#.which surely they're familiar with as his parents because they must have had to remind him constantly he was loved even if he failed right.

[dreamerdrop]

You know that RnM episode where Morty is ominously threatening his sisters ex boyfriend for fucking with her self esteem before dumping her?

"Hey, it's okay. Sit down. You made my sister cry, Ethan. You messed with her body image. Shh, shh, shh. Careful, Ethan. Your s'more is burning." <- That whole thing?

That's how I picture Garak meeting Bashir’s parents.

[mins-fins]

something — [ mahae — 엔시티. ]

where it's a usual dooming situation, your good old powder keg that'll result in chaos | now playing ☁︎

mark lee is absolutely doomed.

which, in hindsight, is completely foreseeable. it's a little irrelevant to the current motion of this overly dramatic festivity. if there's one thing your family loves, it's a good party. the guest list is packed with quite literally every patron settled in your neighborhood, ranging from the decades old family friends to the barely perched neighbors who probably only accepted the invite because it they wouldn't have to cook for the night.

and of course, they drag, they drag for so long that mark has become accustomed to staying up late on literal school nights. it was a little bit of a shocker to eight year old mark when he was allowed to tag along to one of your parents' overly excited outings with his eyes staying open past eight pm.

they throw parties for every single occasion, but this one is especially important, because you're home. your parents are anything but lazy, they decorated as if you had come back from serving for your country, in reality, you had just studied overseas for a good half a year.

communication over technology wasn't easy for them, so the moment you got back, they made sure to remind everybody of your presence. the party soon came around the corner, and now.. here we are.

it isn't as if mark didn't see you for a whole year and a half, the attachment you have is.. special, still, the whole occasion instates a feeling of longing he doesn't exactly know the specific origins of.

"are they really giving out gift cards? it's not like you enlisted or something.." mark mutters, pouring lemonade from the large glass jug into a mere cup.

"you know how they are, one year without me and they go crazy" your laughter is pretty, the small nudge you offer mark along the lines of an affectionate gesture.

"they're a little too attached aren't they?"

"normal for parents" you again share another smile with him, rolling your eyes. mark listens as you begin exchanging greetings with many familiar faces, as they again act as if you'd left forever. it was just a year.

maybe mark just doesn't get it.

he clears his throat at the lack of attention, but he can't exactly control the volume of his action, which results in you turning your head towards him. heat immediately coils along his skin, a tint of red spreading across his cheeks. he sneaks a glance peripherally, but you're already looking.

god you look enamored by him.

it's so stupid, maybe mark is just looking at it through rose tinted glasses. you're just naturally like that, the stupid fucking enraptured looks you share with everyone are just that, looks. you don't even realize the extent of your affect, mark is absolutely going crazy.

the jewelry hanging around your neck shines under the light of the barely peeking sunlight, and you straighten your posture as you sigh. "you missed me right?"

mark narrowly holds back his true words, opting for a feigned reply of stubbornness; "barely".

"sure mark" you offer your hand for him to take, and the stubborn front doesn't last for long, the intertwining of your fingers is smooth, soft, an action performed so many times that it becomes it's own trademark.

you glance down at your wrist watch, nose scrunching. "hyuck is gonna be late".

mark assumes his glare must be hidden by the fleeting euphoria of his own eyes. why talk about donghyuck when he's right here holding your hand? isn't mark enough for you?

okay, that's too much, an entitled way of thinking.

he hums instead.

your smile reaches your eyes. "okay, enough about everything else, what did you get up to while my angelic presence was absent?"

"don't be so full of yourself" mark whispers, just barely hears over the feat of childish laughter filling the outside air. "i did what i usually do, got a new job at the huang's ice cream place, made music on my laptop.."

"same hobbies?"

"same hobbies".

your laughter is laced with elation, maybe mark would actually be able to focus if you weren't so pretty. you don't even have to do anything, what kind of a person has a melodic rhythm to their laugh? one that is so pleasant it makes the recipient feel as if they now have to purposefully crack jokes?

"this new color fits you" you swipe your index finger against a single strand, removing his hand and ruffling the rest with your fingers. "and this hat is stupid".

mark frowns, but he then snickers. "chose the first thing i could find".

"green doesn't fit with the atmosphere" in the most hypocritical chess move, you place the hat atop your head, whistling as you level at your best friend with a inquiring glance. "looks better on me right?"

mark sucks his teeth in a feat that isn't genuine irritation. you lean just the slightest bit closer, and mark again takes in your close up facial features. your identical moles and the shape of your eyes, yeah, nothing's really changed, you've always been just as beautiful up close.

it'd be a good time to kiss you.

but mark can't give into his desires so blatantly, not in this huge expanse of a backyard, not while both your parents stand no more than a few feet away, not with eyes clearly burning through the back of his head.

but is it mark's fault you look so kissable?

no, he doesn't think so.

"never" mark attempts to swipe the hat back, but you avoid his hand, a muttered curse leaving his lips as yours turn upward in retaliation. there's a gleam of victory shining behind your eyes, and even with the vexation, mark finds you so.. gosh he can't even explain it. would attractive be the correct word?

"hey, let me keep it for a while okay?"

"y/n".

you shrug your shoulders as you begin walking towards the snack table, a small breath escaping mark in reply. he trails behind you with a smile concealed by his petty anger, your whistling filling the air. "it's my welcome back party!"

see? mark lee is most definitely doomed, he can barely even keep his irritation at a seemingly natural level when it comes to you. you're just too..

"hey, you know jeno's asking for you right?"

mark gets brought back to reality by your words, and he again takes your hand in a rushed moment he can't even explain himself. you pause as you stare, but you don't mention it, simply chuckle. "jeno is obsessed".

"come on, let's go".

absolutely doomed, he won't be able to recover.

lee donghyuck seems to have a much easier time.

it's the same old story, yet he has a high advantage in comparison to everyone else. charm is everything, he's learned that well enough, and he's charming to most.

he's adored by your parents, his immediate toothy grin practically put them in the palm of his hand. is it really that manipulative if it was all natural? seven year olds can't exactly manipulate the adults around them.

they love a good party, and so do his own parents. if not for opportunity to get drunk, but also so they can drag him out without receiving a no.

and the only reason they wouldn't receive a no is because you're the center of the discussion.

"oh you dyed your hair now?"

donghyuck's eyes glimmer in something he can only describe as euphoric, it's completely your fault. all your fault, who gives you the right to have such a pretty smile?

your gaze zeroes in on his black hair, and you yelp as donghyuck almost lifts you from the ground with the sheer force of his hug. "y/nie!"

if it was a usual day you'd complain about the volume of his voice, but you'll give him a pass. he starts with his onslaught of attacks, if the cheek kiss was crazy, then neck kisses can only be described as outrageous.

but those are all regular donghyuck actions, you can barely be perturbed by his uncanny proceedings at this point, knowing him for so long does that to a person. you simply him and lean back, whistling. "okay, okay, calm down hyuckie".

donghyuck simply smiles, feigned innocence behind those fierce eyes. "sorry for the lateness, i had a thing".

"oh i don't care, i missed you".

well that's just lovely.

it's a contrast to how mark sees all of it, it isn't usual for donghyuck to get tripped up by the easiest of things. you're pretty, he can admit that, but anyone with two good eyes can see that. you could look smitten by any little thing, you could stare enchanted by any person (and maybe there's one particular person donghyuck loathes in specific), those aren't anything.

but maybe it's the way you speak that has a tint appearing on his face. you've always articulated your words in a way that could make anyone beam, donghyuck wants to gatekeep them sometimes.

"aww, really, i knew it!"

you stay stuck on the strands of his hair, your index finger twirling a strand. he blinks, yet he manages to keep his composure. he can't give himself away, not while your standing so close. "both you and mark dyed your hair.."

mark. that's funny. why talk about mark when donghyuck is right here? right here for you to admire with his eyes blinking a look of fondness right at you. "oh, so you've seen mark already?"

"mark always comes early".

donghyuck doesn't care that much about mark, shouldn't it be about him now? call him self centered or whatever, but he thinks when he's in front of you, talking about mark is just.. stupid.

"enough about other things, how was portugal?"

his arm comes to link with yours, the press of your bodies together completely intentional. maybe mark will see, he hopes mark will see, donghyuck does like to think of himself as the superior one in this little competition of theirs.

you shrug as you again begin whistling, your ramble starts off with a comment about the country's scenery. donghyuck won't communicate it verbally, but he missed you too, missed your cute little giggles and the pauses in between your detailed rambles. he doesn't think of himself as doomed in the same manner as mark, no, he's the one with a real chance, isn't he?

you cut yourself off with a small laugh as you mutter something funny midway through your story, and you lightly nudge donghyuck. his eyes flitter upward, catching your own in the process.

the glow of your eyes is full of bewitchment. it should be illegal for you to stare at anyone like that, can anyone really blame donghyuck for feeling the way he feels when you stare like that? it's not unheard of to develop feelings for a childhood friend, especially when said childhood friend is so.. lovely.

lovely is the best word he can think of for this.

"are you going back next year?"

"yeah, i'm only around for the summer, i've gotten much too involved".

donghyuck's jaw clenches momentarily, but he masquerades it as uncomfortableness at the flies swirling around him. "okay then, let's make sure we spend good time together this summer".

you hum in reply, laughing at some unintelligible thought in your mind as you again stare at your friend.

donghyuck usually isn't a weak man, really, a mere smile can't render him bashful.

your eyes hold universes that he wishes to get lost in.

would it be so bad to kiss you in the moment?

he presses his own lips together, thoughts steady in his mind.

is it really donghyuck's fault you look so kissable?

absolutely not.

he almost gave in to the desire of being reckless, but his worst nightmare (hyperbole) comes rounding the corner in a feat of a few seconds.

"listen, they're too spicy, you know i don't have a good tolerance" mark's mumble stretches until he glances up and catches sight of the particular scene.

there's a hint of his eye twitching, donghyuck narrowly holds back his own giggle, it's invigorating how mark gets pissed off. he then smiles at the sight of you, even if the irritation slowly slips through. "hi donghyuck".

"mark! it's been a while hasn't it?"

it's only to get a scowl from him, the hug is simply an action he knows will get a kick, but mark can't display such vexation so clearly around you, he knows better than to ruin a party because of childish jealousy. he frowns in your direction, and you snicker, completely oblivious to his genuine turmoil.

"y/n told me he's here all summer".

"yeah i know it's just.." mark's face scrunches as he shoves donghyuck backward, though gently enough that his true animosity is hidden enough. "i was looking for you for like twenty minutes".

"well i didn't run away or anything, i just found him and i missed him so" you roll your eyes, poking donghyuck in the shoulder. mark clears his throat, and you level at him with a look of indifference.

you whistle, observing the lights your parents decided to hang up, knowing this party would go on for longer than it was supposed to. your hands settle behind your back, gaze remaining upward. "it's been a while since it was just the three of us huh?"

reminiscing about old times is the one thing you can't help but do, under the bright lights and surrounded by people you've know for.. forever just brings out something saddening in you.

mark's glare settles, but he avoids donghyuck's eyes. you blink as you stare at him, but then you shake your head. "anyway, i think my mom would be happy to know your here, come on" you nudge donghyuck forward with your shoulder, and there's barely anything behind mark's eyes as he watches the scene.

but before you walk away, you then turn back to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. "mark" you start softly, offering a pinch to donghyuck's shoulder that draws a wince. "come" you motion your head forward, basically telling mark to tag along.

and really, who is mark to disagree?

maybe the two could shut up for once, they could be civil, it's not like it's out of this world.

it's for your sake, they can save the chaotic blow for another time.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Priory School pts 2-4

So, I was away and then I was sick, so this has taken a while to get around to. Sorry! In case you've ever been curious, going on a plane with a cold is an utterly miserable experience and 0/10 would not recommend. Don't do it. My ears still have not recovered. They should not be crackling like this.

Last time, a young boy whose parents had separated (leaving him with apparently the parent he liked less as primary caregiver) was shipped off to boarding school, from which he disappeared after receiving a letter allegedly from his father. A school teacher disappeared the same night along with a bicycle. The father of the child didn't want scandal so he's not telling anyone that his child is missing - I guess he really wasn't interesting in that father of the year award - and he and his secretary came to tell Holmes to back off.

Lots of people seem to suspect the teacher in spite of the fact he appears to have left in somewhat of a hurry and only one bicycle was missing. I find the secretary suspicious mainly because he's become such a fixture in the narrative (and because he's the one who's providing a lot of the information for the case and also the guy who posts the Earl's letters for him... was it an earl? My heart says it's an earl. Personally I think marquises are criminally underused, but it's more likely to have been an earl.)

Did I remember it all?

Part 2

"He had obtained a large ordnance map of the neighbourhood, and this he brought into my room, where he laid it out on the bed, and, having balanced the lamp in the middle of it, he began to smoke over it, and occasionally to point out objects of interest with the reeking amber of his pipe."

I assume that this means objects of interest to the case, but considering it's Holmes it could mean anything at all. Which is a far more charming image. Just Holmes poring over the map and occasionally saying 'oh, look here, Watson, the contour lines are very circular here abouts.' 'How does that pertain to the boy, Holmes?' 'What? Oh, not at all, but it does suggest some kind of ancient burial mound might be concealed there.'

"...there is no side road for a mile either way."

Excellent. It does make things easier.

Oooh, a map. A map. I do love a map.

Although, that inn is definitely called the Fighting Cock Inn, not the Fighting Clock Inn (there's one with a similar name nearish where I grew up).

Yep, that's Fighting Cock Inn.

Wait a sec... Heidegger's Body? Is Heidegger the German Teacher? Is he dead? Did I miss him dying? Oh... RIP Heidegger. I'm not sure your body has been discovered yet in the text, but apparently it's out there.

“In the van of the gipsies who camped on the moor. They left on Tuesday. To-day the police traced them down and examined their caravan. This was found.”

Well it's not them, unless they're someone else in disguise. I suppose they could be working for his mother. But thank you for the reminder of the racism, I guess?? I had almost forgotten about that in my eagerness to read the story.

"Now, Watson, there is cocoa ready in the next room. I must beg you to hurry, for we have a great day before us.”

Well, at least Watson got cocoa this time? Last time I don't think he got anything until after a long train journey, so this is better?

“I am familiar with forty-two different impressions left by tyres. This, as you perceive, is a Dunlop, with a patch upon the outer cover. Heidegger's tyres were Palmer's, leaving longitudinal stripes. Aveling, the mathematical master, was sure upon the point. Therefore, it is not Heidegger's track.”

OK, Holmes knowing 42 types of tyre track, fine. Makes sense. THe Maths teacher knowing what the German teacher's bike tyres looked like? Weird. Unless he also has bike tyres as a special interest.

"The more deeply sunk impression is, of course, the hind wheel, upon which the weight rests. You perceive several places where it has passed across and obliterated the more shallow mark of the front one. It was undoubtedly heading away from the school."

I don't... understand how that works. Surely it would have crossed over the front tyre track no matter which way it was going?

“But we have a long way still to go. Kindly walk clear of the path. Now let us follow the trail. I fear that it will not lead very far.”

Hey, Holmes looked at the map too! I joke, I joke. But yeah, sorry Heidegger. You seemed like a good guy.

"That he could have gone on after receiving such an injury said much for the vitality and courage of the man. He wore shoes, but no socks, and his open coat disclosed a night-shirt beneath it. It was undoubtedly the German master."

And thus to part 3. Poor Heidegger did not deserve to die. He was doing his best.

Part 3

As we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the sign of a game-cock above the door, Holmes gave a sudden groan and clutched me by the shoulder to save himself from falling. He had had one of those violent strains of the ankle which leave a man helpless.

Part 3 starting out strong at the Fighting Cock Inn. And please, Watson... like we believe Holmes has twisted his ankle. Please tell me that by this time in your association you did not believe Holmes had actually twisted his ankle? The man once pretended he was dying. He once pretended he was dead. You cannot tell me you honestly believed he had twisted his ankle.

“Look here, my man,” said he. “This is really rather an awkward fix for me. I don't mind how I get on.” “Neither do I,” said the morose landlord.

Look, I know he's a dick and he's the landlord of a pub named after animal cruelty, but still... I kind of like Mr Hayes. His level of fucks given is very Life Goals.

“Pals of the Dook, I suppose?” said the landlord, surveying our mud-stained garments with ironical eyes.

Ah. he's a duke. Well, I remembered the rest. Marquises are still underutilised.

“Because we bring him news of his lost son.”The landlord gave a very visible start.

And that's not suspicious at all.

Again a swift change passed over the heavy, unshaven face. His manner was suddenly genial.

Oh my god... maybe try not to react? I take it back, this guy gives far too many fucks. All his idgafuckery is an illusion. He's a fraud.

“Strange, Watson, that we should see tracks all along our line, but never a cow on the whole moor; very strange, Watson, eh?”

Oh bloody hell, the cows were horses all along. I can't believe I didn't think of that. I trusted Holmes to know the difference between cow and horse tracks, but I guess hes taken up too much brain space with tyre tracks and tobacco ash for animal tracks to be in there as well.

"By George, Watson, it was no brain of a country publican that thought out such a blind as that!"

Classist.

“The Duke's secretary!” cried Holmes.

Vindication! cried I.

Holmes keeps 'crying' things when they are trying to be stealthy.

Wilder doesn't seem like the type to cave someone's head in with a blunt object. Presumably he was on the dunlop tyred bicycle and someone else (the innkeeper, perhaps) was on the horse cow with the boy.

I know a lot of children say they want their teachers to die, but if this kid watched that happen and was unaffected then he's severely lacking in empathy and I in turn will be severely lacking in empathy for him.

“I fancy that I see your Grace's cheque-book upon the table,” said he. “I should be glad if you would make me out a cheque for six thousand pounds. It would be as well, perhaps, for you to cross it. The Capital and Counties Bank, Oxford Street branch, are my agents.”

Holmes is being exceedingly mercenary in this one. He does not like this guy, it seems. Perhaps the man he saw in that window was the Duke himself and he had his own son kidnapped in order to... idk? Incriminate his wife so that he could divorce her properly or something? I imagine kidnapping would be grounds for a divorce even in Victorian times.

“I accuse you,” said he. “And now, your Grace, I'll trouble you for that cheque.”

J'ACCUSE!

And so to part 4.

I'm pretty sure in the first part I said the guy either knew exactly where his son was or he was the worst father ever. I mean, those two things were never mutually exclusive, were they?

Part 4

“I hardly understand your Grace.” “I must put it plainly, Mr. Holmes. If only you two know of this incident, there is no reason why it should go any farther. I think twelve thousand pounds is the sum that I owe you, is it not?”

We gonna indulge in a little bribery, huh? As a treat? Going to throw some money around and pretend like a man wasn't murdered because of our petty family squabbles?

Heidegger was worth more than £12k.

(That's about £1.2mill today btw)

“I fear, your Grace, that matters can hardly be arranged so easily. There is the death of this schoolmaster to be accounted for.” “But James knew nothing of that. You cannot hold him responsible for that. It was the work of this brutal ruffian whom he had the misfortune to employ.”

Pretty sure that's still a crime... that resulted in a man's death... for literally trying to save your son.

With all due respect, your grace (and that is none) Fuck. You.

"He lost not an hour in breaking entirely with the murderer. Oh, Mr. Holmes, you must save him—you must save him! I tell you that you must save him!”

My dudes, is the duke fucking his secretary? Kinda seems like the duke is fucking his secretary. This is the first time he's shown concern or emotion for anyone other than himself this entire time. Sure he knew where his son was the whole time, but still...

"I am right glad to hear it, if it will not react upon the fate of James.” “Your secretary?” “No, sir; my son.”

Oh... they not fucking. Nope... well that... let's draw a line under that shall we and back away from that entire line of thought.

Mmhm

God the duke is a dickhead.

"When I was a very young man, Mr. Holmes, I loved with such a love as comes only once in a lifetime."

Oh fuck off with that shit.

"...I gave him the best of educations, and since he came to manhood I have kept him near my person."

You couldn't have helped him get a job that... wasn't connected to you. So he could be his own person and not basically his own father's servant for his entire life?

So , let me get this straight. You didn't acknowledge him - even just to himself - you arranged and controlled his life and then when he found out he threatened to expose you? Honestly... fair.

And understandable that he hates the legitimate kid, too. He really shouldn't be taking it out on the child, obviously, and he's an arsehole, but it's absolutely understandable.

"All her pretty ways, too—there was not one of them which he could not suggest and bring back to my memory."

There comes a time when this stops being sweet and starts being creepy.

Why send him to school and not to his mother, which is.... further away from your jealous illegitimate child?

"I answer that there was a great deal which was unreasoning and fanatical in the hatred which he bore my heir. In his view he should himself have been heir of all my estates, and he deeply resented those social laws which made it impossible."

He may be a terrible person, but he does make some good points.

"I found him safe and well, but horrified beyond expression by the dreadful deed he had witnessed."

So Arthur's the best guy in this family, huh? Poor kid.

“This is indeed a most serious matter. Even more culpable in my opinion, your Grace, is your attitude towards your younger son. You leave him in this den for three days.” “Under solemn promises—”

Yeah, because people always keep their promises. Particularly when there's the chance of blackmail involved.

Worst Dad of the Year?

"What he will divulge I cannot tell, but I have no doubt that your Grace could make him understand that it is to his interest to be silent."

Not sure what he can offer a guy who's literally going to die either way? A quicker, more painless death perhaps. He doesn't seem like the type who would care about other people.

“In that case, your Grace, since you have yourself stated that any unhappiness in your married life was caused by his presence, I would suggest that you make such amends as you can to the Duchess, and that you try to resume those relations which have been so unhappily interrupted.”

I don't know the woman, but I know she does not deserve that. Holmes, you have got to stop trying to play matchmaker between rich dickheads and the women they have hurt. It's not a good look for you.

“These shoes,” it ran, “were dug up in the moat of Holdernesse Hall. They are for the use of horses; but they are shaped below with a cloven foot of iron, so as to throw pursuers off the track."

That explains Holmes' confusion.

Holmes folded up his cheque and placed it carefully in his note-book. “I am a poor man,” said he, as he patted it affectionately and thrust it into the depths of his inner pocket.

Well that's only true relatively, Holmes. I think almost everybody is poor compared to him. And you're being a right little shit about this, aren't you? Not that he doesn't deserve it, but still.

So that was the case. The duke at the time of initially talking to Holmes didn't know where his son was so he really was just a terrible father in so many ways.

I hope the Duchess tells him where to get lost and keeps living in France on his dime, tbh. And that Arthur goes and lives with her because clearly his father doesn't actually care about him at all.

[skeleton-in-a-hoodie]

Lost Boys Saki pretty much raised himself and Yoshi after their adoptive mother died. He was about 10 when Atsuko passed away, but Yoshi was still only 5.

Yuuta was no help - he'd never been a particularly warm or loving man, and even though he did consider them both his real sons, whatever parts of him were capable of love and gentleness died with her. He expected absolute perfection from them, nevermind they were children mourning the loss of a parent.

(Something about this is... familiar to Saki, but he doesn't know what. He feels like he's in a repeat of something. A dead mother, a crying baby brother, their father unable to help, Saki with the weight of the world on his shoulders.)

And he couldn't stand any reminders of her. Which was bad enough on its own: they couldn't even mention their own mother anymore, couldn't contact her family, couldn't ask for stories about her or look at pictures. It was like she'd been completely erased. But Yoshi took after her - Saki's baby brother did not understand why the father suddenly hated him.

(Saki thinks Yuuta always hated them.)

So when Saki was 10 years old, without even really realising what he was doing, he decided to raise himself and Yoshi. If Yuuta wouldn't be the father they deserved, Saki would.

(Sometimes, he feels as though someone else is very proud of him. Sad, but proud. Saki thinks it must be Atsuko. He's not wrong, but Oroku Keiji and Miyoko are beside her.)

He thinks, at first, that maybe when the loss isn't so fresh, Yuuta will take back the mantle of father.

He doesn't, and if anything things just continue to get worse. Saki's formerly distant, but loving father, turns into a monster and it's all he can do to shield Yoshi.

(Yoshi tries to protect him too. Saki's worst memory was Yuuta punishing him for something, Saki doesn't know what, only that it didn't merit the beating he got, and a 9 year old Yoshi looking their father in the eye and smashing a vase.)

Then one day, they're told father is remarrying. The woman is... fine. A daughter of a family friend and Saki can't tell if she's here to strengthen the clan as their way of life continues to erode, or if Yuuta has finally decided he wants an heir that's his own flesh and blood.

Mashimi is born when Saki is 12 and Yoshi 7.

Saki does not bond with Mashimi. If Yuuta doesn't want to be his father anymore, then that boy is not Saki's little brother. Yoshi tried, but from the beginning Mashimi can tell that both boys are on the bottom of their father's priority list and acts accordingly.

So Saki raises his little brother, bidding his time until he can leave and take Yoshi with him.

(Son. His baby brother is practically his son.)

When Saki is 27, he meets Tang Shen. He thinks he might be in love with her, but he can't be sure. Maybe it's just that she's the first person in a long while to treat him and his brother with basic decency. They're not even dating, he's content with friendship, especially when he sees how she and Yoshi talk to each other.

His feelings for Shen are a question mark, but Yoshi's are crystal clear.

Saki smiles and steps aside. He makes sure Yoshi doesn't know - if Yoshi did, he'd push away his own feelings and encourage Saki. But Saki doesn't want that: he wants his brother to be happy.

(He tells himself this if for the best anyway. She wants children, whilst Saki never wants to have to raise another child. He's been there, done that.)

Mashimi is different though. That boy has been given the world on a silver platter, he's never had to work for anything he desired, and yet he still wants more. Especially when it's something he can't have.

Yoshi, because even now he still hopes for a good relationship with their (father's) family, had introduced Shen to them.

Shen is not an object. She's a person. But when has that ever mattered to Mashimi.

Saki does not feel an ounce of guilt when he kills Mashimi. Not when Shen is bleeding out on the floor, and the left side of Yoshi's face is cut to peices.

The full force of the Hamato Clan wanting them dead is a bit of a problem though.

Shen survives (somehow). And the three flee Japan with Miwa. They go to New York - Shen had always wanted to visit America, and she and Yoshi had been very seriously considering moving. Saki thinks having an ocean between them and Yuuta is a good idea.

They take on new names and try to build a new life. Yoshi getting mutated and brining home four turtle toddlers doesn't throw that much of a spanner in the works.

("Only you Yoshi, only you." Saki says to his giant rat of a brother, desperatly hoping they have whiskey in the cabinet.

"What is that supposed to mean!?" Yoshi demands whilst trying to stop Michaelangelo eating a nunchuck.)

The Foot Clan finds them at some point, and their true origins are revealed. They are the sons of Oroku Keiji and his wife Miyoko, both warriors in their own right. Saki takes on the mantle of the Shredder, vowing to wipe out the Hamatos - he has to, to protect his family.

And if he has to kill Yuuta to do that, then that's fine. His father (kidnapper, murderer) has it coming

[voidstilesplease]

love and war

a demigod au [companion] ficlet

~•~

Theo's eyes snap open when he hears the loud honk from outside the motel they're staying. He sits upright in his makeshift bed on the cold floor. It's still dark, and when he checks the clock in the room, only an hour has passed since they went to bed.

He transfers his gaze at the sleeping lump on the single bed, wrapped tightly in the comforter like a human burrito. Stiles is dead to the world, open-mouth with a bit of drool on one side. He looks so young and innocent and can't hurt a fly like this. But under his pillow, Theo can see the handhold of his dagger. They're almost to the entrance of the Underworld now. More monsters are after them. Caution and vigilance are of utmost importance if they want to come back from this quest alive.

Soft snoring takes his attention from Stiles to the shape on the couch. Involuntarily, Theo scowls at the sight of him. Derek Hale, son of Poseidon. He still can't believe he's on a quest with him, or even that all three of them are together in some mad twist of fate and managed not to kill one another yet. Barely, but still. Their godly parents are the worst rivals and are the three Olympians on the verge of a war if Theo, Stiles, and Derek fail. The last thing they should become is allies.

Derek shifts and Theo notes that he looks uncomfortable in his position. It makes him oddly satisfied.

He hears the loud honk again, but it's apparent now that only he does among them. Otherwise, his two companions would have sprung up, wide-eyed and ready to pounce, no matter how exhausted they had been from a full day of running and fighting monsters.

Theo gets up to his feet, clutching the hilt of his sword, and approaches the window guardedly. With sure fingers, he pulls down the blinds enough to peek. The image that greets him gives him a moment's pause, lips parting in surprise. 

Outside, a spotless, white limousine casually parks on the deserted road. A muscular man in black jeans, combat boots, and a red muscle shirt underneath a black vest leans against it. There's a familiar sneer in his mouth noticeable even from afar, and though he's donning sunglasses, Theo knows his eyes are on him. 

He's imagined this happening since his claim at Camp Half-Blood. If he appears to him right now while Theo's in the middle of a make-or-break mission, things must be getting worse in Olympus. He usually communicates to Theo in vague dreams, in a voice in his head, in some other weird manifestation since this started, but never coming to him in the flesh.

He lets go of the blind, delays for a second of contemplative silence, and then opens the door to meet his father, the God of War, Ares.

~•~

He slows his steps as he nears the broad figure. Up close, Theo notices the fire reflecting from inside his glasses. He has heard from his siblings that their dad had fireballs in his sockets instead of eyeballs. And that any children of Ares are compelled by unexplainable force to meet those flares, cowering.

Theo stops and raises his chin to meet his father's gaze, and no matter how he tries and how tough he is, he still dips his head in submission to the god. He swallows, "Father,"

His reply was a terse and detached, "Son,"

Theo lifts his head again, not quite meeting Ares's eyes this time, and hesitates for a second, but asks, "What are you doing here, father?"

The god's face twists like he has swallowed a lemon. His head fastens in the direction of the room Theo is renting for the night. "You have such unpromising companions," he spats, glaring at the window as if he sees through it. Ares probably does. "The son of Poseidon I can scarcely forgive," his attention slips back to Theo, and even without the proper organs, Theo can feel the disgust that would be reflected in them if he had eyeballs. The disapproval is rolling like waves in his aura, and it makes dread crawl up Theo's spine. He hates that his father can evoke such emotions just with his presence. He's also starting to feel his blood boil. "but Athena's spawn?"

Theo bites his lip and balls his fists to avoid saying something that will make his father smite him to smithereens. That is not at all the way he had imagined his first meeting with his father to end.

"She dares call me a thief," Ares's voice does not rise, but it doesn't have to. Theo's hyper-aware of his father's rage, and it makes his knees quiver to kneel and supplicate. 

Theo forces to say the words, "Stiles is helping to find an end to this conflict,"

Ares scoffs, unimpressed. "And by an end," he crosses his burly arms. "You mean victory against our enemies in the war."

Theo shakes his head, breathing through his nose. "I was thinking about not starting a war at all."

The look Ares gives him makes his stomach coil, and he hates it. The god regards him similarly to an insect: small, insignificant, and revolting. "No child of War runs from war."

Theo breathes in deep, his blunt and dirty nails digging in the skin of his palms. "There isn't one yet, that is necessary."

Ares's face thunders and the fire in his eyes glow brighter. It seems the god expresses no aversion to smiting his son right then and there. "She slandered my name-"

"Ares, dear, do be nice now." A silky, feminine voice interrupts his father from inside the limo. And amazingly, the god's anger deflates, albeit grudgingly. He's still enraged, but he's holding himself back from committing a crime. Theo inwardly sighs in relief.

The god purses his lips, nose flaring slightly, "My Lady wishes to give you a weapon,"

Theo draws his eyebrows together, "Your Lady?" Just as he says the question, the answer comes to Theo. He remembers the afternoon Stiles discussed with him in their session about his father's amorous relationship with a fellow Olympian.

"Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty and is married to Hera's son, Hephaestus, the god of the forge. The union forced upon Aphrodite as it was a condition made by Hephaestus so he would free his mother, Hera, from being bound into a magical throne he built and tricked the queen of the gods into sitting. Zeus granted it, and so they were married. Aphrodite resented his husband because Lord Hephaestus was, in the standard of the divinities, ugly and lame, and therefore, not befitting the goddess of beauty.

The god tried to gain her affection by designing beautiful jewelry for her in his workshop. But she wasn't interested. Instead, she used the opportunity of his husband's work arrest in his workshop to be unfaithful and be with other gods or goddesses, and even mortals.

Then she met Ares, and they fell in love. They kept on having affairs with other immortals and mortals, but they always came back to each other -even though that's against the rule of formal infidelity of the Greeks."

"Bring him in, dear,"

The soft voice breaks Theo's reverie, and with a huff, his father motions him to the door as requested by the goddess Aphrodite.

He doesn't know what to expect the goddess of beauty would look like, but when the door opens, Theo catches a glimpse of the car's occupant, and he thinks he hallucinated Stiles for a brief moment. When he blinks, he now sees the flowing hair and feminine features instead of gelled up hair and slender muscles.

He takes a seat, and the door shuts. Theo finds himself captivated by the different aura that she emanates in comparison to what he had felt with his father. His skin feels warm instead of burning, and his heart steadies instead of races. He stares at the face of the goddess, and if he isn't so gone, he would have remembered his manners -whatever little he has. At least, the goddess doesn't seem offended by the rapt attention -she's probably used to it- but amused.

Theo had never mentally built a picture of the goddess, but he didn't expect for her to have moles sprinkled in her pale face or have amber, almost molten liquid, eyes. But she has an elegant upturned nose and pink cupid's bow lips, which are as expected. Her features remind Theo so closely of Stiles. That must be why he thought he saw him for a second there.

When she smiles, it even feels familiar to Theo.

"What do you see?" She asks.

"Um," Theo swallows and licks his dried lips. "Your beauty, goddess."

She emits a soft, coy chuckle. "It is not universal. Do I resemble someone specific that you know?"

The question throws him for a little, and he blinks. "Yes," He says honestly, figuring there is no point in lying.

The smile on her face broadens, "My beauty is an individual's perception of it, son of Ares. It is one or the other, depending on who's looking."

He frowns, confused. Before he can ask what the goddess is trying to say or process it himself, Aphrodite procures an object in her hands that she passes to Theo. When he looks down at the item, it's a palm-sized rose looking-glass. He sees his reflection as he studies it. It's a simple circular mirror with roses encrusted around it; each petal is elaborately carved.

"It is a present from my husband," the goddess says.

Theo nods, thinking it makes perfect sense. Something as well-crafted as the item he holds must only be from a god. 

"When you absolutely need it," she continues, "look upon the mirror, and help will come. It grants only one call."

He gives the goddess a quizzical look, "Why are you giving it to me, though, Lady Aphrodite? I am grateful and honored to receive such a gift," he hastily adds, remembering Stiles's warning of always showing gratitude to the gods. It avoids spontaneously combusting. "But I don't know why me?"

Thankfully, she seems to be in good spirits because she only inclines her head. "Do you think it appropriate if I gifted that to the children of my beloved's rivals?"

Theo made a humming noise.

"I must say," she adds, "I assumed if it was the son of Poseidon I invited, I know what image he would see in my face. But, I wonder," she gives Theo a look, her brown eyes twinkling in the same fashion as Stiles's when he formulates a clever, and devious idea. "If it was the son of Athena, whose face would he have seen between two?"

Theo pauses, caught off guard.

Then, the goddess straightens. "Remember. Only once. Choose the moment wisely."

Theo opens his mouth to thank her once more and asks what is in exchange for the goddess' generosity. Stiles had also taught him that gods don't just hand out presents to the mortals they favor without a deed or a sacrifice. But, the next time he breathes, he's back inside the room, sitting in his comforter on the floor.

He blinks rapidly and scrambles to his feet toward the window. He pulls the blinds aside and sees nothing but a deserted road outside where the limo has been.

He almost thinks he dreamt it, but when he looks at his hand, Aphrodite's mirror is in there.

"Remember. Only once. Choose the moment wisely."

~•~

[1][2][3][4][comp 1]

[fanmoose12]

Yay! Okay I have two scenarios and I cant pick so you can choose 1: Levi and hanjis child gets kidnapped (so ig this will be an au) and these two become the deadliest people alive to get their child back (pain duo is acary). 2; levihan child has been sad lately since they're parents havent been spending time with them but they know their parents are busy. Levi and hanji surprise them one day by having a day off and they all spend it together doing fun stuff(fluff) Thank you!

so i chose the first scenario because i guess i hate happiness and fun lmao hope you still like it tho and take care :3

Hugo closed his eyes, hoping that when he opens them again, it would all turn out to be a dream. A nightmare, induced after watching too many scary movies with his mother. He would open his eyes and see his father. His daddy would gaze at him softly and gently ruffle his hair, telling him to get up and go brush his teeth before coming down to have breakfast.                              

Hugo hoped that when he opens his eyes, all the scary men will be gone and he will wake up in his bed back at home, or even better, he would wake up in his parents’ bed, surrounded by their love and safe from any harm.

However, when Hugo opened his eyes, his hopes were cruelly shattered. The big bad men were still surrounding him, their scary guns aimed at him.                

“Are you scared, kiddo?” the man in the center asked. He bared his huge teeth and Hugo suddenly remembered a story his mother once read to him. It was a tale about a little girl, who got lost in the woods and happened upon a hungry wolf. But Hugo wasn’t some helpless girl, he was a son of Hange Zoe and Levi Ackermann, and even if he was trapped in a wolf’s lair, his parents were the fiercest and strongest hunters in this world and they would never let some stupid wolf lay its pawn on him.                             

So Hugo raised his chin, staring defiantly at the scary man in front of him. “It’s not me, who should be scared!” he said, raising his voice to try and hide its shaking. He furrowed his eyebrows, mimicking his father’s expression. “My parents are already coming for me! And when they arrive, they’ll tear you to pieces!”                             

The men around him started to laugh. “I hope your parents are coming here, kiddo. That’s why we took you.”                               

Hugo widened his eyes in surprise. They’ve been… they’ve been laying some trap for his parents. Just like the wolf in the story! Hugo’s head began to fill with panicked thoughts, but he tried not to focus on them. There were no one in this world, who could possibly outsmart his mother, and there was no one stronger or quicker than his father. They were just trying to intimidate him, but Hugo wouldn’t let himself get scared so easily. 

His mother once told him that he had all the best parts from her and his father. That he was strong just as his father, and smart just as his mother. And now he just had to remember that. He had to remember whose son he was and what kind of person his parents tried to make out of him. He would be fearless and strong just as they were. And no one, no matter how big they were or how many guns they had, would never make him afraid.         

“Can you drive faster?”

“I’m already driving as fast as I can, Hange. Calm down.”

“Calm down?!” Hange cried out, looking at Levi with wide eyes. “How the fuck should I calm down, when my son has been kidnapped? Who knows what they are doing to him! If you don’t worry about him that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t!”

Hange realized what she actually had said almost immediately. She clasped her hand over her mouth and stared at Levi apologetically. 

“Levi, I’m so sorry! I didn’t actually mean it, I know you worry ju-“

“Shut up, Hange,” Levi cut her off with a sigh. “I know you didn’t mean it. Your panic just messes with your head, I get it,” he took one hand off the wheel and outstretched it towards Hange, holding her hand and gently caressing the backside of her palm with his thumb. “But we’ll arrive there soon and then we’ll save our boy. Don’t worry, those idiots wouldn’t dare to harm him. They probably are more interested in hurting us than him.”

“When I find those bastards,” Hange growled, squeezing Levi’s hand almost painfully. “I’ll make sure they’ll pay for taking away my son. They will remember once and for all that no one should mess with my family.”

Levi nodded, his face set in an equally determined expression. “We will make them pay.” 

Hugo sat on a cold floor, surrounded by darkness from all sides. A small window on the door of his cell did nothing to brighten the room, and he shivered, trying not to think what could be lurking in that darkness. His fear was irrational, he tried to remind himself. There were no monsters hiding in the dark corners, monsters didn’t exist. If they did, his mother would surely know about them as she seemed to know about everything else. 

Besides, there was more real and tangible threat outside of his cell. The scary men threw Hugo in that cell some time ago, and now the only thing he could hear was the sound of their heavy footsteps and the quiet mutterings. 

Hugo hugged his knees and started to slowly rock back and forth, wondering why his parents hadn’t come for him yet. He was sure they would come, didn’t doubt them for a second, but the cell he was in was damp and chilly and Hugo wanted to go home already. His clothes were dirty from sitting on the floor and he couldn’t wait to take a shower and change into his pajamas. He was getting sleepy too and he wanted nothing more than to drink hot cocoa, prepared by his father, while listening to a fairy-tale his mother would read to him. 

Hugo closed his eyes and imagined himself sitting in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and nestled between his parents, feeling their warmth and listening to his mom’s quiet and soothing voice.  

Hange slowly circled the building, trying to find an entrance. Suddenly she saw a man, lurking in the darkness. The man saw her too, his eyes widened as he probably recognized who she was. His hands went to his gun, but before he could even aim it at Hange, a bullet hole appeared right in the center of his skull. 

Hange turned around and nodded at Levi, silently thanking him. She took out her own gun and jerked her head in the direction the already dead man came from. Levi replied with a nod, his face set in a grim determination. 

He slowly followed after Hange, his eyes looking around for a sign of slightest movement. Together, back to back, they entered the dark and too quiet building.  

Hugo gasped, when the eerie silence, which was surrounding him before, was suddenly interrupted with a loud bang. Hugo immediately knew what that sound was, his parents took him to a shooting range a few times and the sound of a gun firing was unmistakable. Hugo covered his ears with hands, the loud bangs already making his head hurt. 

Suddenly a door to his cell burst open, and Hugo tried to hide in the shadow, afraid that it was an enemy coming to get him. But as he gazed at the figure more closely, he saw a too familiar silhouette and Hugo ran to it as fast as his short legs carried him. 

“Mom!” he shouted, as he reached her and hugged her legs tightly. His mother fell to her knees, pressing him to her chest. 

“Honey!” she cried out. “Oh my god, Hugo, I’m so sorry! You must be so scared!”

“I’m not scared!” Hugo protested, clinging to his mother. He felt his eyes fill with tears and he pressed his face to his mother’s chest.

“You are not?” Hange withdrew from her son to take a better look at him. He shook his head vehemently and tried to hide his tears from her. Hange let out a sound that was half-laughter, half-sob. She was so happy to see her son, alive and well!

“Did they hurt you?” she asked in an angry, low tone. Hugo shook his head again, and Hange sighed with relief. 

She briefly hugged her son again and then she took his precious little face in her hands, peppering his cheeks and nose with gentle kisses. 

“I was so worried about you!” she whispered, her voice shaking. “My little fearless boy, I’m so proud of you!”

“Oi, quit it, Hange,” came Levi’s voice from behind. “You’re embarrassing him.”

He came to kneel beside his wife and son, his hands immediately wrapping around both of them.

“Did you finish them off?” Hange asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” Levi replied, just as softly. “I made sure that no one would repeat the mistake of hurting our son.”

“Good.”

“Are you alright?” Levi asked Hugo. The boy nodded, smiling at his dad. 

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry, dad!”

“Tch,” Levi rolled his eyes. “As if I would ever get worried over something stupid like that.”

He came to hug Hugo as well, tucking his son inside his arms and inhaling his scent. His embrace was even tighter than Hange’s and Hugo felt how his father’s hands shook slightly. 

“I’m fine,” Hugo repeated patting his dad’s back comfortingly. 

“Of course, you’re fine,” Hange agreed, coming to embrace her two favorite boys. “You are our brave little boy, it’s not that easy to scare you.”

“That’s right!” Hugo agreed cheerfully. 

“Come on,” Levi urged them after a long moment, his voice steady and calm as always. And it was probably a trick of light, but Hugo saw how his father’s eyes glistened, as though he was crying. 

“We should get your home. It’s way past your bedtime, young man.” Levi got to his feet and then scooped Hugo in his arms. 

“But you will make me cocoa before I go to sleep, right?” Hugo asked, staring at Levi with his big brown eyes. 

Just as his mother’s, Levi thought fondly. He sighed, knowing full well that he could never say no to those eyes. 

“Only if you take a shower first.”

“Alright!” Hugo beamed. “Mom, will you read me a bedtime story?”

“Of course, honey,” Hange gently ruffled his soft black hair. “Which one do you want?”

“Red Riding Hood!” Hugo replied without missing a beat. 

His mother laughed and went to kiss his forehead. 

Then she hugged her husband by the waist and the three of them slowly started to make their way home.     

[porrokin]

“SAINTS BEFORE SIXTH”

i have actually never posted anything like this on my tumblr - i'm kinda nervous ngl.

below you can find the blurb and entire first chapter of the fantasy novel i'm writing! 🤎 i'm so incredibly proud and wanted to share it with you :)

Andy was almost an adult now, not once in the past decade had she been entirely sober. This hadn't been a choice of her own; she didn't get many of those anymore after becoming a permanent resident in the Institute. She'd been permanently deprived of direct sunlight ever since her sixth birthday, on December 30th.

Meanwhile, her best friend claims to speak with his deceased parents and the Keepers found her newest ally before she did. They've been forcing him to use his powers for their selfish winnings, cruel violations like this could go unseen since the Warden disappeared.

Escaping the Keepers is one thing; they're still worlds apart from getting home - considering there's anything to come back to in the first place.

story : all rights reserved ; @porrokin

don't copy or claim this in any way; it is my work and belongs entirely to me.

THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER IS POSTED BELOW !

-

Never once during the past decade had Andy been entirely sober, that fact would, however, become even more disturbing when you considered she was barely eighteen years old. It hadn't been a conscious choice, at least not one of her own.

Ever since her sixth birthday - almost precisely twelve years ago - Keepers had taken the freedom of making decisions away from her. What she ate, where she slept, who she talked to, and whether or not she took her meds four times per day - which she did, much to her disliking.

The Keepers no longer informed Andy of their plans for her, they used to back when she was still enrolled in the program. Christiano was, though she wasn't sure if she always believed him when he talked about what he did during those three hours every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday. Nine hours each week, that's how much time they did want to spend with her roommate. She was on her own, once again.

The line scurried along. Andy hesitantly followed as she took in the newly arrived smell of potatoes and spinach. Lunch must start soon, meaning the clock could say 12:55 am anytime now. The rest of the world outside was sleeping, in contrast to this place - heavily lit by beaming, quietly zooming tubes. The grey ceiling was covered in them, leaving nothing to go by without catching the eye of at least one Keeper. Andy didn't know why they lived during the night, rather than when the sun could cast real and natural light into the long, empty hallways. Probably to keep the public from asking much-needed questions about this place, or perhaps they did know but couldn't care enough.

Another name was called out - not hers. The girl in front of the line had been injected, she swiftly turned around and started walking in against the direction of the line. Back to her room, she went, another day of the same, mundane routine. Day after day, twelve years before you got away.

Long ginger hair draped over her slim shoulders, curls bouncing up slightly with every step she took. Her face looked tense; not unusual for this place, but it was rather strange to see from this girl. When their eyes met, Andy was surprised to see an almost luminescent light grey shade. The girl's eyes were once green but now reminded her of the colour of freshly polished silverware reflecting in the light.

As she walked past her spot in line, electricity seemed to flow through Andy's spine; causing her entire body to shiver. Her eyebrows shaped themselves into a slight frown, for a moment she glanced behind her to look at this girl for an extra second. She wasn't allowed to speak to anyone in white but her roommate, though by now she'd been here long enough to recognize who slept in the same hallway and who didn't.

A loud crackling sound disrupted the silence, a moment later the automated voice began to talk through the speakers. Same time every day, the same voice at exactly five minutes before 1 am. 'Ten minutes before lunchtime, those who have not yet received their injections will be expected back in Hallway 162B in exactly 45 minutes'.

In a matter of seconds, their plan was about to be set in motion.

Right away, rummaging sounds rose from the back of the line. 'I need Andy!', a familiar voice shakily called out. 'My roommate, Andy Donahue!'

'Not up to you, get back in line or I'll make you.' Andy recognized his voice as the heavier Keeper with the bushy, unmanaged moustache. He sounded calm, he'd been quick to tase someone in the past and would most likely have his beefy fingers wrapped around the device already.

She raised her hand and started walking towards the back of the line, her body shaking entirely as if it was freezing and she walked into the cold without any clothes on her limbs.

Without expecting it, she was forcefully yanked back from behind. Before Andy even had time to blink, her arms were locked firmly behind her back, wrists pushing hard against her spine.

'You too, now? Don't think you're an exception to the rules.' Captain Keeper; not because he's the leader, but he sure did like trying to boss the others around. She didn't answer him right away but rather tried to stretch her body and spot Christiano in the hallway. She couldn't.

'I'm his roommate, that's Irvine. Sometimes he freaks out in the presence of many people-' A sweaty hand roughly pulled her head back by her hair, causing her to face the ceiling. Her body alarmed her of the pain this caused to her neck. The bright lights made her eyes tear and she struggled to swallow.

'Did I tell you to open your mouth?' Clammy Hands scoffed.

She attempted to reason with him: 'Let me take him to our room so he can calm down.'

'Get back in line. Otherwise, I'll make sure you don't get out of solitary until snow melts.'

She managed to free her arm from his clammy grasp. 'I can ensure you-'

He reached for her, his face caught between anger and frustration. He was getting impatient, little was he aware that this was exactly Andy's will. She stumbled backwards to avoid him this time, successfully, both of them were surprised by it.

'Christiano will throw up. Do you want that to happen when..' She ever so slightly raised her chin, dramatically pausing for a moment as she raised her boney finger.

Andy continued. 'About six hundred kids still need their injections in this hallway? That seems to be a big inconvenience — if I am allowed to voice my opinion.'

'Sir.' she added. The encounter would surely have been more entertaining would her head not be pounding, the shakiness of her knees increasing by the second. She knew her body needed the meds she managed to rid this morning - she would deny this dependence at any cost if someone were to ask.

He sighed and resultantly nodded in Christiano's direction. 'Go. I'll know where to find you in five minutes.'

She did as told, anxiously searching the hallway for her roommate. So far everything was going just as she so meticulously planned; she was okay.

By now she imagined the time creeping closer to 1:00 am, breaks for the Administration would start in ten minutes; she only needed three. The two minutes after that meant for racing back to their room, in case Captain Keeper was indeed determined to stick to his earlier promise.

Something as cold as ice grabbed her hand, effortlessly disrupting her thoughts. Chocolate brown eyes met hers, a feeling of relief washed over Andy's body. Squeezing his hand, they swiftly disappeared behind the corner at the end of the hallway.

'You got the key?' Andy hushed her voice. Administration breakrooms were still in the same hallway as their offices. She wondered whether they got as little sunlight as the kids here did.

'I do. Traded my last blanket for 15 minutes of borrowing the thing, this place leaks of greedy bastards.' He grinned, accentuating his sharp facial structure.

'If you're right about the Bidding we'll be out of here soon enough anyway.'

'I am right.'

'I believe you.' She extended her hand for him to hand her the key. 'I want to prepare for everything, that's all.'

While Andy gained access to Ad 348H, Christiano leaned nonchalantly against the drinking fountain, his finger push-ready on the button. If she caught the sound of water running, she needed to hide. Christiano would have to sneak her back out after their lunchtime. Not the desired option, as this would be too close for comfort with the Administration break ending at the same time.

Thanks to Christiano's contacts she knew immediately which cabinet to find; about twenty seconds had passed already. Her hands rummaged through the several files and envelopes, one of the many drawers containing surnames with "D" as their starting letter.

She gasped audibly when finally skimming across her own, "Andy Donahue" it said. As she attempted to pull it out, the cardboard folder ripped on one end; the contents spilling out like jelly beans at an overwhelmingly disorganized children's party.

She cursed to herself as she attempted to fish for whatever just got lost within the mass amount of documents and belongings. A soft texture brushed against her finger and with some effort, she managed to grab onto it.

Her journal! Andy's heart skipped a beat, who knew they would've collected this in here after confiscating it years ago. Without hesitation she dropped it into the neck of her jacket, holding it against her stomach with her other hand. What else did she need? Her file was too big to ever sneak out in its entirety and to take this heavy notebook was already a reach.

A loud cough echoed into the room as if she had her fingers in her ears this whole time to block out the noise. Finally, the sound of splashing water seemed to reach her. She slammed the cabinet shut, somehow getting her black sleeve stuck in the process. No, no, this was bad - this was so awfully bad.

While securing the journal with her other arm she put her body up against the heavy metal cabinet and made a desperate attempt at freeing herself from its hold.

'Yes!', slightly too loud.

Within a moment she smoothly turned around, slamming herself against something and stumbling onto the cold concrete flooring.

'We really don't have time anymore, why didn't you come out when I signalled for you?', Christiano grabbed her free arm and hurriedly pulled Andy back up on her feet.

'I'm sorry!'

She followed right behind him, both came to a sudden stop once they'd realized what was waiting behind the walls of Ad 348H. At least six Keepers surrounded them in the hallway, pointing that same amount of stun batons in their direction.

Captain Clammy Hands was the one to break the silence: "Such a shame, Donahue."

-

© PHOTOGRAPHY : @/k_reckd [ TWITTER ]

to read more, check out my story on wattpad @/porrokin [ same as on tumblr ]

CREDIT WHERE IT IS DUE ; THE COVER

© PHOTO - MODEL : @/iiphugs [ TWITTER ]

[merlins-mushrooms]

Surprise, surprise, I'm back again!! I know I ask for a lot of drabbles, but listen,,, they're really good and I want to support!! But uh, could you do a Cedric x Reader drabble about the first time they say I love you? Ft. Lots of fluff and romance? Pretty please with a cherry on top??

I know you requested fluff and romance but some little goblin in my brain kept banging pots and pans together and screaming “ANGST” and I had no choice but to indulge it to get it to shut up

Also if there’s any mistakes in this please take into consideration that it’s currently two in the morning and I chose to finish this instead of sleep. Do not follow my example. Sleep.

You could tell within five seconds of Cedric storming into his workshop that his day had been… rough. He had that look, his patented “I’ve had it with just about every creature on this blasted planet” look. He’d told you on many occasions that you were never one of those creatures, that you could always lift his mood just by paying him a visit, which made you giddy beyond words.

This morning Cedric had asked you to come to his workshop to see him that evening, since he knew he had a busy day and wanted you there so he could end his day on a happy note. You were more than happy to, even though you knew the risks. Specifically, the risks of having to deal with a cranky Cedric.

Like right now, for instance.

“Don’t even start,” you tutted when Cedric started to rant, unable to stop the amused smile creeping onto your face. “I’ve got some tea ready for you, just come sit down and I’ll give you a shoulder massage.”

Cedric closed his mouth, though his expression remained sour. He sat down in the chair you pulled up for him, thanking you as you handed him his cup of tea.

“So,” you said as you began to rub at the muscles in his shoulders, “I’d ask you to tell me about your day, but I think I know enough.”

Cedric grunted. “Awful, as usual.”

You gave a sharp laugh. ‘As usual,’ oh, how dramatic. You knew Cedric’s days were often just fine, that a day like this happened maybe once a month, at most. You stayed quiet though, not wanting to irk Cedric any more.

“I didn’t spend fifteen years perfecting the art of sorcery just to spend my time as the royal sorcerer entertaining children and being subjected to humiliating circumstances. If I’m going to be performing idiotic tricks I should at least be doing it in front of other royalty- adult royalty, thank you. Why can’t anybody respect me…”

Your heart swelled with sympathy. You had seen Cedric do incredible things, he deserved more recognition than he received. “People do respect you, Cedric.”

“Sofia hardly counts,” Cedric said with a sneer. “I’ve seen her have conversations with a rabbit, so her respect for me may not mean much.”

You laughed. “Well, I respect you too,” you said with a warm smile, moving your hands up to rub gingerly at his neck, “I know you’re a great sorcerer.”

Cedric sighed, waving your hands away and turning around to face you. “I know, but that’s not enough.”

The smile on your face dropped instantly. “What do you mean?”

“All my life I’ve had to prove myself to everyone: my parents, my sister, Roland…” Cedric looked to you sadly, “They all think that I’m a bumbling idiot of a sorcerer. But if I finally gained their respect, no one would ever doubt my talents again.”

You quirked an eyebrow questioningly, “So…?”

“So, they’re the ones that matter.”

Cedric realized his mistake in word choice when he saw the hurt look on your face. His heart sank. He started to backtrack, stuttering something about not meaning what he said and just being tired from the long day, but you were already turning to leave with a huff. He stood up to go after you, but he stopped himself. Maybe it was best to let you leave and cool off. After all, what he had said to you was horrible. He didn’t blame you for being angry with him. However, part of him worried that if he let you leave, you’d never come back.

“Wait!” Cedric shouted after you, “Please, don’t leave!”

You snort, grabbing your bag that you had left by the door. “You’ve made it clear how you feel. I wouldn’t want to stay and be in your way of proving yourself to the people who actually matter to you.”

Cedric cringed. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was a rat. “Please, just let me explain-”

“There’s no need.”

“Don’t go!” Cedric was starting to panic, fearing that he may never be able to fix this mistake.

You scoffed. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because…” Cedric took a shaky breath, “Because I love you.”

You froze, your hand still tightly gripping the doorknob. You certainly weren’t expecting that. There was a twinge of doubt in your mind, however. He had said it in a heated moment. What if he only said it to catch you off guard and stop you from leaving? Would Cedric really stoop to such a low level?

The fact that you hadn’t moved both worried and relieved Cedric. On the one hand, you hadn’t stormed out of the room, so that must mean something. On the other hand, your silence was disconcerting. Cedric gulped. “Are you going to say anything?”

You were trying to. All of the thoughts and words tumbling around in your head seemed to dry up on your tongue when you tried to summon them. You gave up on speaking and slowly turned around, your heart fluttering in your chest when you saw Cedric’s face, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he bit his lower lip, a sign of Cedric’s nervousness you had grown familiar with. You could tell he really meant what he said.

Cedric swallowed. “Well, if you aren’t going to say something, then allow me. Of course you matter to me. You’re kind, and wonderful, and you’ve been there for me more times than I can count. I know I haven’t told you this as often as I should, but I appreciate you and everything you do for me. The one thing you can’t do, however, is change the minds of everyone who thinks I’m a terrible sorcerer. I know you try, but it’s just not enough. I wish it were.

“I’m sorry that I said something so hurtful to you, I truly didn’t mean it. When I said I love you, however, that I meant from the bottom of my heart. I’d tell you every reason why I love you, but I think I’ve said enough for tonight. I’m sure that you agree.”

Now your eyes were the ones with unshed tears. The only sound you could manage was a soft “Cedric,” as you stepped away from the door, lowering your bag back to the floor, your eyes never leaving his.

Cedric gave a nervous chuckle, “I will say, I wasn’t planning on blurting it out like I did. I’ve wanted to tell you for some time now, but I wanted to save it for a… better moment than this one, I suppose. The middle of a fight may not have been the best-” Cedric was silenced by your lips on his. He returned the kiss, melting when he felt your hands come up to cup his face.

You pulled away. “I love you too, by the way. Probably should have mentioned that.”

“I-”

You pressed your finger to Cedric’s lips to silence him. “I thought you said you were done talking for the night?” You grinned and resumed the kiss before Cedric could say anything else.

[ripspaghet]

bff | 03

↳ series m.list | 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 |

→ pairing: yoongi x reader

→ word count: 4,062

Prologue Summary; Your best friend’s boyfriend takes an unhealthy interest in you and just as he shows up something from your past starts to creep up on you again. Could this strange and mysterious man have something to do with it? And should you trust him, or your instincts to run far, far away from him?

→ warnings: none yet.

“____, come on. I know I can be boring when I teach but, please, at least act like you’re listening?” The odor of old books and dust wafted through musky air. Rarely any students come here anymore, opting to study elsewhere or not at all. So, it’s fairly quiet except for the few crickets jumping around outside the glass doors of the stuffy library. 

“Ah, uh, sorry.” You pull your attention away from the tiled floor to look at your friend. He’s leaning over the table your both sat at. His long body looks awkward scrunched up in the small library chair, almost like he’s a grown man sitting in something made for a toddler. 

 A sigh passes his lips, “Let’s just call it a day. If you can’t focus it’s better to just get some sleep and study another time.” You nod along with his suggestion. He was beyond right. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to focus any time soon. Not when those dreams are still looming around in your mind and you remain unable to properly remember anything, which is no surprise but only furthers your annoyance.

“Oh, that reminds me! Sorry, I almost forgot to tell you. I’m going to be out of town for the next few days and won’t be able to help you study. Don’t panic though, I have a friend that agreed to help you until I’m back. He knows all about this stuff. He took it last year.”

Your shoulders fall limp, “You what?”

He began sliding his textbooks back into his bag with his other belongings, “I know, but it can’t be helped. My family is having a getaway and my parents wanted me to take a break with them.”

You click your tongue, “Only Kim Namjoon’s parents would want their kid to take a break from school. My mom might have my head if I ever even thought about taking a break. She’d think I was trying to drop out.”

Namjoon chuckled heartily, “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t stress. My friend probably knows more about this stuff than me anyways. I’ll text you his number.”

“Is your friend Einstein??”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Seriously,” You groan, losing your composure, and leaning back into your chair, “how could you do this to me? What if this guy tries to assault me or something? You can’t just leave me with some random.”

“You know, the more you hang out with Jimin the more you start to sound like him. This guy isn’t like that, trust me.”

“Jimin? What’s that supposed to-” A fist slams down on the table and you and Namjoon nearly jump out of your seats, “You’re leaving?!”

“Oh, Taehyung,” Namjoon laughs nervously, regaining his composure. 

“Who’s gonna help me with my creative writing class?! I came here to ask you for help.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, “What the hell are you in a creative writing class for?” Taehyung doesn’t spare you a glance, keeping his eyes fixed on Namjoon, who’s checking twice for all his belongings.

“____ can help you with creative writing. She’s good with that stuff.”

Taehyung’s head whips over to you his eyes widened, “Really?”

“What?“ You adjust yourself to sit up straight in your chair, "Namjoon, don’t tell him that, I’m too busy as is. I can’t help him. Absolutely not.”

“Surely you could squeeze in a minute or two.”

“Namjoon,”

“It can’t be helped.”

“Namjoon.” 

He just smiles at you knowingly, “I’ll be going. The weekend calls. Have fun you two.”

“Wait-”

“Bye, ____. Get home safe.” Your eyes flicker over to Taehyung and you squint up at him in irritation. He’s looking at you expectantly, tapping his foot.

"I’m sure Jimin can help you." 

"You-”

“I don’t have the time.” You gather up your belongings, not sparing Taehyung another glance as you make your escape.

You’d made a habit out of avoiding Taehyung since you’d met him, as you did for all the frat guys at your university. It wasn’t anything personal - it's just that the whole school knows that they're bad news. In other words, party every night until we can’t walk straight anymore and mess around with as many girls as we want, types of bad news.

Your feet drag lazily across water-covered concrete once you make it outside. It had stopped raining for the time being, but that didn’t change the fact that it was now below freezing out due to the sun being replaced by a moon that was hidden behind dull rain clouds. The streets were empty aside from the few people making their way home from a late shift at work. 

“You will soon.”

You grimace. Why is it so familiar? A voice very gravelly and intense, where have heard it before? You purse your lips in thought. Just at the remembrance of a voice, red begins to color your cheeks and your hands grow clammy. What is this? You’d never felt this way before. Except when reading something similar to a thrilling romance book. The dream had been so seemingly real, the voice so close to your ear that it was impossible to deny how intimate the situation had been.

You groan in frustration. Jimin can’t possibly be right about it being a wet dream though. “Right, because you never talk with any other man besides me.” You roll your eyes. You should’ve punched him in the gut right then. Plenty of guys talk to you, it’s just that you’re so obviously uninterested that they grow bored easily. You’re not interested in just some fling.

“Excuse me?” A tap on your shoulder drags you out of your whirlpool of thoughts, “You dropped this.” You turn, a bit startled to see a gold necklace dangled from elegant fingers, the gold clashing with the pale skin it rests on. 

Deja vu.

“Oh, thank you.” You take the necklace from his fingers. It must have fallen from around your neck without you noticing.

“Oh,” 

You lifted your gaze up from the gold now resting in the palm of your hand and meet brown orbs, that almost come off as black under the harsh yellow-toned street lamps. His dark hair hangs just above his eyes in unruly waves.

“Yoongi, ” 

An expression of slight uninterest bores into your eyes despite his surprised tone, “What are you doing out so late?” Your hands attempt to bury themselves deeper into their pockets, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach as a familiar feeling of warmth consuming your chest.

“It not that late, is it?” You force a small smile that probably ended up looking a nervous cry for help. 

He glances around at the dark city surrounding the two of you, “Seeing as it twelve o'clock at night, I’d say it is.“ 

"I was studying at the library with a friend. Lost track of time I suppose.” Another awkward smile.

“I’ll walk you home.”

“N-no, I’m fine. You don’t need to do that. My place isn’t too far and I always walk home late. I’ll be fine.”

“I insist.” His voice is firm and strict, making his words come off as more of a demand, rather than a suggestion.

“Ok, I-I guess it’s fine, ”

The walk home is quiet. You don’t spare another glance in Yoongi’s direction despite the taunting urge to. It didn’t help any that it felt like his eyes were constantly glancing over. How had the atmosphere between the two changed so much in such little time? How come you felt so utterly scandalous under his gaze? You can’t help but feel your insides coil as silence settles over the two of you and remain in it for the rest of the way to your dorm. And despite a nagging feeling telling you otherwise, nothing happens.

The next day is another cold one, but instead of there being snow, there’s a thin layer of ice stuck to the ground as gentle rain pats down against it. Namjoon texted you his friend’s number and address this morning and informed you he’d already talked to him about it. And as per usual, decisions were made without your consent. It was bad enough you had to get up early on a weekend for work, but now instead of head straight home to bed, you have to rush off to study with some random.

"I’m so sick of the smell of coffee. I go home, my clothes smell like coffee. I go to bed, my bed smells like coffee. Drag my ass out of bed and come here, to smell what? Coffee. It’s not even nice smelling coffee either. It’s bitter and too strong, like diesel gasoline.” You keep your eyes fixed on the coffee shop’s glass doors, opting to wait for the next custom rather than acknowledge your babbling coworker. 

Namjoon told you that his friend had no other free time to spare. So, it was in the morning, or never.

“I mean, can’t they at least make it smell good? Heaven knows it already tastes like crap.” You learned rather quickly after taking this job that entertaining this man’s ranting would only add to the flames. You pity the people who walk in unknowingly and spark up a conversation with him simply for his good looks, to later find out that his mouth never shuts while doing something he despises, which would pertain to his entire job. 

“____, are you even listening to me?” His voice goes up an octave, bringing his eyebrows along for the ride.

Reluctantly you turn your head away from the doors and stare blandly at his wide rounded eyes and parted lips, “Yes, Seokjin, I’m hearing every word of what you’re saying.”

He studies you for a moment before speaking again, something he rarely does, “Ah, that’s right, you’re not a morning person. I’m sure you have it much worse. I can’t imagine already being in a bad mood and having to come here.”

“Mhm,”

“And the customers are always so rude in the morning. I don’t know how you manage." 

You don’t know how you’ve been able to keep yourself from shoving a bag of coffee beans down his throat, "Yeah,”

Work drags on as normal and as soon as the clock strikes 9:40 am you hang up your apron and fly out the door with the speed of light, completely ignoring Seokjin who calls after you, nagging about you not bothering to even tell him goodbye. 

Once outside you follow your phone’s navigation down multiple streets, your hood up while you grip an arm around your waist in a sad attempt to retain even the smallest amount of body heat. Winter, what a season that you hated to love.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

You halt. Well, that wasn’t all too far. Looking up your gaze meets a tall luxurious building.

“Madam, may I assist you?" 

You startle not realizing the man standing next to the building’s entryway, "Uh, yes? Maybe? I’m meeting a friend of mine. Would you happen to know someone by the name of Namjoon?” In your awestruck confusion, you figured that maybe the mention of Namjoon’s name would help in some way. You mean, Namjoon is the one who recommended the person who supposedly lives in, what appears to be, a tower of silver and gold.

“Ah, yes, follow me, Madam. I will show you to the floor." 

"Ok,” Your voice turns into a small whisper as you look up the building again, feeling the sheer intimidation it radiates. This can’t be the place. 

You follow the doorman inside as he leads you to an elevator at the center of a spacious lobby. Seeing as how early it is in the morning it’s not unprecedented that the whole place is empty. Most rich people probably leave as early as five in the morning to get a head start for the day, you’d assume.

“The Master is in the penthouse so we will be going rather high up. If you have a fear of heights I’d recommend avoiding the windows.” Your stomach turns as the elevator doors shut and you’re lurched up. The elevator dings each time it passes a floor and eventually you start to think that, maybe you’re going to hurl out of the top of the building and fall all the way back down to the ground because how could there be this many floors?? You supposed it was a fitting fate for one as tired as you. At least then you be getting some kind of rest.

“The Master?”

“All will be explained by the Master himself.” The doorman doesn’t even spare you a glance, his attention remaining on the rising floor number. 

“Oh,” You nod and look away wondering what exactly Namjoon had signed you up for this time. Perhaps you were about to mean a famous business leader or a master of the arts? Knowing Namjoon had set this up left nothing off the table. That guy could probably arrange a meeting with the president of the United States with his whole family’s well regarded social status.

“Here we are, Madam. Be sure to push the doorbell before entering. The Master treasurers his privacy."  The doorman bows his head and you step out of the elevator before closing the doors with the press of a button and ascending back down. 

You turn to face the other way and push the doorbell to a pair of tall smooth wooden doors as instructed. But as you wait nothing happens. You hear nothing as a whole minute ticks away and you debate just going back down in the elevator to head home for your bed. Failing any of your classes isn’t an option for you though. You hesitantly ring the bell again and pull out your phone double-checking the address just in case. It wouldn’t be all too surprising if you were in the wrong place. What kind of person around your age, that just finished school a year ago, could afford a place like this?

Once again no one comes to let you in and your impatiens begin to teeter. You swear, if this guy made you come all the way out here this early in the morning just to stand you up, you’d kill Namjoon. So, with that thought in mind, you place your index finger back on the doorbell and let it have a piece of your mind. The dinging rings out over and over again. And finally, after what felt like a thousand dings you hear a door slam from somewhere inside the penthouse, then muffled swear words and stomping just before the large door is swung open so fast you feared it might be yanked off its hinges.

"What the hell do you want from me?!” A familiar head of messy black hair, that’s even messier than normal is laid over the wrong side of his head makes you gasp. His eyes are squinted and puffy as they stare back at you in an uncouth manner.

“Uh-”

“Wait,” He’s eyes get bigger and he reaches up to rub the sleep out of his eyes almost like he’s seeing things, “____?”

Your eyes dart away awkwardly as you try to find words to say in response, “I’ll be leaving now.” You turn on your heel to run for the elevator.

“Shit, are you Namjoon’s friend that needs tutoring? Fuck, I completely forgot about that.” You could tell from the sound of his voice he was running his fingers through that messy black hair of his, but you continued walking. Fuck that guy for being attractive. You’re getting the hell out of here. No more coincidental run-ins.

“Quite alright, no need to apologize. I’ll be going now.”

“No!” He ran out in front of you to block the elevator buttons, nearly falling down in his haste to stop you, “I mean, ” He paused hardening the expression, “I promised Namjoon I’d help you. You can’t just leave.” You looked him up and down. It was strange seeing this, a side of him normally only a girlfriend or best friend would see when you’d only just met. And you barely being qualified enough to be called an acquaintance made it so it shouldn’t have been a problem to feel so awkward, if it hadn’t been for a tiny part you that was thinking about how good Min Yoongi, not only looked in casual clothes but looked without a shirt in black baggy joggers, with bedhead, sporting a sleepy voice. In fact, the more you looked at the man the more pissed off you became. How dare he tempt you in sullying your friendship with Mina by looking like that.

Suddenly taking notice in your lingering gaze Yoongi tried composing himself, putting his hand atop his head in an attempt to hide his mess of hair, “Namjoon will kill me if I go back on my word. Just come inside.”

“Put some clothes on.” You spun around in annoyance, striding into the penthouse. In all honesty, you’d rather jump from this floor to the ground than stay here, but Yoongi had reminded you why you were here. Namjoon is gone and won’t be back until the day of the presentations and you know there’s no way in hell you’d manage on your own with an unfinished project that you knew would remain that way if not given a helping hand. You know yourself well enough to know that being uninformed and out of ideas would lead to you throwing in the towel without having even tried to make a fully finished piece.

Yoongi was close on your heels, shutting the door behind him, “Actually, I thought I’d tutor you naked. Just to switch things up a bit.”

“Excuse me?!” You spun again almost sure you’d get whiplash. Yoongi was just watching your reaction in amusement and it dawned on you he was being sarcastic.

“Just a joke, ____.”

You glared, “Yeah? Well, I’d appreciate if you didn’t joke about such things with me.”

He chuckled almost endearingly, “Why?”

“Why? What do you- You know what? This is inappropriate. I’m leaving.” Judging from this conversation you had no doubt in your mind that this man had the capability of cheating on your best friend. 

You went for the door but Yoongi grabbed your upper arm before you could get past him, “You really shouldn’t take me seriously, ____. Now, stop being a child and let’s get this over with.” He removed his hand from around your arm as if it had never been there, to begin with, and walks away from you. “I’m going to put a shirt on and I’ll meet you back in here. Make yourself comfortable.” You feel like you’ve just undergone a full 360 in a short amount of time since you entered his home. Why are you here again?

Surveying up his home you walk further into what seems to be a rather cozy living room. All the colors in the room are either warm or extremely dark, except for the occasional white pillow or blanket laying around. Even the floor is tiled with warm reddish wood. The pitch-black walls contrast against the brightness flooding in through a window that covers the whole outer wall of the room. It’s similar to homes you’d only ever seen in magazines or movies.

“Wow,” you breathe out and take a seat down on a long black leather couch in the center in the room. The place has probably been professionally decorated just to Yoongi’s liking.

“Would you like something to drink? Have you eaten?”

You jump, startled, “N-no, I’m alright.”

He nods and holds a notebook out to you now sported a baggy black sweatshirt and unruly combed hair, “Here,” You hesitantly take it from him as he takes a seat next to you, “these are my old notes from when I was in school. They should be helpful. Is there anything in particular that you’re having trouble with?”

“Ah,” Right that’s what you came here for, “I’m not very good at this music stuff which is why I needed Namjoon’s help. Its extra credit for me is all. I’m majoring in film.” You pull your bag from your side, taking out all your own notes, a few hefty textbooks, and your laptop.

“What is your focus for the project then?” He leans over you watching as you open up all the proper program on your laptop. You nervously fidget, feeling your skin heat up and try leaning away from him without it being noticeable, “I want to present a completed song.” Yoongi gives you a look of ‘You can’t be fucking serious right?’ And you sigh, “Listen, I know I don’t even major in music and don’t really know what I’m doing, so it’s dumb of me to try this. But, I have a great love for music even though it isn’t my major. If I do something with this,” You point at your laptop screen, “I want it to be my very best. I really wanna try at it and I think I can hit all the points, I just need the opinion of a professional.”

He looks at you for a while before finally speaking, “You know, me helping you with this is kind of cheating.” You rose an eyebrow at him, gesturing that he elaborates. “It wouldn’t be fair to all the other students. Can’t you just choose a different route? Like, I don’t know? Doing a piece you’d put into a film or something? Something a little more down your alley?”

You shake your head, “I’ve already started. I don’t have the time to scrap anything and restart. Here,” You turn your attention back to the laptop and plug in a pair headphones then hand them to Yoongi, “Just listen and give me your thoughts.” Reluctantly he takes the headphones from you and puts them on. You press play and watch him closely, gauging his reaction as his breathe hitches not even five minutes into the song.

You quickly pause it and he takes off the headphones confused, “Was that you?”

“Was it bad? I suppose I can use auto-tune. That’s not breaking any rules right?”

“No, no, I mean,” He stops mid-sentence staring at you.

You turn away, facing your laptop, “You’re right, maybe I should just scrap it and start over.”

“No!” You flinched away from Yoongi at his sudden outburst, “No, you shouldn’t do that.” He’s to the laptop this time, studying all of your work, “It’s very good. It caught me off guard.” He puts the headphones back on then presses play again. You stare at him, in a loss for words. It was one thing to have Namjoon tell you your work was good when he was still in school, same as you. Yoongi, on the other hand, is already a music producer and judging by your surroundings he’s a very successful one.

“Is this all you have so far?” Yoongi slides the headphones back off, eyes on the screen of your laptop.

“Yeah…This is more of the ending rather than the beginning. I have parts written out and I’ve tried doing them myself like this but it just doesn’t sound the way I want it.”

Yoongi nods, “This has lots of potential. I’d like to see the beginning half. I think you can make an amazing piece with just this alone. I like how you’ve mixed the two genres. I can understand that it wouldn’t translate when using only your voice. With the way it flows, you’ll need to almost flip back a forth with two voices. Doing that will also add to the overall emotion in the song seeing as it’s a romantic piece. You’ll need someone with a lower octave that balances while with your own sound. Finding someone to do that should be hard as your voice is pretty enough on its own to captivate any listener. The difficult part is blending the just right amount of both that’s not overdoing it.”

You nod trying to ignore the flush you feel in your cheeks as you watch him flip from line to line on your recordings. 

“I’m impressed.” He looks up to you and instantly looks away.

“Thank you.”

.

.

.

tags

@im-emo-motherfuckers @team-wang-puppy @seokchella

[theangrypokemaniac]

There's a sneering attitude that the dub is inherently inferior solely for being a dub, and when I say 'dub' I mean the American one. No one attacks the South American interpretation, funnily enough, or the variety that exist globally.

Why not if foreign languages are so abhorrent?  Do you think it's kewl to hate America?

That's so original you know.

If the moan centres on the dub changing certain things, well that's a pointless stance, because it's impossible to do otherwise.

What's accepted in one country is not always permitted elsewhere, so either you make those alterations or it's never shown. I'd prefer seeing a slightly toned down version rather than have it never reach the West at all.

This is without considering the technical obstacles that a direct translation brings. The words do have to fit the mouth movements, and if they don't, truncation must follow.

America and Japan are different; the population of the former are not going to comprehend the references to the latter's history and culture, which necessitates some divergence from the original to give it mass appeal.

Anime is a branch of entertainment. It has to attract the public's good will to stay in business. If impenetrable, it'll fail, with all the resulting unemployment and finacial losses that brings.

Those in charge of dubbing understandably think they're on safer ground promoting familiarity rather than the strange, but that's not to say Pokémon was stripped of its identity. On the contrary, it was like nothing I'd ever encountered before.

I may have watched Western cartoons then, but the idea of doing so now is silly. I won't give time to any modern animation unless it's Japanese. Growing up on the dub has not produced an ephemeral fan less serious or 'true'.

The 4Kids dub had wit, humour, deep emotion, suggestive comments and flights of fancy. The voices fitted the characters well.

Unlike the current one, where everyone sounds on the verge of vomiting, but then they're clearly working with substandard material on a miserly budget. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear after all.

Dubs can be bad, but the very state of being a dub doesn't confer worthlessness automatically. Considering the work gone into them, attempting to gain your favour, it seems rude not to appreciate the time and energy spent in production.

Knowing a little about history, sub-only fanatics remind me of the kind of folk who opposed an English Bible, because it was too good for the oiks to read the word of God.

Of course it was alright for them, rich enough to be taught Latin, but not so much the ordinary man.

It amuses me how dozens dismiss the dub, but see no hypocrisy in using its evidence to further their ship or anti-ship arguments, so it can't be that revolting.

It's also bizarre that so many hold sacred the sub of a series currently in a frenzy to shed every aspect of its anime and Japanese origins, leaving a vague, rootless ghost, supposedly making it easier to slip down the gullet of the masses.

Pokémon I've seen referred to as a 'gateway drug', as in the anime that introduced a generation to the entire concept. This means the dub. You would not have got enough kids in the late Nineties to read a screen rather than watch it, and even today most would lose interest rapidly.

Where would you be without that dub? Unless you're Japanese, your first experience of Pokémon will have been a dub, and if not the American, the one where you live, which was only made because there was the funds available.

You may have then progressed to watching the sub, but only because that dub stirred love in your soul.

Where would the franchise be without that dub? You think Pokémon would've grown to be a world-wide obsession raking in billions by itself? No, it'd still be a solely Japanese phenomena, and most likely never lasted this long.

Its decades of supremacy rests on the quality of that dub. It sold games and merchandise to kids by the ton, giving an incentive to keep the series going. If you're not a fan from the first wave, then your favourite era would have never existed had it not been financially attractive carrying on.

The team who wrote the first film actually preferred the dub, moved to tears by its emotive use of music, therefore they aren't so precious as the fans.

Where would anime be without that dub? Pokémon brought it to the West. A handful slipped through previously, but made minor impression.

To those who would dismiss Pokémon entirely in favour of more 'worthy' output such as Studio Ghibli, I would say that Pokémon, first the games, then the programme they inspired, must have an integral quality to have caught on in Japan, which isn't exactly short on similar concepts.

To have gained popularity in a crowded market, and so fervently a dub became an option, can only have come about because it held a certain magic.

It was the dub that smashed a hole in the cultural barrier, setting free the tidal wave to engulf the world. In Pokémon's trail followed Digimon, Cardcaptors, Monster Rancher, Yu-Gi-Oh! et cetera.

Without Pokémon, I doubt they'd have been translated, and definitely never broadcast on mainstream television. That came about as channels desperately hunted down anything Japanese to serve as the next craze.

I really appreciated the effort made by 4Kids in converting every aspect of the series to suit American tastes, including changing text on signs, letters and books into English. I assumed this was standard practice until I watched others.

I could never be as involved in them as I was Pokémon because of that block. It was like being denied access to the deeper waters, fenced into the shallows, and implied a rushed dub, with little care shown but to chase the same crowd and money.

If personified, the dub 'n' sub wouldn't be one human being, but rather identical twins: the same to a casual observer, but easy to tell apart by the more attentive.

It's like the games: Red and Blue are versions of a single adventure, but not totally one. Take the dub and the sub the same way. They are parallel dimensions running on separate rails, and beyond reconciliation, and that's before we consider that, sub and dub alike, each generation has only a faint relation to its predecessor, working on its own whims.

Everyone has a favourite, or can like both, and there's nothing wrong in that, but so many are proud of the fact they hate the dub, as if it conveys a revered status of supremacy.

When Disney films are shown abroad, they too are translated, and I'm sure references and jokes are redesigned to make sense to the locals. It's no use selling yourself as a comedy then being surprised when the audience refuses to laugh, having no idea what you mean.

If people prefer that one, for being what introduced them to Disney as a whole, or as a fond memory of childhood, then so what?

I don't mind if their view of a character is minutely at odds with mine, having seen the original, because what they think is canon to their version, so can't be wrong.

I don't go round declaring every Disney dub to be pathetic by its nature, that viewers of them are of a lesser breed of fan for preferring their own tongue, even though more of the world's population understand English than they do Japanese.

If you enjoy one tailored to your country there's no crime in it, just as I like one at least comprehensible to mine. It's not even my culture, but I pick it up mostly.

The choice must be made on which to follow, and this blog runs on dub canon, as that has a claim on my heart. Just because I don't acknowledge what takes place in the sub doesn't mean I'm unaware of it, but it has no bearing on what I write.

The idea that the dub alters things willy-nilly without rhyme nor reason is also mistaken. Often it does it because the original does not make sense.

In the sub, I know Nanny and Pop-Pop are just a couple of old duffers taken at random and dropped in to a castle, supposedly as James's far away nannies.

Oh yeah, that's a cushy position. You doing a lot of child care from miles off?

Mind you, it used to describe 'em as 'caretakers' on Bulbapædia, as if Nan serves as housekeeper whilst Pop tends to the garden.

That's right. Ma and Pa finally got some work out of this pair of freeloaders.

They're not related, remember? No, no, absolutely not, no way. Of course their style reflects that. They just gave Pop a 'tache, thick eyebrows and a bigger nose, and Nan got a bun and lines in her hair, but there's certainly no connection. Oh no. Such a thing is ridiculous.

They're NOT family. No. Yet Hoenn James still panics they might learn he's joined Team Rocket, spending the whole episode trying to hide the truth.

Why? Who are servants to criticise the son of their employers? Why should their opinion be of any consequence to Hoenn James, especially when his parents, fiancée and butler are cognizant of reality?

Children of aristocrats are usually brought up by governesses, thus develop a stronger attachment to these figures rather than their parents, but that isn't the case here.

James lived with Ma and Pa, not the codgers minding the castle. He would have very little contact with distant employees compared to those who waited on him daily, so why seek out their approval?

Hoenn James apparently was permitted visits to Nan 'n' Pop, which is strange considering they're not relatives. Why them and not any other house-stters?

That's right, Ma and Pa sent their son to one of their properties without them, entrusting him to the care of two shrivelled pensioners of his size that he barely knew, and who could keel over at any minute. There are no other servants present. Apparently Nan and Pop clean an entire castle by themselves.

Oh, and they run a makeshift Pokémon sanctuary, but since it's not their home it has to be done with Ma and Pa's blessing, who also have to pay for it, but they're eevul aren't they?

The idea that somehow Nanny and Pop-Pop have not cottoned on to James's occupation by now is risible.

Servants gossip about their masters. I bet the entire household of his home know, and so in turn does the county. That Nan and Pop remain oblivious proves how isolated they are, for no one's thought to inform them.

When it came to dubbing it, they were made his grandparents, removing all the above nonsense. Of course he visits his nan and granddad, it's their gaff and their money funding the place, and it is likely his mother or father would keep James's job a secret, for fear the shock would finish 'em off.

It should do really. If they're not bothered by it that's a sign of where his rapscallion ways were inherited.

They aren't facially akin to Ma and Pa, but display the same additions, so if staff it's bloody lazy, as if nannies have to resemble your parents, but inventing a blood link excuses the slothful characterisation.

Every reference I've seen on Tumblr relating to the coffin-dodgers calls them Nanny and Pop-Pop. Apparently the dub decision is met with universal approval. It does have redeeming aspects then.

Now the sub writers, rather than ignore this development, took to it too. They aren't exactly bursting with ideas these days and are probably grateful for the lifelines offered.

Remembering James had parents, they forced a likeness between them and Nanny and Pop-Pop. How else do you explain the inexplicable ageing, even when Sinnoh Ma and Sinnoh Pa are younger than Ma and Pa?

I've also known for years that the sub has this woman as Jessie's foster mother, not Ma Jess, but that's stupid.

I can grasp the idea that Jessie and Ma might have endured extreme deprivation, considering that's what Team Rocket has brought to Jessie anyway, and that they may have lived at the bottom of Mew's mountain prior to Ma's death.

What I find difficult to take in is that social services (or as they're known where I live, the S.S.), however notoriously awful they are, would give a child to a mad bitch in a shack with no running water.

Come on, they have to at least pretend to be concerned for Jessie's welfare.

As Jessie is very young, bereavement can't have befallen her in the distant past, so how can she be happy this soon after becoming an orphan? How could the grieving period be a cherished memory?

If that woman's creaming off the money, why hasn't she fixed the place up by now? Where do the payments go, sniffing glue?

Then there's the depiction. If this is just some daft bint never to be mentioned again, why do they conceal her face? Who cares what she looks like when she's unimportant?

Here's another figure from Jessie's past. She isn't disguised, and why not when she too briefly appears and is then forgotten?

Who was she?

The only sort of characters they tended to hide were other members of Team Rocket:

During the early scenes featuring Giovanni, he was enveloped in shadow, adding both intrigue and a sense of menace.

Madame Boss also got this treatment, even though there was probably no intention to ever feature her in the anime. What's the use in keeping an appearance a mystery if it'll remain masked?

With that pattern, it implies this woman is in the same category, like Ma Jess.

When it came to animation, it definitely was intended to be a foster mother. Not her real one. No.

What did they do?

They gave her Jessie's skin tone and purple hair hanging down her back!

You know, like Ma Jess?

Any colour would've done. Any at all, and being anime I do mean any colour, but no. The choice was made to give her the looks of the exact person she's not meant to be!

Is it that surprising the dub simplified things?

I don't mind if you like the dub, sub, both, or any from around the world, but I'm tired of the smug condescension, as if we all agree the sub is the only one that counts, and that dub fans are grunting troglodytes, or not 'proper' aficionados.

None of us would be here were it not for the dub. Pokémon would not be here. I think it deserves some respect for how much of a difference it made, to my life and to yours.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Savannah

Jac: Feel totally free to ignore this, and this isn't an attempt to further any more conversation between us again if you don't want it, but it would feel bizarre to pretend...well, that we hadn't known each other before, or that I'd forgotten you entirely, so Jac: Obviously things weren't great when you left but I'm fully over that as no doubt you are too Jac: As we're classmates again, it makes sense to me that we are civil and prepared to work together if necessary but I'm not going to attempt more than that, nor am I holding some kind of grudge which would prohibit the former, I thought I'd reassure you of that, as well as just say, hello, I suppose 🙂 Savannah: You're right, it would be bizarre as well as counterproductive Savannah: though, we don't actually know each other any more, two formative years having passed, so I don't see why we can't start over Savannah: treating each other like we would our other classmates Jac: That sounds logical to me too Jac: I'd be happy to treat this as an introduction opposed to a reintroduction Savannah: okay Savannah: but before we do, I just want to say I'm really proud of you for getting in Jac: You too Jac: it's amazing, isn't it Jac: better than we had even visualized and worked and prayed for Savannah: I always knew you could do it Jac: I had no doubts about you, either Jac: potential that you'd changed your course and vision but whatever you put your mind and talent to Savannah: I did think you'd go to Bath, or that I would Jac: I could lie here and say something about preferring the history and culture of Edinburgh as a city, and finding St Andrews better in X Y Z but Jac: Bath didn't happen, is the reality of it Jac: but I'm not devastated, as I once would've been to be left with my 2nd choice Savannah: We don't have to lie, it didn't happen for me either, partly because catholic school did of course, but that's not the entirety of it Jac: I try to leave lying, however innocuous and pointless, two years ago, too Jac: Karma or otherwise, just stopped feeling worth it Jac: how was your new School? Savannah: A lot of things stopped feeling worth it to me too Savannah: Oh, Sienna liked it Savannah: I did not Jac: I am sorry to hear that Jac: I can't think of anything I would've liked less than being surrounded by other hormonal, crazy, moody, bitchy teenage girls either Savannah: at least she thrived, you wouldn't even recognise her now Savannah: she's so Savannah: Loud Jac: 😂 Jac: Loud can be good Jac: at least some positives came of it all Savannah: she reminds me of how I remember Jude Savannah: but she's happy, I think Jac: I think you'd still have recognized Jude Jac: likely from a mile off, giving you time to escape Jac: I hope she is Savannah: 😄 Jac: and that you'll be happier here than you were there, too Savannah: unless either of my parents enrol, we can take that as a given Jac: I'll drink to that Jac: complimentary coffee, that is Savannah: for now anyway Jac: Hopefully the plans get a little more exciting Savannah: 🙌 Jac: Have you heard any Psych school nights being organized or do you think one of us should bite that bullet and start the group chat? Savannah: we should do it Savannah: best foot forward, you know? Jac: Absolutely Jac: Why not, eh Jac: You're in halls too, right? Savannah: Yes Savannah: where are you? Jac: John Burnet, how about you? Savannah: You only get a single bed too! Savannah: I'm in University Hall Savannah: it's so pretty Jac: The nuns taught you well then 😛 Jac: I think it's worth it for the architecture, we'll just have to remember not to roll Savannah: 👼🏾🙏🏾 Savannah: It wasn't worth ANOTHER argument with my dad about co-ed Jac: and you get to have the Libraries literally right on your doorstep Jac: I was debating it, but I'm still better in smaller crowds, that sold JB to me ultimately Savannah: if my dad didn't run my life I totally would've applied there too Savannah: I love that it has a garden Jac: I know, right? Jac: Well you can use my little patch of 🌷 🌹 🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻 whenever you like, because I'll certainly be haunting the libraries enough Savannah: You haven't lost any of your sweetness Savannah: & of course you must, I hate studying alone Jac: I'll probably be tragically uncool forever, our classmates may as well find out sooner rather than later 💁 Jac: if the sight of all those books gets too much, there's always the 🏖 for maximum studying, I'm sure Savannah: No way! I had more fun with you than I've had with anyone else EVER Savannah: they'll find all your good points Jac: 😊 Jac: Okay, we did have some fun Savannah: a lot Jac: I can't/shan't disagree with that Savannah: it doesn't feel like two years Savannah: sometimes more like twenty, or like two months Jac: It is really weird, I felt like I haven't said it because it can't be overstated Jac: but good weird Jac: are any of your friends from Sligo here too? Jac: I don't know anyone Savannah: I don't know anyone either Jac: A familiar face is a good thing Jac: as is getting to know each other afresh, they can coexist Savannah: I thought it was for the best that nobody followed me here, until I saw you Jac: Shocking as it was Jac: glad the 😱 isn't permanent Jac: I'd hate to do that to you, honestly Savannah: you don't believe I could pull it off? Jac: Of course you could Jac: but your 😄 is undeniably a better look Savannah: my lips ARE very big, I could end up looking like a blow up doll if I'm forever open mouthed from today onwards Savannah: then I'd never marry a prince Jac: Why we're here, obviously Savannah: Everyone thinks so Savannah: just because my boyfriend dumped me after the leavers cert Jac: Oof Jac: that's rough Jac: though at least he didn't steal your Summer? I guess Savannah: Oh my god! That's exactly what he said Savannah: no wonder he reminded me of you Jac: Oh God 😬 are you suggesting I should be in Sallies with the rest of the fuckboys? 😂 Jac: not the crowd I was hoping to get in with but, you know Savannah: where you are is perfect for you Jac: 🤞 Savannah: it feels right being here Jac: Yeah Jac: it really does Savannah: I was worried I wouldn't feel that when I actually got here but 🙏🏾 Jac: I thought it'd be scarier being away from home Jac: but if anything, it's a relief Savannah: you don't have to share a room with Jude any more, it obviously would be Savannah: how is everyone though? Jac: 🍵🙊 Jac: No, they're good, all doing their own thing Jac: Jesse's got his music, the kids are the same old Jac: oh, Jameson got a girlfriend though, that's cute Savannah: I can't believe one brother is literally famous and the other is adorably loved up Savannah: Sienna hasn't had a boyfriend yet, I think that's my fault Jac: Honestly, they're both unbearable now 😏 Jac: overprotective big sister vibes or off-putting dumping ex? Savannah: Jesse was always an acquired taste, which I never did Savannah: Oh, both, for sure 🤫 Jac: Musically and personality-wise, he'd agree you have a point Jac: long as she's happy, like you said Jac: always found them too distracting myself Savannah: I suppose I just always needed a distraction Jac: Clearly, that's why we aren't having this conversation in Bath Jac: for the best, in the end 🌌🔮 Savannah: I hope so Jac: Honestly, it's a better uni Jac: and I'm not just lying to myself/you to make us feel better 😂 Jac: Delia Rockford, you remember her, right? Jac: She got into Bath, so, you aren't missing out, is what I mean Savannah: I hate her Jac: She's doing International Management and German Jac: the language of the future 🤨 Savannah: She's German descent! That's basically cheating Jac: You'd think she's got a place at Cambridge studying classics the way she's been bragging Jac: they aren't remotely top in languages or whatever the hell International Management is but alright 🙄 Savannah: I'm so glad she blocked me after what happened during the party at Michelle Brennan's house Savannah: which wasn't even my fault Jac: Now that feels like a million years ago Savannah: It was Savannah: I don't think we were even friends yet Jac: We weren't for that long, in the grand scheme of things Jac: that's the weirdest part Jac: we were pretty intense, yeah Savannah: everything was pretty intense Jac: It was Jac: Isabelle is doing coaching at TUD Jac: we were never really the same but she's well in herself Savannah: She'll be incredible at that Savannah: if it had happened to me, there's no way I would've not been retaking the year Jac: I know Savannah: did you hear about my mum? Jac: No, I don't think I did? Savannah: she'll appreciate it not being common knowledge, I guess Jac: Is she okay? Savannah: She's doing better now Savannah: which I suppose means she's at about the same level as she was before I left Savannah: because she really struggled after Jac: It must've been really hard for her Jac: to have you two gone, and realize it probably was for the best Jac: did you see her much, in these two years? Savannah: not as much as I should've Jac: You can't be blamed for that Jac: you had to take care of yourself, and Sienna Savannah: but she needed me to stay Jac: Maybe she needed to sort herself out Jac: and she's getting there Jac: our parents shouldn't be our responsibility Savannah: It has to work out here, you know? Savannah: I can't go back Jac: Of course it will Jac: you're going to be fine, amazing Jac: and then you can do your masters and your Ph.D. and then marry a prince and you'll have several royal residences, neither of which will be in Dubo or Sligo Savannah: I'm just sick of things being painful, difficult is fine, but I want it not to hurt Savannah: which is a HUGE overshare if we met today Jac: it's cool Jac: I hear everyone is best friends for life fresher's week Savannah: that makes me feel a lot better Savannah: especially when I pause to consider how many of them I'm likely to cry on before it's over Jac: It's basically tradition Jac: you won't be the only one Jac: moving forward, it's bound to make you think more about what you're leaving behind, even if temporarily Savannah: I've missed you Savannah: sorry if that's like leaping over a boundary or something Jac: I wouldn't have bet on that being what you said, should I ever see you again Jac: but it's better than what I would've Savannah: It's not like this with anyone else Savannah: I can't change that Jac: I never really Jac: like I went out, people would talk to me, I'm not trying to sell a sob story here Jac: but you're right Jac: it was never the same with anyone else, not remotely Savannah: I've given you mine already, so if you have one, it's okay to tell it or not Savannah: even if I'm so embarrassed I did that Jac: Seriously, no need Jac: you were there to witness my unfinest hour Jac: I treated lots of people like shit Jac: Is, mainly Jac: but you too, in lots of ways Jac: not proud of it, but I changed, still am, hopefully Savannah: I hope you don't change too much though Jac: Yeah? Savannah: I thought you were perfect how you were Jac: And I'm the sweet one Savannah: we both made mistakes, but that's human Jac: It's been a while since anyone's accused me of being human Jac: all those exams Jac: 🤖 felt more fitting Savannah: & you look so 👼🏻 Jac: You look as flawless as you ever did Savannah: My auntie mailed all her good skincare to Sligo Jac: expect no less 🙌 Savannah: the fresher air was 🙌 Savannah: even if the rural accents took me by surprise Jac: 😵 or 🥴 surprise though? Savannah: not like 😊 😋 😍 😘 🥰 Jac: the accent here is pretty 🤭 Jac: though Savannah: which one? 😄 Jac: Valid Jac: very town VS gown Savannah: which one though? Savannah: tell me Jac: The original Savannah: very Romeo & Juliet of you Jac: Oh no Jac: am I that cliche now? Savannah: we'll see Jac: Sounds slightly concerning Jac: but I'll do my best to subvert expectations Savannah: it'll be concerning if you get distracted by some boy's accent after working this hard to get here Savannah: unless he's a prince, obviously Jac: Not changed that much Jac: I'd get disowned if I married royalty, anyway Savannah: 🚫💍👰 Savannah: just adorable heirs to the throne Savannah: 👶👶👶👶👶 Jac: adorable, illegitimate bastards ❤ Savannah: yes Savannah: or is that another cliche? Jac: Probably Jac: although if we are educated, career women now, any babies is beating expectations Savannah: except not really because every career woman is also determined to become a mother & prove she can have it all Jac: 🚫👶 it is then Jac: maybe a dissertation topic, at any rate Savannah: 😢 Jac: 👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾👶🏾 Jac: many as you like Savannah: they all need best friends Savannah: you have to stick to the plan Jac: Can I get through freshers first? Savannah: 🤞🏾 Jac: Please, I'm no amateur Savannah: I hope not, I'm single & the point is we do it at the same time Jac: as am I Jac: not feeling any 1st year that hard, thanks 😏 Savannah: you always date older, it's fine Jac: None of our lecturers were the one Jac: another cliche avoided Savannah: I'm not sad about that Jac: There's enough inequality of power about without actively seeking out the dynamic, agreed Savannah: ^^ Jac: the fashion show seems to have got the diversity memo though Jac: could be cool Savannah: it's going to be the highlight, I can feel it Jac: 😄 Jac: I was thinking Tues for our psych night, as nothing much is really going on Jac: what do you think? Savannah: good idea Jac: 👍 Savannah: I'll start the chat if you want Jac: You were always better at talking Savannah: when it's not that important, but when it matters, you always know exactly what to say Savannah: at least to me Jac: You're easy to talk to Jac: in a way I really could never work out Savannah: There's nobody in my life right now who would agreed with that Savannah: so it must be you Jac: my inbox full of unreads would say otherwise but Jac: I'll take it Savannah: okay, it's us together Savannah: does that make you happier? Jac: Better Savannah: your hair got really long Savannah: I'm BEYOND jealous Jac: You've got no reason to be jealous of any other girl in the world Savannah: you're not any other girl in the world Savannah: 🤫🤫 Jac: 😶 Jac: Promise Savannah: it looks beautiful, I can't cope Jac: My 😳 will not Savannah: 💗 Savannah: 🌷 🌺 🌸 Jac: Is that a dress code? Savannah: well NOW it is Jac: 😂 Jac: My wardrobe can accomodate Jac: cheers for the heads up Savannah: you're welcome Savannah: & we're all set until 💬 Jac: I better let you get on then Savannah: was it that good of a conversation starter? Jac: Solid Jac: will scare off anyone 😱 of 💗 🌷 🌺 🌸 Savannah: well I obviously don't need that negativity in my life Savannah: but I didn't mean to end this conversation Jac: We don't have to Jac: What are your plans for the rest of the day, now the obligatory are over? Savannah: don't judge me, because I know I sound like a different person, but I haven't made any Jac: Thank God, me neither Jac: I didn't know how long any of that would take Jac: nor unpacking, which is technically done but that says nothing about the decorating I wanna do Savannah: I could help Jac: Or, slightly more fair, we could check out the town, see what shops are about? Savannah: I'd like that Jac: Cool 🙂 Jac: let's have half an hour to debrief and make sure we don't look 😱 and then head out? Savannah: okay Savannah: you can put your hair up & save my life Jac: oh 🤫 Savannah: I am serious Savannah: 🚗 🚕 🚲 are distraction enough Jac: You could rock a cast Jac: but I won't let it happen Savannah: what would you write on it? Jac: That's a good 🧊breaker Jac: but I'll have to keep that secret for now Savannah: if I ask everyone on Tuesday, will you tell me then? Jac: It's a deal Savannah: it is

[hippityhoppityyourenowmyproperty]

Reset! Rant (part 3)

Chapter: 16

That familiar feeling of rage returned to him. His fist and teeth clenched and he had the urge to hit something, preferable someone. Bart was the first thing that came to his mind, but he had better control of his Impulses than his brother did. He couldn't let Thawne win.

This is another big hypocrisy moment. He is not better at controlling his impulses than Bart is. Whenever he gets angry, he starts insulting and picking on Bart. He hurt Bart before because he couldn't take Kon making fun of him, and while doing so, he made the mission more dangerous and more prone to failure. He let's his anger out on Bart every time, and he had multiple agressive outburst. He's not as in control as the story leads on.

Bart hopped to his feet and rocked on his heels. "I screw up all the time. Everyone says so. That's why I'm not supposed to do the hero thing without an adult. That's why I wasn't invited to join the Teen Titans."

"Are you kidding me?" Thad's tone was sharp and angry. "What business does anyone have in telling you you how to help people? What business do you have in even listening to them? I don't see you calling yourself Kid Flash and running at Wally's side like and obedient puppy. You're not a side kick."

...................................."In any case, we're more than capable of operating on our own. We don't need some nosy busybodies lording over us and expecting obedience just because of the legacy we inherited."

At the first glance, this looks like Thad trying to emotionally support Bart and make him feel better. At the second look, not so much. Let's untangle what exactly is happening in this conversation. Bart is explaining why he is still supposed to have adult supervision, namely because people think that he can't handle missions on his own and that he'll mess up. Then Thad argues that he's not a side kick and therefore no one should tell him how to do the hero thing. Which...doesn't really makes sense. It was said that the reason why people are convinced that Bart can't be a hero without some guidance is not because he's part of a legacy, it's because they think that because of his impulsiveness and trouble at focusing he will screw them up. They're not expecting obedience because Bart is part of a legacy, they're expecting a willingness of Bart to work with a mentor because he's not experienced enough and will mess up at being a hero, otherwise.

Thad is self-projecting here. If he didn't misunderstand the situation for being about legacy, he wouldn't have tried to make Bart feel better. I'm certain he's just saying this because he's angry about the legacy he is conected to. The only reason Thad rants about Wally is because it reminds him of his situation with his legscy, and not becaus he's mad at Wally for being mean to Bart. Again, Thad is doing this for himself.

Remember when I told you to keep in mind what Thad said about Bart somewhere in Chapter 11? "Bart lacks the capacity of forethought that is requiered in an operation like this"? Also remember how Thad is always insulting Bart's intelligence, criticizes him and says that he won't survive without him? So what about the "In any case, we're more than capable of operating on our own"? This is not Thad suddenly making a turn around and seeing the flaws of his thoughts he had earlier. Thad's always saying what fits his interests best. He changes his opinions on whatever suits him best at the moment. He's such an obvious hypocrit at this point. He's bending his opinions on whatever he needs them to be. This is one of the most in your face instance of Thad gaslighting Bart. Through denial, controdiction and lies relating to his actions and words, he's planting seeds of doubt in Bart. Thad is making Bart question his own perception of memory, perception of reality and his sanity, whether Thad is intentionally gaslighting Bart or not doesn't matter. It's still damaging.

Chapter: 17

Thad thumped his fist against the garage door. "At least I had Craydl before. Now, I'm stuck with you." He glared at Bart again.

Gosh what a horrible fate, Thad. I feel so sorry for you. No really, I can't fathom what an awful nightmare this must be for you! He can never be satisfied, can he? He can count himself lucky that Bart is tolerating his toxic behavior. He is stuck with Thad. Bart is the one who has to put up with his constant belittling and verbal abuse. No one forced Thad to stay at Bart's home, Thad just decided that it now be that way. If it bothers him so much he could've asked to stay with the Garricks. Which would've also made more sense for everyone involved because Jay has superspeed and can look after Thad in case he would try to kill anyone else again.

Also note how Thad is threatening Bart through his gestures.

"Besides, mom said I'm the big brother and that's what big brothers are supposed to do." Rolling his eyes, Thad snorted, "Thanks for the touching moment, but it's not making my situation any better."

This is a form of withholding. It's also condescending demeanor.

Thad clenched his jaw and fists and said nothing in return. He stalked back into the house, punching the doorframe as he passed by.

He threatens Bart yet again.

I'm pressing buttons", Thad snapped. "What does that accomplish? This-" He pointed at the television, "is frivolous. It does nothing!" Bart tilted his head, looking at his brother then the controller. Then, without a word, he punched Thad. Startled, Thad stared at him, and then noticed the surprised expressions on Jay's and Helen's faces. Bart stood up. "Well, aren't ya gonna hit me?" Thad eyed Bart warily and stood. "What is this? Is this a trick?"

"No I'm serious. Hit me." When Thad hesitated, Bart insisted, "Fighting game im real life. Right here." Helen sucked in a breath as she realized what Bart was up to. "Not in the house." Bart nodded and grabbed Thad's arm. "C'mom! I know a place that's still in Manchester." When they ran off, Jay tipped his head to Helen. "I'll keep an eye om them." Once the boys were sure that nobody other than Jay was watching, Bart faced Thad with a combative stance.

Thad struck with a punch and Bart blocked with his forearms. Jay stood aside and watched, ready to intervene in case the fight got out of hand. Every now and then, a particularly solid strike by either boy, he tensed up and stepped forward, but they would continue on as if there was nothing to worry about. As Jay watched, he saw Thad smile for the first time. It was a wicked, predatory grin, full of bloodthirsty pleasure. Bart wasn't smiling. Instead, it was taking everything he had to hold himself against Thad. Sparks of static and stray speed force lightning trailed after them. Then Thad slipped past Bart's defenses and slammed down with an elbow and up with a knee. The next thing Bart knew he was looking up at Jay's concerned face. The elder speedster held out an arm to halt Thad. Thad's yellow eyes gleamed and he was still smilling, spoiling for more. Jay held out his other hand to help Bart to his feet. "You all right, son?"

This whole scene is so wrong, in so many ways, for so many reasons. Yes, you read this right. Bart suggested that Thad beat him up in order to let Thad get rid of his anger. Jay and Helen hear this offer, and say fucking nothing about it. Once again, they're irresponsible and neglectful. Helen shows absolute zero concern for Bart's well being. For crying out loud, the first thing she says after she realizes what Bart's suggesting is: "Not in the house." I repeat, the first thing that comes to her mind after she hears that Bart offers getting beat up by Thad is: "Oh no! My poor house! Everything will be so messed up!" I mean, damn. You have to be a really neglient, bad parent when you're more concerned with the state of your house than with the physical and mental health of your child. Helen and Jay should have been disgusted and put off by this offer. Helen should have said something along the lines of: "If Thad has anger issues, then that is his problem to work through, not yours. It's not your responsibility to keep his emotions under control. You are not his personal punshing bag, and you shouldn't put his well being before your own. No one expects you to make sacrifices like that for him." But nope, she is more afraid of what will happen to her precious kitchen than of the fact that Thad might break every bone that Bart has in his body because he feels like it. They both know what Bart is suggesting, and they don't see anything wrong with it whatsoever. They should have been horrified by this suggestion.

And keep in mind: This all happens after Thad killed the clone and almost killed Max and Bart. Helen knew of both altercations. She knows how brutal and vicious he can get. She knows that Thad is quick to violence, so why isn't she more concerned? Wouldn't she be at least a little scared that Thad might kill Bart because he can't control his brutal urges again? The only resonable explanation I can find is that she doesn't care about Bart. That's why she let's this happen, that's why she allows Thad to emotionally abuse Bart and call him names right in front of her eyes. She never makes Thad apologize for what he does to Bart, not even once. I don't like accusing her of favoritism, but that is what it looks like. Seeing how dispicable Thad's actions and words are is not that hard. Helen should have noticed by now. Jay isn't much better in this. He watched until Thad hit Bart so hard that he fainted and collapsed. I know that I couldn't stand idly by while watching a kid beat up another kid until he lost his conciousness and still feel like a good person.

If you think that we've hit rock bottom yet with this scene, think again.. Jay's and Helen's complete lack of concern makes Bart's actions seem like this was a healthy, acceptable way of helping people deal with their anger. That this is something normal in a sibling relationship. Worse, that offering someone to hurt you so that they can relieve their anger is something that is expected of you. A relationship where one part is expected to take responsibility for the other's negative emotions is a twisted, damaging one. You get what this is saying? "Someone's anger justifies them hurting and beating you up." This is just as bad as "abuse justifies abuse" (Which is also being taught here.) God, those are terrible, atrocious morals to teach to people. What Helen should have done with Thad the moment he moved in with them was taking him to an anger management class and getting him a good therapist, not ignore/encourage Thad's abusive tendencies.

Jay sat down at the table. "He's not as mean as his brother though. That kid...For his own grandfather to make him like that..." Jay shook his head with a frown. "If I ever get a chance to meet that man..." He clenched his fist on the table. "I hope I never do."

"Same here", Helen replied.

Seems like Thad's not the only one who takes a liking to being hypocritical and two-faced. This makes total sense, talk about poor Thad and all the abuse he went trough, but completely ignore the fact that he is abusing and actively inflicting pain on Bart right now. They're furious about what Thawne did to Thad, but when Thad does the same things to Bart it's totally okay and fair. In case you couldn't tell, this is a shit moral. Stop trying to justify abuse by saying that the abuser has been trough a lot and just needs an outlet. Having been abused does not give Thad the right to ruin Bart's life. It does not give him the permission to be a toxic jerk to him. He should be held accountable for his actions. Abuse doesn't justify abuse.

Chapter: 18

"So, you don't know anything on how to properly maintain it." Thad snorted and rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. Do you know where engineering is? Take me there. I'll do what you neglected to do and actually learn about the mechanics of this ship." Bart opted to ignore Thad's nasty tone, brushing it aside as just how Thad talked.

....................................

"If I'll get lonely, I'll come visit." Thad snidely assured. Not wanting to listen to another degrogatory rant, Bart decided to just let Thad find the room on his own.

This is critizising and judging and a put down, delivered with a very very condescending tone and manner. Do me a favor and take a shot everytime you read the sentences "Thad snorted" or Thad rolled his eyes." You'll be drunk in no time, trust me. Bart has been exposed to Thad's emotional abuse so long that at this point he is willing to accept Thad's verbal abuse as normal.

Chapter: 19

Thad:"They probably got distracted by with something shiny."

Thanks again Thad, for enforcing hurtful insults and exaggerated stereotypes about people with ADHD.

Thad:"Moron! Can't you come up with something that simple?"

Again with the name calling and the put down linked to Bart's ADHD.

"He's a nuisance" grumbled Thad.

"Not that I've had much first hand experience, but that's what siblings generally are, from what I've heard."

"So wanting to strangle Bart is normal?" Cissi laughed. "Everyone's wanted to strangle Bart at one point or another. That's just him."

Oh now it all makes sense! It's Bart's own fault for being abused because he's so annoying! Remember folks, if you've been abused, it's your own fault. If you hadn't been so burdensome, they wouldn't have treated you this way. They can't be responsible for their actions, it has to be you! How can we expect them to control their impulses and get a handle on their anger? That really would be too much to ask of them. The victim is to blame for being abused, that's obviously the logical conclusion here, right? God I hate this fic so much.

This whole conversation serves one purpose: Normalizing and rationalizing Thad's repugnant behavior towards Bart. Look! This is how healthy sibling relationships work! This is how they're supposed to be! Except not really.

This conservation is actually very cleverly done, because it only shows Thad's oppinion while stimuntaneously making it seem like Cissi agrees with his values about relationships when she's really not. They're coming from two completely different points of views, but that is concealed here.

Starting with the "He's a nuisance."

"That's what siblings generally are."

I get her statement, there will be many times when one can get annoyed with their sibling and not find themselves in an abusive relationship. Every sibling pair fights and argues, that's in the nature of things. It only gets problematic when that's literally the only thing you do. When the only thing you are to each other is an annoyance and someone to get mad at. When every encounter with them ends in hurtful words and accusations. Indicating that your brother/sister is sometimes a nuisance in a playful, teasing way is fairly common in healthy sibling relationships. "Those 5 minutes before you were born? Haha, those were the best 5 minutes of my life." Something like this is normal. The problem here? Thad doesn't mean what he says in a sarcastic or playful way. He's completely serious with this. This is all he sees in Bart. An annoying idiot who always stands in his way. There's no sympathy and no compassion for Bart. Only unjustified resentment and hatred. See, in a positive brother or sister relationship the individuels really love each other. Despite the jokes they sometimes make about not wanting the other around, they see more in their sibling than an annoyance. Thad doesn't, and that's what Cissi misunderstands. Thad is dead serious about his feelings towards Bart in this conversation. All he sees in Bart is a nuisance he has to tolerate. He has nothing but contempt for him. He doesn't try to see more in him than that. Thad has no right to complain about Bart. He has been nothing but nice to him. Despite all the shit he put Bart through, despite Bart still tolerating and trying to support Thad in every way he could, Thad somehow still has the audacity, the arrogance to make himself out to be the victim in this situation. Thad is an abusive jerk to him, if anyone has the right to vent, it's Bart.

Moving on to the "So wanting to strangle him is normal?" argument. Feeling a desire to hurt your sibling 24/7 just for existing isn't normal. Cissi means what she say in a more playful, harmless way. None of Bart's friends would go through with harming Bart because he was annoying them. There's a big difference between wanting to do something, and actually doing something. Moreover, Cissi doesn't get that Thad would like to hurt Bart all the time and not only when he was being annoying. Thad wants to hurt Bart even when he is nice to him. Thad means it in a "If Bart looks im my direction one more time I might strangle him and I really don't care if I accidently suffocate him and he dies." Cissi doesn't. Thad is aggressive and violent to him for absolute no reason. The emotions Thad feels towards Bart aren't normal, not in the least. Stop trying to justify his abusive behavior.

And, I think this goes without saying, hurting someone solely because they're annoying you isn't okay, either.