261 because he felt like it was the only choice and it was something he alone could do, but yuuji represents unwavering humanity (literally his name), and i think to preserve that, they all need to share that burden. let them realize they need each other.

this is what gojo died for, and this is what he lived for. this is why he became a teacher in the first place- to raise a generation that can be strong together, that can support one another.

VII. "It's poorly written torture porn!" "There's no point if there's no happy ending!" etc

i said this in a separate post but tragedies have existed in literature since the 6th century BCE, 2600 years ago. many of the most popular stories throughout history have been tragedies, for example, orpheus & eurydice, romeo & juliet, even things like the fault in our stars and the titanic movie. here's a quick explanation of what it means for a story to be a tragedy (yeah it's from wikipedia but they want me to pay to access the original source and im not doing that for a jjk analysis)

one of things i like most about this definition is the use of the word "catharsis," which is to say that the expression of strong emotions is a way of bringing about renewal and relief. in literature, it's used to say that with the arousal and following release of negative emotions relieves suppressed emotions for the viewer. im not gonna get too personal with it, but i know i've experienced this with jjk.

additionally all of the aforementioned tragedies, they have a message, no matter how sad they are. orpheus & eurydice inspires perseverance and faith in the gods. even something like titanic has messages about everlasting love that overcomes all boundaries. jjk has its message too, and it's long underway. we just have to wait for it to reach its conclusion.

it's easy to lose sight of the bigger picture when we only get one chapter a week, and the fact that the pain is so dragged out is a bit tiring, i'll admit. but that doesn't mean it's bad. having negative emotions stirred by a story doesn't mean bad writing. i mean, i would hope you feel sad. i would hope you feel angry. i would be concerned if you didn't. but given that jjk is a tragedy, that just indicates good writing. especially these last two chapters, i've felt moved in a way nothing else has done for me in a long time.

as always, these are just my thoughts!!! im happy to hear from anyone what they think :D

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #sukuna #yuuta okkotsu #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jjk 261

[ikroah]

A girl can get somewhere in spite of stringy hair or even just a bit bowed at the knees if she can show a faultless…personality! —“Personality,” Johnny Mercer and the Pied Pipers (1946)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #26 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding V

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

ohhhhh my god why did i make this script so long my hand hurts this took forever aaaaagh

Welcome to the Lucky 38! This is a script that has remained basically the same for a long time but went through COUNTLESS extremely small rewrites over the course of production just to really nail Mr. House's dialogue. He's a long-winded guy, this whole issue is basically just him doing monologues, and I wanted to make sure it was all interesting and non-repetitive. I think I took out at least three uses of "merely" from the first draft.

One of the biggest production decisions of this issue was whether or not to cut the scene with Agnes and Cass and Victor, which immediately follows the end of the previous issue. The reason to include it was because it very necessarily established the change in location from the Vegas Strip to the Lucky 38 penthouse, which would have been jarring otherwise; the reason to exclude it was that it the issue was already extremely long and I thought opening right on Mr. House would have been more impactful. Ultimately, I did keep it, which was a good decision, but only because of the literally issue-saving idea to convey it as closed-circuit television footage instead of actual panels. Every single attempt at overlaying them with the lead-in to Mr. House was way too busy, but that idea really tied the page together like a nice rug.

And lastly, the framing device of the tarantula and the tarantula hawk was actually an extremely late addition to the comic. I had already finished the first three pages when I thought of it. My problem was that Mr. House's constant monologuing and Agnes' sad expressions got pretty repetitive. I needed something to break the action up while adding thematic heft and artistic variety. I've become a real enthusiast for wasps and tarantulas over the last couple months, so this one really was just a stroke of luck. It took only minimal revisions to make room for the framing device, with the most dramatic change being the complete replacement of the last page (which was originally just a splash page of the Lucky 38 in Vegas; bookending the first and last pages is so much better). So you see, the only reason for weaving a scene into this issue of a skittish desert-wanderer getting paralyzed and dragged toward a certain demise by a predator almost perfectly evolved to destroy it was just that I like bugs a lot. That's the only reason, yep.

Original Pencils:

Due to all of the photo-collage in the final version of the comic, there's a lot of panels and details that I (thankfully!) didn't have to draw myself. Sorry that the pencil isn't blue on the last three pages, I've been on the move for the holidays so they got scanned in grayscale by accident.

I did experiment with drawing the tarantula framing device myself, but ultimately went with the photo-collage method because the artistic juxtaposition actually made it much more readable when interspersed with the proceedings in the Lucky 38.

Transcript:

EXT. DESERT OUTSIDE OF NEW VEGAS. The city glitters in the distance, nestled between the shadows of mountains, with the spire of the LUCKY 38 towering above all else.

In the wilderness, a TARANTULA emerges from its burrow.

EXT. THE NEW VEGAS STRIP. On closed-circuit television monitors, a SECURITRON ROBOT approaches AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY, saying

VICTOR: Well howdy, partner! Fancy meetin' again here in Vegas!

CASS: What the fuck?

AGNES: Victor?

Unlike the usual police units, VICTOR's robotic "face" is that of a cowboy.

VICTOR: And heck, ya clean up nice! Sure lookin' a lot better now than when I rustled ya outta the bone orchard back in Goodsprings*--

CAP: *As was explained to Agnes way back in IKROAH #2. --Lou

VICTOR: --so how's about ol' Vic skips the rigamarole, huh? 'Fore all my yappin' makes ya want to go back, heh-heh-heh! I'm the welcome wagon, see. I'm to come and collect ya.

CASS: Agnes--

VICTOR: Boss wants t'see you, is what I'm sayin'.

AGNES: Boss?

VICTOR: Only of all of Vegas, friend!

CASS: Agnes.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA crawls beneath the starlight.

VICTOR: So why don't we mosey on over to the Lucky 38? And your good pal can come along, too!

CASS: I need to know what the fuck is going on, right now.

AGNES: I...I don't know.

VICTOR: And y'know, boss ain't ever let a soul inside before, least for not as long as I've been rollin' around on my spurs, so this ain't just an everyday social call, mind...

On the closed-circuit television monitors, VICTOR escorts AGNES and CASS to the entryway of the LUCKY 38.

VICTOR: ...but heck, I reckon ya'll oughta get along like franks on a fire! So come on! Lift's in the lobby here, and up to the top floor--and we can get the formalities out of the way before ya'll get [cut off]

INT. THE LUCKY 38 PENTHOUSE.

AGNES stands awestruck, looking upward, bathed in electronic green light. With horror, she ekes out a single question.

AGNES: ...what are you?

???: A "Hello" would have been preferable, but it'll take more than a crude faux pas to tarnish this moment. Who I am, Agnes--

What AGNES is looking at is a gigantic SUPERCOMPUTER and terminal, flanked by closed-circuit television monitors and guarded on both sides by SECURITRON police units. On the supercomputer's massive screen is the green-lit image of a face. The face

MR. HOUSE: --is ROBERT EDWIN HOUSE. The President, CEO, and sole proprietor of New Vegas--and more to the point, the intended recipient of a long delayed package.

AGNES: Oh, you...you mean the platinum chip?

MR. HOUSE: Correct. It's a...very precious artifact of the old world.

MR. HOUSE: My world, once.

In the back of the room, beyond AGNES, is an oil painting of MR. HOUSE, standing outside in front of what must have been a very large robot.

MR. HOUSE: In that world, I was the founder of RobCo Industries--a titan of innovation. We created a litany of robotic solutions for diverse markets, such as the Securitrons that you see here, and even a line of consumer-grade devices like the wrist-mounted Pip-Boy. But the platinum chip was, more than any other, my design. It was my vision.

MR. HOUSE: But it never left the factory in which it was originally made. Before it could even cool off from its assembly...we had the Great War. An international, thermonuclear bombardment of unimaginable power that annihilated the world in all of two hours.

MR. HOUSE: But not the entire world. Not Vegas. Not my Paradise. From my fortress of the Lucky 38, I saw to that. But as for the rest of the world, and my platinum chip--it took generations.

MR. HOUSE: First for the scarce remnants of humanity to crawl out from under their rocks, and for the world to at least resemble a functioning society again in which to do trade. And then for the work itself--of countless scavengers, treasure-seekers, and the like, all contracted to comb over the wreckage of Sunnyvale. It cost millions of caps, and later, New California dollars. And a not insignificant piece of my pre-war fortune as well. I, quite literally, moved mountains.

MR. HOUSE: I do not believe in providence, Agnes, but I do believe in destiny. How else to explain it? It was pristine when it was found. Neither the bombs nor the passage of time had so much as scuffed its sheen. But still...its value far transcended the mere market price of pure platinum.

MR. HOUSE: Amusingly, despite the discovery, I was still only as close to acquiring the chip as I had been originally in 2077. A final ordeal remained for me: how to ensure the safety of the platinum chip en route to its destination, from Sunnyvale to Vegas, without broadcasting its preciousness to thieves, armies, and raiders--or worse, to heavily armed fetishists for pre-war technology like the Brotherhood of Steel?

MR. HOUSE: Misdirection. Through a network of anonymous liaisons, I contracted the Mojave Express for a batch of deliveries, all superficially similar knick-knacks, to various intermediaries of myself. All but one of the orders were totally worthless decoys. But your identity as the carrier of the one genuine item was somehow compromised, leading to you getting attacked, and to the second disappearance of the chip.

MR. HOUSE: But look around you. Look where you are. You've made it, haven't you?

AGNES, still staring up at the visage of MR. HOUSE on-screen, doesn't respond. She frowns, nervous. The SECURITRONS guarding MR. HOUSE observe her stoically.

MR. HOUSE: Let me clarify: I had nothing to do with Benny's ambush. Heavens no! It goes completely against my interests. It would have been a perfectly quotidian day's work for you if not for his, and I stress, unexpected involvement. The platinum chip...belies its significance. For Benny to have not only discovered its delivery route but possibly enough of that significance to motivate such an act, this constituted a very troubling breach of my security. And I had been looking into it...but in a way, the issue seems to have resolved itself. Hm?

MR. HOUSE: A wild card. Now removed from the deck.

AGNES' gaze sinks to the floor.

MEANWHILE, a small shadow blots out the starlight in the desert outside of Vegas. It flies over the exploring TARANTULA.

AGNES looks back up at MR. HOUSE.

AGNES: I killed him.

HOUSE: So you did. I only wish that we could have spoken before you went rogue on my former protégé: if this story breaks, I can grant you amnesty, but not without controversy. And your infamy as an assassin could make our further arrangements quite difficult.

AGNES: Um...I didn't think there would be more to it than delivering the--

MR. HOUSE: Oh! Of course, of course! My apologies. Two hundred years of anticipation and yet I'm still getting ahead of myself. Well--would you mind? I've been waiting a long time for my mail.

The SECURITRON closest to AGNES wheels forward with its claw outstretched. AGNES reaches her fingers into a pocket beneath the belt of her dress to produce it: the PLATINUM CHIP. She holds it in her hand for a brief moment.

MEANWHILE, the shadow descends; the TARANTULA HAWK engages the TARANTULA.

AGNES relinquishes the PLATINUM CHIP to the SECURITRON.

MR. HOUSE: Thank you--it's a relief to pay for this chip for the final time.

The SECURITRON inserts the PLATINUM CHIP into a slot in MR. HOUSE'S supercomputer, feeding it into the drive with a CLIK.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA is fighting the TARANTULA HAWK.

From behind AGNES, another SECURITRON presents her with a stack of NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC DOLLARS, which she gingerly takes in her hand and looks over.

MR. HOUSE: And I trust that you're satisfied with the agreed-upon compensation from the delivery contract, yes?

AGNES: Yeah, it's...it's fine...I'll be going now. Thanks.

MR. HOUSE: Oh? But you've only just arrived. I insist that you make yourself at home.

SFX: KZZSZZZTTT

The faces on the screens of the SECURITRONS in MR. HOUSE'S penthouse suddenly change from policemen to soldiers. AGNES recoils and tries to step away.

AGNES: H-hey, uh--

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK pierces the underbelly of the TARANTULA with its stinger.

SECURITRONS surround AGNES.

MR. HOUSE: You are the first guest ever through the doors of the Lucky 38, you know. Nobody has so much as checked a coat inside since the war, so this meeting confers you a significant level of privilege...and inevitable celebrity. The people of Vegas have always gossiped, after all. Many have even clawed at the door desperately with dreams of being where you now stand. Surely you can comprehend how this compulsion to leave after such a deliberate and remarkable invitation risks considerable insult--to both myself and my citizenry? And very deliberate this invitation was. Don't you realize: if handing off my package was all for which you were needed, why wouldn't I have just had Victor relieve you of the chip outside? No, no, you see, as necessary as its acquisition was, the chip is ultimately just a key, for unlocking a new frontier...of possibilities.

MR. HOUSE: Possibilities for prosperity, peace, and technological advancement that haven't been seen in two hundred years. Possibilities greater than anything the New California Republic or Caesar's Legion could dream of, let alone achieve, by playing pretend in the clothes of their forebearers and convincing everyone else that it's statecraft. Possibilities--which if they key is turned by human hands--become certainties.

AGNES (a whisper): Are you not human?

MR. HOUSE: Don't let the video screens and computer terminals fool you: I am a living human. No less so than you. I just live with a particular set of, well...handicaps.

AGNES: You said you'd waited hundreds of years to--

MR. HOUSE: One could argue that the world has been waiting hundreds of years for this moment. Waiting for me. For the chip. For the long-dormant doors of the Lucky 38 to finally open, to a single and specially ordained individual: you, Agnes. And there are tremendous things waiting for us, waiting for us to accomplish them, together. I certainly couldn't do them with Benny. What do you say?

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA has become completely paralyzed by the TARANTULA HAWK'S venom. The TARANTULA HAWK seizes its prey.

AGNES: ...no.

MR. HOUSE: I'm sorry--"No?"

AGNES: Yes--I mean, no. No! I don't want to help you! I...

Tears well in AGNES' eye.

AGNES: ...I just want to go back home.

MR. HOUSE: ...I see. Hmm.

MR. HOUSE: How do I put this in a way you'll understand?

MR. HOUSE: The die is cast.

AGNES, crying, looks up at MR. HOUSE again. Fear bulges on her face.

MR. HOUSE: Throughout the long delivery of this chip, several precise plans and fortuitous coincidences have aligned in just such a way as to make you, you specifically at this exact juncture, an irreplaceable asset in the ongoing endeavor of this wounded world's recovery from otherwise hopeless ruin.

MR. HOUSE: Your cooperation going forward is not merely crucial to this endeavor's success, but it's utterly non-negotiable. Should you entertain the moral issue of what's at stake, it's obligatory, even. It's why your refusal comes as such a...genuine surprise. Can't you see?

MR. HOUSE: I'm not a fascist, Agnes--I would never force you. But given the circumstances, I'm entitled, wouldn't you agree, to at least a brief demonstration of my vision? The vision that the platinum chip promises? Victor has surely seen your companion to the presidential suite by now--my other Securitrons can escort you to the basement, where I'm sure you can make a...properly informed decision.

The SECURITRONS close in on AGNES, who screams in protest.

AGNES: No! I said no! I already delivered your chip, I--I killed Benny! I-- I-- ...what do you want with me!?

MR. HOUSE: Haven't you been listening? I want what's best for you--for us. I know it's a lot, but bear with me for one moment longer, and I can assure you--that this is the beginning of something very incredible.

MEANWHILE, the TARANTULA HAWK has dragged the paralyzed TARANTULA back to the entrance of its own burrow.

The TARANTULA HAWK shoves its helpless prey into the hole, and then crawls in after it.

The TARANTULA is not seen again.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #victor #mr. house #agnes sands #ikroah archive #volume 02 #26

[fruitsoxs]

can we get some jealousy blurbs for astarion and/or gale?

Of course!! I love a good jealousy blurb

pairings; astarion x reader , gale x reader warnings; none notes; I was pumped up about this request i did it within a day lol. also rolan mention because i love him

Astarion

When you’ve got a little tadpole in your head that could very well be the end of you, little things like jealousy should be the least of your worries. Yet, here Astarion stands with one arm crossed over the other, pouting at the scene in front of him. He watches as his partner frets over another man who seems to keep showing up on their journey. Of course he should’ve known Rolan would be here at this stupid magic store that Gale so desperately wanted to visit. Astarion had heard you talk about how the tiefling was planning on becoming an apprentice for Lorrokoan. Pity that the grand wizard had turned out to be such a massive asshole. Yes it’s horrible he was mistreating Rolan (Astarion could always sympathize with any poor soul who suffers at their master’s hands). However, that doesn’t warrant you leaning in so closely to the man to look at his bruises. It doesn’t mean you can smile so fondly at him-

It takes you laughing at something Rolan said while the man stares at you softly before Astarion has had enough. The vampire clears his throat rather loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. Once you are looking at him he opens his mouth to say “Shouldn’t we get going? We’ve been in this dreaded place too long.” Your smile drops as you tilt their head, giving Astarion a confused look. Astarion simply looks away. He knows it’s petty, but he doesn’t care. Getting the hint, you nod. “I guess it’s time we get out of your hair Rolan.” you express.

Rolan's smile falters, but he nods in understanding. “I do have a lot of work to do now. Of course, if you should ever need my assistance, just call for me. I’ll lend my magic in any way that I can.” the magic user tells you. Astarion huffs and starts to walk away. He knows full well Rolan’s help would be useful, especially with the coming battle you must fight. Once again though, he doesn’t care. There’s something about this situation that has made him feel uncomfortable, and he’s quite mad about it. 

When you finally exit the massive building, Astarion’s anger subsides. He feels himself grow a little ashamed by his outburst. He wraps his arms around his chest and stops. You stop with him, locking onto his gaze with a sense of curiosity. The others have kept going, opting to give the two of you a little privacy.  

“Were you jealous? Of Rolan?” You ask seemingly humored by the entire ordeal. Astarion wants to deny it. After all, he’s never been one to care much about what you do- and who you do it with. Despite being in a romantic relationship with you, he doesn’t own you. He loves you, and he knows you love him. You’ve proved it time and time again. That should be enough. For some reason though, this situation has deeply upset him. “And what if I am?” he asks defensively, sending a glare that looks more like a pout. 

“I’ve never known you to be the jealous type.” You joke, smiling. When you notice the seriousness in Astarion’s eyes, your grin drops. “You’re serious?” you ask, inching closer. The vampire doesn’t need to say anything, his expression explains it all. You simply reach out and put your hand on his arm. You do it slowly, giving Astarion a chance to pull away if he wants. “Star…” you whisper, eyes meeting his. “You are the most important person in my life. Never forget I love you. So much.” 

He knows this, but hearing you say it makes his negative emotions melt away. “And besides, you don’t need to be jealous of Rolan. Yes, I worry about him- but we’ve saved him so many times it’s hard not to.” you sigh, shaking your head like a worried parent. A small smile makes its way onto Astarion’s lips. “Bad luck does seem to follow him.”

Gale

Gale has had a rough few months. After being ripped from his home, given a tadpole in his head, and forced to adventure with a bunch of …colorful people, he’s been craving one good thing. He didn’t expect that one good thing to be the fearless leader of his adventure party, you. Along the journey, you showed the man you had a great heart. Your habit of saving others, and doing the right thing made Gale swoon. He hadn’t expected to meet such an amazing person during such a trying time. Somewhere along the way, the wizard had fallen for you and your kind hearted nature. The only problem? Sometimes you were a bit too kind.

Gale’s smile fades as he watches a man strut his way over to you, confidence in every step. After finally making your way to Baldur’s Gate, your party had decided stopping at one of the taverns to grab a drink wasn’t such a bad idea. The circumstances may be dire, but taking a little time to relax is important. That’s how you ended up here, with a bunch of people following your tail. Gale had severely underestimated how many drunkards would have the guts to hit on someone like you. Now, his mind is swimming with that funny little green monster known as jealousy. 

“So, do you come here often?” The stranger asks you, leaning against the bar between you and Gale. Gale wishes just this once you would get angry, and react in a way unbecoming of you. Of course you don’t. You simply smile at the man and shake your head. “No. Not really.” you answer, aura radiating with kindness. “Well then, allow me to fund your next drink.” The man’s speech is slurred, clearly egged on by the alcohol in his system. 

Gale watches the scene on the other side of the man, his eyebrows lifted in a way that makes him look like a kicked dog. When you don’t deny the drink, Gale feels his chest grow tighter. The thing that made him fall for you, is the thing he hates most right now. He hates that feeling. After all, it’s his fault he has yet to confess his feelings. He finds himself turning away, glancing at his drink with uncertainty. What should he do? 

“Hey…maybe after this we could go out back-”

Gale snaps his head back over to the man. “No.” he says out loud cutting the man off. Suddenly fueled by anger, he stands up, walks over to you, takes your hand and begins to pull you away. You stumble along behind him, but don’t pull form his grasp. He leads you away from the confused man at the bar, and outside into the cold air. Once he stops, he turns to look at you. You don’t seem angry, just a little confused. 

“Is everything okay Gale?” you ask. You seem a little concerned, and it makes his heart twist.

“I- No. Everything is not okay. I just...I’m..” he groans, unable to fully express what he’s trying to say. He doesn’t want to confess like this. He wants it to be romantic, not awkward and uncomfortable. “I do not like watching people take advantage of your kindness.” He decides to say.

You smile at him, and squeeze his hand. The hand he forgot is holding yours. “Thank you Gale.” you mumble. You then lean forward, and before he knows it you’re pressing your lips against his cheek. “That’s very kind of you.”

His cheeks heat up, a dumb smile stretching across his lips. “Anything for you.”

#requests are open! #gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav

[iouinotes]

"The Cole Effect" | Cole Walter

pairing: Cole Walter x female!reader

show: My life with the Walter Boys

warnings: smut, but just a little (I had to after seeing him in that last scene)

word count: 4k

summary: Cole asks the reader out on a date and after he convinced her, they spend a fun (if you know you know) evening together.

a/n: please pretend that his restored car has backseats...thanks (also I'm sorry for the way this ff ended. I wanted to write smut all the way, but it just didnt feel right anymore after the first half. So please enjoy the rest of it and bear with me...)

"So, when do I pick you up?"

He leans against my locker, looking over my shoulder and reading my notes. "Cole, how many times do I have to tell you? I dont have the time and patience, I'm sorry-" sighing I look at him, studying his smug grin.

"You have the chance to get to know me better. In my opinion, that sounds like the perfect way to spend the afternoon." He smiles at me, his eyes scanning my face.

The fact is, I didnt want to fall in love with him and I knew, if I would let him take me out, it wouldnt turn out for the best. Well, mostly for me. He would probably date the next woman, that would catch his eye. And I would be on his list, sitting at home on the weekends and waiting for him to call. No, that wasnt how I planned to spend my time.

I mean, he obviously is very handsome, blonde hair, dreamy eyes, pink lips that somehow always look kissable. And to be honest, sometimes when I get lost in a daydream, forgetting about the math class, he appears in my head. Always smiling as bright as the sun. I dont know what it is, but something about him is so attractive, I dont even know how to discribe it.

Of course, I'm not the only one who feels that sort of attraction. His magical appearance, how he talks, walks, smiles, flirts.

It´s called "the Cole effect". For most of the time, I didnt really get it. But as soon as his eyes landed on me, as soon as he talked to me, trust me, I got it. He is charming, enchanting, funny and he has a way with words that makes it addictive to hear his voice.

It´s crazy, but it is reality.

When I look at him now, I feel another pair of eyes watching me. Erin. The girl, who is in a on-off realtionship with him. Cole has many women, who want him, not just because he is popular. But because he is what every girl dreams of. Thats the problem, he is a dream till he gets bored and then you find yourself in your own nightmare.

"Its just- I cant. Also, there is a really pretty and wonderful girl, standing right next to you, thats been waiting for you to notice her." I never unterstood how Cole could want someone else, when Erin existed.

"Well, Im currently talking to her, so I know when to pick her up." His eyes stay clued to me. Confused, I draw my eyebrows together. "But Erin is this way-" I turn my head to look at her, but at the same second I feel a finger tenderly turning my head back. I freeze, butterflies awake in my stomach and I have to keep myself from looking too flustered by his gesture. Of course, my body has its mind of his own, so I feel my cheeks turn red.

At that, he grins. "I know you feel it, beautiful. One date, thats all Im asking for. I promise, you will have a good time." Im too caught up in my emotions to think reasonable. So I quietly nod and feel myself holding my breath, when he leans down to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His finger again, linger slightly on my cheek.

"See you then, 9 o'clock. I'll be on time, you have my word." Winking, he turns around and walks down the aisle.

Finally I get to breath again.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

Why the fuck did I agree to this? Standing infront of my mirror, I look at my summer dress, warm yellow colour with beautiful, little sunflowers on it. It was the dress, I got a lot of compliments for. But then again, what was my intention with wearing this dress? Im not sure.

While I pick out a golden necklace in the shape of a sun and put on a few bracelets, I leave my hair down and the way it always is. I don't want him to think that I'm trying too hard.

He knows the truth anyway.

A few minutes later, I hear the doorbell ring and with one last, deep breath I open the door. If I'm honest, I would have liked to close it straight away. Because there's no way to avoid staring at him the whole time when he looks like that. Wearing blue jeans, slightly oversize, a white tank top and his red jersey. He looks hot, in a way I want to spend the rest of the day, riding something other than his car. God, help me survive this.

To my suprise, he is quiet the gentleman. He compliments my dress, he holds the door open to his car, he lets me pick the music and as I sit in the passanger seat, listining to Taylor Swift, I smile to myself. Unfortunetely I´m not very subtle about it, because he asks me right away about my good mood.

"I dont know, Im just having a good time, I guess." I look at him, while he is focusing on the road. I see one of his hand rising, so he dramatically holds onto his chest.

"I'm hurt. Did you think, I was that boring?" Laughing, I shake my head. "No, its not that. To best honest, I didnt expect myself to enjoy today." I turn my head and look at my lap, fiddling with my fingers. "Why not?" I see his head looking in my direction, a curious tone in his voice.

"I´ve had a hard time this last year, everything with school and you are- I mean, I dont know what intention do you have with me? Im not a one night stand type of person, I want something real. You know, like in the love songs, the real feelings, a real relationship. With a person, who wants me the same way, I feel about them. I think, thats the reason Im not sure, if this-" I gesture between us "is a good idea."

He´s quite for a moment and I feel more embarassed, the more seconds pass.

"Im sorry. I didnt mean that we´re going to be, you know like a thing. I respect your decision to spend your time with other girls, I didnt mean it is something bad. Its just-" He finishes my sentence. "-not for you. I know." His eyes are on the road, but I see his hands nervously tapping the wheel.

"Sorry, if I just crashed the vibe. I didnt intend to do it." I look at my hands. "No, its okay. Dont be sorry. I like your honesty. You know, you state your point. Thats good."

We look at each other and I try to search in his eyes for a sign, that he´s pissed. But he just lightly smiles at me, reaching out and holding my hands. While one of his hands is still on the wheel, of course. I feel myself blushing.

"Look, lets not pretend that I´m the best choice for a relationship or boyfriend material. Because I´m not and you knew that, even before you agreed to spend the afternoon with me. So, I´m just curious. Why did you change your mind?"

His thumb is massaging the back of my hand and I try not to settle with this warm feeling in my chest. "Because you dont give up that easily and it's hard not to give in to you." I see a smile tuck at his lips. "You think so?" I role my eyes.

"You know the affect you have on people, Cole. It wouldnt suprise me, if you run for president and won. People like you." He laughs at my comparison, turning the wheel and driving into the driveway to a nice restaurant. When he parks the car and turns of the light, he turns in my direction and looks at me.

"Do you like me?"

The question suprises me. "What?" I laugh quietly. "You said, people like me. So, do you like me too?" His eyes search mine.

"Well, if I would hate you, I think i wouldnt have agreed to go to dinner with you." He leans forward.

"Well you could just be here for the food?" I grin at him. "You got me, Im just hungry, sorry. Can we go in and be silent the entire time?" His hands are still holding mine, but now one of them is caressing my arm, leaving me with goosebumbs.

We sit in silent, but when he opens his mouth to break the comfortable atmosphere, Im shocked by his honest words.

"Well, I like you. You´re funny, endearing, honest and smart. You are nice to everyone, even if you have do deal with a guy like me, who gets on your nerves, so you agree to go on a date with him. It´s something about you, that is special and I would like to get to know you better. If you do, I promise you´ll get more food."

I smile at his last sentence, even though I dont know what to say. "God, you´re making me speechless." He leans even closer. "I can do many other things, that can make you speechless." At that I look at his lips. I see him grin and when I look up again, he is even closer than before.

"There are two choices now. One, we go into his lovely restaurant and talk about god knows what or two, we test whether the seats can be tilted backwards." At his voice I feel myself getting flustered. God knows, I would love to test what the car is capable of. But we´re out in a driveway, infront of a restaurant and people could see us. And even though I´m not really against the idea, its to early.

"Or three, we eat first and maybe later, you show me why I need to hate you less." He rises his eyebrows. "So you really are just here for the food." I laugh. "I guess, I am."

The time we spend in the restaurant was wonderful. I didnt expect us to connect this way, its like he just gets me. We ate a huge meal, in the end we almost forget to pay and I feel myself being so entchanted to him.

Even though the waitress tried to flirt with him (which by the way is rude, because what about girls support girls?), he kept his attention on me, also reaching out infront of her and taking my hand. I really couldnt tell myself to stop imagining, what it would be like, if we were a couple.

I mean, its ridiculous, because he made it very clear, that he didnt want to be in a relationship. But still, a girl could dream, right? Right.

After we did pay (much to the relief of the waitress), we went outside and walked a few minutes along a path, our hands entangled by the time we got back to the car. I didnt want to admit it, but he managed to make me fall in love with him in one day.

And even though I was scared, he made me feel alive. I couldnt concentrate on anything over than him, his sweet compliments, his eyes that kept looking at my lips, his arm that went around my shoulder to keep me warm.

He was so caring, it made me loose my mind. I didnt want the night to end. So when we were back in his car on the way home and he asked me, if I wanted to see his new car, I agreed.

We talked on the way back about our interests. He told me about his passion for football, even though he didnt get to play anymore and about his fascination for restoring cars. I told him about my love for books and that I would rather spend the day waching a new Netflix series, than doing sports. We talked about our goals for the future and that we both want to get out of this town, finally seeing something new.

By the time we arrived at the ranch and he parked the car outside the door, it felt like I knew his past selve, his present and future self. I never had a date like this before, something so honest and great.

But I mean, I also never knew a person like Cole before, so maybe that is the reason.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

When we arrived, it was dark outside, but because it´s summer, neither one of us felt cold. "Is it okay for me to be here? I mean, are your parents cool with you, bringing a girl home?" I look to the house, checking if some of his family members are still awake, but no lights are seen. "As long as they dont know about it, they´re cool." He grins at me and I shake my head.

"Come on, I want to show you what I´ve been working on for the last months." He leads me, one of his hands on my back to the garage, opening the door and letting me in. Its dark inside, but I hear him shifting around to find the switch to turn on the light. When I hear a click and the light flickers on, I look around and at the tools, all the stuff standing around and finally at the car.

He´s standing next to it, a proud smile on his face. "So, what do you think?" Im walking towards him, inspecting his work. "I mean, I dont have a clue about cars, but it looks really good and like it was restored by a proffesional." My fingers run over the open hood.

When he carefully closes it a few seconds later, I look up and see him watching me. "What?" I say, starring back. He takes a step towards me, searching in my gaze, trying to make out if I want this the same way, he wants to feel me. But as I stand still, waching him get closer, centimeter by centimeter, until our faces almost touch, I feel myself breathing heavily.

His hands sneak around my waist, pulling me gently closer to him. He turns around, so he leans onto the car, directing me, so I stand between his legs. I feel myself getting hot, I hear his breath and watch his eyes trailing down to my lips and finally to my eyes. I do the same. And before I know it, he leans in and catches my lips in a captivating way. I feel myself melt.

One of my arms sneak around his shoulders, so I get closer to him. I feel butterflies fly around in my stomach, smiling in the kiss and when he breaks apart, he looks at me.

"Hate me less now?" He wispers.

"Not really, try again."

So he does. Our lips meet, our breath gets taken and I feel my knees weaken, when one of his hands capture my face. He holds me still and I feel every touch, my skin burns.

The temparature rises and when one of his hands travel down, first to my neck, then to my collarbone and lastly to my shoulders, his fingers hold the straps of my dress. Again, he breaks apart, so I open my eyes and immedialy want to kiss him again. Although my hands wander over his shoulder, Im not sure what to do now.

"Are you nervous?" His hands caress my sides, his question leaves me uncertain. I nod, not in the right state to use my words. At that, he gently smiles. "Then I will help you relax. You can do that for me right?"

His words make me clench my thights and I feel myself getting wet. When I nod again, he leans forward and wispers in my ear. "Good girl." That and that his lips nip at my ear and leave a wet trail at my neck, makes me whimper slightly. I feel him smirk, so he earns a light smack on his arm. He laughs quietly and when I open my eyes, his ones are shining with a hidding mischief.

"You enjoy this too much." I say it as a joke, but he takes it seriously. "I do, actually. I dreamt about you making these sounds a lot more often, than I would like to admit."

At that, I gasps. "You what?" I try to concentrate on his words, but his wandering hands dont help with that. He kisses me, but now he turns us around and presses me against the car. Helping me sit on it, so he can get between my legs.

"I said" he beginns to speak and his lips find a certain spot, that makes me moan. "I want to hear all the little sounds, that escape you." My hands wander to his hair, holding it and messing with it. His hands again find the straps of my dress and when I kiss him more passionate, he slowly beginns to pull it down. First the right side until he lets go of it, so he can pull the other one down. All that, while still kissing me.

I feel myself getting lost in him, his lips are like a drug and I feel myself getting addicted. When I feel the air hitting my skin, I break apart. He looks at me, checking if I’m still okay with what we´re doing. "What do you want to do?" he holds the straps of my dress, gesturing that he wants to get me out of it. I breath, trying to know, what I want.

I come to the simple conclusion, that I do want him. Even if its just for now. So I kiss him and try to strip him out his jacket. To do that, he lets go of my dress and it falls to the floor, leaving me in my underwear. His eyes scan my body as his hands caress my skin, his finger going from my shoulders to my breasts.

Breathing heavily I look at him. "Your turn." His hands leave my body and with a teasing smile he takes off his jacket, leaving me starring at his muscles.

One of his fingers turn my head to look at him. "You like what you see?" His grin says it all. My hands find their way to touch his arms, going further down until i tuck at his shirt.

"I would like you more without it." His eyes turn dark. Swiftly he strips off his tanktop, leaving us both starring at each other. Before I can do something else, his arms direct me to him.

"You´re having second thoughts about this, sunshine?" He´s touching my necklace.

"Have you?" I look at him, seeing him smile.

"Never." His hands go to my legs, so he can lift me up and my legs hold on to his hip. I lean towards him, kissing his neck and stopping by his ear.

"What do you want to do to me?" At that, he stands up, still holding me, while opening the door of his restored car and lays me gently on the back seats. He´s hovering over me, a look in his eyes that makes me shiver. When he leans down and presses a kiss on my chest, near my neck, I try to focus on my breathing.

"I want to do so many things to you." His hands tangle in my hair, lightly tugging on it while he leans down, his lips ghost over my own.

"I want to-" his voice goes quiet, I feel his hands touching my legs, breaking them apart, so he can sit between them. "-take of your panties first. Alright?" I nod, looking up to him. Slowly his fingers find my underwear, so he can slide them down and I get out of it.

When he holds them in his hands, he puts it in his pocket, because he still wears his jeans. He starts to kiss me, leaving my mind with a relaxed feeling, going further down, kissing my chest and my stomach, eventually leaving a kiss above the one spot, thats been dying to be touched.

"I already have you this wet, how sweet of you." When his hand comes down and touches me, sliding one finger gently over my folds, I try to hold myself together.

"You dont need to be quiet. Nobody can hear you." But when I keep holding in my moans, he takes it as a personal challenge. As he leaves kisses all over my body, his finger carefully begin to speed up and I feel my walls clenching.

"God, you´re so tight. How long havent you been touched?" His mouth his hot on my skin and when he adds a second finger, I moan loudly. My eyes squeeze shut at the feeling that consumes me, I cant concentrate on a word he says.

"Already too turned on to answer me, huh? Thats a shame, because Im curious to know the answer of my question." He stops the movements of his fingers, leaving me with a needy feeling. And when I try to move, he stills my hips.

"As much as I like to see you sqirm, I want you to answer me. Can you do that for me?" I try to remember his question. "I-I havent." He rises his eyebrows in confusion. "You what?" His fingers leave my body. When I open my eyes, I realise what he has been asking me.

"I-I havent been touched like that before." His mouth opens in disbelief. "You never had a boyfriend or someone you´ve been intimitated with?" I look at the ceiling of his car. "I mean, not really. I´ve dated someone once, but we didnt reach a level, where we got to this point. So, I never did something like this." I can see the conflict in his eyes. "You´re sure, you want me to be your first?" Its sweet, that he cares.

"I- I guess so, Im sure it wont be a bad experience with you." He quietly laughs. "I hope so, but I cant get my head around the fact, that this is your first time. I mean, youre beautiful and fun to be around." He´s silent for a moment. "You know, we dont have to go all the way, right? I wont be mad, if we stop here."

I think for a moment and while my hands trace his muscles, I try to sort out my thoughts. Now that his fingers are no longer distracting me, I try to understand my feelings.

"We should maybe take it slow? I do want to get to know you better, before-" I dont have to finish the sentence, he just nods and when he smiles at me, I feel myself relax.

"That´s okay, don´t worry. I can drive you home, if that is what you want?" My eyes are searching for a sign, that he is mad. But he just gently brushes my hair aside and kisses the side of my mouth.

„I like you. That means, so we are clear here, that I want you to want me. And if thats the case, which I hope so, then we dont need to rush anything. If the time is right, who knows what will happen. Even if that means, I need to beg you to go out with me again.“

I raise my eyebrows, laughing at his words.

„You would do that?“ He shrugs, smiling at me.

„For you, I would.“

#my life with the walter boys #cole walter #x reader #love #smut #fanfic

[unseemingowl]

Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

#I really didn’t mean to write like… a fucking essay #so this is probably gonna flop #but I love Saga so much #and as a Scandinavian woman #I feel so seen by her #and I hate that people are being so vile about her character #Saga Anderson #Alan Wake 2

[jealousmartini]

List of things I am excited to experience in my K-pop idol dr(s) !

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

💭 — CONCERTS AND CROWD WORK

I FORGOT TO ADD SOMETHING HERE☠️☠️

Doing crowd work with my fans while performing is SUCH A DREAM FOR ME OMG. That's like one my main reasons I'm excited to have a concert because I want to interact with my audience; exchanging glances, throwing stuff for one of them to have and of course performing at my best.

🍊 — COLLABS AND HANGOUTS

Okay okay, I know I have yapped in the past about being excited to meet BTS, but first, let me name a list of groups/idols I am so hyped to be in a 2-foot radius of because sometimes a girl cant help but shriek at the thought of them🙈:

NEWJEANS ||

I FUCKING LOVE THESE GIRLS SO MUCH NO ONE GETS IT. Just a little fun fact, MKB(my own gg) is considered to be like an older sister gg to NEWJEANS because they are both famous 5 member girl groups. Some people even say that NEWJEANS' aesthetic is like a younger sister to MKB's; even though MKB isn't all that "mature" it does give off an older sister feel in contrast to NEWJEANS' AND ITS SOOO CUTEEE😭😭

WONYOUNG — IVE ||

In my dr, Me and Wony are really good friends, and we have each others contacts. I've gone to battle for her in my tiktoks and tweets against antis (I am very much popular for this too since it's considered controversial to speak out in defence for another idol and she isn't the only idol I've fought for😭😭) cus she's literally the sweetest idol ever?? I actually love her to death.

CHAEYOUNG, NAYEON, SANA, MOMO, JIHYOU — TWICE ||

In my opinion all of TWICE is so cute and I freaking love them all, but I am closest to these five. They're some of my closest girl friends because they were the first friends i made (other than my members lmao) and I love them all so much please I can't wait to meet them (especially since MKB and TWICE both exist under JYP so we're basically always hanging out)

BTS ||

No, because you guys. the dating, fighting and relationship rumours that are gonna be floating around me are gonna be CRAZYY cus of how many frequent interactions I have with the group/ the members individually and how much i talk about them because I am SO down bad for them PLEASE (but we can't let them and army know you guys shhh🤫) and I also just be having the LOUDEST MOUTH EVER🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏾‍♀️

But aside from how badly I want each and every one of them, Me and MKB are super cool friends with BTS; usually, 1 or 2 of us will visit them for whatever reason needed and whatever occasion like watching them behind the scenes, sometimes, we will appear on their lives in person or on phone (cus we have each others contacts😝🤞🏾), we always wish them happy birthday (as they do back to us), and few times some of us will make special appearances on their game challenges on RUN BTS too.

Also, I'd say I'm closest to being with Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung- BUT I get along very well with Yoongi, Jin, and Hoeseok too. I just hangout with those 4 the most out of all of them. [EDIT// Actually I do hang out with Jin too what am I talking about]

STRAYKIDS AND ATEEZ ||

More hot men. Idk what to say more about this LMAO😭😭

💭 — LIVESTREAMS AND BIRTHDAYS

MKB is most infamous (other than our music of course) for our ridiculous lives. But my favourite kind of live is the birthday one. The moment of appreciation and love sent from fans and the celebration from my family members and staff is so precious and important to me. The thought into the gifts and the messages mean so much more to me than what anyone could imagine and it gives so much meaning to birthdays because they are so important to me.

🍊 — PRODUCING, FILMMAKING AND BTS

I have always been a big music nerd and my urge to produce music for a loving and interested fanbase makes me feel so warm. it's just what my silly little heart was made to do.

I have also been super interested in being involved with the work behind the scenes , not just being in the scenes of our music videos. I really want to have a say in what the concept of the video to match the music will look like, the outfit ideas, the hidden lore in the videos. It's just such a dream come true for me, and I'm even excited for whatever travelling needs to be done, too.

💭 — STUPID SPECULATIONS/RUMOURS ?

Being nosey and attention seeking is a deadly combo. Always gotta know something, always gotta be talked about somehow (and I usually prefer the fake dating allegations cus they're just so funny and sometimes cute depending on who I'm being shipped with lol)

🍊 — FOOD

I am THE BIGGEST foodie there is I swear. I have always craved and cried to eat real Korean (and East asian) food without thinking about my money or my skin as well as usual meals too and as much as I want (because I scripted my manager let's me eat anything I want since I don't gain weight (I scripted this for all idols tbh cus I just want to see wony eat SOMETHING😭🙏🏾))

💭 — V.I.P STUFF

When I say VIP stuff, I mainly mean 1st class vacations and trips. I freaking LOVE exploring and travelling.. ON LAND. When I shift though, this will be my first time flying on a plane and I'm kinda excited, kinda frightened. I have a slight fear of heights so I'm gonna have to brave through it and try not to throw up or something.

🍊 — FANMADE GIFTS (fanimations, fanfictions, fan art, real life gifts, fan edits, etc.)

I am so freaking hyped for this stuff you guys stop. One of my main love languages is gift giving and receiving, and I already get so hyped when I get a gift on a random day from a family memeber😭😭.

The fan edits and fanfiction are gonna be crazy tho omg the ships..😭😭😭 (I WILL be looking out for the ship fanfics best believe.)

💭 — GOOGLEBOX BUT ITS KPOP IDOLS

"STOP TALKING ABOUT GOOGLEBO-" STFU AND LISTEN HOE🤬

Okay, so before I explode for excitement, I had this idea to make take the Googlebox celebrities and make a K-pop idols edition, and it couldn't be more perfect. Of course, you might be worried about how little privacy and time to myself off camera I may have now that I've added this into my dr, but never worry!

I scripted MKB to get 2 weeks to a month long breaks depending on stuff like exhaustion, injuries, meeting families, or just having a well-deserved vacation. I also scripted that our fanbase is very respectful of our space and don't bombard us if we're spotted in public.

@4ellieluv @cocozydiaries @samara444 @theshifterbear @livingmydreamlife5555

#shiftblr #kpop shifting #desired reality #law of assumption #master manifestor #4d reality #shifting #drself #shifters #loa #loa blog #shifted #reality shift #reality shifting #shifttok #master shifter #loablr

[thepenultimateword]

Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”

#villain x medic #villain x civilian #hero x villain #heroes and villains #creative writing #writblr #writeblr #secret santa #agggh I couldn’t figure out how to end it #and I’ve been in a bit of a block #so it was a bit tough #but ah well #it was a fun premise to explore!

[funbirdnest]

Blackbird (Translation)

I worked in the translation of the story for the past week and I have been unable to shut up about until now. This translation work was done in collaboration of @spectralpooch who worked as English proofreader and provided a lot of insight of the english grammar and composition. I was also helped by Yuko and Asher who helped with wording.

I hope you get to enjoy, even if just a little, the love we all put in this story that we have been waiting seven years for. 

Blackbird

The fantasy is burning.

—At the end of the day, love always prevails.

—Hard work and good intentions are always rewarded.

—As long as you wish for it with all your might, your dreams will always come true.

Such are the nonsensical, gibberish words that everyone recognizes as downright lies once they reach adulthood. And burning within a bonfire is the pile of papers—the representation of the very innocence of a young boy who earnestly believed in those lies.

The embers of dreams and hopes are stirred by the updraft caused by the hot air.

Ashes and soot soar up, miserably staining the clear skies.

“Aah, what a terrible shame.”

Hibiki Wataru looked up at the sky and, in sharp contrast to his words, trembled with pleasure.

He is a beautiful man.

Long, silver-white hair that resembles moonlight incarnate. A physique blessed with a perfect golden ratio.

He is wearing his elegantly designed uniform in quite an incomprehensible way.

His facial expressions and gestures are refined and effusively charming, and it feels as though wing scales and fluorescent lights should flutter around him with every step he takes.

But it is precisely because he is too beautiful that he can stand out in any town.

Every person who passes by throws him a strange look and either turns away or flees the scene as if having just encountered a monster. It is the most appropriate reaction when confronted with a monstrosity, but—

He wants them to at least scream.

To curse, spit, and throw stones at him.

It hurts the most to be ignored.

As if to convey this point, Wataru gestures towards them in invitation to do so—but the only one willing to approach him is a slightly dirtied pigeon.

"Aah, Gil! Poor you, Gilles de Rais¹! Your feathers are completely sullied!" 

Wataru laments while rubbing his cheek against the pigeon perched on his shoulder.

"When you are covered in soot like this, you look more like a crow than a pigeon! Crows are really smart, and they can become great ‘entertainers’ when trained, but people often hate them for no reason—it's troublesome, isn't it?"

At the sight of Wataru having a conversation with a pigeon as though it were completely normal, the people around him begin to back further away.

"... But right now, I have the feeling that such an individual would be the most suitable companion for me."

As Wataru mutters sadly to himself, the soot-covered pigeon pulls his hair with its beak.

“That hurts?! It was just a joke, Gil! Are you jealous? I've raised and looked after you since you were an egg, so there's no way I could ever discard you and look for another partner! Please cheer up—oya?”

As the pigeon goes all out on him, something falls down from the crevice of its beak. 

Cinders.

The wreckage of a dream that had been carried by the wind from afar.

“That's splendid! This will solve the problem of my ink running out!”

Wataru exclaims with pleasure and mashes the cinders with his fingertips.

Then, with fingers stained in black, he writes his name in the bundle of documents that he had been holding.

“—With this, it’s finished.”

Embracing the bundle of documents as though it were his most prized possession, Wataru trembles again.

“I wonder if he will be happy with this.”

***

There was a war.

A tragic conflict in which boys hurt and killed each other for the sake of their own dreams and ideals—for the sake of love.

Of course, although it has now become a gloomy and sorrowful memory, it was not actually a battle where people fought with guns and blades and bathed in each other's blood.

All of them were idols.

Standing on the stage, singing and dancing, their top priority was to bring people happiness.

However, at that time, their place of residence, Yumenosaki Private Academy, was not an environment in which idols could properly live as idols. Everything was decayed, stagnant and rotten.

There were those who stood up in order to change the situation at hand.

There were also those who tried to fight back in anger and sorrow after everything they held dear had been mangled in the name of the "revolution" the others had raised.

They turned the things that were supposed to make people happy into weapons, abused them, and imposed their own resentment and misery onto others.

As a result, this vast and boundless world was changed only slightly.

But the price that had been paid was extremely high.

—Yumenosaki 's era of conflict.

—The first revolution.

—The beginning of the end.

Regret consumes everyone whenever they remember the tragedy of that time.

***

A hospital room.

The brand new hospital in the vicinity of Yumenosaki Academy had been built with a sole purpose: to provide an immediate response on the occasion that a single person's physical condition changed for the worse.

Leading-edge medical equipment and top-notch doctors had been assembled in order to forcibly prolong his existence—sometimes even diverting attention from other, more urgent patients.

He is one of the world's most distinguished billionaires, the scion of the Tenshouin conglomerate, Tenshouin Eichi.

He is the leading actor in the conflict that unfolded in Yumenosaki.

He loved idols more than anyone else.

However, as a result of the kingcraft instilled in him from an early age by his private corporate tutor, the clear mind he has naturally possessed since birth, and his cold heart, he came to massacre the very thing he loved with his own hands.

The many sins he committed in this ironic twist of fate tormented him and made him sick.

“...”

Tenshouin Eichi is lying down on the floor of a very spacious hospital room.

He is also a beautiful man, but there is a crack distorting his beauty.

Seemingly because he hasn’t been eating, he has become emaciated, and his blond hair, which resembles sunlight incarnate², is disheveled and dull. His hospital clothes, composed of high-quality material, are completely wrinkled and dirtied.

Like a baby bird that fell from its nest.

He had ripped off the intravenous drips and other pieces of medical equipment designed to keep him alive and smashed them to pieces.

There were doctors who genuinely cared for Eichi's well-being and those whose interest in treating him stemmed only from professional duty—Eichi shunned them all equally with curses and threats.

—I don’t want to live anymore.

—So, please, don’t treat me.

—Someone like me doesn’t deserve to live.

“No.”

Eichi, withering and on the verge of death, hears a voice reply to the soliloquy he hadn't expected anyone to hear.

There is only a single small window in the room. No matter how hard one might try to contort their body, it would be impossible to enter through—regardless, it was from that very window that Hibiki Wataru's towering silhouette soundlessly entered. 

It is like a dream.

As if it were a magic trick, he suddenly materializes.

“—It's you. Hibiki Wataru of The Five Eccentrics.”

"That story has already concluded, so will you please stop referring to me that way?"

As he casually replies to Eichi, who had spoken as though in a trance, Wataru strides across the hospital room.

He steps over the countless broken pieces of wreckage scattered across the floor, but never breaks anything.

“Let's readjust our mindset! Now, while we still have the chance to bask in the success of our stage performances, let's sit back and recharge our batteries! That is our duty, Tenshouin Eichi-kun!"

“Just what the hell are you doing here?”

Eichi mutters reproachfully, glaring up at Wataru with cruel eyes.

“Did you come to mock me because I thought I was victorious but wound up losing everything?”

Presumably too prideful to continue behaving in an undignified manner, Eichi staggers to his feet and then takes a seat on the mattress.

Having refused even the cleaning staff, this dirty hospital bed is now his only throne.

“Or do you intend to seek vengeance on behalf of your fellow Five Eccentrics?”

“No, not at all? Although there were some underwhelming parts, you still persevered and accomplished great things atop the stage! You have my praises. I have no reason to make fun of you!”

Wataru continues, his tone cheerful. Scattered, multicolored petals surround a broken flower vase—he gathers them up, grasps them in one hand, and opens his palm to reveal a single perfect flower.

"Besides, my beloved friends, The Five Eccentrics, were not actually killed. They're not that fragile, so I ask that you do not disparage them."

Though his eyes flash with hostility for a single instant, Wataru hides it with the ease of putting on a mask.

“Shu is slowly recovering his strength in the comfort of his dolls and the mutual love they share. Kanata, too, is embarking on a new life together with the inexperienced hero who saved his heart. And, of course, Our Majesty, the Demon King, Rei, too—indeed, someone like him will never die, even if he's killed.”

As he mentions each of the remarkable members of The Five Eccentrics, Wataru smiles.

“And the youngest sibling whom we risked our lives to protect, Natsume-kun, doesn't have a single scar. He quickly found the bluebird you set free, and is venturing forth into his life—not as a member of The Five Eccentrics, but as a human and idol.”

"...They're so strong. Everyone, all of them, are strong and splendid human beings worthy of respect—unlike me. Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun, too. It appears that they’ve already begun to move on to their next stage."

Looking somewhat astonished, Eichi hangs his head like a confused lost child.

“Am I really the only one who can’t move? At the end of Yumenosaki's conflict, or the saga chronicling the subjugation of The Five Eccentrics, am I truly the only loser?”

“No, no. I feel the same way. It's embarrassing to admit, but—I don't know what I should do next.”

With a dumbfounded expression that mirrors Eichi's, Wataru fidgets with the flower with his black-stained fingers.

“I'm quite satisfied with how things concluded on that most wonderful stage, even though we had to settle for the second-best result—but I'm at a bit of a loss, as I have no further plans for the future.”

"I see. Would you like me to apologize? By casting you in the role of the villain, a symbol deserving of ridicule and disdain, I turned you into the target of everyone's malice."

“Yes. Thanks to you, no one trusts me enough to work with me, so all of my future plans are now uncertain. I suppose I could arrange a stage and enact a story of my own choosing, but… A one-man show would be a little lonely, wouldn't it?”

"I thought that you would always be happy to stand onstage no matter what—even alone."

“Regrettably, I'm an entertainer whose only purpose is to make others happy. If I were to stand onstage all by myself, I would lose all motivation.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Wataru quietly offers Eichi the flower.

”And so, I thought I would ask you, the organizer of the most satisfying stage I have ever stood upon, for another commission. That's the reason I came today. Of course, I am also here to visit the sick."

“Was that sarcasm? I humiliated and denigrated you and your beloved friends. I trampled on and killed all of you for the sake of my own dream.”

“No one is dead, Eichi-kun. Everything that took place is just a story.”

”Are you really going to behave like a sore loser and pretend like you all weren't actually hurt?”

"No. If I were to hold a grudge and get angry at you, it would be an insult to my friends' extraordinary performance in their roles as villains. That's why I won't give you the pleasure of my vengeance.”

“I don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s a mystery to me too. This is the first time in my life that I have ever felt this alive. It's as though something I cannot quite comprehend is stirring inside me.”

Wataru speaks with an innocent, puzzled expression on his face, as though he were a child who had just tripped for the very first time in his life.

***

“Oops. I went off on a tangent just now, but I meant to give you this gift earlier.”

Suddenly coming to his senses, Wataru quietly hands Eichi the flower in his hand.

The instant that the flower touches Eichi's fingertips, it transforms into a bundle of documents.

It’s just like magic.

“... Oh, my goodness. As always, your magic tricks are beyond comparison, Hibiki-kun.”

“You and I are not particularly close, so don't blurt out things like that as if you know me.”

“I’ve always been watching you.”

Eichi speaks honestly, seemingly too tired to maintain a strong front. He proceeds to look over the bundle of papers.

His expression dawns with astonishment.

“This is—”

“Fufufu. This is the pipe dream³ written by our beloved younger brother and only son, Natsume-kun. He poured all of his heart and soul into it.”

Wataru explains, satisfied with the surprised expression on Eichi's face.

“This is a scenario envisioning a way in which we, The Five Eccentrics, could have achieved victory over you in our final battle the other day.”

“Oh, that's right, just before the decisive battle, you and the other Five Eccentrics had some kind of exchange. I was preoccupied with other matters at the time, so I didn't pay much attention to what all of you were up to.”

Deeply immersed in reading, Eichi flips through the stack of documents carefully. A grin slowly begins to form on his lips.

“Fufu. So cute; it’s really like a fantasy story. ‘I don't want my beloved Five Eccentrics to lose. I want us to have a happy ending where no one has to be sacrificed—’”

"Indeed. He filled the pages with such impossible fantasies and impractical delusions."

“... It was only by defeating you on that stage that we somehow managed to settle things in a conclusive way. If the five of you had won that day, we would still be enmeshed in the middle of an unending conflict.”

"Exactly. I anticipated as much, which is why I was unable to accept this. This present, packed with that child's—with Natsume-kun's—dreams, expectations, and love.”

“And, because we followed the premeditated arrangement, everything went smoothly.”

“That's true. But, just as one would expect from a story desperately written by our beloved child... It's very compelling, isn't it? It'd be heartless to ignore it altogether and just throw it away.”

Wataru gently caresses the pile of documents as if consoling a little baby.

“And that's why I quickly examined the contents, committed them to memory, and secretly copied them. Only moments ago, Natsume-kun burned the original copy himself, so—that child's fantasy should, by all accounts, have been completely erased from this earth.”

Wataru laughs like a naughty child who just successfully carried out a prank.

“Everyone will assume so. And even though this is an imitation, the contents are extremely close to the real thing. No, rather, the contents are only the things that I chose to resurrect in accordance with my own preferences.”

“Hmph. But there's no way you can actually use this, right? It's just a bunch of delusions with no grounding in reality. In other words: worthless garbage. It's nothing more than a work of fiction that fabricates convenient plots for foolish readers who yearn to avert their eyes from this harsh reality.”

Eichi drops the pile of documents onto the dirty bed and sneers at it.

“It has no bearing on the real world. Those kinds of stories only exist in the minds of idealistic writers. It's not the real thing. It's not reality.”

“Right. And so, I'd like to ask you, with your firm grasp on reality, to please rework it.”

“...?”

“You're hospitalized, so you have a lot of free time, correct?”

Wataru smiles, carefully gathering up the documents Eichi dropped one by one.

“Please use that spare time to improve upon this document. And adapt it into a new story in which The Five Eccentrics, your opponents, achieve victory.”

“What would be the point of doing such a thing?”

“You must be prepared for anything the future decides to throw your way, no matter how incredibly low the chances of it actually occurring may be. You know this better than anyone, but you were born with a fragile constitution, so—you could die at any time.”

“...You're right. And now that I've lost my will to live, I'm even refusing treatment.”

“And if you, the main character of this story, were to die and abruptly, nonsensically disappear from the narrative, the entire plot would collapse.”

“.....”

"Do you understand what I mean, Eichi-kun?"

“I understand, Hibiki-kun.”

Eichi's eyes, as cloudy as a corpse's, begin to sparkle.

“I have a responsibility. A responsibility as a protagonist—as an author. I have to be prepared for when my character dies and vanishes from this world—from the story.”

"Yes. However, you don't strike me as an expert storyteller, so I thought it'd be convenient to use something as a basis—for the story. This pipe dream written by Natsume-kun is quite suitable in terms of both content and quality, right?”

“That's right. It's the story that the child prodigy, the youngest member of The Five Eccentrics, wove out of his own life force.”

This time, Eichi doesn’t sneer sarcastically. As he praises his enemy, an honest smile appears on his face.

“Thank you, Hibiki-kun. Since this is a story founded on the premise of my imminent death, I can't let Keito, who hates the thought of me dying more than anyone else, write it.”

Eichi's eyes widen, surprised at the deep affection with which he spoke these words.

He'd assumed he'd lost everything. And yet—is he only now remembering that there are still things worth loving?

“I'll write it. To ensure the story will continue after I'm gone.”

Growing more and more energetic, Eichi stains his fingers with the filth splattered across his bed and begins to scrawl on the back of the stack of documents. His handwriting is so sluggish and messy that no one besides him could possibly read it.

“First of all, let's ensure that I get defeated while I'm still alive. After bringing down The Five Eccentrics and seizing control of everything, I become a power-crazed tyrant. And so, a new generation of heroes stands up to defeat me. It could be Natsume-kun, the surviving member of The Five Eccentrics, or someone else.”

“Yes ♪ And then? What will happen next in this story?”

“It's not enough to merely change the person in power. The masses themselves should mobilize and take action into their own hands to improve the world. Yes, the next step is the people's revolution. That's why... errr... aaahh—”

Eichi is so absorbed in the moment that he scatters the documents. He clutches his head with both hands.

“I can’t work through my thoughts! I'm not a genius, so this is really hard for me! Aah, this is pathetic, and I have no right to ask this of you, but—Can you help me come up with more ideas, Hibiki-kun?”

“Yes, with pleasure ♪ I also have some time to spare, after all!”

Wataru sits on the bed and happily gazes at Eichi, who has become entirely absorbed in the act of weaving⁴ the beginnings of a new story.

“I look forward to seeing what sort of stage I'll stand on next. Aah, in both my past and present, this has always been my only source of happiness.”

“I'm out of paper! I also want something to write with! Hibiki-kun, isn't there somewhere nearby where you could buy some?”

“Yes, yes. Aren't you supposed to be my fan? Are you sure you should be bossing me around like this?”

With a smile that seems to say, Well, it doesn't really matter, Wataru shifts like a bird about to take flight.

“Come on, let's celebrate, let's weave, let's create—a story! In this second iteration, the tragedy will become a comedy! Yes, I'm certain that this next work will be a very enjoyable story!”

“Enough, enough! Stop saying unnecessary things and just hurry up! Before life leaves my body!”

“Yes, yes. You really know how to put people to work, Mr. Author... ♪”

………

And so, Hibiki Wataru chose to assist Tenshouin Eichi in the creation of his story.

Together, they supported one another, engaged in heated debates, and envisioned the future.

It was at the end of that gloomy winter when the two of them, now fine, the rulers of Yumenosaki Academy, were defeated by the revolutionaries of Trickstar.

It was a season when the seeds carried by dirty, exhausted birds finally bloomed into flowers.

1. Gilles de Rais was a leader of the French army and participated in the Hundred Years’ War alongside Jeanne d’Arc as a companion of arms. Later in his life he went on to become a serial killer of children and was condemned to death and hanged. 

In the story “Cinderella on the Stake's Stage,” it’s revealed that Wataru also has a pigeon called “Jeanne d’Arc.”

2. Akira describes Eichi’s hair as “陽光を固めたような” = “As if sunlight has taken physical shape”. Likewise this is also the way he describes Wataru’s hair “月光を固めたような” = “As if moonlight has taken physical shape”.

3. We chose to interchange the words pipe dream and fantasy through the story but they often refer to the same script Natsume wrote.

4. Weaving reads as “Tsumugi” here.

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars!! #enstars #enstars translation #translation #eichi tenshouin #wataru hibiki #ensemble stars! #Blackbird

[books-and-catears]

Unravelling Solomon

(many spoilers for chap 11)

Some personal theories and trying to look at the story from Solomon's lens.

Let's state some canon things we have noticed in the story of both Obey me and Nightbringer.

MC is Solomon's one true soulmate/twin flame

Solomon took an instant liking to MC in the very beginning, calling it mere curiousity.

- I think he sensed a Kindred soul. Just like Thirteen says we both seem like 'cheerful idiots' at the very first glance. Wouldn't Solomon would be even quicker to detect a soul similar to his own?

Thirteen claims our soul sparkles the same way Solomon's used to, it still does the same but just a little different.

- Solomon has gone through some unspeakable trauma damaging his soul to that level. And he's hyper protective that MC doesn't go through the same.

Solomon's card: Threads of Fate. MC's first red string was connected to Solomon.

- Okay, this might be a big stretch but hear me out. We all know Solomon's magic is strong and mostly accurate even in its most experimental stage.

So when his powder of revealing soulmates ended up showing all of MC's bonds - it inadvertently showed the strongest first. The strongest bond between two most similar souls.

....

Solomon's Obsession with Lucifer's Pact

Do you know who has consistently been a direct threat of MC's survival?

From the first dance, as he threatened MC while almost snapping their wrist in half to his most recent attempt on MC's life in the past - it has been Lucifer.

The Lucifer who would rather use his powers and hurt his own brother and an innocent angel just to exact his justice on a meddlesome human (cue the scene where MC protects Beel and Luke).

The Lucifer who doesn't hesitate to lose his head and attempt to destroy MC even though he noted how MC has been slowly and surely healing his brothers.

The same Lucifer who even now, tries to eliminate you as a threat even as his own brothers vouch for your integrity and you try to prove your good intentions.

Solomon watches helplessly as you constantly throw yourself at the mercy of this fallen angel.

In season 2, Solomon legit states that he would have stabbed Lucifer to save the three realms himself if it didn't upset you. Imagine how he must feel knowing you almost killed yourself to save this very demon - only to be hurt by this demon again.

Wherever Lucifer goes, his brothers tend to follow. He's the pillar holding the brothers together. Solomon knows the only way to keep Lucifer and some of his equally volatile brothers , he simply needs a pact with him.

What better way to ensure Humanity's safety, especially your safety, than to control the most probable cause of chaos?

But because he couldn't do that, so instead he started MC to be stronger in Magic, fortifying the defense on MC. Making sure MC can make the pacts to protect themself and humanity along with Solomon.

But still he knows, you're too kind for your own good and you don't have a heart cruel enough to give up on the demon brothers no matter what they do to you, so he still hopes to make the pacts himself so he can do what's necessary when things get worse.

.....

Solomon's Wrath and Request

Can you imagine how Solomon might have felt in the timeline where his MC was killed? The growing rage and guilt that it all happened so far away where he couldn't be there to save you? Barbatos had to merge the timelines for a reason.

Now imagine him seeing it all happen again, the fear in your eyes, your body frozen never even attempting to save yourself because you don't want to hurt the demons. But this time he's here - and he won't let it happen.

Do you know how much rage must bubble under his skin to reach up to this throat and peek through his never faltering smile?

The reason he begs and pleads you to choose humanity over the demons, it's only to make sure you're not caught in the wrong side of the war.

Of course he manipulates demons into pacts and acts shady around them, because look what happened to MC when all they did was be righteous, helping the brothers them the right way.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me theories #obey me angst

[genericpuff]

saw this pop up on /r/UnpopularLoreOlympus and I-

Full analysis post that inspired this post can be read here, it's a good read, go check it out!

Now my natural reaction to not assume the worst (shocking, I know) is that what Rachel's actual intention behind making Leto a sun god was due to her being Apollo's mother and her clearly having a stronger relationship with him rather than Artemis. I'm abiding by Occam's Razor here, it's the simplest answer and it keeps my brain from getting too riled up right off the bat LMAO

There's a lot of emphasis put on Apollo being the god of the sun in LO, despite the fact that Apollo is one of the MOST prolific gods in the Greek pantheon, Rachel only ever really focuses on him being god of the sun with some loose references to him also being the god of music (as we see with him playing his lyre). There's really no real referencing to him being the god of medicine though (aside from that scene of him condom-bandaging Persephone's hand in Episode 22 ?? which is silly now in hindsight because she's a fertility goddess who can heal herself but ok lmao and the fact that Rachel established him as a LITERAL DAD with his doctor son Asclepius which ... just feels weird to have in LO tbh) and there's absolutely no referencing (from what I can find or recall) of him being a protector of the young, god of prophecy (for some reason he just magically gives Kassandra the ability to read prophecies... just so she can read his prophecy ??) or archery. Like, he's shown doing a lot of these things but they come across more as just side hobbies or extensions of him being Artemis' brother (like his archery) rather than aspects of his godliness or domains that he presides over. It's just like yeah, Apollo can shoot arrows and bandage people's hands I guess LMAO

All that said, I can see Rachel deciding to make him primarily the god of the sun and then going "oh! let's make his mom a sun god! then she could be a common enemy for both Persephone and Hades!" because Hades doesn't like sun gods yadda yadda.

But... we know Rachel has used front page Google sourcing in her comic before.

(literally the 'source' was copy pasted from a 2004 study guide for Princeton.edu. And we KNOW this was taken right from the first result because it just says 'www.princeton.edu' with no slug attached, which is what showed up back when we first looked into this, the princeton version was deadass the first result with this definition word for word. She didn't even remove the typo where there's no space between Xenios:"Zeus !!!).

And while a bit more into sus territory rather than outright confirmed like the xenia thing above, there's the whole Metis / Métis theory, that has us wondering if Rachel seriously googled "Metis" on its own and accidentally used Indigenous Métis cultural depictions in her version of Metis, the Greek God.

The fringe in her outfit, finger wings, and dark orange/red color really got my attention the first time I saw her design years ago, because she set off so many, "Wait a minute, is that an Indigenous woman???" bells in my Mi'kmaq/Cree brain LMAO And not even in a bad way, but now it feels a little :/ because of how much her character has been assassinated and how clearly accidental it was for her to look like that.

Of course, there's still a more likely explanation that her design was based on this vase:

But IDK y'all. That vase is very distinctly orange while the character itself is depicted in dark garbs and with light skin, so Metis being distinctly red-toned with finger wings and fringe?

While the Xenia thing is definitively copy pasted from the first search result on Google (literally there's no denying that at this point, Rachel's REALLY bad at doing research and then pretending like she was being smart by sourcing it from a university website... completely ignoring the fact that that website literally hasn't been updated since Rachel was working on The Doctor Pepper Show) the Metis and Leto depictions are definitely a lot more up for debate as to what 'research' Rachel did and whether or not they got confused with something else during her searching.

And really, the whole thing with Leto being a "sun god" doesn't make sense really when you think about it. Why is Leto a sun god? It's not even like you could argue there are "some versions" of the myths where she's a god of the sun, or other translations out there, or whatever vague source that could be used like what has been used for other gods like Hades and Persephone. Leto is not affiliated with the sun in any shape or form. Remove Apollo, her eventual son, who didn't exist when she was born and given the title of 'sun god', and it quickly falls apart as to why she would be a sun god in the first place.

She is a goddess of motherhood though, and that's NEVER mentioned in LO. If anything, Rachel makes her a terrible mom on purpose. Because god knows we can't have anyone in this comic be a good mom except for Persephone and Rhea (who are literally just carbon copies of one another). Basically the only thing Rachel gets right with Leto is the fact that she's a Titan and that she had Apollo and Artemis after sleeping with Zeus. That's it.

Unfortunately, unlike the xenia thing, there's no outright proof of what Rachel's reasoning was behind these designs or sources. So I'm not gonna accuse or outright state it as fact that Rachel confused Metis for Métis or ripped the idea for Leto being a sun god from an anime, because the odds of that being true in any way are fairly low.

But they're never zero.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus

[roo-bastmoon]

IMPORTANT INFO: issues around Jimin’s album

I have an ARMY friend (who shall remain safely anonymous) who works in film production for the music and entertainment industry here in the US. They offered me some valuable insights today into production limitations and possible issues related to Jimin’s solo album.

Below the cut is a transcript of their messages to me. I share this in the hopes it better informs our discussions around fair treatment of BTS members’ releases. It is by no means a definitive account of Jimin’s situation—simply an insider’s ideas on what likely happened around a few things.

I understand there are very big feelings about this topic, especially with the apparent differences around JK’s single, and I appreciate everyone’s viewpoints. However, if you choose to interact with this post, you will be respectful to others (including members) or you will be blocked. You are always welcome to DM me privately if you need to vent—we are all human and we all need a bit of grace, so you’ll always have that with me.

Sending you guys so much love, Roo

Anonymous Insider

Some “light reading” while you’re resting up and recovering, lol. This is all just based on what I’ve been watching and seen. Of course, I don’t have access to their production budget sheet and Korea works very differently than the US when it comes to production, but this what I’ve been seeing when it comes to their videos and particularly the promotions for FACE.

(I’m sending in sections, lol)

Alrighty - I’m still like deep in edit-land (still am two days later 😭) but I started typing this on the train between meetings, ha ha. (And am still on the train doing this, lol.) Also this rambles a bit I’m sorry! So the first thing I did was go back to the interview where Jimin talked about the music videos — it was a Japanese TV show and he’s talking with a host in Korean.

He’s talking about “wanting to do it all,” laughs and says, “I wanted all the music videos” and that “they” (the company assuming) said “무리다” which has its roots in the word 무리 which means a herd, a party, a group — basically “it’s too much,” “it’s unreasonable,” and “it’s impossible” are decent translations as it refers to something or an idea being “too much” — then the host and Jimin burst out laughing and the host goes “서리와 무리다” which I read as “sorry (in konglish) but we can’t” and they continue to laugh. So based on that —it sounds very understandable.

We can imagine Jimin sitting down with his team and planning out SMFP2 and LC videos, with the 30 dancers and all the party scene extras, and then Jimin saying he wants to do the music shows with 6 different sets in rented locations so they could have total control. And if Jimin in that process went “what if we made official music videos for all of them?” the team would understandably go “that’s just not reasonable!” 1) because it would give Jimin a budget no other member had gotten and 2) there aren’t that many production houses in Korea. It’s a very small scene — it may just logistically not been possible. There aren’t enough DPs and crew and editors. Sometimes, as a producer, you have to tell your creative talent “I’m sorry, but no.” — I say it every week!

So what about the music videos? Well, here’s what I know from meticulously watching all the behind the scenes for BTS videos over the years. They work with a small team. They likely own a good deal of the gear — they shoot mainly on RED cameras and heavy expensive Cooke lenses (which you can’t get this stuff easily in Korea. I lost a lens cap for a Canon CINÉ Lens in Seoul and it was like this whole big deal because getting gear there is an import challenge but anyways) they use MOVI and Ronin gimbal stabilizers and Jimmy Rigs a lot.

Recently they’ve been using technocranes but I wonder how many technocranes there are in Seoul. As I said, they likely own a lot of this gear which can help with costs. But we’ve also been told — and I’ve heard through my industry friends — that Hybe PAYS. And in Korea there’s no unions in the entertainment world, and often the rates are shit (hence Netflix investing so much there - blerg) their standard work week is also already 12 hours longer than the US. It’s a whole thing. and they spend so much money on sets. It’s incredible.

They rent these huge spaces outside Seoul and BUILD — I mean the build out for SMFP2 was astounding. They easily dropped 1million on that video. The rigging, the build-out, the custom set and the custom camera rigs to achieve the 360 shots - the drone shots. They’re astounding videos. No US label is spending that money on videos these day. Absolutely none of them are — my friend recently produced a video for John Legend. They were trying to pull the whole thing off for $100K which is ridiculous. It’s really almost impossible.  

But on the Big videos they spend a lot of money, but they also produce a lot of other stuff too (and these are often looked at as Performance Videos vs all-caps MUSIC VIDEOS) -— like RM’s video shoot at DIA Beacon… that was a much smaller, fairly single camera shoot — all shot on drones or a MOVI handheld rig. No set, they also didn’t like pay for the set because DIA: Beacon is an art museum — and similar a little bit to Letter for Jimin, which was much smaller set and easy in-house gear.

(And it was also released on Bangtan TV channel vs Hybe Labels Channel, which is a good indicator of how they categorize these shoots.) But the big videos, they go for broke. I mean they spend so much money and again they may own a lot of the equipment but there’s still so much people-power and labor involved. Take the dancers’ rehearsals. You have to pay people for all that — you have to pay them for the weeks of rehearsal, you have to pay them to be in a video. It is so expensive — like, I would not be able to budget that video for under 1 million, that’s how much it costs.  

So then Jimin wanted to do music shows —- and so because he’s Jimin and it’s BTS, Hybe rented larger venues and locations for all of the shoots. None of them use the actual Broadcast spaces or were provided by the broadcast studios. The smaller companies do though — remember when BTS first started out they went to SBS to film on the day? — but they don’t do that anymore. They rent huge facilities so that they could be a mini concerts for ARMYs to visit with Jimin and see him.

They also have to do this kind of outside of the city and they built huge sets because they’re going to want to show off if they’re gonna be on TV but that is so expensive. (I don’t think you were an ARMY then, but when ON was released, at the time it was the “biggest broadcast performance ever” and they keep upping that ante for sure!) It’s possible the broadcast companies spend some money but what BTS is doing is so outside the usual budget and given the tension with the broadcasters and HYBE — they (Hybe) wants control of their products, and so I think they pay for that control.

I can’t imagine they got out of any of those days for under $500K; I mean, there were two different sets, all the crew; they’re paying for all of it. We add it up and they probably spent close to $3-5 million between Jimin’s music videos and his music show performances, and I would be understandably like: “That’s it!” Like, that’s the budget for an EP, you know.

I don’t think Jimin could have it all because that wasn’t the case for the other members. RM got to lead videos and J Hope had pyrotechnics, which definitely costs money and safety and insurance. You know he had visual effects his first video (a lotta visual effects) and again a lot of challenging technocrane work, but I haven’t really seen them build something on the scale of what they built for SMFP2 in a very long time (or ever?).

We heard from the Art Dept that Jimin did not want to shoot on blue screen, so they built the set for him. This cannot be the same label that is shafting him — that allows him to spend that amount of money just because the artist said “I want to shoot in a real space!” because I’m gonna be completely honest— he could’ve done that on a blue screen — I’m glad they built a real world because BTS almost always shoots on Blue/Green Screen. They build him a huge set like that. It’s absolutely incredible.

I was also reminded this morning that people are talking about radio for Like Crazy and not supporting the song — and I just keep thinking that they did exact rollout for Butter, Dynamite, and Permission to Dance. They released Like Crazy. It had both a Korean version and English version. (Obviously that wasn’t the case for the English BTS songs.) They released two additional remixes. Then they kept releasing, like, alternate cover versions — alternate covers of the main remix, alternate cover the other remix. They were trying to maximize the direct-to-consumer store and exact same way they had tried to maximize it with Dynamite and Butter and Permission to Dance.

The way you were buying Like Crazy was the same process I took on Dynamite. They did the exact same playbook. So the fact that they were unable to get the kind of radio play they wanted or maybe they weren’t prioritizing radio because they knew that they were gonna have a better chance at direct to consumer sales... Maybe they didn’t want to fight radio. Maybe Geffen was like “We don’t have the right ‘Ins’ yet!” — I’m not sure, but the fact that they got completely screwed over by Billboard doesn’t mean that they weren’t actually rolling it out in that way, because as soon as they started doing the whole alternate cover thing, I was like: “Well, they clearly want us to try to go for number one!” You know, “They clearly think that they are going to be able to get number one on the hot 100 and we’re gonna use these sales to do that!” And clearly that’s all changed now.

They keep changing the rules on us, so — with JK, they’re obviously trying to, you know, use whatever tools they have available to them at this point.

Finally, when it comes to restocking the digital single CD. There are still albums available in the store. So why would they manufacture and ship more (likely thrown away) plastic that’s just for one song, when those CD singles only serve to raise sales for the charts? All of the other member’s CD singles are out of stock except The Astronaut, which they treated more like a proper album a bit (kinda like the Butter CD releases). Because they still have both versions of his full albums in stock, so if I were Hybe, I’d be like “No,you need to buy the album, we still have albums, we’re not going to sell you a single song when you can buy the album!” That makes more sense to me. The albums cost more.

TL:DR, haha — so I feel like this narrative around Jimin’s release has been ramped up because, from my professional opinion, he’s had the most expensive release so far (by far) and if we want to compare him to, say, Beyoncé — well she owns her own production company (Parkwood Entertainment), so she can funnel her own money into a Visual Album, I don’t know if Jimin has considered that at this point in his career, but in the future, he might!

((Not including costs for Suga’s tour because that’s a whole other thing, and the tour probably made money I would expect to balance out the cost of the tour itself))

Anonymous Insider

This isn’t to say that the other things, the part where he didn’t get the cake celebration, or the posts, the issues with the linking and this general feeling that Jimin was short-changed in these things isn’t valid and understandable. I think Hybe relied too much on D2C sales and I don’t think they leveraged their might as much as could have for JM. They could have risked more for him.

{This is an end of Anonymous Insider’s messages to me. They noted that they are an intermediate non-native Korean speaker so please excuse any translation errors. They translated things themselves using Naver tools that aligned with the video subtitles.}

So, listen, I still don’t think Like Crazy was sent/promoted to radio (which was a mistake and still is a mistake) and I am furious at the shady articles and lack of celebration for Jimin…

But after reading the way the members approach their work in the Beyond the Story book and now hearing from someone who produces these works for a living, I have to wonder if the company was doing everything they knew how to do for Jimin, but the second it didn’t work out because of the western music industry culling streams and sales, they pulled back all their resources and pivoted for Yoongi and JK. (I also wonder if leadership shut up about it all due to liability issues, or not to cause bad blood with the music industry for future releases.)

Again, I’ll never forgive the lack of celebration and the split streams (not without a great explanation), but at least now I think there’s a good chance no one was actively trying to sabotage Jimin on purpose. They seemed to have wanted that #1 and then it all went to shit because Billboard and radio want to get paid. Maybe leadership decided not to put any more resources into Face but instead pivot for all the future music coming out (including PJM2.)

Perhaps I'm a cockeyed optimist. I’m just hoping like hell they never engage in payola. I want all our boys to win, but I want us to win fairly. And even if everyone cannot have the same investment every time on every project, I hope when they come back together in 2025 that everyone feels good about their solo works and each other. This is my prayer. Love, Roo

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #bts #face by jimin #set me free pt 2 #like crazy by jimin

[gold-rhine]

Inazuma Rewrite Act Two

Please read part one before reading this. It will make no sense otherwise.

In part one I did setup for the vision hunt conflict, changed Raiden’s motivations, added Rebellion \ Resistance interaction and Teppei setup, added setups to the arcs to Ayaka and Yoimiya. And more!

In this installment:

Let’s Make Player Give A Fuck About Rebellion and Teppei

Kokomi Is Not An Idiot

Delusions Are Not The Aging Beach

Ayaka’s Arc Pay-off

and more!

All disclaimers from part one also apply, I’m not gonna copy paste them.

Raiden Shogun First Duel 

I think we can keep the duel itself mostly unchanged. The cutscenes are pretty good and very cinematic, I don’t see reason to fix things which are not broke when there are already so many broken things

so, Traveler comes to Thoma’s rescue, gets taken to raiden’s plane of euthemia

also mb let’s cut i hate all minorities dialogue and instead like. open disobedience of the traveler to raiden shogun is i think enough to be used as a cause for the duel

The dialogue with raiden changes, we add banter with Traveler where traveler is like but you were pro-change before! and like cites some Transience things we talked about in the part 1.

Raiden gets mad in response, yells “Don’t you dare to mention her against me!” and that’s when she throws Traveler out of  euthemia and prepares the boob nuke

yeah, it’s foreshadowing of Makoto reveal

then the cutscene is the same, Thoma chucks a spear in her face and escapes with the traveler

thoma goes into hiding, traveler goes to join rebellion. bc they’re already in contact with gorou, we skip meandering around and go straight to the goal

First battle

and we arrive directly to the battlefield

there are several problems with rebellion pacing and kokomi characterization, which i elaborated on before. Like, Kokomi in canon only has one battle, which she wins because she hired mercenaries with fatui money. which like! invalidates this whole thing and makes her naive enough to be duped by the bad guys. So we need a battle win which is decidedly due to Kokomi’s genius.

so like in canon, Kujou Sara demands rebellion give her the traveler. Teppei, whos also there, is like no, fuck off! he’s embarrassed to speak out of the order but determined.

Gorou of course gives a speech about not giving up comrades, the fight starts, we have cool battle animation blah blah, and then suddenly!! Kujou Sara has reinforcements coming from behind some cliffs, oh no!! Teppei yells there’s too much of them! We will be overrun! Close up of Gorou’s snarling face, eyes darting, ready to call retreat, close up of victoriously looking Sara, Tenryou reinforcements are running to the battle... 

The water bubbles start rising up and Kokomi appears. She smiles at Gorou reassuringly and does some cool water animation. The hidden spring\waterfall bursts up with water and crushes into the reinforcements, washing them away. Rebellion rejoices, Kujou Sara curses and calls retreat.

i’ve seen people demand kokomi to have like a cool battle transforming into a dragon or smth bc of her origins and draconae constellation, but like this is missing the narrative pacing. the vishap origins only make sense after enkanomya where we learn about watatsumi history AND on the subversion of “oh its pink pastel kokomi who is smart and sweet :3”. Like we need to know her like that first, and THEN the dragon reveal will be cool and interesting.

Rebellion and Teppei overall setup

so, the Rebellion act wanted to accomplish too many things and didn’t structure them efficiently:

make you feel comradery with rebellion

make you like teppei

make you feel like a leader of your own squad, but like you EARNEd it, bc at first soldiers are distrustful and make you prove yourself

establish delusions and that delusions are bad bc teppei died, which is sad bc p.2

 in canon it’s like - have one scene with teppei, do some useless fetch errands for rebels, have another scene with teppei, be assigned swordfish captain and have two quick scenes with two dudes you will not remember

so obviously no one gives a fuck with this kind of pacing

instead, we will combine all of this and more importantly, give it narrative throughline so it doesn’t feel so disconnected and erratic

traveler is already known to Gorou through resistance meet up, he vouches for them, and Kokomi immediately names Traveler as captain of swordfish 2

Teppei is here and he excitedly volunteers to join that squad too

Gorou is like hey its a high risk squad that’s deployed on front lines, and you don’t have combat experience like, at all

Paimon and Traveler step up to be like yeah its fine, we’ll look after him, teppei is like omg thanks you guys :3

turns out he has problems fitting in with the rebels. they are all great ppl, sure, but they are warriors bonded in fights for years and most of them are from watatsumi. 

and he’s like a merchant or a clerk from narukami island. he feels like an outsider and a burden

but now the Traveler is here! they are already buddies from that resistance meet up and Traveler is an outsider too. They can stick together!

Swordfish II

So you go to meet up with your swordfish squad. You are greeted by a buff butch woman who is v no-nonsense and skeptical about your ability to be leader and another woman who is more friendly, but still kinda keeps distance and is snarky

their code names are Xena and Gabrielle for no reason other that we need buff female models like blacksmihs, hoyo. The point is that we need some memorable NPCs to represent swordfish, bc these two dudes that give you shit in canon for 3 second? I couldn’t remember them if my life depended on it

anyway, you learn that the previous captain just died and everyone loved and was very loyal to them, and now they are hostile to anyone who tries to take command.

So we do couple of battle to prove we’re strong blah blah, teppei is useless during a fight and Xena makes fun of him for this, and he’s super embarrassed

after that we walk around with teppei. Swordfishes camp is kinda shabby, they just took a bad hit. So we help the wounded, repair some tents, etc, but most important, Teppei uses expertise he’s got from his civilian job to solve problems

like he knows how to make a great painkiller potion bc he used to sell them. Or he gets an idea to use empty bags from used supplies to cover holes in tents, etc. 

Point is, he contributes.

After all this, Xena and Gabrielle are walking around, and Gabrielle is like wow captain, did you do all these improvements, and Traveler is like yeah, but it was all Teppei’s solutions, and Xena doesn’t say anything, but you can see she’s surprised and appreciative that you’re not only strong in combat, but care for the squad

she nods over the campfire at teppei like “i guess you’re not so useless after all, narukami nerd”

he protests, everyone laughs, its Bonding Time

Kokomi is not an idiot\ Fatui

We’re summoned to go see Kokomi. She’s in deep thought. Rebellion is in dire situation, supplies are running out, she’s sure they will not be able to win another open confrontation, even with her strategic tricks

But there is a new development - she’s being offered a huge anonymous donation. With that money, she could hire mercs to help. But to accept money without knowing the source is too risky, it could be a trap or setup

so she asks us to investigate these mysterious benefactors. bc also there are some vague rumors about some way to get boost to power going around and thats very sus too

bc like no, I cannot get over supposed genius Kokomi just taking fatui’s help blindly and letting them spread delusions around

so we go to the quest to investigate clues, with the swordfishes, its our first srs mission as the captain.

its couple of fights, blah blah. we find some clues and then its the Leader Decision time.

like there are two camps and we need to strike both at the same time, or the other one will destroy evidence and run, but we don’t have enough manpower. traveler is like  can take one camp by myself, and Xena at first is skeptical, but we’ve proven ourselves yesterday so she’s like okay I trust you, boss

everything goes well, both camps are taken and we find evidence that these donations are in fact, from fatui! and they are trying to spread delusions, which are bad and can kill you!

Delusions

I’m not a fan of Delusions working like the aging beach from that movie Old. Like first of all, if that’s how it worked, Childe should at this point look like this

and Diluc. And Signora. Like I get that these are like low quality delusions, so effect is worse, but you can’t be like wow Teppei turned 90 in 2 days and Diluc stayed babyfaced after 4 years.

second, how is that no one noticed Teppei aging 20 years after each fight. Like it had to happen in front of other soldiers.

And like, why change the mechanics at all?? You use delusion, you get burst of power and take huge hit to the health, that’s it. Low quality delusions take more out of your health, so people using them die faster. They don’t need to age faster at the same time.So that’s mechanics I’m using here.

Anyway, while swordfishes discuss delusions finding (and Xena loudly condemns them), camera shows Teppei being quiet, kinda sus and looking away

Kokomi Mini-Arc\ Swordfish Bonding

we go back and report to kokomi. She’s distraught. The battle is so soon and she doesn’t know what to do!

from pure strategic, emotionless perspective to win the battle she needs to take fatui’s money and close her eyes at some soldiers using delusions. She can trade their lives for the voctory

But as a Watatsumi leader who cares about her people she cannot do that!

Traveler comforts her, but leaves without any obvious decision made and with a heavy heart. 

the night before battle, we gather at campfire with the swordfishes

everyone is kinda doom and gloom bc it’s obvious Rebellion doesn’t stand a chance

Traveler stands up and makes a motivational speech about fighting together, about how they’ve faced seemingly impossible odds before and prevailed, bc everyone worked together, like with Ossail fight

Xena suddenly stands up to support us, she’s like yeah, I didn’t believe in you before, but now I see you’re worth it, Captain!

everyone cheers, Xena punches Teppei into shoulder and he almost falls over like “Even this narukami nerd is not as bad as I thought haha!”

Final Rebellion Battle

So, cinematic cutscene. Sara on one side with obviously more soldiers. Kokomi and Gorou with rebellion on the other side. Traveler is with the Swordfishes and Teppei. Kokomi and Sara shjare some snappy banter. 

mb there’s a duel, but only if combat designers can figure out way to make it cool. Traveler whacking NPC in a row who can do nothing back with a sword 5 times in a row like in canon is fucking boring. Mb incorporate like challenge with Inazuma mechanics like the thunder zoomies or smth.

the battle begins. Rebellions fights fiercely, close ups of our swordfishes.

Teppei is fighting Surprisingly Good For Him. Xena comments on this and he beams up

but the difference in numbers is too much. Rebellions starts being overwhelmed, and then!

Suddenly Beidou and the mercs join the battle! Kazuha is here too. Traveler looks worriedly at Kokomi, does this mean that she’s accepted Fatui’s bloody money??

But Kokomi smiles back. No, she’s had another trump up her sleeve

trail of snowflakes runs through the ground and suddenly, Ayaka appears on the battlefield. 

animation cutscene plays, Ayaka is shown in the past, after Traveler leaves, feeling restless and trapped in the estate. She’s still reeling from Yoimiya’s words and the fact that she couldn’t even help Thoma herself. She feels powerless, a pretty helpless figurehead princess that she didn’t want to be

letter from Kokomi arrives, telling about Rebellion’s dire situation and asking if Ayaka can help

Ayaka is in turmoil, she wants to help so bad, but she can’t steal money from Yashiro commission, that’d be stealing from people of Inazuma! 

She glances at her dancing fan and suddenly, a solution comes to her.

Looking determined, she goes to the Kamisato estate treasury and opens the chest of her parents’ inheritance

She sells some of her family heritage jewels and silks to get the money, deciding to use the same privilege that kept her trapped to finally help people 

she also officially announces that she’ll be in religious solitude meditation ritual or smth and instead sneaks off and travels to Watatsumi

she’s wearing that carnival mask that hoyo puts on models when they want to do “disguise”. Listen, if Diluc doesn’t get recognized in this gay little mask, then it can work for Ayaka too

anyway, animation ends with Ayaka springing from the ground on the battlefield and starting her burst, which transitions to her in-game burst animation

Her burst shreds through Tenryou forces.

Ayaka freeze with Kokomi and Kazuha is one of the best meta teams. Sara realizes it’s fucking JOVER for this battle and calls retreat.

Teppei death \ Delusion factory

Rebellion overjoices, Traveler and the swordfishes hug or whatever our animation department can handle in celebration, when suddenly!

Teppei falls down! Everyone gathers around and see delusion roll over from his hand!

oh no! He says he secretly picked up delusion from the fatui camp we cleared during investigation. This is why he’s fought so well today.

We tell him that he shouldn’t have done it, the fool!

He says he wanted to be useful. He just wanted to finally be one of the rebels!

Xena sits down next to him and says “You were already one of us.”

He dies holding her hand, with all comrades all around, instead of alone behind a shed like a sick housecat

Gorou and Kokomi walk up.Kokomi says that this is exactly why she refused Fatui’s help, but this happening even to one of the soldiers is a tragedy

Traveler and Swordfishes of course demand revenge. But we don’t know where the delusions are coming from! we already cleared fatui camps we knew of, we just don’t have any new leads!

Kujou Sara who watched this scene from afar suddenly speaks up

She has intel about possible location of Fatui factory, that she didn’t have time to explore. It’s on Tenryuo territory, but she’s willing to let Traveler pass. Fatui betraying and harming Inazuma people like this is unacceptable to her, even if they are enemies for now.

We’re like but can we trust her?? What if she just captures us?

Kokomi has long eye contact with Sara. It’s very Yuri. 

She finally says “No, we can trust Kujou Sara’s honor”

Sara only lets Traveler pass, so we have a scene of swordfishes wishing us luck and then we leave

Delusion factory quest goes the same. It’s okay, again, not fixing what’s not broke.

We confront Scara, he rants about mortals being bubbles, blah blah

The only dialogue change is when he bullshits about like oh, these mortals are weak and useless, of course they have to pay for power, Traveler argues that Teppei was already useful, he helped with the camp in a way others couldn’t, and he didn’t have to die to prove anything or “pay” for power

Otherwise it goes the same, Traveler passes out, Yae shows up to trade the gnosis

we’re moving to the Act 3!

PART 3

#rhine talks #genshin impact #inazuma ranting

[akria23]

PromNont - Ep8

Before I get started I was very hesitant to post this one because it’s not as upbeat as my last & I really struggled with how to say what I wanted. This is just my interpretation and it was written without an ounce of sleep so if I missed anything…

We got two scenes for the pairing this time (I need more PromNont) and imma talk about both…

Starting with the pool scene, Nont is finally home having not received any good news but Prom is there to console him as promised - that man is addicted to a back hug and Nont’s shoulder like nobody’s business. It starts off well but for some reason Prom decides to tell Nont that he too cared for Nant. How aftercare was just aftercare for Nant but the best time for him & how there were times he thought Nant may have cared for him too. This of course is the total opposite of when he said that he has no feelings for Nant, that he was simply protective because of their contract. By the time he gets to talking about it wanting to see the video & theorizing that Nant may still be alive, Nont is clearly uncomfortable with just how far the conversation has shifted.

Even though I’ve spoken about Nant being a ghost between them - it wasn’t until the pool scene that I actually became conscious of the fact that the times Nont reinforced that he isn’t Nant has been an ongoing conversation with Prom since his reveal of being a twin - its typically a response to something Prom has said or done and not just a way to erect a wall.

Prom getting jealous / Prom pushing for aftercare / Prom asking him to stay

From Nonts perspective, Prom doing these things is just him using him as a replacement at best or trying to transition him into being Nant at worst, making the “I’m not Nant '' reinforcement necessary. Ever since their first confrontation where Nont accused Prom of having feelings for his twin and told him not to cross the line with him because he is not Nant, they’ve been dancing around the topic. Now there’s a real possibility that Nant is alive and could come home and the things that weren't allowed to be said are being said, there's no more skirting around it. Believing something, thinking it, is totally different from that person saying and confirming it. It makes it real, makes it more painful.

Nant’s existence feels like it eclipse everything because everything around Nont feels like his twin’s. He had to become his twin, he’s living his choices, he’s surrounded by his friends, he’s engaging with his lovers (some more than others) . His value feels tied to being Nant’s twin. When Prom was silently professing a desire to die at the concept of loss - who was that confession really for? As Nont speaks of classic love triangles he’s overtly speaking on Prom / Nant / Nuth & covertly of his own messy relationship with his missing twin’s lover that resides in that shadow as well.

By the time he gets the reactions of the Baddies he’s done. He’s decided there’s no benefit in finding a brother who doesn’t seem to want to be found, a brother he feels he doesn’t even know anymore.

——

The second scene opens up with Nont seducing Prom - uninhibited, bold, & wanton. Like usual Prom seems adept at reading Nont’s mood, everything about him says trouble before he even utters a word.

And when he does it’s to tell Prom to have sex with him like he’s Nant, how it’s written in the contract. Nont’s ever constant, “I’m not Nant” becomes “I’m Nant.” However it’s not a response to the will of Prom, instead it’s an ultimatum, almost a challenge and maybe on some levels even a punishment. He tells Prom that if he has sex with him like he’s Nant he’ll continue to look for his twin. Even when Prom doesn’t respond at first they both know it’s a yes. In fact there’s no verbalized response from Prom at all, instead he wraps his arms Nont’s neck and goes to pull him in but Nont pulls back, letting Proms hands slide down his body. It’s clear from the start of this scene til the end of it who is the dominant of the moment, who’s the one with the power.

It’s interesting, Nont started off seductively & then tempting - almost coaxing Prom to go along. But he escalates to an intensity rather quickly. A part of me wonders if he secretly wanted to leave his mark on Prom’s memories of Nant…

Somehow Prom has agreed to allow himself to be bound, blind folded and at the mercy of Nont’s hands. I cannot decide if he is silly, desperate, or very trusting. Maybe a bit of all three considering we saw Nont admit to being drunk.

A lot of people heard Nont say, “ Have sex with me like I’m Nant’ but me - I heard him say, “Fuck me like I matter”. Because essentially, I believe that was a big part of it. Yes, there is a bit of anger, bitterness, resentment - which ever word fits best to you - wrapped into this moment but ultimately he wants to feel special, important, cared for. There’s a desire l to lose himself not only in the sex itself but in returning to being the person so many around him seem to yearn for, including Prom, most certainly Prom.

Afterwards they rest with Prom at the head of the bed his feet resting on Nont’s stomach as he lays across the bed. I can’t say if this small bit of physical connection is done consciously or subconsciously. It’s obvious that neither is in a good head space, they’re not in the normal aftercare position Prom seems to favor & when Prom finally ask what Nont’s plans were for finding Nant, Nont responds that Prom must miss Nant badly. Though he may have won the last battle between them, clearly he’s not over it.

This episode seemed to be a step forward for the majority of the pairings, confirmations, confessions, apologies and forgiveness. It was also a shift for Prom & Nont’s…relationship, although I wouldn’t call it a positive one. Like I was getting at in he post, Prom & Nont have a consistent back and forth that typically goes the exact same way every time however this was the first episode we saw either of them deviate & it created a snowball of a mess that leaves neither of them satisfied by the end.

Note: There was a couple of things that surprised me in this episode - for one I was NOT expecting to see PromNant actually have sex nor did I think it was gonna be so similar to PromNont sex. Nant being a switcher was a big surprise - I thought that would be a difference but it seems they get down in the exact same way. Also was a bit lost when Nont said for them to do it as written in the contract because I knew they weren’t using the terms but I assumed they were still engaging in BDSM…unless the contract entails how exactly Nant gets to Dom / Top.

#thai bl #playboyy #playboyy the series #promnont #prom x nont #nontprom #ep8 #analysis #Nant

[wondrousmay]

SPYxFAMILY CODE: White movie review (spoilers ahead)

I finally have some time to gather my thoughts so here’s my belated review of the movie!

I had a really good time! I did my best to avoid spoilers and my efforts paid off. A lot of scenes would lose some emotional impact if I had knew about it beforehand. I think one important thing to keep in mind is how the movie is essentially a filler movie (an original story that is not from the manga) so the status quo of the main plot in the manga can’t be changed too much. The movie aimed to appeal to fans of the manga, anime-only and for new fans so some of the plot points might feel repetitive. I personally didn’t mind it since the movie had its own interpretations of events.

Major spoilers under read more!

I did think the plot was the weakest aspect of the movie. The incident that kickstarted the plot was how the higher ups at WISE wanted to replace Twilight’s role in Operation Strix. However, no explanation was given on how the replacement would actually work. I know this isn’t important in the grand scheme of the story but it did bother me a lot lol. I didn’t mind the Eden cooking competition though because it gave us the excuse for the Forgers go on a family trip. The villains were also pretty weak (writing-wise). They were quirky and served their purpose as obstacles for the Forgers but they weren’t compelling as the characters in the manga in my opinion.

The movie biggest’s strength is the focus on the Forgers (individually and together as a family). Each member of the Forgers got the chance to shine in their own way. Personal highlight for me was Yor. She’s my favourite character and the movie emphasized her importance in the Forger family. She is irreplaceable to both Loid and Anya and it made me really emotional to see how far she has come. Of course, she still has insecurities of being replaced but this is just a small part of her character.

While Yor’s fight scenes with Type-F was really hype-worthy, my favourite scene with Yor is a simple conversation between her and Loid. It was when she told Loid that they should all go with him to find the last ingredient together and explained to him that Anya was probably feeling lonely and wanted to be with him and the family since they came on this trip together. I can’t remember what she said exactly because the subtitles were quick but it was a really emotional scene and the fact that Loid listened to her meant a lot to me.

I also liked how the movie handled Loid’s character. The writing did a good job of balancing Twilight the spy and Loid the father. Twilight’s priority was to show progress for Operation Strix because he didn’t trust another agent to handle the mission. We saw his dedication to find the ingredients for Anya’s cooking competition but in doing so, he neglected his family during the trip. I really liked seeing this kind of conflict. Anya called him out on it and Yor had to convince him that Anya was being lonely too. It was a very interesting character journey for him. I loved that he didn’t hesitate to rescue Anya too.

My favourite Loid scene was his reunion with Anya! Loid figured out that the reason Anya ran away was because she went searching for the last ingredient (the syrup/wine thingy) but we never found out what he was actually thinking despite Anya reading his mind. We only see his fond smile and Anya having a happy expression. I really liked this kind of open-ended scene because it feels really personal and intimate for the characters.

The other instance where this happened was after Twiyor’s Ferris wheel scene. Anya read both of her parents’ minds after they cleared up the misunderstanding but we didn’t get to know what they were thinking. Just that Anya was happy about it. Again, I liked that their thoughts are kept private and open to interpretation.

Another favourite scene was the one where Loid, Anya and Yor were reunited after Anya was rescued! It was very touching and emotional! I also loved when Yor and Anya came to help Loid with the steering wheel to steer the airship away from the city. The aftermath of this scene (Yor asking Loid how he knew to pilot the ship) reinforces my theory that both Loid and Yor know that the other is hiding something/is more than what they say they are but they decided not to think too much about it.

Another little scene I want to mention is Yor and Anya playing together when they got to their hotel room. The way Anya’s expression lit up when Yor played along with her was too adorable for words!!!

I guess I should also mention the poop god scene lol. This sequence gave me secondhand embarrassment but it got so much laughter from the audience though. It felt like it went on forever too.

Since the main focus of the movie is the Forgers, the supporting characters do show up but they didn’t have any major scenes. The production value of the movie was fantastic. The aerial scenes and Yor’s fight scene with Type-F were the highlights for me! It was also wonderful to see the Forgers on the big screen!

Overall, I do recommend this movie to both old and new fans of SxF! I can guarantee that you will fall in love with the Forger family even more!

#this got longer than expected!!! #may reviews #spy x family #spy x family code white #spy x family code white spoilers #sxf spoilers #yor forger #loid forger #anya forger #sxf ramblings