#(part of this is bad communication but also frankly one needs to be invited to have that kind of place in someone's life)

[alvisgate]

The fattest origami crane Alvi has ever seen will fall in front of him. It’s made of a stack of papers as Artem sent a lengthy letter about their Recent Life events

At first, Alvi finds themself excited to receive such a detailed letter. This soon changes as he reads the contents. He is glad and guilty over the results staining his hands. They are concerned over the abandoned boy Artem and Bugboi are looking after, and, though they resist the feeling at first, end up lamenting over all these changes.

Alvi learns in this moment that one can be glad for a friend while also being jealous. It feels like a sickness that almost matches how he fell ill after his first murder. The crane carries the changing scent of Artem's home that they will soon leave behind, and he fears being left behind too. They have watched their friend open their home to a lover and children, and cannot help but wish that they had a place in it(or, at least, in some family's crowded, loving life).

His mind wanders to future Artem, how they cared for him but didn't seem to count him as family, and how they discussed moving his friends and the children to the future for safe keeping. He notes that he wasn't invited, and accepts that their lives are bigger than him. They remind himself that they expected something like this might happen when coming to grips with their aromantisicm anyway. It would have been easier to take if he didn't realize he wanted to be a part of their family the same moment they understood that he likely never would be.

Wiping a face wet from crying, Alvi composes themself enough to write a congratulatory note, thanking both their friend for the update and the stars that Artem's nose was too weak to pick up on the scent of both cinnamon and tears. He sents the message, grabbing Tank and placing him in bed with a book. As Alvi joins him, he pointedly ignores the letter he was going to send to Art and resolves to try to expand his heart in the morning.

[thesporkidentity]

this was originally a discussion on another platform, but i decided i wanted it (edited for coherency lol) actually on my blog so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯. it is quite long because i was apparently more excited than i'd realized to talk about what a good villain drac is

-

i have to disagree in terms of assigning anyone but dracula himself the "fault" for what happened on october 3. without a doubt, there are certainly things that could have been done better, but nothing that i think could be attributed to any one person are any one action as the one avoidable thing responsible for mina's suffering.

like, was it the wrong choice to cut mina out of their plans after the big infodump and make her feel like she couldn't share her worries with the menfolk for fear of being labelled a hysterical woman and cut out even more? yuuuuup, stop doing that. but we also know from lucy and renfield that dracula can force silence on people. she'd still have been unable to tell them what happened on october 1 even if she'd tried. (frankly, i'm surprised she even managed to write it in her diary at all.) so were they in the wrong to keep her in the dark? yeah absolutely, communication is one of The Themes of the book and it's not subtle about it lol. but i don't think her knowing their plans about the dirt boxes would have changed those events except to give them a different flavor of horror.

could they have let her come with them to the carfax estate on october 1st rather than staying home alone? she might have managed to avoid that first bite by not being in the house. but the Big One where she was forced to drink drac's blood and bound to him was on october 3, when everyone else was still in the house. she hadn't been left behind; jonathan was in bed with her. because while it's easier for dracula to prey on people when they're alone, safety in numbers is not guaranteed. maybe he'll just throw a wolf through your fucking window and drug the entire household, maybe he'll hypnotize everyone because knowing about his trance powers does not stop one from succumbing to them. subtlety may be a preference, but it's not a necessity.

but maybe they could have stopped him from getting in at all by transferring renfield somewhere else like he'd requested even if they didn't actually free him. except dracula only needs an invitation from any resident. he could have worked his way through all the patients/inmates until he got one. heck, he could have waited until the crew were all out and then just gotten someone who works there to let him under the pretense of looking into facilities for a family member, who knows! renfield was just the one he already had a connection with who had shown a previous inclination to help him, but dracula has shown himself perfectly capable of rules-lawyering his way into places.

and one can run through a whole list of what if's, but just as easily as i can think of a scenario i can come up with a way around it, just an endless series of moves and counter-moves. so while we as a fandom can (and do) talk in circles about how someone was wrong and should have made a better/different decision (and boy, there were some Choices being made, i'm not even trying to defend some of them), i don't actually think they could have averted, at this stage, the horror of the october 3 events simply by making the Good And Proper decisions (as designated by each personal opinion). i think we'd have ended up in the same destination, or somewhere equally as bad, it's just that the road there would have looked a little different. (and while i haven't looked at the events leading up to lucy's death as closely, i think it's likely one could draw the same conclusion where Questionable Decisions were made, and yet none of them were actually the final cause of the disaster.)

and that's part of what makes dracula as an adversary so scary. it's human nature to want to play the blame game because if this could have been easily prevented by one action or by one character, then his victories would be by mere chance, something you could avoid by just being smart enough. but dracula is a strategist, and all these backups and failsafes and counters make him feel unavoidable, inevitable. not one path to victory but all paths.

[elllteo]

Big List of Places to Post Art (That aren't twitter or insta or tumblr):

Sourced from one lil art freak who loves jumping between one million ships.

Hi! I have been on almost every conceivable art sharing website that has any credibility, and some that certainly don't. Here's a non-comprehensive list of the ones I've at least HEARD of, starting with ones I know well at the top and working our way down.

Quick note: These are just alternatives! I definitely do still use Tumblr and Twitter to post art, but these are ones I've had mixed successes with. Hopefully there's something here for everyone to poke around with. You have options!!

Artfol (Mobile + Web, in beta but Solid):

Artfol is very similar in function to Instagram but like, nice. Genuinely kinda nice. Very art and oc focused, just kind of pleasant to post to? Not much by way of solid communities, but there's "Community Challenges" you can participate in (think DTIYS stuff but under a whole tab you can poke through and take part in) and you can even host your own challenges at any time. Supports a commissions tab, heavily leans towards Visual Arts (so writing and music and other things aren't possible to really share). Explicit art isn't allowed (thanks to the apple app store) but suggestive art is.

Bluesky (Mobile + Web, In Beta, Need a code, Twitter clone and Solid):

Bluesky (aka "Wow, I can't believe it's not Twitter!") is the most popular twitter clone so far and it's a very solid social and art sharing platform. You need an invite code to get in, so far, but every person currently there generates one code a week and I've seen lots of threads on twitter and elsewhere sharing codes to get more artists on there.

You can create and curate specific feeds using keywords and phrases - and you can follow other peoples feeds (so, say you make an art only feed, or a sketch only feed, people who want to follow JUST that can follow those!) and they're still developing better ways to let people tag and curate their experience. Big bonus is that NSFW IS ALLOWED HERE, and they have self tagging options. HASHTAGS ALSO MATTER. They help people find you!

(More below the cut! VVVV)

Mastodon.ART (Web + 3rd party apps):

Mastodon.art (not to be confused with any other instance like Mastodon.social) is an Art-themed social media site that you may or may not heard of. There's a lot of discourse over how confusing it can be - it truly feels like the Linux of social media - but in my experience if you take the time to get to know it, it can be very nice and rewarding to post to! Community is big here so interacting with other artists is not only encouraged, its really the only way to feel at home here.

There's plenty of guides on how Mastodon works - you can even host your own if you don't like how Mastodon.art is run. Frankly, there's plenty of art sharing sites hosted via Mastodon, so if the rules and regulations of .art isn't to your liking, you may find a different one that is. Shop around and find a community that sounds right for YOU!

Cohost (Web):

Cohost is like tumblr but you can post NSFW, LMAO. It's still being worked on by a dedicated and nice team. They seem very transparent and post good updates. I've liked what I've seen so far, though there's not nearly enough people on here for me to use it as much as I'd like to. So get on here!!! Please. I'm begging lmao.

A significant factor is that NSFW is allowed here and there's a lot of nsfw artists using it for that purpose. This isn't inherently bad, but is worth knowing!

Inkblot (Mobile, I cannot recommend Web, at all):

Inkblot is like an alternative to Deviantart and got a big push for a while after Sheezy.art went down and Buzzly.art also tanked while Twitter simultaneously shat the bed. It's fine in the app, but the website is bad. Like it is genuinely impossible to use consistently bad. The app has ads, it is a small start up team, but the team seems dedicated and posts updates and has an active roadmap.

I do not find myself using this one at all, purely because it's very clunky, but I know several other artists who do. The potential is there; There's comic support which is rad and lots of tagging features, but it all depends on if you're willing to stick it out and see.

Honorable(?) Mentions:

Itaku - Mostly furry art at this point, I'm not sure if that was the original point but that's what it's become. I have no experience with it, I just know it exists and people use it.

Pillowfort - Another tumblr clone, has dedicated groups to post art to depending on themes, you can do a lot here but the times I've tried to use it, it felt awkward and a little empty. There may be more people using it by now, though!

Furaffinity - I mean. Yeah. You know what this is and if you don't, well. Furries do.

Artistree.io - Purely a commissions selling platform, not social media. Still worth a mention, I have little to no experience with it, but they do not take a cut.

VGen - Similar to artistree but is in Beta, mostly geared towards Vtubers, illustrators, etc with that similar thematic style.

Toyhou.se - Character repository. Great for uploading characters and any art or story writing you do for them - the community can be. Wack. Not exactly an art sharing platform per se, but great for hosting your oc galleries if that's your thing. Customizable profiles is a plus.

CharacterHub - Not sure how I feel about this one. Alternative to Toyhouse but they have a weird beta thing in place and are "only inviting the best artists/story writers to keep community quality high" and while I was invited, and the site has fascinating features, I am REALLY not a fan of that ethos. Hard to find info but if you have questions feel free to ask and I can try to find out for you!

------

I hope this list is helpful for people!! There's a ton of micro art communities on discord, too, if you look around and reach out. The biggest thing I recommend if you're trying to move away from Twitter/Tumblr/Insta/Etc is not just posting on new sites, but interacting with the people already there. I know that sounds really obvious, but the biggest thing I see artists struggling with on new sites is building up that first few follows.

Don't focus on follows, focus on the community you want to be a part of. The follows happen more naturally from there, and it feels good to interact with other peers and make friends that way!

Also, for funs, My links + Art

My Artfol || My Bluesky

what social media platforms do you recommend to other artists? Personally, I'm liking Tumblr and that's about it lol. The IG/Twitter algorithm is really tricky for me personally

Feel free to share your socials below so we can connect as well! Mine are: IG, Twitter, this Tumblr lol

[agentofscifi]

Success is the Best Kind of Revenge Ch. 3

Heels click onto the floor of my office as Chloe pushes open my doors. My hands were currently holding up the train of a dress hung on Juleka. Alix follows after Chloe, tinkering with some kind of camera in her hand. Over the years, as we all graduated from University and done pretty well for ourselves.  

Juleka ended up changing her major in school after three semesters. Instead of going into performing arts for instruments, she went and got a composition degree. Juleka wrote music for a variety of artists and was one of the most sought-after songwriters. When she wasn’t doing all of that, she was modeling for my company. Juleka did a variety of photoshoots for several companies, mine included throughout her University Years. After I opened up my first few stores, we signed a formal contract. She’d been working for me for almost a decade. She split her time between Paris and Nashville in America. 

Alix decides to focus on a degree in art history. She worked at an Auction House company in Paris, moving between the various countries of Europe to authenticate pieces of art and then handle their sales. She was rather successful at her work, earning many bonuses for rather extremely successful sales. Alix’s unique style and comfortable professionalism made her easily approachable to buyings. She was rather blunt, and it did her well in her job. On her off-hours, Alix did some minor modeling and promoting much of my athletic pieces. Alix’s popularity grew as she competed in several X-Games in and after university. She won several titles in skateboarding, BMX freestyling, rollerskating, and snowboarding before retiring after a slip-up when snowboarding. She shattered her kneecap, broke a leg, her collarbone, and dislocated her arm in two places. She still did BMX biking, skateboarding, rollerblading, and snowboarding, just not in a professional capacity. That being said, little kids still asked for her autographs all the time.  

Chloe graduated from the London Business School with Honors and then proceeded to attend the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York to get a Graduate Degree in Global Fashion Management. She modeled some of my designs, worked connections, handled all my brand’s social media accounts, and finalized contracts. Now, she had several people working underneath her, to handle the day-to-day operations. Either way, Chloe handled all of the Brand’s business dealings and flourishes.  

As for me, I attend the London College of Fashion. I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Fashion Design and Development with honors. After those years, I went to Milan to attend Istituto Marangoni International for a Master’s Degree in Luxury Accessories Design & Management. After that, I relocated back to Paris. My first boutique opened up quickly after that along with a small factory with a loan from a bank. I ended up having to open a second factory within three months due to demands. More boutiques opened up worldwide as the Brand became a household name.  

“Hello Chloe, how is everything?”  

“We got invitations to a reunion for Lycée. Alya sent them, as she was the class representative when we all graduated. Personally, I think she wants to get her hands on you or Juleka for an interview. You know her journalism career is in the gutter.”  

Alix snorts. “And who’s fault is that?” 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her’s. The idiot ruined her blog when she was a teenager and she never changed. She still does idiotic and frankly dangerous things to get a scoop. Sure, she does some basic research now, but the girl’s been detained several times for endangering people and disrupting the peace. No University would touch her, and no place will hire her.”  

Alix looks up from the camera. “So, you didn’t inform everyone in the fashion journalism world about her history, knowing it would spread to all major news and journalism networks.  

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Look, this company’s image is important. I was not going to let Miss Blogger ruin it for 15 minutes of fame. She dug her own grave.”  

I sigh. “This is great and all, but are you all going?”  

There’s a snort right behind me. “Not on any of our lives. We will not be sinking that low.”  

“Chloe!” Juleka’s face is red and slightly scandalized.  

“What? Why would we go to this reunion? To see how everyone is doing? It’s rather simple. Alya’s a tabloid writer. Nino is a barely successful DJ who works at a music store to help pay his bills. Max is an IT guy at a company. That fake research paper haunts him to this day. Kim works at a gym. The drugs screwed his athletic chances over and he never planned for anything beyond going to the Olympics. Nathaniel works at an art store and does nighttime classes. He’s unsuccessfully worked with 7 different writers for his comics after leaving Marc.   

Now, Myléne and Ivan are happy, at least. Myléne works as a secretary and Ivan as a grocery store manager. Both are part-time so one of them can stay home with their kids at a time. They have millions of photos of their family on their Instagram accounts. Neither one can do much with charities. The fraud they committed was spread around the charity communities fast.  

Rose, Adrien, and Sabrina are the only ones who did what they wanted to do. Rose had a few years of fame with her music before getting married and settling down as a youth music teacher. Adrien moved to America and works for a University. However, I know for a fact that he will not be returning to Paris for anything less than a funeral or a wedding. As for Sabrina, after some therapy, ended up as a Detective in Marseille.”  

“Didn’t you pay for her therapy?” I tie off my last stitch and let the train fall to the platform.  

Chloe purses her lips. “I owed her that much. I screwed her childhood up, majorly.”  

“Did you stalk everyone to find out all of this?” Alix has a mischievous look.  

Another eye roll from Chloe. “I didn’t need to. In this day and age, all you need to do is type their name into the internet and all of their social media pops up.”  

I hum. “What about Lila?”  

“She’s still in prison. Tried another appeal a little while ago, to no avail. Her long list of offenses and the “assisting a terrorist” change isn’t something any judge would want to touch, even with a 10 ft pole.”  

Juleka simply shrugs. “Back to the point at hand. I’m not going to this reunion. Rose is the only one I wanted to keep in contact with, and she’s not going. It’s her five-year anniversary with her husband. She’s going to Spain that week.”  

Alix shugs. “I’m not going either. Kim has tried to contact me so many times to help him get back into the sports world. I am not giving him another chance. Besides, there’s this huge auction going on in Russia for that week. I am not missing that for a few hours with our childhood classmates.”  

I look at Chloe. She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Not a chance and you are not going either. Heavens forbid Alya posts something on that new blog of hers.”  

I set my needle and thread down on a work table and gesture to Juleka to get changed. “I’m not going if none of you are. Besides, there’s this fashion show in Milan that weekend. It’s for freshly graduated designers to show off their talents to possible employers. I was planning to go to find some who would specialize in Fashion Contour. I’ve been doing quite a bit of work in that field and want to get a fresh pair of eyes that will eventually take over that area of our brand. I was also hoping to look for someone to start a Make-up department. One of your people mentioned the idea at a meeting.”  

Chloe nods and starts to type into her phone. “I’ll tell my assistant to look through the applications we have to see if anyone fulfills the requirements for that job. Just find that new department head.”  

I give Chloe a nod as Juleka hands me the dress from before. A custom-made wedding dress for a woman who happened to be Juleka’s exact size. One of the many I had made of the years since I’d started my fashion business.   

Some part of me wanted to thank Lila. If I was honest with myself, I wouldn’t be where I was if she hadn’t arrived at my class and taken everyone’s loyalty. They weren’t bad people, but thanks to Ms. Bustier, they were a drain on my energy and abilities. Now, however, I was one of the most well-known and successful fashion designers with over two dozen people for me in Design. I could not be happier. 

Ch. 1 ~~~~~ Ch. 2

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[spikebhm]

content creators are cringe and toxic for the community it puts all the power in the hands of normative beauty standards — the cabal of fats and their so called admirers are just milking a cash cow (pun intended)

you don’t see ffas following random guys giving them attention you only see “content creators” getting attention.

Piss off Bub.

That's a ... a whole lot to take in there! Besides seeping in pure insecurity I can tell that you think that anyone is entitled to someone else's time just because "they exist" is just wrong, like ffa's only paying attention to "content creators".

I can't even begin to understand what "cringe and toxic" means in context of content creators? Cringe? Debatable, it's totally ok not to be able to agree with someone but cringe is just such a bad word to generalize an immensely large group of people who find joy and success in sharing what they have with a community that they've worked on.

And how are they toxic?! There is certainly drama that occassionally happens between people, for sure but the community as a whole? There is nothing going around right now and if yes, it's always just between a couple of parties over some personal and petty shit. I don't see how content creators are toxic in the slightest.

Also how do you even put "normative beauty standards" and "fat" in one sentence and not just combusted on the spot? There are hundreds of content creators, SUPER successfull ones that have either limited depiction or none at all of their face, if that is what you mean by that? Because listen, here is a little hint and it might hurt, but even special snowflakes like you might understand that:

Beauty. is. subjective.

That's it! It's not really hard. A little something on this subjectivity:

Out of a 100 people who are into feedism, maybe 10 of those are into big men and only 3 of those like the content where a guy is not showing his face because they enjoy the fantasy to be able to project themselves into that scenario and that is FINE and LEGIT (that's how a lot of porn works, look up POV) and this person with his three new fans has to work hard to keep those three people!

And it's not just random, he puts effort into it! It starts with good angles, engagement with the community and just not being a whiney shit that only men are following you (little 'jab' at a certain content creator who deactivated his account not too long ago, pardon me~ ).

Whoever decides to follow and support someone, they do it because they are consenting adults! They say "it's worth my time and money to support this person in their endeveaors!" and that's fine, valid and totally ok!

I don't care what you call the people who admire others, be it a cabal, the cow milkers, whatever it is. I can clearly tell that you have no interest in supporting someone, you are just out there to get the free stuff and despise others who have success with it, the envy is palpable and frankly you need to grow up.

"you don’t see ffas following random guys giving them attention you only see “content creators” getting attention." Also what a bold statement. Sounds to me like you are a "random guy" who never got attention. Please excuse these poor women that they only see quality if it's actually posted in a nice and inviting way, the tragedy those poor random guys have to endure!

Have you seen the pictures that cis men actually post of themselves? They look like faceless mug shots in badly lit and dirty bathrooms! Eww! Here is a generalization for you!

I honestly wonder what it would feel like if you gave a little bit effort in your profile, a little bit more effort in posting pics, ideas, fantasies, engagement. Maybe try yourself at not talking about fetishes. Maybe compliment someone on their dress. Make up perhaps? There is lots to a person besides just their fetish.

The best conversations and friends you can make is through some really nice interactions and chats. Do you believe me when I say that I have a DM box FULL of FFAs who stayed around for the talk and not just the face and belly? I know it sounds crazy but believe me, when you put yourself out there as a PERSON, they will stay connected for sure.

All these problems could be solved if you were to give it a little bit more effort. This is not a "them" problem.

It's about you. When you start this change, you can become someone better, someone desirable.

It changes the tone with people if you would straighten out your back, speak in a clear voice (in text), fight yourself out of this pit of misery that you created yourself and start respecting people, their effort and their time. If you recognize their worth, they will do so too and gauge you differently then before. Perhaps as a person one day.

Maybe then an "ffa" will turn their head around and say "you know what, I really like your post!"

It's not difficult to be respectful. The difficult part is to admit your mistakes but you've probably never been taught to show weakness and admit anything to grow from it. Which is actually kinda sad.

I hope you can turn this around for yourself and become someone greater tomorrow, I believe in you, anon!

[kindlyre]

OKAYSO the reason i was being kind of vauge was bc its ttttechnically a spoiler but like...

1) its gonna be revealed in chapter 3

2) he's almost COMICALLY clockable if u know psychology facts, ESPECIALLY in chapter 2

so imma put the whole rant under da cut for ppl who dont want spoilers BUT an invitation to ramble?? about my passion project?? from a dear mutual??? i would be a FOOL to decline!!

it's antisocial personality disorder!!

well... TO BE FAIR its conduct disorder since you cant be diagnosed with aspd until you're 18, but out of 10 personality disorders this is the only one with that stipulation and frankly i do not respect it

in my fic, rantaro's *specific* diagnosis is conduct disorder, childhood onset type (as opposed to adolescent type) but like... he knows he's gonna qualify for an aspd diagnosis once he turns 18. everyone around him knows this.

the way things work in the fic is that the contestants backstories are NOT faked, sometimes they will be *tweaked* but team dangan just... accepts interesting people with interesting lives

so rantaro's pregame life WAS him globetrotting to find his sisters, but that was only one piece of the puzzle

i infodumped his ENTIRE backstory b4 i was like man i gotta save SOME surprises for the fic

but rantaros globetrotting also helped w the intense chronic boredom that comes with aspd. but heres... The Thing about aspd. when you do crazy stuff to quell the boredom, that crazy stuff becomes mundane. its like the twink from durarara always says- you gotta keep evolving to escape the mundane

so rantaro globetrots but its not enough. so he does riskier and riskier stuff, getting some fake IDs mainly to take skydiving lessons and stuff, but then that gets mundane so maybe he starts exploring more remote parts of the world and doing shit there and THAT gets him on the news as an ~adventurer,~ which is cool but rantaro HATES that people have this idea of him as a brave adventurer when in reality hes just a thrill seeking sociopath (MORE ON THIS LATER), and things get more and more boring and BOOM youre 14 and have coke nose so bad your sense of smell is near-nonexistant

so that sucks for him, and is the pregame equivalent to the timeloops as a cyclical series of events that largely stay the same but increase in severity

and rantaro KNOWS this is going to kill him young but there really isnt anything he can Do about it outside of hang on to barebones harm reduction shit (i.e. know what drugs to not take together, actually get trained by a non-shady school for whatever dangerous thing he wants to do, fuck off to the ocean or the great plains when everything gets too bad so he can clear his head and not kill himself because he NEEDS to stay alive for his sisters. he NEEDS to)

also the life expectancy for aspd isnt really all that optimistic so rantaro thinks its just a given that hes gonna die young and no therapist will help him because uhhhh ive seen a ton of therapists, the only thing they care about vis a vis aspd is Mitigating Your Harm On Other People. like, aspd causes you to be a danger to yourself and others but people exclusively focus on the "and others" part INCLUDING THE DSM ITSELF which is why i dont respect it

and rantaros mental health in the fic is going to be a lot of things. people will be questioning if he even has it bc he cares about his sisters or telling him that he really should be sterilized or (in the case of the v3 audience) debating on what his "real" mental illness is, and a lot of rantaro's actions will be seen as inherently suspect bc of his aspd because You Know How Those People Are

and in the fic, all rantaro wants is to feel love. like- he loves his siblings, but not as strongly as he did before he got bad. and he just wants to love someone Like A Normal Person

and-- okay. so. this is more of a community term but ive seen multiple people including yours truly use it, but like. theres like, a thing with aspd called an "exception" and thats pretty much exactly what it sounds like- someone who is the exception to the rule of Your Symptoms Existing. and this can sometimes be overwhelming or upsetting bc like. if you do not usually feel affective empathy or remorse, suddenly feeling that shit is enough to knock you completely on your ass

rantaro doesnt really know this term exists but unbeknownst to him, THIS is what hes looking for- an exception

and kokichi is it.

and the horror comes from how overwhelmed rantaro gets from these feelings and how it fucks with his pragmaticism at the WORST possible time and he will do some pretty insane shit as a result of this

oyea remmeber when i said id come back to rantaro getting a reputation as a brave adventurer but in realty hes just a thrill seeking cycle path?

yeah one of the things rantaro needs 2 unlearn in this fic is this dichotomy he sees himself under. his True Nature isnt something inherently bad, and if his aspd causing him to thrill seek is WHY hes such a good adventurer, then its not fake or untrue because of it. its a part of who he is and the sooner he stops acting like thats something he needs to make up for, the better

also i see how he talks abt his talent canonically and its telling that he defaults to thinking that its something bad, then after that thinking that its useless. something presumed harmful or presumed useless. I Know What You Are (the harmful bit is obvious w this context but the uesless bit is part people dehimanizing him bc of The Illness and part his own feelings of inadequacy vis a vis his sisters bc like... theyre not *lost* more *hiding from rantaro's dad,* and some of their mothers are also hiding from HIM as well bc they saw The Traits and concluded that rantaro is an active threat to his sister bc You Know How People Like That Are)

@kindlyre

Okay I'm VERY curious as to what mental illness you're writing Rantaro to have because it seems to be one of those stigmatized ones and I'm v curious???

[alexiethymia]

snippet (res ipsa loquitur)

“Look who’s here. Professor Yang’s favorites!”

Professor Yang raises an eyebrow at that, as if to say that he didn’t have favorites, but Professor Kim Eun Sook pays him no mind. Dear friend though he may be, and though she would trust him with any case, his hard-ass act didn’t fool her. He could say whatever he wanted, but his subtle actions belied his fondness for his once-students turned professionals. Just the fact that he regularly invited them back to Hankuk to discuss cases was just one example.

“I don’t know about Prosecutor Han here, Professor Yang’s protégé that he is, but I’m certainly no favorite when I had to be Erica Shin just to get him to eat with me.” Lawyer Kang has certainly grown up to become a balanced professional, but Professor Kim is happy to see that she’s kept that refreshing bluntness of hers.

“If being Professor Yang’s favorite means additional work like getting called back to school, then I’d rather be your favorite.” Prosecutor Han for his part hasn’t changed much either. Although he’s settled into himself now, becoming as calm in actuality as he sometimes presented himself back in school, that teasing gaze towards Kang Sol A was still present how many years later.

Professor Yang just stares deadpan at what he deems to be nonsense from his former students. “I never taught the both of you to be lax as students, much less as professionals.”

“We’re just joking, Professor,” Kang Sol A – Lawyer Kang now – can easily look her once-savior in the eye and smile, as Professor Yang just raises an eyebrow, “You know we’re always glad to help with whatever we can.”

“We must have inherited your curse as a workaholic, Professor,” Prosecutor Han jokes. Even when he was just Han Joon Hwi, and not yet Prosecutor Han, he never had that fear towards Yangcrates. Frankly, he admired him, though it had always been a complicated emotion with the way all their fates had been tied.

“Ehem. Who would have thought that when I asked you to come hand-in-hand to my office so many years ago as students, you’d be doing it again and again now that you’ve become professionals.” Professor Kim is only half-serious. Even then she’d had an instinct about these two – one with the sharp mind and logic and the other with the fiery heart and passion. They would balance each other out, though she wouldn’t have picked up on it if not for Joon Hwi’s propensity to be a knight-in-shining armor for his then frazzled seatmate.

Kang Sol A mock-scoffs before smiling prettily, while sharing a gaze with an amused Joon Hwi. It was good to see that they still got along marvelously so many years later.

Professor Yang stares long and hard at them as if they were a crime scene he was investigating, before going on ahead and asking Joon Hwi to follow. Eun Sook’ll poke at his thoughts later though she’d be lucky if he felt like sharing them.

“See, you really are his favorite,” Kang Sol A nudges Joon Hwi playfully, while he only chuckles. “No need to worry Lawyer Kang. You’re my favorite at least.” Both Eun Sook’s eyebrows raise at that. With time and his new position, it seemed as if Joon Hwi had gotten more direct, if at all possible. Ah but perhaps, Eun Sook thinks while observing how Kang Sol A just laughs in response, rather than time it was circumstances that forced him to change his approach.

A slight movement behind Professor Kim’s desk catches all of their attention, and a doting smile appears on Eun Sook’s face.

“Aigoo. Is this your daughter Professor Kim?” Kang Sol positively beams at the small curly haired girl hiding shyly behind the Professor’s desk. She was so adorable! It reminded Sol of Byeol when she was at that age. Looking sideways, she sees Joon Hwi sporting an equally wide and fond smile. It was no wonder. With how he was with her younger sister, first when they’d met and until now, Kang Sol surmised that he must be ridiculously fond of children as well. Distantly she thinks that he’d be a wonderful father someday, although uncharacteristically cynical, she also has to admit that she doesn’t exactly have any good bases for comparisons.

“Yes,” Professor Kim says, proud, like all mothers are, “Say hi to oppa and unnie here. They work with the law just like mommy.”

Funnily, it’s a race between them for the privilege of lifting Professor Kim’s daughter up in their arms, but Joon Hwi lets her win (much like he always does). Kang Sol A openly cooes, while Joon Hwi hovers closely to the both of them, also introducing himself to the young girl.

It’s such a heartwarming sight that Professor Kim almost wants to take a picture of it, even if it would be inadmissible as evidence later on.

They’re momentarily interrupted when someone enters the legal clinic.

“Ah Miss, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“Ahjumma!” Kang Sol exclaims happily upon seeing the lady who ran the Bad FaMa website enter the legal clinic. Seamlessly, she adjusts Professor Kim’s daughter on her hip, before transferring her to Joon Hwi who carries her on his arm. “How are you? What are you doing here? It’s not another defamation case is it,” Kang Sol asks worriedly. Of course, she’d defend her properly this time since she was now a full-fledged lawyer, not only giving half-baked assistance and having to rely on Joon Hwi because she wasn’t prepared yet.

“Ah no, no need to worry Miss – ah my mistake, it’s Lawyer Kang now isn’t it? You sure showed them didn’t you.” She smiles warmly, proudly, at Kang Sol, and Kang Sol gets happy flutters in her heart and stomach, “I volunteer here at the legal clinic sometimes. Professor Kim has been helping me out with lobbying for stricter child support laws, and the other lawyer who volunteers here - Lawyer Jeon - has been helping me with cases of single mothers. She’s been telling me all about you. I’m really glad to see you doing so well.” Though it’s been a while since Kang Sol has seen her – since when she was still a law student in fact – the older woman and that case will always hold a special place in her heart. She considers it as her first case, and though it did cause a slight rift between her and Joon Hwi, she had been the first person outside of smug Second Judicial Exam Passers and terrifying law professors who had genuinely thanked her for the legal service she provided. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Kang Sol owes a lot to her for reigniting her reason for studying law in the first place.

“And Prosecutor Han, I’m delighted to see you’re doing great as well.” Joon Hwi inclines his head at her while responding in kind. Even with a child on his arm, he looks every bit the respectable Prosecutor, and Kang Sol could sometimes shake her head in amused resignation at how flawless her – (Friend? Best friend? Family?), - at how flawless Joon Hwi is. She shakes her head for a different reason this time around, to get rid of that brief interruption in her mind.

Ahjumma smiles, full of maternal care. “What a lovely daughter,” Joon Hwi and Kang Sol exchange wordless glances and smiles, fully agreeing with her assessment – Professor Kim’s daughter with her soft curls, and shy and polite demeanor really was just too cute for words, “the both of you two have,” – before freezing in their tracks.  

Ajhumma seems not to notice the slight disturbance in the force, nor Professor Kim’s silent but far from inconspicuous chuckles, since she goes on, “Perhaps I’m just biased, but I’d always thought that the both of you suited each other well, even back then. And to see the both of you with a daughter of your own makes me really happy. We have enough parents who abandon their kids, but I know you would be such loving parents who would do everything and anything in your power to protect your daughter.” She grasps Kang Sol’s hands in her own and says sincerely, “Congratulations to the both of you.”

Prosecutor Han for all of his brilliance in court seems for the first time at a loss for words. It was a misunderstanding yes, but a reasonable one in Eun Sook’s mind. She would have probably thought the same, and yet for all that Eun Sook imagines they’ll just brush this off and regain their easy momentum, the pause lasts far too long this time around, and Professor Kim suddenly worries.

Kang Sol is frozen, and looks to be a million miles away. It’s to the point that the woman grasping her hands finds her smile slowly falling. There are no flustered denials, nor a hint of red anywhere. Kang Sol is blank, and this worries Professor Kim since the younger girl has always been full of life, of emotion, and to see this is disconcerting. Joon Hwi sees her from the corner of his eye, and Professor Kim is suddenly transported back to that Civil Code classroom so many years ago, for he once again saves her from having to answer, as always reliably following-up after her.

He slowly lowers her daughter down who immediately rushes to her. Upon seeing that, realization breaks across their guest’s face. “She’s not our daughter, but Professor Kim’s,” he explains smoothly, although it may be a bit redundant now. That seems to snap Kang Sol from the daze she’s in as she energetically reassures their guest that there was no need to worry regarding the misunderstanding. 

Eun Sook picks up her daughter and sends a questioning gaze towards Joon Hwi who seems reluctant to meet it. He smiles that characteristic smile of his, the one that seemed to say that he had everything under control, that there was nothing that could trip him, before politely excusing himself from the room to follow after Professor Yang. “He must be tired of waiting.” He doesn’t rush, nor does he run. Both his voice and gait are measured and paced, and though he catches Kang Sol A’s eye in that form of wordless communication that Professor Kim observed was common to him, her, and even Professor Yang, Kang Sol A seems to break it first to rejoin her conversation with their guest and her.

Joon Hwi stares a little longer at her profile before exiting.

The warm atmosphere the legal clinic had when the two had entered earlier seems to have dissipated.

Professor Kim really cannot help but worry.

[night-fallz]

We’re Tired of Him

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Description: 

It was pretty easy to dislike Damian Wayne. He was an arrogant, stuck-up brat. So when the Titans get a chance to gain blackmail material on him, they took it, along with his brother's eagerly joining in.

They couldn't wait to see the look on Damian's face when he realizes that they know every little secret he has. Who knows. Maybe they can finally get the brat to shut up or if they're lucky, they might be able to force him to quit being Robin.

Or that one time Damian's teammates and brothers decide to spike his drink so they could use Damian's secrets against him.

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next 

We’re Tired of Him (Part 1)

Wally does not remember a single time where the Titans have completed a mission without him feeling annoyed or irritated at Robin.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone in the superhero community that speedsters weren’t patient people. They had too much energy pent up in their system to sit still for more than five seconds.

Which is why you shouldn’t expect much from them when you bring them to a discrete, cover-ops mission.

Everyone knew that.

At least, everyone except Damian fucking Wayne.

Wally never liked the new Robin and he didn’t try to hide that fact.

He’d make snide comments behind the kid’s back, purposely being loud so that Damian knew what he thought of him.

Hell, he’s even told Damian straight to his face that no one liked him. But the kid wasn’t affected; he only dismissed Wally with a roll of his eyes and a simple ‘tt’.

As if Wally was nothing but an ant standing in his way.

It annoys him that the kid doesn’t respond to his remarks, but he doesn’t regret making them.

In his head, Damian deserved it.

Who in their right mind decides to abduct someone to force them to join a reincarnation of an old superhero team.

At least come up with a new name!

Wally never wanted to join the brat’s team anyways and he might’ve changed his mind and stayed in the end, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he was forced to be in it.

Despite the fact that the kid might’ve apologized, Wally still hasn’t forgiven him. And frankly, he thinks that he never will.

Especially if he kept it up with the attitude.

The moment the rest of the team stepped into the main lobby, he couldn’t stop the complaints that rolled off of his tongue.

“He’s such a brat,” he couldn’t help but growl out, the disgust clear on his voice. “Like how can someone be such a dick!”

Wally felt some of his anger vanish as his words caused the room to be filled with laughter. It was always nice to know that he wasn’t the only one that had a strong distaste for their team leader.

Though, to be fair, a lot of people didn’t get along with Damian Wayne. He knows for a fact that a lot of them just put up with him because his dad’s Batman.

The more Wally thought about it, the more he wondered if the brat actually had friends.

While Damian was rather close with Djinn, along with Superman’s son, Jon. They were also some of the sweetest people that he’s ever had the chance of meeting. So maybe they just felt bad for the kid.

It made sense in his mind.

After all; who in their right mind would want to be friends with Damian?

Emiko’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “What did the kid do now?”

He couldn’t contain the smirk that made its way onto his face, he loved it when they bonded over how much they disliked the new Robin.

And judging by how Emiko and Crush mirrored his expression, he knew that he wasn’t the only one that felt that way.

“He goes and gets mad at me for being incompetent or something. Like it’s not my fault I wasn’t raised by a crazy old hot assassin lady.”

Wally knew that he wasn’t being fair. That Damian couldn’t control how he was raised. And that there was a high chance that Damian could hear him- could hear them- tearing him apart.

But in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted the brat to hear him. He wanted the kid to know that even if he was Batman’s son, a majority of them still didn’t like him.

That they only put up with him because they had to.

Not because they wanted to.

There’s a fucking difference between the two and Wally needs Damian to know that.

Crush jumped on the couch, imitating Damian’s pose as she mocked his words, “If you don’t halt your tongue you useless speedster, you will perish under my sword.”

She swung her imaginary sword into the air, pretending to slice Wally’s neck.

He played along, fanning his face as he forced his eyes to roll back before his back hit the soft cushions of the couch.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Djinn and Roundhouse trying to hold in their laughs.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised that they were so reluctant to make fun of their so-called leader, out of everyone in the Titans, they were the ones that tolerated the brat the most.

He saw Roundhouse’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he tried to hold in a groan as he heard the uneasy tone come out of his teammate’s mouth, no doubt feeling bad for laughing at the expense of ridiculing one of his favorite heroes.

“Why are you guys so mean to the small man?”

It was such an innocent question, but it made Wally’s blood fill up with such rage.

What they’re doing isn’t mean. It was well deserved. Plus, if Damian cared, he would’ve yelled at them already.

They’ve never been quiet when it came to mocking the youngest bat.

Emiko snorted, her dark hair framing her face, “Please, that wannabe is barely a man.”

He hid a smile, muttering a “That’s all he is, though. A wannabe.” as he stared at the floor.

A wannabe friend.

A wannabe leader.

A wannabe hero.

Sure Damian was trying, but that didn’t mean he was succeeding.

He would never be as charming as Nightwing.

He would never be as good of a fighter as Red Hood.

He would never be as smart as Red Robin.

He was just Damian.  

The kid with the big attitude that everyone around him had to put up with.

Emiko leaned her back onto the couch, arms on the back of her head. “You guys wanna know what Roy told me,”

Wally found himself nodding, along with the others as she continued. “He said that even his own brothers don’t like him. They just put up with him to make their dad happy. Actually, probably even his own father doesn’t want him.”

“You’re probably right.” Wally laughed, not registering just how hurtful his words could be. “I mean, didn’t his mom just force Batman to take him. The guy probably didn’t have a choice.”

It wasn’t like what he said was wrong.

He remembers Dick complaining to him about it. How an assassin came out of nowhere with Damian and just gave him to Batman, who gave Dick the task of training the spoiled brat who just wouldn’t listen.

Those were Dick’s words, not his.

“That must be tough,” he heard Crush huff, “Being tossed around like trash.”

Wally found himself nodding in agreement, “He probably deserved it.”

Djinn cut in before his mouth said something he would regret, “That’s just plain mean.”

The look she gave him actually made him feel bad so he found himself muttering a quiet, “sorry” before sitting next to Emiko on the couch, who looked like she was holding in her laughter.

Roundhouse spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention towards the blue-skinned kid. “If you guys don’t like Damian so much, why don’t you just leave.”

Emiko only shook her head in amusement, “I’m still friends with you guys,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’m not going to leave just because a kid is acting like- well, a kid.”

And even though Wally knew it was wrong. He couldn’t stop the dark thrill that curled up his stomach to know that even if Damian was the chosen leader for the team, he would never acquire the close bond that they all had with each other.

Crush rolled her eyes, “The kid’s a spoiled brat. And that’s it. No explanation needed.”

“I don’t get it. Why don’t you guys just try to get to know him more?” Djinn asked, “I know that he’s not as bad as you think he is.”

Wally held in the laugh threatening to come out of his throat- Damian Wayne? Not being as bad as he thinks he is.

If anything, Damian was probably worse.

Roundhouse bobbed his head in agreement, “Yeah, he’s usually pretty nice to me.”

Crush, Emiko, and Wally exchanged uncertain glances with each other.

Wally doesn’t believe it; Damian Wayne, being nice?

Are they even talking about the same Damian Wayne? The one trained by fucking assassins.

He knows for a fact that his brothers won’t believe it either. And out of everyone else in the superhero community, they’re probably the ones that know Damian best.

But then again, that was only because they had to spend the most time with him. Whether they liked it or not, Damian was a part of their family.

Wally found himself genuinely feeling bad for them.

Djinn tilted her head, “So will you do it? Actually, try to get to know him?”

Crush immediately shook her head, “Yeah. No.”

Djinn furrowed her eyebrows at the instant rejection, “But why not?”

“Damian is well- he’s just Damian.” Emiko intervened. “Even if we put in an effort, he might not put the same amount back.”

“Yeah,” Wally added on. “And unless he’s drunk and shit, we won’t get anything out of him.”

Crush raised an eyebrow at the two, “Why do you think we never invite him when we hang out?”

Roundhouse faltered, giving Djinn a hesitant look. “I just thought he didn’t want to join us.”

“That's probably true as well.” Wally pointed out. “If he did, he would tell us that he’d want to join, you know? He probably thinks that he’s too good for any of us.”

Djinn frowned in disagreement, but this time, she kept her mouth shut.

No one said anything for a while before he noticed Emiko turning to him, “About that comment you made, what if we did get the kid drunk?”

Roundhouse stared at the girl, eyes wide, “Is that even allowed? Or legal? Is that even legal? We’re superheroes. We can’t do illegal things.”

The archer shrugged, “I mean, yeah it can be legal. We just need a trusted adult’s consent. And lucky for us, two of his brothers are legal adults.” she met Wally’s eyes, “You know them better than any of us. Do you think they’ll allow it?”

Wally eagerly nodded, “They probably will. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that they don’t like him that much either.”

That was an understatement.

With all the complaining he’s heard from them, Wally had a feeling that they hate Damian even more than he did.

And he hated the kid a lot.

“Wouldn’t that be betraying his trust?” Djinn asked.

Crush leaned forward, her eyes full of mischief before it quickly disappeared as soon as she met the young girl’s eyes, “Let me tell you a secret, this is something Damian might call a training exercise.” she slowly explained to the two youngest heroes, “In a way, we’re technically gathering information on our target. And in this case, our target is Damian.”

Wally could tell that they were close to convincing them so he softly added on, “Plus, isn’t this technically just a faster way for us to get to know Damian? That’s what you wanted.”

The girl nodded, her lips pursed, and after a few minutes she spoke up, “Okay, let’s do it.” her eyes soon grew troubled. “But what if his brothers end up saying no?”

The speedster waved off the girl’s concerns. “Don’t worry,” he smiled, “This is an opportunity that they probably won’t be able to decline. Trust me.”

Wally’s was confident that they’ll agree to it.

Roundhouse had the biggest grin growing on his face, “We finally get to know more about Robin!” he excitedly said, “He’s always by himself. And he’s quiet. Really quiet”

His eagerness died down, sadly looking at the floor. “Does this mean he doesn’t like us?”

Crush snorted, “I don’t even know kid, I stopped trying to understand the brat a while ago.”

Wally and Emiko nodded in agreement.

The only times they willingly interacted with Damian was on the field. Because even though the kid sucked; he definitely knew what he was doing.

Emiko took her phone out, “I’m pretty sure that the bats have a game night in their little cave tonight.”

The team stared at her confused, “What does that even have to do with the discussion?”

Emiko rolled her eyes, “What I’m trying to say is that all of Damian’s eldest brothers are in their little Batcave.” she spoke slowly like she was talking to a bunch of babies. “Together. Playing a game. Probably without Damian.”

Roundhouse caught on, “So all we have to do is go to the cave and ask them if we can get Robin drunk.”

“How do you even know that?” Crush asked Emiko.

“Roy talks.” The archer shrugged, “A lot… especially if it’s about Jason.”

Crush jumped out of the couch in excitement, “That means we might be able to do this tonight!” She pointed at him, “Wally, go!”

“Right now?”

“Obviously, you dolt.”

“Why me?” he cried out, “You know how protective the bats are of their precious little cave.”

“Wally, go,” she repeated.

He didn’t budge. “Batman will kill me.”

“Batman doesn’t kill.”

“If someone just randomly enters his cave, he will.”

Crush looked like she wanted to punch him, “Wally, I fucking swear. Aren’t you and Nightwing like besties?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Just text the dude in advance,” Roundhouse suggested. “That way no one gets killed, and we get to learn more about Robin.”

Wally sighed, leaping to his feet as he spoke, his tone filled with faux-excitement. “Great, I can’t wait to go-“

His voice trailed off, noticing Damian walking in.

It looked like the brat was about to go use the zeta-tubes but he stopped, his head tilting as his gaze landed on the team, “Can’t wait for what?”

Wally looked around, his eyes desperate for an answer.

Luckily, Djinn answered for him, a bright smile on her face as she addressed Damian’s question. “We’re going to the movies! We wanted to do a bit of team bonding.”

That response made Wally want to laugh.

Don’t get him wrong, it was a believable excuse. It’s just-

He can’t even think of a single time that they invited their “leader” to a team hangout.

He wondered if Damian noticed the fact that they went out of their way to exclude him from everything except for missions.

And If he did, did he care?

His eyes watched as the kid nodded in acceptance. As if they even needed his permission to hang out.

Damian turned his back on them, calling out a “have fun” as he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

Well, that answered his question. Damian looked like he could care less. He didn’t even give them another glance.

He just immediately turned his back on them, walking away as if he owned the place.

It made Wally’s blood boil. Did the brat even notice that no one wanted him around?

He couldn’t wait and see just what secrets the brat hid underneath that perfect, little mask of his.

And Wally couldn’t wait to tear that mask apart.

————————————————————————

Note:

guess who finally started writing the one fic that almost everyone was waiting for.

me!!!

To be honest, I was kinda confused on how I was going to write the events of “I’m fine” from the other’s POV, then I realized that I could just write it using multiple chapters, so that’s what I did.

I know that a lot of people were waiting for this version, so hopefully you guys end up liking this installment, and if you have any comments, suggestions, and feedback, make sure to comment on them.

Also, I feel like I need to mention that, yes- I know that some of the characters are “out of character” in a way. Though, Damian does receive a whole lot of shit from them in the comics so at the same time they kind of aren’t ooc, if that makes sense.

I genuinely just wanted to write a Damian Wayne whump fic that I can go back too and cry about later. So if you don’t like it, then just don’t read it. No need to waste your energy writing hate comments that I’ll probably only laugh at later.

[girlactionfigure]

There's something I need to get off my chest.

I'm an Ultra-Orthodox, Chassidic, Hareidi Jew. I live in Jerusalem, in an area that is exclusively Ultra-Orthodox Hareidi for street after street, suburb after suburb, for miles and miles. In all of these neighborhoods where the roads are blocked off and no cars drive on Shabbos, each black-hat-wearing family has many many children and literally no TV’s. I personally only ever wear black and white clothes, my wife only dresses in Chassidic levels of tznius (modesty), and my boys and girls all attend mainstream Hareidi Chassidic schools where the main language is Yiddish. My kids don’t and never will have smartphones, nor have they ever been on the internet at all. Period. They don’t know what social media is and they’ve never seen a movie — not even Disney animation. 

Having lived exclusively immersed in this culture for the last 21 years, I think I'm sufficiently qualified and well-researched enough to state that the consistent depiction of Hareidim and Torah Judaism by mainstream media, from Netflix to the daily news, is somewhere between delusion, slander and the literal equivalent of racism. If you consider yourself less closed-minded than how you imagine we Hareidim to be, then permit me to share a few personal details about my family, and other families in our neighborhood, to see how well your mental narrative matches up to reality:

- Besides learning Torah each day, most of the men in our neighborhood work full or part-time.

- Many women in our area work. Some even manage their own business or company. These are not special or “liberated” women — it’s so normal here it’s not even a discussion point.

- My wife is a full-time mother by choice, who despite attending an Ivy League College,  finds it a profound and meaningful thing to dedicate her life to. If she didn’t, she’d go get a job. Mind you, she also attends Torah classes each week, works out with both a female fitness coach (who’s gay) and a frum Pilates instructor, writes and edits articles for a couple global websites and magazines, and personally mentors a number of women. None of this is seen as unusual. 

- Kids in our community go to Torah schools where they learn (surprise!) Torah. They are fluent in three languages from a young age and the boys even read and understand a fourth (Aramaic). All the kids learn grammar, math and science. Weekly after-school activities have included music (violin, drums, piano), Tae Kwon Do, swimming, art, woodworking and robotics. The girls' school teaches tools of emotional intelligence. The principal of the boys' school doesn't hesitate to refer to kids to OT if needed. I practice meditation with my children multiple times each week. None of our kids think the world is literally 6,000 years old. They devour books about science and think it’s cool. They know dinosaurs existed and don’t find that existentially threatening. They have a telescope with which they love to watch the stars. 

- The women in my family (like the men) only dress modestly according to Hareidi standards. The girls don't find this burdensome or oppressive. Period. They aren't taught that beauty is bad. They're certainly not taught to hate their bodies, God forbid. Each morning when they get dressed, they are as happily into their own fashion and looking pretty as any secular girl is. They just have a different sense of fashion than secular culture dictates. (Unfortunately for me,  it's no cheaper.)

- The local Hareidi rabbis we receive guidance from are deep, warm, sensitive, supportive and emotionally intelligent. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t go to them.

- My boys assume they will grow up to learn Torah, as much as they want to, and then when they’re ready, get a good job or learn a profession to support whatever lifestyle they choose. My girls assume they’ll be wives and mothers (which they can’t wait for) but they're also warmly encouraged to train in whatever other profession they desire. (My 9-year-old daughter, chatting with her friend in the living room, just commented, "I want to be a mother and a teacher and an artist." Her friend replied, "I'm going to be a ballet teacher.") All options are on the table, and their future seems bright.

- We love living in modern Israel, feel proud and blessed to be here, and frequently count and celebrate its blessings. Everyone in my area votes. Sometimes not even for Hareidi parties. I pay taxes. (And they’re expensive!)

- As a Hareidi person, I’m glad we have Hareidi representation in the government — though I don’t always love or approve of how the Hareidi politicians act, or what they choose to represent. For the record, I'm equally dubious about secular politicians, as well. 

- While I don't spend much time in Tel Aviv, I do have a few close Hareidi entrepreneur friends who have founded high-tech start-ups there, and are — Boruch Hashem! — doing very well.   

- We don’t hate all non-religious people. Our kids don’t throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos. I doubt they even know anyone who would do that or think that it’s ok. We frequently talk about the Torah value of caring for and being compassionate towards everyone. As a family, we proactively try to find ways to judge others favorably (even those people who throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos.)

- We invite all manner of religious and secular Jews to join our Shabbos meals each week and the kids are open, happy, and confident to welcome everyone. (No, we're not Chabad.) One of the many reasons for having such guests at our table is to teach the kids this lesson.

- While we would technically be classified as right-wing and we don’t at all buy the modern “Palestinian” narrative, we certainly don’t hate all Arabs, nor do we have any desire to expel them all from the land. We warmly welcome anyone seeking to dwell here with us in peace and we are pained and saddened to see the suffering and loss of lives of all innocent Arab families and children — as would any decent human being.

- Of the few local families I know whose kids no longer identify as religious, none at all chose to disown their kids. The very thought, in such lovingly family-dedicated communities, is hard to imagine. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, I'm just saying it's not as common as it's made out. Rather, these families have tirelessly, profoundly, compassionately committed to maintaining any connection with their children, and to emphasize that, no matter what, family is the most important thing. Because it is.

- We aren't just living our life blindly, dogmatically following empty religious rules; rather, we are frequently engaged with, exploring and discussing Torah's richness, depth and meaning. Our kids honestly love learning Torah, praying and doing mitzvos. They’re visibly excited about Shabbos and festivals. This lifestyle is in no way oppressive or burdensome for them. If you suggested to them it was, they’d laugh and think you were crazy.  

- We Hareidim are normal people: we laugh, we cry, we buy too much Ikea furniture, and we struggle with all of life's daily ups and downs, just like the rest of you. Some of our communities are more healthy and balanced, some are less so; some of our people are warmer, nicer and more open, some are more closed, dogmatic and judgmental; some of our leaders are noble and upstanding, and some are quite frankly idiots…JUST LIKE ANY SECULAR NEIGHBORHOOD IN THE WORLD TOO. But having grown up living a secular lifestyle myself, and today being Hareidi-by-choice, I can testify that in these communities there is generally a greater and more tangible sense of well-being, warmth, tranquility, connection and meaning. We love and feel blessed to be living this life and wouldn’t want any other.

If this description of Hareidi life is hard to swallow, be careful not to push back with the often-used defenses like: "Well, you're just an exception to the rule...", "You're just American Hareidim", "You're baalei teshuvah", "Well, I know a bunch of Haredim that aren't like that at all"....because the truth is, while there might be many Hareidim who aren't like what I described above, it's still an accurate description of literally hundreds of thousands of Hareidim in Israel and the US — a decent portion of all Hareidim in the world. Which is my very point — how come you never see this significant Hareidi demographic represented in the media, television series, or the news? How come we mostly see the darkest and most problematic cliches instead? 

And finally, if all the facts I've listed above about our communities are hard for you to accept as true, then perhaps the image you have in your head about Hareidim is less based on facts and reality and more based on stereotypes, fear, hate, and discrimination — like any other form of prejudice in the world. 

Care to prove me wrong? Well, you're welcome to come argue it out with me and my family at our Shabbos table on Friday night. It would be a joy and honor to have you. 

Doniel Katz

[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork! So fancy!

Midnight

Chapter 4 — The Ball

Summary: In which our heroine feels exposed

Chapter 4 of 7 on AO3

“Some day, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you”

-The Way You Look Tonight, Fred Astaire

Having spent several days eating her way through Misthaven with one eye on the lookout for black sedans, Emma was glad to be heading away from the town and the emotional memories the sight of a pub or gas station would cause. She wasn’t sure why one innocent night with Killian Jones continued to dominate her thoughts and hijack her dreams, but she feared seeing him again would push her over the edge.

That didn’t keep her from wanting to though.

On some level, she knew he had probably already forgotten her. Perhaps he did before the night was even over. Some other passenger might be walking around his place now, wearing his shirts and eating his pancakes.

Because when she dreamed about Door Number One, they always had pancakes for breakfast.

Despite her stubborn heart’s refusal to cooperate, the last couple of days had not been wasted. Arthur turned out to be a man of his word. Like a crazy fairy godmother who sprinkled cold hard cash instead of pixie dust and magic, he kept her supplied in the finest clothes and the chicest accessories. At the same time, he made sure her social calendar buzzed with invitations from a who’s who of Misthaven’s finest and wealthiest families. Events that inevitably threw her together with Lance more often than not.

It was at a garden soirée the previous day Lance had pressed to drive her out to Camelot, Arthur’s sprawling estate just a couple of hours away. Figuring the sooner she got the weekend over with, the better, she remained elusive only long enough to be convincing and then accepted his offer.

She already figured out Lancelot du Lac was a man who enjoyed the chase. She also discovered underneath his rakish exterior was someone who desperately wanted to find love while at the same time being deathly afraid of it. Normally, Emma wasn’t one to psychoanalyze. Still, the funny thing about rich people’s parties was that they were actually very dull, and she had nothing to do but regret not kissing the Captain before they parted ways or come up with profiles on the personalities she encountered.

Psychoanalysis seemed like the safer option.

Now she was waiting in the lobby of the Ritz for Lance’s foreign sports car to arrive so she could finally shake the dirt of this town off her feet. She hoped she could shake the lingering sadness as well. It was doing things to her. Things like making her hear the Captain’s voice in crowds.

“Swan! Swan! Emma, if you don’t turn around this instant—“

Excitement and abject horror battled for supremacy when she realized it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. As if in slow motion, she turned in the direction of his voice and her eyes met his across the vast space. Then she watched as Killian Jones began to sprint toward her, pushing people out of his way none too gently while managing not to crease his startlingly posh blue suit. This wasn’t the flirty Uber driver of a few nights ago, all leather and innuendo. Sure he had the same sex hair and twinkling blue eyes, but this man exuded power and authority and, quite frankly, looked more than a little pissed as he closed the distance between them with frightening speed.

Unaware of the drama playing out, one of the valets rushed to her and announced breathlessly, “Baroness, your ride has arrived.”

“I… I’ll be right there.”

Emma couldn’t break eye contact with him. His face was just as she remembered it, as it should since it was less than a week ago when she last saw him. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked frantic to get to her. He seemed to know she was contemplating an escape and he paused briefly, not caring who heard him when he called across the remaining ground between them, “So help me, Swan, if you run again, I swear I will—“

She didn’t hear the rest of what he said as a herd of visitors passed between them chattering loudly in some foreign language, the group taking photos of the architecture and potted plants as if they were worthy of remembrance. She had a brief opportunity to step out unseen under cover of the mob separating them. To forever give this man who haunted her the slip.

Or she could stay.

God, did she want to stay.

—

The estate was as lovely as one would expect. Ancient oak trees lined the drive and gave way to topiaries precisely cut into fantastical shapes as the car approached the main house. Lance regaled her with tales of the vast land Arthur inherited, the numerous homes on the property, and the complete absence of any cell or internet services once you crossed the boundary.

It seemed old man Soberano convinced himself the emerging technologies were a way for the government to spy on people and had forbidden, by way of his last will and testament, any cell towers or fiber lines from ever crossing the property. It was why as coveted as an acquaintance with the family was, people often grumbled when they received an invitation to the country estate rather than one of the other properties throughout the globe. The ancient landline phones served as the communication system for the large estate and the only connection to the outside world.

Of course, most of his ramblings went in one ear and out the other because she was too busy wondering why Killian had been at the Ritz in a suit that looked like it was made for him. She would know. After all, she was now in possession of a wardrobe filled with custom pieces and carefully tailored lines.

Was it a fluke encounter or was he still searching for her? He would give new meaning to the phrase ‘no stone left unturned’ if his sole reason for coming to the premier hotel in town was to look for the broke woman he gambled on and lost. Literally.

“Darling, I feel like you haven’t heard a word I said the whole journey,” Lance gently complained as he helped her out of the low seats of the car and up the grand stairs leading to the front door. He appeared genuinely distressed at her distance, and for the first time, she felt a twinge of guilt for the ridiculous game she was playing.

“I’m sorry. I had some bad news right before we left, and I’m a bit distracted,” she explained, allowing Lance to take her hand as they approached the Soberanos who were waiting for them in the foyer. Their linked hands did not go unnoticed by either of their hosts, although to widely different responses.

Learning she was at the opposite end of the mansion from Lance, the group moved to the second floor together. The servant leading them turned to Lance and said helpfully, “Good news, Mr. du Lac, we found the cuff link you lost on your last visit. It was in Madam Soberano’s sitting room.”

Sheepishly, he looked to Emma as if ready to offer an excuse. Unable to keep a chuckle from escaping at the crazy situation, she patted his arm and said, “The wind must have blown it in.”

With that, the group separated. Arthur replaced Lance at her arm and smiled indulgently at his protege. “You’re quite good. You have him eating out of your hand, and you’re not even trying.”

“I’ve met his type before. The less I try, the more he will. He’ll be begging me to divorce my husband and proposing before the end of the night at this rate,” she joked.

“You don’t know Lancelot du Lac,” Arthur argued. Their leisurely stroll through the second-floor gallery allowed her to see pictures of his ancestors back to the Norman invasion, but she noted there was none of him or his beloved wife who he was fighting so hard to keep.

“Well, you don’t know Emma Swan. He tried to give me an emerald the size of a baby’s fist today.” She had been tempted to pocket the jewel, but some small part of her knew what she was doing was wrong and robbing the man blind when she had no intention of ever returning his affections wouldn’t make it any better.

“Excellent! I won’t even deduct it from your pay if you promise to take him for all he’s worth and break his heart, dear. It will do him some good.”

“How are you still friends with him? Knowing what he’s doing with your wife. I can’t figure out if you’re the most understanding man in the world or absolutely crazy.”

Sighing, he sat down on one of the numerous benches that lined the gallery floor and patted the seat beside him. Emma didn’t know precisely how or when it happened, but he had become almost a friend after the deal was struck. She spent as much time with him as she did Lance and, despite the fact she thought he was extremely odd, she had grown fond of him. “Because I think he was trying to make her happy at first. I told you she wasn’t the only one to make mistakes. This whole thing is my fault. It was my foolish pursuit of wealth that drove her to this, endlessly trying to carve my name into the family tomes as one of the best empire builders in the dynasty. If I had been there for her, if I had just listened when she tried to tell me what she needed…well, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“I hope for your sake this works.”

“And I hope for your sake, the next time a man tries to give you an emerald, you keep it.”

“How do you know I didn’t keep it?”

“Because I think I’m starting to know Emma Swan,” he explained with a wink and smile before pulling her up and taking her to the east wing. Dropping her off at her room, he teased, “Get some rest, dear. Cinderella needs to be at her best for the ball.”

With a sardonic grin, she countered, “Hard to be at your best when you know every Cinderella has her midnight.”

Hours later, after a nap and a fortifying drink, she shrugged into her form-fitting green dress like it was battle armor. She was joking earlier when she said a proposal would be forthcoming, but she had no doubt Lance would make a proposition of some kind. The trick would be to keep him on the line without actually following through with anything.

She left her room as late as possible to avoid spending too much time around the pampered elite who were her housemates that weekend. While she had met a fair few during her crash course in Misthaven society, Arthur was the only one she didn’t mind having a conversation with, but he was unlikely to abandon Guin’s side to keep her company. Especially since it would put a damper on Lance’s pursuit.

Her destination was the expansive, three-tiered back deck, illuminated by thousands of clear fairy lights and a fair number of fireflies, the faint breeze carrying the briny smell of the ocean that lay only a few feet beyond their well-tended lawn. The men in tuxedos added a dashing contrast to their partners’ colorful evening gowns and cocktail dresses. A string quartet was playing off to the side; the beautiful melody drifted through the party in a way that enhanced the romantic atmosphere to a point it made her hurt.

She was surprised to see Arthur standing alone through the wall of windows. She stopped to take in the scene, complete with busy waitstaff and tables of food.

She couldn’t wait to get away.

“Alright, Guinevere, you want to talk, let’s talk. I have a few serious words to say.”

Silently moving until the curtains partially hid her, Emma watched as Lance and Guinevere made their way toward the patio. Guinevere’s eyes were red and she was fretting with a handkerchief gripped tightly between her hands. “As if you had two serious words in your whole vocabulary, Lance.”

“I could make a very noble speech. Tell you we were just two ships passing in the night, but the truth is, Arthur is my friend. I don’t want to break up a happy marriage. We’ve been playing with fire, but it’s better to end this now before someone gets hurt.”

“Funny how none of that mattered until the baroness showed up. I know you think you are in love with her. I can see it in your face every time she is around. You’re behaving like a schoolboy. You’re a darling, but you need to be careful. We don’t know anything about her. All we have is her word that she is who she says she is. I’ve asked around; no one has ever heard of her. Maybe her hair is dyed, and maybe she’s poisoned three husbands. Sidney told me there was some man calling her a swan and chasing her at her hotel today. It had all the staff talking.”

“You’re jealous, Guin.”

“Terribly. Fun, isn’t it?” The woman rushed from the room, tears flowing freely now. Emma didn’t move from her hiding place, instead waiting until he had joined the party before she followed in his footsteps.

—

As she predicted, Lance made sure he was her partner for most of the night. She followed Guin’s movements with alarm, knowing the woman was on edge and fearful of what she may do if she felt she had nothing to lose. Her glance met Arthur’s when she saw his wife and Sidney go inside, heads close together and a look of shock crossing Guin’s face. The other man nodded at her and trailed after them at a distance.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to let Lance lead her away from the party into the formal gardens spreading north of the patio. Perhaps she was tired of having to put a fake smile on her face, or maybe she was simply tired.

He kept a steady stream of conversation going, mostly unanswered on her side, and navigated them down an old stone path to a large fountain surrounded by benches and meticulously pruned rose bushes. “Please don’t interrupt, dear, but suppose we were to follow this path all the way to the garage and take my car for a ride through the countryside.”

“Oh, the make-believe game! It’s always been one of my favorites. But why stop at the countryside, Lance? Why not go on a tour of the moon while we’re at it?”

“I asked you not to interrupt,” he teased, pulling her arm through his and continuing to amble further away from the house. “You see, this isn’t some random trip. We have a particular place we are heading. A little estate by the lake where an opinionated old dame lives. It’s twenty ’til midnight. If we leave now, we can make it as dawn is breaking.”

Intrigued despite herself, she asked, “And what business would we have at this chateau by the lake?”

“I want you to meet my mother. To introduce you to her and tell her that I’ve met the one. Then the pale light of dawn will shine on the first day of our lives together.”

He was serious, and she felt like the lowest of human beings when she joked back, “I doubt the day will be the only thing breaking when that bombshell drops. Were we going to share the news with my husband before or after our visit?”

Before he could respond, Arthur called out from behind them on the path, “Baroness Jones, I believe you promised me a dance.”

He reached them seconds later with a pointed look at her. Although he was the picture of sophistication, she could tell by his quick pace something had happened. “A midnight dance as I remember.”

“Of course, please excuse me,” she murmured to Lance, who looked like he was about to protest as she took Arthur’s arm and allowed him to guide her back to the house. Keeping a calm expression on her face, she smiled and nodded to the people they passed and waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “What’s happened?”

“It’s midnight, dear. The ground has opened under our feet. That horrible friend of Guin’s, Sidney, did some digging and found out there is no Baroness Jones. They plan to make an announcement any moment now. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess, Emma.”

They reached the dance floor Arthur installed on the deck specifically for the party, but neither felt like dancing. Instead, they hovered along the back wall and waited for the troublesome pair to return from their scheming.

Sighing, she nudged his shoulder. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We never really stood a chance at this working.”

“But we were so close. I could feel Guin changing, turning back to me. Now I may as well help her pack her bags,” he replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one off to her. Clicking his glass against hers in a mock toast, he muttered, “Here’s to wasted years and endless torment.”

He downed the entire glass and, when she only took a sip, he reached out and downed hers as well.

She wasn’t sure what he had to be upset about. She was the one who was going to be exposed as a charlatan, forced to exit under the judgmental gazes of a house full of people who would dine on the story for months to come. Just as she was about to point out it could be worse, she saw Guin descend the stairs with Sidney hot on her heels. “Here we go.”

“I’ll stand by you as best I can,” Arthur promised, his hand coming to rest in the small of her back as if to provide some physical barrier against what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I have a moment of your time? As you know, Arthur and I pride ourselves on providing the best of entertainment at our parties, and I think you’ll find tonight’s will not disappoint. I have a story to share that I think will delight and amuse you. Under our roof tonight, we have a guest claiming one of the oldest names in European aristocracy.”

A murmur started in the crowd, musicians laying down their instruments, even the waitstaff and caterers ceased what they were doing. It seemed as if the entire universe held its breath waiting for Guin to continue. She could tell the woman enjoyed every moment of it.

“I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the heraldry of Cambridge nobility, but let me assure you that in all of England, there is no—“

From the patio entrance, the footman interrupted in a booming voice to announce the arrival of a late guest of note. “Baron Killian Jones.”

Emma had to grab Arthur’s arm to keep from falling when her knees buckled. In the soft light, the Captain looked like a fantasy. His dark hair mussed in a way that looked intentional, but she knew it resulted from repeatedly running his hand through it when he was frustrated. He was outfitted in a tuxedo, the crisp white shirt making his stubble seem even more dangerous in the moonlight. He surveyed the crowd looking for her, supremely unconcerned he had the attention of the entire party.

Arthur looked at the mysterious stranger and then took in her aghast expression and whispered, “Do you know him?”

At that moment, Killian’s eyes met hers and the heat she saw there made it difficult to think, much less speak. “Yes. Yes, I know him.”

“Right. All hope isn’t lost then,” Arthur said with forced cheerfulness as he disengaged her death grip on his arm and went to greet their visitor. In a loud voice, so nobody would have to strain to hear, he said, “Welcome to my home, my dear Baron. It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Despite the fact the men had never laid eyes on each other before, Emma observed the Captain as he quickly assessed the lay of the land and responded, “Yes, years and years. I hope you don’t mind me trespassing on your hospitality. I only just arrived in town and the hotel staff informed me my wife was spending the weekend here. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

“With such a charming companion, no one blames you,” Guinevere said smoothly, giving Sidney a look meant to quell any further talk and rushing to meet their newest arrival. “She’s kept us all so diverted this past week.”

Giving the woman a slight grin, he nodded. “I’m sure. She’s nothing if not diverting.”

Moving away from the Soberanos, he took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of her, mouth twisted in amusement and eyes on fire. He seemed to drink in the sight of her from the artless way the curls were falling down her back to how her hand was white-knuckled from holding on to a nearby chair.

“You found me.” Somehow her words sounded like both an accusation and a thank you. Her eyes searched his face for some clue as to why he was there.

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

Before anything else could be said, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. Plundering her mouth, not caring they had an audience numbering in the hundreds, he shifted his grip, one hand making its way to her hair and cradling the back of her head. The other drifted lower, moving her body until it pressed against the long length of his. The thin fabric of her dress allowed the heat of him to soak through to her skin which suddenly felt tight and she was desperate for more contact.

She leaned into him, allowing her hands finally to comb through the hair that had haunted her dreams. The silky strands provided a contrast to the rough drag of his facial scruff against her cheek, the feeling of him in her arms doing exactly what she wanted almost pushing her into sensory overload. She didn’t think, who could when faced with such an onslaught, her body moving on instinct. She moaned into his mouth, tongues tangling and tasting of champagne and need.

A throat cleared in the distance and reality came crashing back. Reluctantly, Killian pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and breathing unevenly.

With quiet wonder, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hungry to see my little wife.”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[masculinepeacock]

okay expanding on my nancy drew cw the librarians au:

Hannah Gruen - Jenkins - God, she's just so fucking tired of dealing with Librarians throughout history. None of them ever heed her advice to be more careful, and always insist on going along with their own bad ideas. But no group has ever been as bad as this one.

Bess Martin - Ezekiel Jones - Instead of just being a world class thief, she's also chosen by the Library because she's so good at playing whatever part she needs to. The Library usually employs people are. Well. A little nerdier. They really needed someone as charismatic as Bess.

Ned "Nick" Nickerson - Jacob Stone - Nick, who's a secret literary genius but keeps it buried because quiet frankly he doesn't need the extra complication in his life. He was chosen by the Library right as he was going into juvie, and when he got out, he really didn't think they'd want a mechanic working at their library. Except the Library is always right, and it thinks Nick is a perfect candidate.

Ace [Redacted] - Cassandra Cillian - Ace has spent his whole life in the company of computers, especially since he spent so long in the hospital since his family's car accident as a child. Computers and math are easier than people, and it was computers who helped teach him ASL to communicate with his dad. When he gets invited to the Library, he assumes that it's a mistake, or a prank, especially since it seemed so prestigious. He also thought it might be a sting operation, hacking into witsec to find your long lost half brother will make you a little paranoid.

George Fan - Eve Baird - George isn't a soldier like Eve, she's "just" a waitress, but that makes her perfect to protect this ragtag group of people. She fights a lot dirtier than Baird does, and she's willing to be a meaner if it means getting the job done. She understands that sometimes in order to get people to listen to you, to take you seriously, you have to get in their face. (Also, she's not a total square and encourages Bess and Ace's skills in the criminal arena) (George may not have a gun but she does a crowbar she swings with surprising efficiency)

Nancy Drew - Flynn Carson - This one is fun, Nancy is already the Librarian when she realizes that the people on the Library's short list are dying. Of mysterious circumstances. So now she and her Guardian, which she doesn't need, and doesn't get along with, have to find them all, and save them. She picks up this ragtag group of people, and while she usually likes to work alone, she's smart enough to recognize when things go smoother. Besides, these people were actually pretty smart, and she can feel the shift in the magic world as things are beginning to be awakened that shouldn't be. She's gonna need all the help she can get.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 9: House of Bangtan

“That won’t be necessary,” you immediately said.

Hoseok shook his head while smiling. “I think it’s about time we get to know each other. Or what do you think, Jimin?”

Jimin stood next to Taehyung, chatting quietly when he turned around. “Did we really buy enough food for all of us?” he asked hesitantly.

“We bought the amount we usually do,” answered Hoseok. “And I seriously doubt she eats more than Jungkook.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak but Hoseok stopped him. “You don’t get to say anything,” he interjected. “What do you think Jungkook would say or do if he saw the way you treated (Y/N)?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t even like us,” said Taehyung stiffly. “He told me she refuses to go to the concerts or support him. She wouldn’t even congratulate him on our first win.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. “He has never invited me. I only came yesterday because my best friend had a ticket available. Jungkook even explicitly told me several times that he didn’t want me to come.”

“I sense a liar.”

“Taehyung,” said Hoseok before you could respond. “I know you’re hungry, but let’s stop with the accusations. There must be a reason why you two disagree. Let’s just invite (Y/N) on dinner so we can talk about it and get to know who exactly Jungkook’s mysterious family friend is. You can get to rummage through his wardrobe as well,” he told you.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I have to get back to the hospital,” you lied. Okay, not completely since you had no idea what terror Jungkook might had spread among the hospital staff so far. But the first part was untrue. You were definitely not up for eating with six strangers, of which at least one was furious at you. “I only need his clothes.”

But then you got an idea. They had lived with Jungkook for the last couple of years, meaning they would know a lot more about him than anyone else, maybe even his parents. Perhaps a dinner wasn’t the worst way to get more information that might help you restore Jungkook’s memories.

Perhaps befriending the Bangtan Boys would benefit all.

“Besides,” you added shyly with this new plan unfurling in your mind. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please,” said Hoseok with a soft snort. “I wouldn’t invite you if I thought you would be intruding. Everyone has been curious about you and Jungkook ever since we first heard of you… what, five or so years ago? But I understand if you need to get back to the hospital.”

You checked your phone and pretended to contemplate whether you could stay or not. Jungkook would survive an additional hour or so. “I mean, I told Jungkook I would be back by six. School ended a bit earlier than I expected though, so I do technically have some time to spare...”

“Then you’ll eat. We bought too much food anyways.” He held out his hand. “I’m Jung Hoseok - J-Hope on stage.”

You shook it. “(Y/F/N).”

“I know.” He grinned.

Hoseok released your hand and walked toward the elevator doors. Taehyung pushed the button calling for the elevator, ignoring you as you approached the three guys.

“Park Jimin, but mostly just Jimin.”

After returning the grocery bags to Hoseok, Jimin held out his hand. You shook it also and repeated your name, then glanced at Taehyung. Jimin and Hoseok communicated wordlessly through their eyes when Taehyung refused to greet you.

“That’s Kim Taehyung,” said Jimin finally as he turned his focus back toward you.

“Don’t mind him,” said Hoseok. “He’s behaving irrationally, but only because he cares for Jungkook. He’s not a bad person.”

You nodded. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand the guy. In fact, he was behaving much better than you would have should the roles have been reversed.

The elevator doors slid open and the four of you entered. Taehyung pressed the button for the ninth floor and the doors closed. He stood as far away from you as he could as the elevator took you up.

“So, (Y/N), how long have you known Jungkook?”

“Probably from the time I was born, since he was out in the world before me,” you told Hoseok. “What about you?”

“Since he was fourteen or fifteen,” he replied, then assumed a teasing expression. “He was shorter even than Jimin is now at the time he came to us.”

“Hey!” Jimin glared at Hoseok. “I have grown, too!”

“You have? I haven’t noticed.”

Jimin looked as if though he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself when he noticed you looking at him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“He still doesn’t remember us, right?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you said, feeling responsible for the hurt in his voice, then guilty when he glanced at you with hope in his eyes. You should have formulated yourself better. “...in the way that he might have miraculously regained his memories during the day. But the situation seemed unchanging this morning.”

Jimin merely nodded and looked away again.

“But I do have news that I would like all of you to hear,” you said, suddenly realizing you held a piece of information they most likely didn’t know. “I don’t know if Sejin has updated you on the situation but, there is still something we can do in order to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

The elevator came to a slow stop and its doors glided open on the ninth floor. Yet none of the people in the small space moved, including you.

“What?”

Taehyung frowned at you. Hoseok and Jimin stared at you.

“There’s a way to restore him,” you clarified. “Jungkook might still be able to perform with you in Japan.”

“That’s not important,” said Taehyung.

“Who cares about that,” agreed Hoseok. “Are you absolutely certain, (Y/N)? Is there a way to return him his memories?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile as you stopped the elevator door from closing. “I would like to explain it to all of you, if it’s possible. Are the three remaining members at home?”

“I would think so,” said Jimin. “Or did Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung say they were going to the studio?”

“Not what I remember,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon is supposed to help Jin-hyung with dinner today. And Yoongi-hyung is probably asleep as usual the day after a concert.”

“Let’s hurry then,” said Taehyung and was first out of the elevator.

You followed them into their apartment. Now, you hadn’t expected a home of seven dudes to be the cleanest in the world, but this was far beneath your usual standard. What had probably been equipped to handle a family of four or perhaps five, had turned into a home for seven bachelors, to be frank. You could only imagine how often they ordered Chinese food or fought for dominion over the two bathrooms you spotted on each end of the slim hallway running through the apartment.

Taehyung was quickest out of his sneakers and hurried down the hallway, with Hoseok following closely behind. “Hello? Is everyone home?”

“We’re back!” Hoseok called cheerily. “And we have a guest!”

You tried not to stare at the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with shoes and various beauty products that completely covered the eastern wall of the hallway. They were lucky no earthquakes occurred on the regular in Korea.

“‘A guest’?” came the muffled response, probably from behind a door.

“It’s a girl!” answered Jimin.

You tentatively zipped out of your boots, but kept your jacket on and the duffel bag still in your hand. Jimin had to unlace his shoes and leaned into the wall as to let you pass. You padded down the hallway, which opened up into a small dining room adjacent to a living room that was more like a storage room. Or actually, everywhere seemed to be the storage room. There were clothes and accessories and random items literally everywhere you looked. You weren’t a cleaning saint, but living even a week there would have driven you mad due to the disarray.

You didn’t know if that’s what made the apartment look much smaller than you initially had anticipated. Though homey, it felt cramped. Unorganized.

Frankly, it was a complete mess.

Around the corner of the hallway, almost like in a slim but deep alcove, was the kitchen. The mat-white glass separators had been pushed aside, allowing Hoseok to walk to and from the dining table where he and Taehyung had placed their grocery bags. He gradually filled the fridge and the tiny cupboards with their buys and smiled at you as he passed. “Anything to drink?”

You shook your head.

“Not even water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a seat,” he told you. “The others are probably getting dressed.”

You frowned, but his gaze was too knowing and his smile a bit too teasing for you to ask what he had meant by that. Taehyung stood alone by the small dining table, tapping impatiently with his fingers on one of the chairs as he looked from one closed door to another. He ignored you again, but his eyes narrowed when you chose a chair to sit on.

“Er,” you tried, knowing you and your parents had untold, designated places around your rarely used dining table. “Is this your seat?”

“That’s Jungkook’s.”

Great. If there was any kind of Jungkook-related gambling game out in the world, you would be its grandmaster.

Before you could come up with an adequate reply, however, one of the bedroom doors opened, revealing Rap Monster - or rather, Kim Namjoon - and Kim Seokjin, stage name Jin. Both looked as if though they had gotten dressed in a hurry: the tag to Namjoon’s shirt protruded from his neck and one leg was shorter than the other on Seokjin’s jeans.

Taehyung frowned at them as they exited. “You don’t usually hang out in hyung’s room,” he stated, nudging his head toward Namjoon to signify whose room it was.

“We were discussing whose socks these are,” said Namjoon as he held up something white. His eyes found yours and rounded in surprise.

“We figured they were Jungkook’s,” added Seokjin and nodded, also looking at you instead of Taehyung. “Besides, he is sleeping in our room.”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

Jimin and the last remaining member of BTS emerged from the obscurity of the hallway. Suga, whose real name you had learned was Min Yoongi, regarded you with the same expressionless eyes he had when you first had met. His voice was low like Taehyung's, but whereas the latter’s voice was breathy and admittedly felt like soft, warm velvet, Min Yoongi’s voice was raspy, hollow almost.

“Well then, we’ve all gathered.” Hoseok crumbled up the plastic bags with one hand and gestured toward you with the other. “Guys, this is (Y/F/N). She has some news we all need to hear regarding Jungkook.”

“Hoseok-hyung also invited her on dinner,” said Taehyung sternly.

“Which she agreed to stay on,” said Jimin.

“Er, alright.” Namjoon approached you as he tossed the socks sideways behind him. He held out his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon,” he greeted.

Seokjin stepped forward after you had shaken hands with Namjoon. “Kim Seokjin,” he said as you took his hand. “I hope you like your ddukbokki extra spicy - Kim Namjoon doesn’t know when to stop seasoning. And did you finally buy the right kind of gimbab, Hoseok?”

“Of course,” replied Hoseok. “Everything’s on the counter, it’s just for you two to start cooking.”

“We should take care of (Y/N)’s business first.”

Min Yoongi didn’t offer you his hand. You tried not to think about what that meant, but since Taehyung had disregarded introducing himself to you as well, you had an idea. Yoongi went past you, took a chair and gestured for everyone to do the same.

You did your best to avoid Taehyung’s face as you sank down on what you now knew was Jungkook’s usual seat. You moved to scratch your arm when you realized you were still wearing your jacket. It was fortunately warm inside their apartment - the floor heat soothing your usually cold feet - but rapidly getting a bit too hot for comfort inside your winter jacket. Still, it felt odd to spare a moment to shrug it off when the topic you would touch on was so urgent.

“So…” you began in a quiet tone. Their attention felt like bright spotlights on you and you fidgeted nervously in the chair. “There might be a way to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

[crossdressingdeath]

I know you'll probably disagree with me, but i rlly hate the Cloud recessess ending. It's just....

Those elders killed wwx. The Lans were 100% ready to murder both at Qiongqi path but also at the siege. They see him as the guy who corrupted their precious jade. They all preach righteousness, but the whole madam Lan thing is iffy at best and i do not believe that everyone there fully believes the rules. Hell, i have a special bone to pick with the " do not gossip" rule, seeing as gossip had been the main info route for women in patriarchal societies.

I just don't think that after wwx killed Lans in the siege they'd be all that willing to forgive him and take him in w open arms. The juniors and kids love him, yes, but people who saw the war....

Not to mention the whole " do not speak to WWX " rule. I've seen ppl say it's a joke but it's On The Wall. It's supposed to be followed. Even if it was intended as a joke - which i don't believe - it's very cruel for someone w rejection and trust issues.

I also hate it from a very personal perspective. I see Wwx as ND, and, as an ND myself, all those rules terrify me. From the no running and the proper posture ones, i can pretty well imagine they forbid stimming. The Lan curfew would fuck anyone with insomnia and there's smth deeply ucked up abt the " do not grieve in excess". I get that they're supossed to be a paragon of the best things at all time, and that LJY is very UnLan like, but for someone w anxiety who CAN'T follow those rules, it would be a nightmare.

...Some points:

First, the Lan elders did not kill WWX, nor did they attack him unfairly. They weren’t looking at him as the man who corrupted LWJ, either, or at least that wasn’t their primary concern (I will never forgive CQL for suggesting they were or it was); they were looking at him as a traitor to the sects who was raising an army to destroy them. Remember, that is the information the Lans had. Every source they had except for LWJ (who the people he would have gone to would have known was biased and who presumably everyone knew had recently been in close contact with WWX where he could have been manipulated or enchanted in some way), sources which included multiple sect leaders (one of whom was WWX’s brother) and LXC’s dear friend, swore up and down that WWX was a major threat, and let’s face it, WWX didn’t do much to dissuade people from thinking that! Acting like the Lans were maliciously targeting WWX is doing them something of a disservice, I’d say. They acted based on the knowledge they had available; note how the Lans are the first to offer WWX their help once they’re given reason to believe he may not be a villain! And even aside from that, saying they killed WWX (and not JGS and JGY’s manipulation or JC’s army) feels a bit like scapegoating, honestly. Of the four sects, the Lans are quite possibly the least responsible for WWX’s death. If it would hurt him to live with or around anyone who held any responsibility for his death his only option would be to live as a hermit, which would be far worse for him. And yeah, the Lans aren’t perfectly righteous all the time and some morally dubious things have been done by Lan sect members; they’re human, after all! Some of them will only be as moral as their sect leader demands they be! That doesn’t mean the sect as a whole is bad, especially with LXC, LQR and LWJ in charge. Certainly I’d say they’re still better than the other sects, all things considered. One ambiguous situation that may or may not have involved some members of the previous generation doing some fucked up shit doesn’t mean WWX would for sure be mistreated! 

As for gossip... there’s a difference between sharing information and gossiping. There’s no evidence that the Lan women are blocked from... y’know, freely communicating and sharing information between themselves. We have no reason to believe they are reliant on gossip. Also they presumably go out night hunting just like the men? Men and women are kept separate in the Cloud Recesses, but I get the sense that that’s more like... school stuff than anything else. The women aren’t exactly locked up, they can be cultivators! The society is still sexist, but that doesn’t mean they’re kept from going out and doing things. And I need to make this clear: there is a fair chance that the rule against gossip saved LWJ’s life, because it kept word of him defending WWX from the sects from spreading to people who would not be willing to let bygones be bygones. Gossip sucks! It hurts people! A lot of this story (and more to the point the suffering of the characters within the story) happens because of gossip! The Lans banning gossip is pretty clearly supposed to be a good thing, I’d say.

And yeah, maybe after WWX killed a bunch of their sect the Lans wouldn’t accept him with open arms as if nothing ever happened! And that’s fair! I can’t imagine where WWX could go where that wouldn’t be the case, unless he and LWJ chose to abandon the cultivation world forever. But you know what else the Lans won’t do? Try to execute him. Or from what we see in the extras even dwell on the past that much. No, the Lans aren’t going to immediately forgive WWX and bring him into the fold without a moment’s hesitation, but you know what? They accept his marriage to LWJ! They let him supervise the juniors on night hunts! They consider him part of their sect! Honestly, that is all WWX can really ask and far more than he’d get from any other sect. There are consequences for what WWX did, even though he wasn’t the villain or necessarily trying to hurt anyone, and frankly people not being entirely comfortable with his presence is very much reasonable.

The “do not speak to WWX” rule may not be a joke, but it’s also pretty clearly not a serious rule. No one takes it seriously. The juniors (the only people WWX really talks to anyway aside from LXC and LWJ) only pay it the minimum lip service of talking to him off the path. WWX himself sure as hell doesn’t care! He clearly finds it pretty damn funny. And I don’t think a guy who has never liked him once again proving he does not like him (in a way that is clearly temporary given how later LQR invites WWX to the Lan family banquet with... reasonable amounts of grace, thereby implicitly accepting him as LWJ’s husband and therefore his own family by marriage) counts as a rejection or a breach of WWX’s trust? Like, LQR has literally always hated WWX. He isn’t preventing WWX and LWJ from spending time together or shutting WWX out of the Cloud Recesses or even making a concentrated effort to keep people from talking to him; he’s venting his frustrations, but if he really intended to block WWX from taking part in life in the Cloud Recesses he would’ve done a hell of a lot more than just make a rule who no one WWX likes follows anyway. It’s a temper tantrum, that’s all, and clearly that’s what WWX takes it as. I mean, if nothing else you can’t ban people from talking to the sect heir’s spouse indefinitely. That’s just not sustainable.

As for the rules... banning people from running in the Cloud Recesses and demanding proper posture during lessons doesn’t suggest to me that they wouldn’t allow stimming? ‘No running’ at least is a common rule... most places. It’s distracting, and can be dangerous. And the rule about sitting properly doesn’t mean “Don’t move at all ever”; it means... well, “sit properly”. Don’t slouch or sprawl across the floor. I see no reason why that wouldn’t preclude means of stimming that wouldn’t be disruptive (and given this is in a classroom environment “not disruptive” is kind of important). I mean, those rules certainly don’t suggest that they’re any worse than other sects, and given this is the sect that has magic music for calming people’s minds if any sect would give allowances for neurodivergence it would be this one. Also I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a song to put people to sleep, or medication that can help; this is a world with magic, after all, and if there’s a song that can put spirits to rest there are probably songs for human medicine and care. And of course there’s an element of conflicting needs; maybe the rules would screw you over, but frankly firmly enforced rules keeping people from running around or sprawling out of their seats would’ve been a godsend for me in school, given how much trouble I had focusing with people making noise around me. At the end of the day, is it guaranteed that the Lans would make allowances for people with needs that conflict with the Lan rules? No. But I’d argue it’s more likely that they would than any other sect. This is ahistorical fantasy ancient China, too; you can only expect so much in the mental health department. Still, a sect that literally invented magic music for calming the mind actually seems like the best choice for people with anxiety and such. There’s a reason why there are multiple fics that essentially set the Lans up as mental health experts in the setting!

Basically, a lot of your arguments seem to be issues that WWX would have in any sect. Unless he wanted to give up on the support of a sect altogether, they’re all things that he would have to work through or come to terms with. And of course... the most important point is that WWX is happy in the Lan sect. The extras make that clear. He has a home, duties that he enjoys performing, the love of his family and the support of his sect. He’s happy. I just... I do not understand why people keep feeling the need to try to make it angsty when the novel makes it clear that he genuinely enjoys his life in Gusu, and more than that that if he ever decided he didn’t enjoy it he could leave at any time. You have to remember that: if WWX wanted to leave... he would. He and LWJ would just go, and only come back occasionally so that LWJ could visit his home. Hell, LWJ would insist on leaving for WWX’s sake. So like... the Lan sect wouldn’t suit everyone, but WWX is quite content there and doesn’t want to leave. He’s happy and free to come and go as he wishes; there really isn’t anything to be concerned about there.

[popatochisssp]

Am I allowed to ask what happens when the Empire discovers the rogue diamonds? If you dont have the time feel free to just delete this uwu

In terms of how it goes down, it’s definitely a case of Pointing Spiderman Meme meets Caveman Spongebob Meme!

Red and Black Diamond  (the Underfells) are always out at the furthest reaches, looking for new territory to conquer or claim, and it’s not unthinkable that they might, entirely by chance, come across a downright antique vessel that’s nonetheless in perfect working order--and very obviously gem-tech.

They hail it and as soon as the feed connects and each pair of diamonds realizes they’re looking at another pair of diamonds, it’s basically a very dignified, perfectly calm and measured......... Okay, it’s not even remotely like that, just a very loud, “YOU!!!” and then a lot of barked and half-sputtered questions and demands while they all try to get answers from each other.

Eventually, when the dust is settled and all the diamonds know about each other, the Outer Galaxy Diamonds are invited to Homeworld, to visit or maybe see if they can find a niche to fill...?

Pink and Olive (the Horrorswaps) visit and decide they’d like to stay. It seems to them that not all that much effort is being put into proper recording and preservation of gem history--and considering it’s apparently a giant blank before a certain point, that’s kind of an embarrassing oversight!

Olive rolls up his sleeves and gets to digging around in the archives they do have, cleaning up and organizing and maintaining records with meticulous detail--in triplicate and not only in digital format.

Pink goes out and even sometimes off-planet a little more, actually getting his hands dirty with the restoration and preservation of historic gem buildings and sites that might otherwise be demolished to make way for newer things or forgotten altogether.

Their combined efforts spark a greater interest in gem history and heritage and they’re both very happy about that.

Cubic and Moissanite (the Underglooms) decide to stay on Homeworld, too, and in searching for some area to be of use, they realize that the only diamond even remotely handling recreation is Orange Diamond--maybe they can help there somehow? Orange, who is unfortunately often busy as the figurehead of the Empire and can only make time to host about a third as many balls and galas as he’d like to, thinks that’s a fantastic idea and welcomes their support wholeheartedly!

Cubic starts to monitor (at least for Homeworld gems) logs of cycles worked and downtime taken/given, picking out trends and calling out areas (and supervisors) with bad ratios of the two.

Moissanite regularly digs through accounts and images of colonies and gem-occupied planets and drafts up (what are essentially) ads and travel brochures for them, so that gems who need to go somewhere to take a break can find just what they’re looking for.

Both of them--independently and sometimes together--also start regularly patronizing Sea Spires and Gardens and such, trying to get gems excited about going to visit them. It works pretty well because the Imitation Diamonds are celebrities of a sort, a notch or so down from the legitimate political powers that are the Diamonds, but still very big and sparkly gems that are Diamond-adjacent and it’s actually a big deal to hang out where they hang out; where you might even get to see one of them! In person!

Cloudy and Pepper (the Horrorswapfells) visit, but ultimately have no interest in staying longterm. It’s too loud and busy and structured for their tastes, as gems who’ve never really been part of a caste system like that. They return to their ‘colony’ where they’re basically benevolent gods whose only responsibility is to look after some organics that mostly look after themselves anyway. ...Still, it becomes gemkind’s worst kept secret that if you feel you can’t fit into Homeworld’s society, or if you don’t want to, or if you’re trying to escape something or someone--you can always run to their colony to find a little sanctuary.

Cloudy doesn’t mind showing runaways how to relax and what’s to do for fun around here. So many gems who really just need to deprogram a bit and just be who and what they are...

Pepper finds he likes looking after and protecting the new arrivals, like fulfilling his purpose but without having to be on Homeworld to do it.

Both are quite happy to use their Diamond strength and status as a shield for any gem that comes calling looking for so-and-so-- plenty of “how should i know if your pearl is here? you’re bothering a diamond over this?” and “TELL YOU WHAT-- COME GET YOUR SEA GLASS. I MAY BE DEFECTIVE, BUT IF YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN CHALLENGE A DIAMOND...”

Raw & Champagne (the Horrorfells) have...a bit of a conundrum... In that one wants to stay and one wants to go. Homeworld is...fine, but Raw is pretty keenly aware that he doesn’t really Fit into it, too unrefined to find any niche truly comfortable. Champagne is, of course, perfect and could find someplace to fit quite easily, becoming the Diamond and leader he was always meant to be. ...But he finds himself conflicted, not wanting to leave Raw to go back out into the universe alone or to force him to stay somewhere he’d be miserable and out of place. Luckily, they figure out a compromise.

Raw doesn’t really know what to make of it when his brother tells him to go gather up as many off-colors and defectives and broken gems that want to be elsewhere, but he’s liked those kinds of gems the best since they got here, so he does just that.

Champagne graciously offers his assistance in lightening some of Yellow Diamond’s workload, guiding and steering and shaping the course of their collective society. ...He’ll be doing this work remotely, of course, as he and his brother will be returning to the abandoned sectors from whence they came, reestablishing and reinhabiting those places that were obviously supposed to be part of the Empire. Red and Black can expand into new areas, and he and Raw will retake the old.

Lots of defective and off-color gems are very happy to find a place they can really be both seen and useful! Things were okay on Homeworld, it’s not like there were any crazy shattering policies if you weren’t perfect, but if you didn’t fit in, you kinda knew it. Raw seems quietly, flatteringly fascinated by all of them and Champagne has a knack for figuring out what they can do, if not what they were made for and for some gems, it’s just a better place to be!

Eventually, much much later, the Chameleon Diamonds (the Gastertales) run into somebody or another and pretty much the same thing happens-- a lot of exclamation points and confusion, followed by a tentative offer to check things out and see if they want to find a place to fit in.

Reverse wants frankly no part of Homeworld. Neither he nor his brother have any memory of being Void, the founder of this civilization, and so there’s no real affiliation with or responsibility for gemkind. He wants to get back out there into the universe and get back to living life and exploring...but he’s not going to leave without his brother.

Classic doesn’t really want to stay either. The rigidity of society is hard to adjust to when all you’ve ever really known is total freedom, and he’d also very much like to be back out observing the observable universe as soon as possible. Unfortunately... he does feel a responsibility to stick around for at least a little while. Brown Diamond was quite insistent on it as well and with his motives explained, Classic agreed fully--though it’s a stay of moral obligation at best.

They both dip literally the moment they can, taking communicators with them but honestly with no intention of ever coming back save for some emergency where they were desperately needed. The universe is infinite and time not spent out in it feels wasted!

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x12: Don't say we'll have to let it go...

After a very stressful morning and several moments in which I was close to a full sanity slip completely unrelated to this, it is high time (heck, it's the highest of times, if you know what I mean) I got to the new HSMTMTS, the last one for a while.

I'm honestly scared, though. This morning I thought nothing could make me more nervous today than the whole ordeal I had to go through, but now that I'm here, I'm super scared and anxious. I don't even want to say it, but... what if this is... you know what I'm thinking. We're all thinking it. I just hope we're wrong in a good way.

I feel like I might die of anxiety, so I guess I'll just dive in. Whatever will be, will be.

Supportive Nini is best Nini. Honestly, I haven't liked her all season as much as I do now. The background, behind-the-scenes role seems to fit her a lot better than the lead. I hope to see more of her like this when (fingers crossed!!!) the show comes back.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, is a perfect lead. She was born for this, and it shows. It shows so much that everybody has finally noticed it. They took their time, didn't they?

Ugh, I hate, hate, hate this kind of moment that happens every time when someone has prepared a surprise for someone else — and we saw that twice this season — once with Carlos at his Quinceañero, and now with Ashlyn. I mean the moment before they find out about the surprise and they feel like they've been forgotten and it's all so sad... at least I know whatever my boy Reddy has planned for his girl will make up for that sort of feeling. I can't wait!

Ahhhhh @redlyncentral you called it! You called it big time! I can't say I wasn't expecting it to be something like this, though, because I trust your sixth sense more than I trust mine — and I trust mine a lot. Also, if anyone deserves to have their name in lights, it's Ashlyn. And remember when she told Big Red that, to make things light up, he just had to walk into a room? Or when he told her that the only thing he'd throw at her was a brighter spotlight? You know, I think that, just like airports are Portwell's thing, lights are Redlyn's thing. And that is so beautiful... I am legitimately crying.

Yikes... see, it's one thing when Nini calls Ricky 'Richard'. But it's another thing entirely when Kourtney calls Howie 'Howard'. Gosh, I hope they clear things up. If Howie has something to say (as in, some secret to come clean about, if you catch my drift), he'd better do it now. I was never too invested in Kowie, but it still hurts to see tension between them.

Ok, but... these two are too dorky for words! I mean, you're telling me Howie was acting that way just because of how nervous Kourtney's talent made him? Oh well, I feel like I can understand that, actually. She's a powerhouse. But also, everyone around here needs to learn a lesson or two from Redlyn. About communication, reciprocity, expression of feelings... it's no accident that they're the parents of the drama club. But this is not about them. Oh, who am I kidding? With me, everything is about them. Unless it's about Seblos or Portwell. Never mind. Moving on.

I am trying very hard not to have a visible or audible reaction because my brother is in the room and I'm supposed to be working, but... EJ had his dad put in a good word for Mr Mazzara at Caltech. And that is something that makes me feel feelings I can't very easily put into words. Also, what does that mean for Mr M's future at East High?

As clear as the imprint of Jamie's words is to see on EJ's face, I feel like he's not giving up on Portwell quite yet. 'Play it by ear' sounded quite promising to me, all things considered.

Not Ricky and Nini writing the same thing in slightly different words... again! I absolutely get why people ship them, at least on the surface level I do, but I really can't see them as a couple anymore. That is not to say, however, that I'm not rooting for them on their way to figuring out how to be 'just' friends. (See, I'm not a big fan of the expression 'just friends', as if it's something less than a romantic relationship, so...) They could be the best friends ever. If, and only if they learn to communicate properly. All kinds of relationships require good communication. I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but, you know, if it's true...

I can't look at Miss Jenn the same way after last week's episode. The Menkies have turned her, quite frankly, into a monster. She's too obsessed with beating Zacky Roy to notice how she's treating her students who have always been nothing but devoted to her and the play. Well, some of them anyway... I feel like it's time for Carlos to reconsider his opinion of her... and I know it must be painful, and the least thing I'd ever wish for him is pain, but... sometimes certain painful things are necessary. I just hope everyone comes out of this alright. I think I might not, though. I've been crying for a while already.

No... why is Gina crying? My girl needs a hug... Oh, here comes Nini. This seems like it's been a long time coming.

This was beautiful... only one character played by an actress named Olivia will be redeemed today. And it's the right one, if I do say so myself.

Alright, who called it? Gina connecting Nini with her brother about her music, I mean. I know for a fact someone here called it. If you happen to be that genius and you read this, please come forward in the notes to get the credit you deserve. This is... a little too perfect to be true, but I feel like it's the best way to connect and wrap up several storylines with one blow. And I love when that happens. Gosh, why does this feel like a series finale? Please tell me I'm wrong. I am not ready. I will never be ready. Ok, maybe one day I will be, but not anytime soon. Please tell me my feeling is deceiving me this time.

Oh, good, it's being addressed. The 'jump off of something high' comment, I mean. It would have been wrong not to address it. I kind of really liked the way they did it, too. Also, 'getting there' really is the most accurate answer to the question whether Ricky is happy. I feel like he's got a long way to go before he does get there, but he really is closer to that destination than he's been in a while. This boy deserves all the happiness. He's been through way too much. And I'm glad Miss Jenn is finally seeing her part in his struggles throughout the year.

Ahhh it's the song! I've been so excited for it all week, ever since that teaser leaked. But, once again: why does this feel like a finale? I want to curb my anxiety and watch this episode with a free mind, but the episode itself just isn't helping me. Ok, let's go back to the song for now. Whatever will be, will be.

No... EJ's verse... just no. Somebody tell that boy not to be so hung up on the words of somebody who doesn't even know who Gina is today. I've had 'the majestic S.S. Portwell' for a couple of weeks and I'm not ready for it not setting sail after it was almost out of the... port(well). Have I ever told you I make bad puns when I'm anxious?

Carlos doesn't even remember being on stage... that's too relatable to be overlooked. See, I used to perform on stage (I've decided to quit for good now and it makes me cry only slightly), and that has always been how I've felt about it. I feel like my favourites are who they are because I relate to each one of them to an extent — some are who I think I am, some are who I used to be, and some are who I wish I could become... and so much more on top. I'm being so emotional. I'm not ready to let these kids go. Please someone tell me I won't have to, at least not quite yet.

The Wildcats' reaction to... Capital-B-witch and Fake-French-Git-who-is-apparently-French-for-real (as I've taken to calling those two because calling them by their real names would mean showing them respect which they don't deserve) was exactly the same as mine. No one invited them there. They're not supposed to be there. Someone kick them out.

'Big Red... you were... also there!' Um, excuse you, he was not just 'there'! I mean, I know we didn't get to see him on stage (we've been robbed!!!), but I'm sure he was the most amazing LeFou to ever grace a theatre stage. That being said, we have been robbed! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I want to see what Big Red's reaction will be. I've been fantasising about this moment for weeks now.

Ok... so I said a couple of weeks ago, in my post on 2x10, that Ricky has been given a chance to prove what kind of friend he is right then and there... and, well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, but it was nice. I think that's the word for it. Nice. Ricky is just too nice to do what I kept seeing in my fantasy. And Big Red is doubly too nice to do it. But I... I surprise myself sometimes with how aggressive I can get in defence of other people. Maybe it's better this way than my way.

Did that capital-B-witch just say what I thought I heard her say? Because there's no way she just said that. Also, 'sometimes people deserve a second chance'... well, yeah. And sometimes they don't, you... well, I don't use words like that, but you guys can put two and two together, right?

'I'd trade it all for this group right here tonight'... me too, Eej, me too. I'm not even going to pretend I'm not crying because, guess what, I'm bloody bawling my eyes out! I kind of stopped for a moment when you-know-who and her second-in-command came in, but now I'm crying again. I am so not ready to let these kids go.

So... they're dropping out? Just like that? Well, that was anticlimactic! But hey, I absolutely get it. That's the Wildcat spirit, after all, isn't it? They did win already. They won something that some of North High's students can never understand. And that's more important than just about anything. [side note: I've got to say I appreciate the fact that my boy Reddy is now able to joke about his opening night predicament. See, that's another thing I relate to. I go through the craziest stuff, and then I laugh and tell stories to anyone who will listen. And I think that's the best approach to that kind of stuff. I just wish I could be less dramatic about the little things, too. It seems to me it's easier to laugh about the big, serious stuff once it's over, but not about some things that most people would deem unworthy of their attention. But hey, I'm working on that. Also, this post is not supposed to be about me. Moving on.]

Bless Ashlyn and the fact that she's good at communication. Even if she's a little late. She's not too late yet. Portwell might still be saved.

No, Ricky, you so did not just call you-know-who! I will not stand for any of that. Unless it's to shut her off once and for all, in which case I say go for it and go full steam. But why do I get the feeling it's not going to be like that? Ok, never mind, let's set that one aside and focus on Portwell for a second.

Ok, that was... that was going to be so beautiful, and then they cut it off. Is Portwell about to be Redlyn 2.0? Oh well, if it really is, that isn't going to be so bad after all. But now all I can think about is... when are we getting the renewal? How am I supposed to sleep at night until we know for sure?

Not them making me cry with a BTS montage... as if I wasn't crying hard enough already. I'm not alone in the house, you guys! In fact, we're having a bunch of guests from overseas in... wait, I think they're at the door. I'm not ready for people! Not now. Pray for me, you guys! (In all seriousness, though, don’t pray for me. Pray for a season 3 announcement to come soon)