#I don't really want to discuss this any further because these are pretty much my whole feelings on the matter

[angrykittybarbarian]

A list of things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard Part 2

I already touched on a few things that caught my attention and personally irked me about the game. After getting through some more of it naturally a few more points have come up. Though I think they are not really new aspects but more concrete examples of what I had touched on last time.

Without further ado, let's get into it.

!Spoilers below the cut!

The dialogue is repetetive and at times contradictory

Like I already discussed last time the dialogue is bad, to express it in the simplest of terms. As I progressed through the game I stumbled upon a glaring example for what I mean.

In the questline where you infiltrate a Venatori meeting there is a part where Neve in disguise and in company of Rook and another companion gets a Venatori to admit that Elgar'nan was present but not Ghilan'nain. For some inexplicable reason Neve turns around and repeats this twice as if Rook wasn't present.

I stated in my last post that the game feels the need to state the obvious. This is what I mean. It makes the dialogue feel like a rough draft that was incorporated into the game without further polish.

As of its contradictory nature two examples come to mind.

In Harding's companion quest you meet this dwarf of Kal Sharok. His dialogue is stoic, no bullshit straight to the point and passionless. Which was fine. But after several minutes of him being that way they get to stone statue Valta who speaks in these misteryous riddles and suddenly he switches to this unserious tone of "Oh that weird statue, we never know what she's saying, ain't she funny." (I'm paraphrasing here). I was confused for half a minute because of his sudden change in attitude and left wondering what his characterization is supposed to be now: serious or quirky?

Same thing with Taash's whole story. This is especially upsetting because I feel like they could have done such great work with it.

Instead it suffers so much from several inconsistencies that I felt sorry for the VA because they actually did a great acting job.

Taash has a coming out scene with their mother where they reveal they're non-binary. Ignoring the usage of modern terms in a medieval-ish setting, the conflict about their gender makes no sense.

The writing wants you to believe Shathann is not okay with her child being non-binary but she never actually expresses such a thing. Actually Shathann sort of had an inkling that Taash was no ordinary woman ("Behaves more like a man...") and she never passed any negative judgement on it. When Taash told her this she even tried to understand by categorizing their identity into qunari vocabulary she knew (remember the term aqun-athlok?).

I get how hard it is to have an overly critical mother and the feeling of not being good enough but that was not what Shathann was about in that scene and it did Taash so dirty because they looked more like an entitled teenager than someone suffering from trauma and perfectionism.

But moving on.

Some old characters are mischaracterized

It's Scout Harding. I mean Harding.

I was really excited to have her as a companion in the new installment but they sort of butchered her character that I found myself annoyed everytime she opened her mouth.

And this is because they make her sound so immature. Really think about it. DATV somehow makes Scout Harding sound younger and more childish than she was in DAI despite the fact that she is supposed to be a whole decade older in DATV than in DAI.

I don't know what direction her VA recieved while recording but everything was pronounced so slowly and extra clear that it seemed at times that Harding was either talking to a confused elderly person or a child.

She herself uses expressions not fit for her age. The most jarring moment was when she called the Blight in D'meta's Crossing 'weird' and sounded like a teenager who has stumbled upon furry art for the first time on deviantArt. This pattern pretty much continues throughout the game. And it hurts so much.

Also Morrigan. She at least still uses her even for DA setting standards antiquated vocabulary but she is too happy and cheery and friendly.

Morrigan is not a nice person to those she does not know and like personally. But to Rook she was so nice despite having met them for the first time.

The Morrigan we have come to know love/hate should have been more snarky or at least more neutral in her demeanor.

The Venatori

I don't know why they are still a thing honestly. I was under the impression they have lost all footing after the death of Corypheus. Why would they follow the Gods of the people their country systemically abuses anyway?

Bonus: Why would the Antaam for that matter, as the qunari are so notoriously arcanophobic that they leash their mages, sew their mouths shut and literally call them "dangerous thing"?

Solas' spy network and agents

What happened to them? Where are they? Shouldn't he have a small army? Why weren't they used as the gods' agents instead of the Venatori? Surely, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain would have an easier time simply controlling Fen'Harels elven army after imprisoning him in the fade.

The Chantry

It is just not present. Sure there are some Chantry buildings but there is no discussion of faith. In all previous DA games the Chantry has had a constant influence that could be felt everywhere. Faith was discussed and explored from various angles and perspectives, ranging from ultra conservative to progressive. But in Veilguard it's not there.

Why are we not exploring the Tevinter Chantry more? Why doesn't Emmrich discuss the nevarran Chantry, who follows the Sunburst Throne in Orlais, in regards to the Mournwatch, their necromancy practices and magic? Why was he not affected by the mage uprising that started in Kirkwall? How does he deal with faith and the Chantry? It is simply never mentioned.

By all accounts, this game avoids delving into the world like the plague.

Part 3

[hidingfromthelackofreadingcomp]

I like how Captain Curly is written. He's a peacekeeper. I myself, am a peacekeeper, I can relate. I'm not saying it's a good thing, in some cases it's really not a good thing and I admit that. For example: the rape of Anya. Curly tries to play it cool and de-escalate the situation like he always does. But this is rape. This isn't an average, more tame problem. This is very serious and peacekeeping isn't usually an option in cases like this. Also take into consideration, there wasn't much time for Curly to act further about the situation before the crash. To my understanding, Anya only confirmed she was raped to Curly when she told him she was pregnant. (Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong in a polite and civil way). So if I'm right about that, Curly REALLY didn't have much time to fully process the situation and act accordingly. Also keep in mind, he's good friends with Jimmy. If you found out that someone you don't care for is a rapist, you would automatically take the survivor's side. If you just found out that one of your good friends had raped someone, you'd be in denial at first because you like your friend. You would hesitate at first, even if only for a second or a minute. Some people, depending on who they are and how close they are with the rapist, might need proof to fully believe it. Only after you've gotten proof that the survivor is in fact a survivor of your friend's assault would you stop giving your friend the benefit of the doubt. What kind of proof? Well, that depends on the person, some people need more proof than others, it also depends on how close the person is with the rapist. I believe Curly is in a situation where he needs more proof. He wants to inform himself on just how bad the situation is in order to make a decision. Which is why he talks to Jimmy. He talks to Jimmy hoping for humanity, any kind of regret, he's hoping that Jimmy will take responsibility for his actions. He's also secretly hoping it wasn't really Jimmy who did it. Also also, he wants to see both sides. Which is usually a good thing, but when it comes to rape, it should be pretty obvious that you should take the survivor's side. But Curly doesn't know that, he's used to smaller, lesser situations, so he acts as if it's a smaller, lesser situation without realizing that's what he's doing. He's trying to process everything. Maybe if he had time to process everything, it would hit him that hey, this situation should be handled more seriously and you can't keep being the peacekeeper to make it better. Because Curly does like and respect Anya, he has no ill will towards her, he's just plagued by his peacekeeping nature and bias due to his friendship with Jimmy. However, he doesn't have time to fully process the situation because, well, the crash happens and he loses all ways of communicating with others. I am in no way defending Curly, he's not a great person, but I recognize that he's trying to be, he's just not used to this kind of situation. He feels like a real person. Which is why I personally, don't dislike him, but I see why some do. And that's ok :). I just wanted to rant about him, honestly. If anyone comes at me in a hostile way, I will block you. If you're civil, I will gladly discuss with you!

[neouture]

When you use your safeword

Pairings: Mark x Reader, Jeno x Reader, Haechan x Reader, Jaemin x Reader Words: 3,805 Genre: Smut (18+) Format: Scenarios Warnings: (In general) fem!reader, use of safeword, discussion of safeword, dirty talk, use of petnames (baby, darling, pretty, princess). (Mark's scenario) mentions of stress, penetrative sex, overstimulation, somewhat dom drop. (Jeno's scenario) deepthroating/face fucking, slightly mean!jeno, teasing. (Haechan's scenario) use of toys, edging, orgasm denial/interruption. (Jaemin's scenario) oral sex, fingering, overstimulation.

⸺ Mark

“One more,” he groans, using both your wrists crossed right behind your back as leverage and pressing down your face and upper body even further against the mattress. “I know you can give me one more”. 

You’re sure your knees will give up on you any minute now. 

“I can’t,” you cry out, but the sound is quickly muffled by the pillows. “I can’t- shit, Mark, I can’t”. 

“Didn’t you say I could take all my stress out on you?” His words are harsh, but they don't sting enough for you to quit. Or at least not yet. “You wanted this, so I’m giving it to you”. 

It's useless to try and regain your strength, so you come to terms with having your face buried in his pillows. It's getting hard to breathe, but you don't care ���all you want is to stick up to your word, to let him relieve all his frustrations on you.

“S-shit,” you cry out loud, squirming underneath him as much as his grip allows you to.

You really don’t want him to stop —it hurts just as much as it feels good but, at the same time, you are aware you’re pushing your limits.

“Come,” Mark groans, slapping your ass with his available hand. The stinging feeling is enough to make your whole body jolt forward, but the way he is holding you in place prevents your body from running away from him. “Be good and squeeze my cock right”. 

Your body feels numb. You're not even sure if your orgasm is approaching or not because this feels unusual. It's an overwhelming sensation that you're not quite sure how to describe, but it's nothing you're familiar with.

Your heart feels heavy, and your chest is pounding with guilt. You really can't do it, despite how much Mark is asking you to. You tried to be good, to let him use you until he is satisfied, but you can't keep up with his rhythm.

It became too much in so little time, and you feel somewhat guilty for not being able to reciprocate.

“Mark,” you gasp for air, feeling your consciousness drifting away as you try to speak loud and clear for him to hear your safe word, “red”. 

He stops right in his tracks. Almost too harshly. 

He immediately lets go of the grip on your wrists, and the sigh of relief you let out makes him feel awful. Just like it does seeing your tinted cheeks stained with tears, and your swollen lips which you spent biting down the last couple of minutes to prevent you from sobbing. 

“Fuck, baby,” it’s almost comical how quickly he moves around the bed —too fast for your hazy mind to comprehend it. “Shit, I’m so- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry”. 

You don’t need any apology whatsoever. You tried to drag it out as much as you could, and when it became a lot you decided to use your safe word. As simple as that.

He isn't one to blame, nor you. 

“It’s okay, Mark,” you whisper, pushing your hair away from your face while the back of your hand tries to dry out the tears and drool on your chin. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath again, followed by a choked and frustrated deep exhale. “I didn’t- shit, I should’ve stopped”.

“You did,” it’s almost useless to try and talk some sense into your boyfriend as of right now, since he’s walking around your bedroom trying to pick up stuff you might need —a dampened towel, a blanket and a bottle of water. “I said the safe word and you stopped”. 

“No,” he shakes his head, dragging the dampened towel slowly through your inner thighs. You can see regret washing down on his face while he gulps loudly. “I should’ve stopped- I was being too rough, I just- I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have pushed you to your limits, I should’ve-”. 

“Mark,” you cut him off short, wrapping your hand around his arm while he finishes cleaning you up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take everything you were giving me”. 

Mark's knitted eyebrows and the sadness creeping into his eyes feel like a painful sting into your heart. 

“Don’t say that,” he coos, caressing your head and face while planting a kiss on your forehead. “Please don’t say that ever again, baby”. 

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you murmur with hitched breath, feeling a bit emotionally overwhelmed by the past session. “I’m sorry for not being able to keep going”. 

“Don’t,” Mark whispers, holding you into his embrace while still peppering warm kisses to your forehead. “Please don’t apologize for that, I don’t ever want you to push your limits like that for me ever again”. You hide your face into his chest and just nod, feeling comforted by the warmth his skin provides. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur against his flesh.

It takes him a while to regain composure, and he does so by cuddling you tightly against him. His fingertips run the middle of your back over and over again, murmuring sweet nothings while he makes sure to keep his undivided attention on you rather than the guilt he's feeling.

“Thank you for using your safe word,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small pecks everywhere his lips approach. “And I’m sorry for- I just, got too carried away, didn’t realize I was hurting you”. 

You hum weakly, just mere seconds away from falling asleep between his arms.

“I wanted you to,” it’s all you manage to say. “I wanted- you to take out all your stress on me”. 

“Not like this, baby,” he tells you. “Not by hurting you”.

 You don't realize how much time you two spend in silence, just cuddling each other. But right before your eyes finally close shut, you can pick on Mark's quiet voice whispering endless praises to you.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he leaves another kiss on your forehead while his hand caresses the side of your face and body. “I love you so, so, so fucking much”.

⸺ Jeno

“It’s this really all you can take?” The mocking tone in his voice makes you clench around thin air, but he is not that far from the truth. 

Jeno knows you. He knows your limits fairly well, knows how much you can take and when you need to stop. Tonight, he is just teasing you —well deserved, after you spent the whole night teasing him just as much.

“You were talking so much shit earlier today,” he scoffs, slamming his hips against your mouth. “I’m happy to know your mouth is useful for so much more”. 

It's no surprise you're currently like this —on your knees, with your hands behind your back and your mouth open for him to fuck it. You knew this is exactly what you wanted the minute you started teasing him, but you didn't calculate how riled up Jeno could get by it.

And oh, how riled up he got.

“Didn’t you say my cock wasn’t enough?” he asks you, groaning through gritted teeth. “You can’t even take it without making a whole fucking mess of yourself”.

You moan against his length, occasionally gagging when the tip of it hits the deepest spots in your throat. Tonight, Jeno is not showing any mercy on you —not that he usually does, but that is something you both enjoy.

However, it all becomes overwhelming when he gets too carried away. You can’t recall when was the last time he stopped to let you breathe, but it feels like forever ago. You’re managing to breathe through your nose, but that is nowhere near enough. 

“Take me all,” he hisses, finishing every word with a hard thrust of his hips. “Make me come inside that dirty mouth of yours”.

That’s all you want, really. 

But it's getting impossible when the lack of oxygen is making you feel dizzy. Plus, your mouth feels sore and the tears spilling from your eyes along with the good amount of drool falling from your lips and onto your chin is making the task rather difficult. 

You want to please Jeno, you really do. But you also need a break.

So you interrupt the position he put you on, and your hands reach out to the side of his thighs. In the midst of the roughness, you dig your nails onto his soft flesh and he is quick to pull himself out of you with ease, also freeing your hair from his harsh grip. 

“Red,” you cough, gasping for air almost immediately. And although it’s barely audible, you don’t need to repeat it twice before Jeno is already dropping to his knees right in front of you. 

“Are you okay?” he rushes to ask with a concerned look. 

“Yes,” you cough again, attempting to clean your face with the back of your hand. “I kind of- got too overwhelmed”. 

“Don’t apologize,” Jeno shakes his head. One of his hands reaches out to your chin and he is quick to pick up on your teary eyes and drooling lips. “Let me clean you up”. 

He stands up and comes back quickly, just because he didn't want to leave you on your own for too long. When he kneels right beside you again, you notice he is carrying some tissues along with water and some snacks. 

“You brought the whole pantry,” you joke, still with a hoarse voice. 

Jeno’s lips rise in a weak, half smile. “I didn’t ask what you were craving but I figured something to eat would make you feel better”. 

Two of his fingers lift up your chin while he dries up your tears with a tissue. Once he is done, he moves on quickly to clean up your mouth, chin and chest with delicacy, his soft eyes paying attention to every inch of skin that he might need to take care of.

“Right now I need some water,” you tell him.

After cleaning you up, he takes off the lid and hands you the bottle of water. It’s the perfect temperature —not too cold that it hurts your throat more than it is already aching, but it is also not too warm.

It helps, a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeno asks again, and you can still sense the worry in his tone. He intertwines his hand with yours, and you squeeze it lightly before offering him a smile.

“I’m sure, Jeno,” you reply. “I just needed a break, really. I’m alright”.

“Did I hurt you?” he queries, wanting to know exactly what prompted you to use your safe word just to be extra careful next time to not push your limits. “Was I being too mean? Was I too rough?”

You smile wholeheartedly. “You know I like it when you’re mean,” you reassure him, “but I wasn’t breathing properly. That’s why I asked you to stop”. 

Jeno tiltes his head with a look of shame imprinted on his face. “I acted like a fucking animal”.

You shake your head, “I think we both got too carried away, you know. With all the teasing and stuff”. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, caressing your hand while he holds it. “I’ll be way more careful next time”. 

“Thank you,” you smile. “I just need a couple of seconds to continue”.

“Why don't we end this here, yeah?” he proposes.

“But-” you’re not quite sure if you still want to keep on going, but a part of you wishes you would. You’re still aroused, and you want him still. “I want to- you’re still- I want to make you come”. 

“Maybe another time, pretty,” Jeno smiles, cupping your face to leave a quick kiss on your lips. “Right now I want us to rest, alright?”

He loses no time in getting you to bed, covering your naked body with a cozy blanket while leaving the water bottle on your night stand in case you might need to drink some more. He also carries the snacks all the way to you, and once you’re settled he makes a space in your bed for him to lay down next to you. 

“What are you craving for dinner, hm?” he asks while you munch on some oatmeal cookies. The whole scene left you more tired and hungry than you initially thought, so the snacks were very convenient for you to regain some energy. “I can cook for you, or we can order some food delivery”.

“The second option,” you whine. “I want you to cuddle me”.

Jeno scoffs softly, and shifts his position on the bed so that he can wrap his arms around you. “Good choice, pretty”.

⸺ Haechan

“Shit,” a choked moan escapes your lips when Haechan's hand keeps your thighs open, with so much strength that you can barely move underneath his grip. “Haechan”. 

He places a wet kiss on your inner thigh, softly nipping at your sensitive flesh while pressing the vibrator even harder against your clit. 

“You’re dripping wet,” he tells you with his heavy gaze all over yours, “you must really want to come, don’t you?”

You buck your hips at his mocking words, sobbing when you feel your inevitable fate creeping through.

It has been going on for minutes, maybe hours. You honestly can’t tell anymore, but it sure has been feeling like an eternity of torture. 

“Haechan, please,” you cry out. “Please, I’m begging”. 

“You can beg all you want, darling,” Haechan scoffs, forcing your thighs open even  more. “But I’m still not going to let you come”. 

Damned be him, who knows you too well. Even if you try to fool him, to come and pretend you just didn't, Haechan will know —he knows your body language like the back of his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” he continues, just as if he is reading your mind. 

“Please,” you cry out one more time, but it’s all in vain —you know he is not going to show you any mercy. “I’m close”. 

The mischievous smile he has on surely tells you that he is pleased with all of this —pleased with how fucked out you look after having your orgasm taken away from you at least 3 times tonight. And in all honesty, you enjoy the dynamic. You enjoy being edged, and denied. You enjoy begging for pleasure, for him.

But maybe tonight your body is taking tolls on you, and you’re not enjoying it just as much as you usually do.

“Haechan,” you moan one last time before arching your back against the mattress. And it is in that moment, where your eyes go white and your lips start babbling nonsense, that Haechan knows you’re coming.

Clicking his tongue, he withdraws the toy away from you and leaves you with nothing but an interrupted orgasm. One that hurts, that has you crying and writhing in his bed. 

“I didn't say you could, darling,” he murmurs with a deep tone, admiring your body trembling underneath his. “Did I?”

You don’t respond. Not that you can, because the pain on your lower back and abdomen it’s almost unbearable —after all the edging, your body is extremely sensitive. Another touch, or another forced stimulation and you’re sure you might pass out from exhaustion.

“Red,” you babble when you feel his soft hands prying your thighs open again. “Red, red”. 

Immediately, he helps you close your legs and kneels right beside you on the bed, caressing your legs and looking out for your hand. 

“Too much?” he asks, wholeheartedly. You simply nod, sobbing quietly at the overwhelming feeling. “Come here”. 

He lays next to you and hugs you tightly, pressing your face against his naked chest. His heart is beating loudly, even from a distance you can hear it —he also doesn’t say it, but you can feel him getting tense at the realization that he might have overstepped your boundaries. 

You spend some time like this, hugging him while trying to calm down. Even the painful tension on your lower abdomen disappears after some while, just by having his embrace close to you.

“Are you okay?” Haechan queries with a whisper.

“Yes,” you murmur, offering him a weak smile. “I’m very tired”.

“I know, darling,” he wipes the sweat off of your forehead, and brushes your hair back. “I’m sorry”.

“For what?” you ask, confusion imprinted all over your face.

“I should’ve stopped long before you use your safeword,” he explains. “I should’ve known when it was becoming too much for you, and I shouldn't have pushed you to use it”.

“Well we have a safe word for a reason, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “But I don’t ever want to overwhelm you enough to the point where you need to use it again”. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you reassure him. “I’m okay, alright?” 

“Alright,” Haechan whispers, kissing your cheek sweetly. 

After a couple of seconds holding you between his arms, he decides it’s time to clean you up, put you some new clothes and provide you with some water. But right when he is about to step out of bed, he feels your arms tightening around him.

“Let me take care of you,” he tells you, patting your head softly.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur. “Please stay with me”. 

“You want me to stay here?” Haechan repeats. “Don’t you want me to get you some water, clean you up?”

You shake your head. “All I need right now is you,” you tell him. “Stay with me a little longer”.

He nods compliantly, feeling his heart skipping a beat or two when the realization of how much you need his presence around at vulnerable times sinks in. 

“I’m right here,” he coos. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m going to stay with you here until you need me to”.

“Thank you, Haechan,” you whisper against his neck. “Thank you, for always trusting me”.

⸺ Jaemin

“Come on, princess,” Jaemin smiles, his lips brushing against your sensitive core. “Let me make you feel good”.

When you told Jaemin you were feeling a bit stressed today, he took matters into his own hands to help you take your mind off of things for a while. Of course, he has his very own way to do so, and you're more than happy with it.

He’s like that, an act of service that meets physical touch as a love language kind of guy. Overtime, he has noticed how much you like it when he eats you out —you can spend hours with your legs open and your fingers latched to his soft hair, and he can do exactly the same. 

“Does it feel good?” he asks, making sure you’re still with him.

And it does feel good, but you can already feel the overstimulation coming through with each flick of his tongue, or each touch of his rough digits against your clit. 

“I’m close,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “So- close, Jaemin”. 

He smiles. 

“Show me how close you are,” Jaemin tells you, lapping at your slit messily. “Come all over my face”. 

You can't understand how those filthy words can come out of a mouth so sweet, but you love it. So much so, that it's his words that trigger your third orgasm of the night, one that's just as messy as the way he has been eating you out for the past hour or so.

“Jaemin,” you whimper one more time, and pull his hair roughly against your cunt that it ellicits a painful hiss out of him. “F-fuck, shit”. 

“Keep going,” Jaemin gasps against your pussy, burying his fingers in it while he continues teasing you with his tongue. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied”. 

But you're more than satisfied by now. Your third orgasm it’s as pleasing as it is painful, and he is not giving you any time to recover from it.

“Jae- Jaemin,” you whimper, closing your legs around him instinctively as a way to avoid overstimulation. “Too much”. 

All in his mind is to make you come again. And again, and again until you're left with no thoughts. 

But the overwhelming stimulation is becoming almost unbearable, so you really need him to stop —no matter how badly you wish to come again for him.

“Red, Jaemin,” you cry out, and whine at the immediate loss of contact from his lips. “I can’t take one more”.

You can feel him panicking for a bit. But just as fast, he regains composure of himself and the situation.

“Are you okay?” he asks with shortness of breath, with messy hair and still your arousal glistening on his lips and chin.

“Too much,” it’s all you manage to say. “It started to hurt a little bit”.

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows and sits on the bed right beside you, staring at you deeply.

“What can I do for you?” he immediately asks, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “What do you need?”

“I just- need some time,” you exhale. “I swear I’m going dizzy”.

You let out a soft laugh, but Jaemin’s worry stops him from finding your comment any amusing.

“I need to know if you’re okay,” he tells you, the concern in his voice being almost palpable. “Please tell me if you need me to do anything”.

“I’m okay,” you smile. “I promise”. 

Jaemin caresses your head and face, contemplating the sweet smile you're offering him even after the pain he caused you. He didn't mean to, really. But he failed to realize that the line between pleasure and pain can sometimes be very faint. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. “Please forgive me”.  He leaves a wet peck on your forehead, and hugs you tightly against his chest, decorated with sweat. “I won’t let that happen again”.

“It’s alright, Jaemin,” the embrace is comforting enough, but Jaemin has other plans in mind for you. Or at least that’s what you think when you feel him stepping out of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll run a warm bath for you,” he tells you, slipping into a pair of shorts before approaching your drawer, and it takes him no more than a minute to pick up some new clothes and underwear for you, placing it at the edge of the bed. “I’ll get you cleaned up and we can have some dinner after”.

“A warm bath sounds nice,” you sigh. “Really”.

He smiles at you from the door frame, and walks towards you one last time to leave a kiss on your lips. 

“I love you,” Jaemin reminds you. “I love you so, so much”. 

He cups your face and gives you small pecks on your forehead, cheeks and the tip of your nose.

“I love you even more, Jaemin”.

A/N: This is my first post, ever! If you read it all and made your way up until here, I really appreciate it. If you like this, please please please leave a comment or an ask! That would motivate me to keep on posting stuff! Thank you for your time!

[cowboys-tshot]

Circe and Odysseus in Epic: The Musical

EDIT: DO NOT TAKE MY WORD AS THE 100% TRUTH!!

I took some classes and wrote a paper about ancient Greek culture, but I am in NO WAY an expert. Please read through the reblogs to see some good criticisms and discussion about this topic further. My point overall stands that you can't apply modern rules and standards to ancient stories, but my evidence is undoubtedly flawed! This post has been edited to try and better reflect this.

I'm seeing everyone pointing out the possible issues with Epic the Musical's deviation from the original story of Circe and Odysseus, and as someone who's studied Ancient Greece/ancient Greek myths a bit, I wanted to say some stuff about it. This will be a bit of a long one, so apologies for my rambling!

Note that I'm not trying to shit on SA survivor's perspectives and (completely valid) arguments. I'm just trying to offer some context surrounding the original myth and how it fits (or rather, doesn't fit) with a modern audience. If I'm wrong with any of this, feel free to call me out! Criticize the shit out of me! I like learning about Greek culture and myths and would 100% love to hear other perspectives on this.

So, a few points about Ancient Greek myths to kind of explain the context around Circe and Odysseus:

Greek myths often did not have good views/depictions of women. Women were very often depicted as conniving, selfish, sexually insatiable creatures. There are a few deviations from this trope, the most prominent of which being Penelope herself—she's basically the ideal Greek wife, staying loyal to her husband for 20 years and all that.

Adultery often only applied to women. Husbands cheating on their wives wasn't merely tolerated, but kind of expected. Men often cheated on their wives with various kinds of prostitutes, concubines, mistresses, etc. Although, sleeping with unmarried women (that weren't specifically prostitutes) or married women was still looked down upon. Women didn't have this same standard. They could only sleep with their husbands—hell, their husbands (and family) were pretty much the only men they could even interact with once some really sexist Asiatic practices were brought to Athens.

The original myth has Hermes very plainly lay out how Odysseus' confrontation with Circe will go: Odysseus will eat the moly, draw his sword at her, she'll proposition him, and Hermes directly tells Odysseus to accept. Basically a "sleep with her if you want your men to live" situation. (See this post for more specifics on this).

So, let's apply this to Epic: The Musical. Here's some reasons I think may explain the Circe myth being changed:

The Greek "women being evil" stereotype is... problematic. While I 100% understand that it's important to acknowledge male victims of SA, I don't think the original myth was focusing on Odysseus being a victim—I saw it more of an emphasis on Circe being a sexually selfish woman, as women were often believed to be. Changing Circe to be less conniving and evil deviates from the concerning Greek stereotype.

The SA in the myth is not actually very clearly SA. Yes, with a modern perspective, it absolutely is sexual coercion, but for ancient Greeks, not so much. It made sense to them that sex could be transactional, especially when gods were involved. It's already been established that Epic, while still generally accurate to the original myth, does change things relating to morality/themes in order to better align with modern Western ideas (i.e. OG Odysseus not being as remorseful and merciful, as that was expected of a Greek hero, but Epic Odysseus having more empathy because that's more modernly heroic). If something from the original myth doesn't translate well into modern culture, then it's understandable to want to change or omit it.

In the case that the original Circe myth wasn't SA (I'm not saying one is more right than the other, I'm just covering all the bases), then it wouldn't even constitute as cheating. Like I described earlier, men often slept with women that weren't their wives. Plus, being a goddess, she's already kinda exempt from being blamed if Odysseus slept with her���only women are ever really blamed for sleeping with (or being SAed by) gods, and even then, their husbands sometimes don't even give a shit. But modernly, we would not see it that way. To us, it's not societally acceptable for a married man to sleep with another woman (without his wife's consent, at least). While Ancient Greeks viewed Odysseus as a good (or at least okay) husband, a modern audience wouldn't. Making Odysseus loyal to Penelope and not sleeping with other women (assuming this wasn't SA, but again that's one interpretation) makes him the good, loyal, empathic, modernly heroic man that Epic is clearly aiming for. Repeating my last point: If something from the original myth doesn't translate well into modern culture, then it's understandable to want to change or omit it.

Applying modern perspectives on Ancient Greek society and mythology isn't worth it. Like, we all joke about Greek mythology/Ancient Greece being super gay, but it was often just what we consider pedophilia (it's called pederasty if you'd like to know more). Y'know the Hades and Persephone story? Like, the original one with the kidnapping? Yeah, that was kinda normal in some areas. The myth of Demeter and Persephone is tragic, yes, but it was so normal that a lot of wedding ceremonies included references/recreations of it! Girls got married off ASAP after their first menstruation to men of at least 30 years old. We don't tolerate that shit today (for the most part, at least)! But it was normal in Ancient Greece. Applying modern rules and standards to ancient culture just does not work.

Anyways, I'll shut up now! I'm gonna go keep listening to The Circe Saga lmao

[pinkanonwrites]

Washrack Academy

Jetstorm and Jetfire have a lot of questions about humans. But you? You just want to take your shower in peace.

TFA Jetfire, TFA Jetstorm, and Reader, no ships but it's implied Jetfire has a little crush on the reader, human reader, non-sexual nudity, is it still voyeurism if it's mostly fueled by curiosity? probably, AFAB Reader with GN Pronouns, alien anatomy discussions

"You know, humans are being much more hygienic than Sentinel says they are being."

You rolled your eyes, hefting your small duffel bag further up your shoulder. "Yeah, well Sentinel doesn't know as much about humans as he thinks he does. Most people I know shower every other day at the very least. We aren't big fans of being dirty."

"But now you are being extra dirty!" Jetstorm loomed over you with a cheeky grin, running a huge metal digit over the top of your head. A slick of motor oil came with it, sending another disgusted shiver down your spine at the gooey sensation. "Bumblebee maybe needs to working on power steering! And not splashing human friends with drinks of celebration."

Being a human liaison representing the city of Detroit on Cybertron was already a job way outside of the normal parameters of your career, and the stress was leaving you pretty wired. But Bumblebee accidentally tipping an oversized can of motor oil off a table and directly onto your head while showing off just had to be the final nail in the coffin. In front of a whole bunch of big important Autobots and everything.

Now you were being flanked on either side by Sentinel Prime's personal squadron (a gig they eagerly volunteered for and a choice both you and Sentinel had little say in) as they showed you to whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of an army base locker room was so you could get cleaned up. 

"And motor oil not to be damaging your fluffy organic fibers?" Great, now Jetfire was poking at your greasy hair too. At least he had half a processor to keep his igniters off while he did.

"It's called hair. And it'll only damage it if I leave it in too long. Plus, it's really bad for my skin."

"Good for it not to be doing badness to hair! Yikes for it to be doing badness to skin. So sensitive, little organics. Must be very hard!"

"You're telling me, bud."

"Here! Coming this way." Jetstorm gestured for you to follow him through a tiled doorway. The room beyond looked remarkably similar to the locker room you'd had in high school, though blown up to a cartoonish scale. "We have tiny washrack for mini-bot sizes. Maybe too big for you still, but is better than nothing!"

He wasn't exaggerating, the handles for the mini-bot sized faucets were still a good two or three feet out of your reach. 

"Where do you even put your towels? Your soap?" You glanced around but failed to find any bench or wall divot suitably placed for setting your things down. "Is there anywhere I can set my bag?"

"Just be putting bag into subspace! Easy for peasy!" A small compartment popped open on Jetstorm's chest, and from it he procured… a metal scouring pad? A giant one, about the size of a large restaurant platter. If the situation weren't so incredibly absurd already, you might've gotten a chuckle out of the idea of a robot using a Brillo pad as a loofah.

"Yeah, we don't… humans don't have that." You said instead. Because this situation was, in fact, incredibly absurd.

Jetfire and Jetstorm looked at each other, mirrored expressions of visible confusion. Then, they both shrugged.

"Being a human…"

"...Is very difficult!"

"Look, just- can one of you hold it for me? Please?"

"For certain! I will be best at human wash rack supplies holder job! Be counting on me." You dropped your duffel bag into Jetfire's cupped hands and wrenched it open. Grabbing your various bottles of hair product and a large towel from within, you lined them up on the floor along the wall and hopefully just beyond the reach of the shower's spray. But as you moved for the bottom of your shirt to pull it off, you felt the prickle of two pairs of optics staring just a little bit too hard at your body.

"Are you two just gonna… watch me? You can wait outside, you know."

"We are to be protecting you from curious bots! And make sure you do not do the snooping or the wandering off." Jetstorm insisted.

"Are you gonna do that while staring me down? A little privacy, please." Was it ironic to ask for privacy in a locker room? Probably. But most people had the decency not to stare while someone was getting undressed. 

Most people. Maybe that sentiment didn't extend to twelve foot tall transforming robot soldiers.

"Staring? Who is doing the staring? Certainly not us goodness bots!" 

"No, no! We would never be the staring! Especially not at soft and squishy little human frame!"

Both brothers rushed to cup a servo over their optics, continuously asserting their supposed innocence all the while. You sighed, peeling your way out of your slick and permanently stained clothes and letting them fall to the ground in an oily heap.

"Well I don't know how it is on Cybertron, but on Earth staring at people in the locker room is what we call 'bad manners.' You two ever heard of those?"

"We will being so very manners-filled! No staring from us at you, big promise." Jetfire insisted, carefully depositing your bag into his subspace as he brought his other servo up so they were both covering his faceplate.

"Though do not be trying to do the sneaking off while we are look-away! That would be also called 'bad manners.'" Added Jetstorm with a cheeky thumbs-up.

"I'm not going to go sneaking around your base naked, so you don't need to worry about that. Now could one of you get the water for me, please?"

As Jetstorm felt along the wall and cranked the water to partial blast, you swear you heard him ask his brother 'But what is "naked" meaning?' The hiss of the showerhead quickly covered it, though, and you decided you'd rather focus on getting clean before you struggled to explain the foreign concept to the pair of ridiculous twins. The water ran just hot enough to make your skin tingle as you lathered your hair with shampoo, vigorously scrubbing the motor oil free from your scalp. It'd probably take more than a few rinses to get everything out, you'd have to ask Professor Sumdac to bridge you some more toiletries way sooner than you'd originally planned. Maybe Sari could pick some up for you on her next trip home?

But as you lathered your hair up for the fourth (maybe fifth?) time, you couldn't help but notice a quiet, metallic buzzing that could just barely be heard over the hiss of water. It paused and fizzed in a rhythmic pattern, not all too dissimilar from Morse Code. It would stop for a moment, before picking up again, slightly lower pitched this time. It sounded almost like… a conversation.

"If you've got something to say, you can say it out loud." You called them out. Jetfire startled at the sound of your voice, his own sounding slightly strained. 

"What? But we are such quiet being!"

"You're doing that… that 'EM field' thing. Where you talk to each other with your brains? I've heard Bee and Bulkhead do it before. So, c'mon. What do you want to know?"

He clammed up, absentmindedly scuffing one of his pedes against the tiled floor. Jetstorm, meanwhile, had a sly grin growing across his faceplate. He raised his free servo up in the air like a student waiting to be called on.

"Actually, Jetfire is having a question!"

"I-I am not! Do not listen, brother is merely making funny joke!"

"No, no! Do not listen to him! Jetfire is very, very curious about human not having sp-MRMPH!"

A cacophony of metal on metal echoed through the wash racks as Jetfire tackled his brother to the wet tile, wrestling his servos over the other's intake to keep him quiet. Jetstorm grabbed for his brother's goggles and pulled him into a shaky headlock, even as Jetfire repeatedly kicked him in the knees with the flat of his pede. You scrambled to grab your towel, clutching it to your front as the two bots collapsed to the ground in an ear-splitting crash.

"Hey, HEY! Quit it! What the hell are you two doing?!"

Both of their heads snapped up at your tone, Jetstorm still looking mischievous while his brother had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He quickly pried Jetfire's servo off of his intake.

"Jetfire is wanting to know why humans do not have spike! You know, since he was doing the peeking."

"Y-You were also doing peeking! I know you were curious too!" Jetfire shot back.

"Maybe curious, yes, but you are obsessed! 'Oh, little humans are so soft and so squishy being! Why so warm? I want to be holding one!'"

"I am not sounding like that! You are making exaggeration!"

Jetfire seemed on the verge of tackling his brother again, so you quickly stepped in. "Okay, geez, look. I will answer one, ONE! Question each. And only if you stop hitting each other. That's it. I don't have the energy for this today."

The two bots awkwardly clambered back to their feet, Jetstorm looking down at you with a playful grin while Jetfire seemed to be looking anywhere but your unclothed frame.

"Brotherrrrr?" Jetstorm teased. "Would you like to be going first?" 

Jetfire dignified his brother's teasing with a sharp elbow to the side, but spoke anyway. "S-Sorry to be peeking when you said not, but, um, do humans not have- uh, not have spike? Or is it hidden? Maybe not pressurized? If embarrassing you don't have to say. No biggee."

You furrowed your brow. 'Spike.' You don't think you'd heard any of the Autobots use that term before, at least not around you. Maybe it was a built-in weapon? Or some sort of specialized armor plating?

"I, uh, I don't know what a spike is. Sorry. Can you be… more specific?"

Jetfire let out a high-pitched sound, similar to heat escaping a tea kettle, while his brother only seemed to beam even brighter at his humiliated suffering.

"Ah, you know! Spike!" Jetstorm grinned. "Right here, above valve? Comes out like 'fssshh'? No modesty panel on you, so maybe just hidden away!" He made a bunch of vague motions in front of his crotch, and with a looming horror you started to catch on as he mimed the motion of something growing and rising up in front of his crotch plate. His modesty panel.

Holy shit they had robot dicks.

"N-No? No, I don't have a- a spike." You were doing your absolute best to stay focused on the conversation at hand, not think about… about the robot penis that apparently all Cybertronians had? "Humans, uh, most humans just have one or the other. The, um, the spike or the… the…"

"Valve?" Jetstorm happily supplied.

"Sure? I guess?!"

"Something new to be learned every day! Right, brother?" Jetstorm thumped his brother on the back with an open servo, while Jetfire was openly refusing to make eye contact with you. The temperature in the room seemed to peak by a few degrees, and based on the heat waves rolling off of Jetfire's body you had an inkling suspicion it was his doing, however unintentional it may be. "Anyways, my turn, yes? You said word 'naked'. What is 'naked' meaning?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Um, yeah. Sure." God, you did not have the mental fortitude to deal with these revelations today. "Naked just means you're not… covered up? Wearing clothes. There are some parts on a human that have to be covered in public, otherwise it's uh… inappropriate." Your only solace was that now you had some sort of comparison to make between Cybertronians and humans. "Like, you guys wouldn't walk around with your… your spike out? Same for humans."

"Ohhh…" They even had stunned realizations in unison. You'd almost consider it cute, if you weren't already so burnt-out.

"Yep, well, class is over. Can I please get dressed now? Preferably without being watched?"

"A-Ah! Yes, of course! So sorry! Here is things." Jetfire quickly fumbled your duffel out of his subspace, only for it to slip through his digits and hit the floor with a thud. Wincing, he turned to shove his brother from the room, calling over his shoulder to you as they went. "We will be watching door so no bots do peeking! Then there is no way we be seeing you naked, not even little bit! Seeing you in moment- but not naked! Just normal seeing!"

"O-Okay? I'll be out in… a bit." But they were already gone. Weird. Weird couple of bots. But hey, at least now you could dry your hair in peace.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  

"Very bumpy landing, brother." Jetstorm couldn't fight his mirthful grin as he stared down at his spark-twin, who was currently sitting with his back to the wall outside the wash racks, knee-joints pulled up tight to his chassis and faceplate hidden from view. "I may not be seeing exact same appeal you do, but humans are verrrrrry entertaining being. That human especially so!"

"I wish to be offline." Jetfire lamented. "So awkward, very very uncool. They will never be speaking to me again."

"Do not be so downer, brother! They answer questions very nice, and do not even yell when you peeking at their array!"

Jetfire let out another pathetic wail. "Do not be reminding me! Me, caught peeking? Would rather scrub every rivet on Omega Supreme than be that embarrassing again." He slammed his helm against the tops of his knee-joints a few times for good measure, a loud, echoing clanking reverberating down the hall. "Why are little humans being so soft? A-And when covering self, why are little peeks of soft bits around towel so- so erotic?"

Jetstorm cackled, patting his brother atop the helm with his servo. "And to think, we thought being human is hard. Sounds like liking human is much, much harder!"

[copperbadge]

Hey Sam! Would you mind sharing the research (or if you're not comfortable with that, your general search terms) you found on children of parents with emotional disregulation? That's been a theme in my own life, but I haven't found good papers about it myself, so I'd be interested in learning more.

Truly, it is a fucking quest.

So, when I initially searched I only really found one good article on what I think of as the "pop psych" side of things:

The Emotionally Dysregulated Parent by The Curious Nerd

It suffers from the problem a lot of pop psych books do, which is that it offers a highly relatable checklist and very few concrete solutions, but I don't want to criticize that because it's also not claiming that offering solutions is the goal. The article is more of a "Hey is this what I'm dealing with? Yes? Okay" kind of a situation.

Also, to preface: there is a fairly fine but visible line dividing "emotionally dysregulated" from "emotionally immature" which I think is why Adult Children Of Emotionally Immature Parents didn't resonate with me as much as it has for some. Dysregulated parents can have a fairly high level of emotional maturity, they just have wildly unpredictable reactions at times because their emotions overwhelm their self-control. So the impact on the child is less visible, and looks less like the forms of abuse or neglect that we're accustomed to.

More research under the cut but also a warning at the very end for some discussion of some pretty heavy stuff -- I'll put a little bold header before that bit so folks know when to stop reading if they want. (No personal accounts of abuse, just a discussion of abusive behaviors.)

I was looking for more articles like the one above and more research papers about the issue, but the problem was that Research came in three flavors:

All our data comes from surveys that parents took about their own dysregulation and the dysregulation of their small children. This is...interesting, I guess, but it's not good data because it's all self-reported and only by the parents.

We are studying emotional dysregulation's impact on the relationship between parents and adult children...but only in situations where the adult child is the dysregulated one. Obviously this isn't helpful and also what the fuck.

A study that affirms that emotionally dysregulated parents raise emotionally dysregulated children. I know these are necessary in order to build a framework for further research but also, you know, water be wet.

What actually helped me was stumbling across a different term during this research: "High Self-Monitoring". This refers to people who, as children, experienced unstable or irregular behavior from their caregivers and who thus developed the habit of constantly monitoring others' behavior, and others' reactions to their behavior, to ensure that they are accepted and approved of.

I never felt comfortable with thinking of myself as hypervigilant because the behaviors of hypervigilance don't match mine, but the behaviors of high self-monitors do, because they're specifically focused on the behaviors of other people in social situations. Remember how I was literally diagnosed as extremely charming? Yeah, high self-monitoring is a huge part of that.

I haven't had a chance to explore this as much. I hesitate to say the below link is helpful, because I think a lot of his suggestions aren't really valid for people with any flavor of neurodiversity, but I do think his exploration of self-monitoring is generally informative:

How to Become Less Self-Conscious by Matt Norman

Relative to high self-monitoring is another term, "Parentification", which refers to a parent investing their child with the responsibility of parenting a sibling or becoming a caregiver for said parent. This is akin to "eldest daughter syndrome" that you may have seen discussed on Tumblr, but more clinically defined and intense (and less gendered). Again, I haven't had a chance to dig into Parentification, so I don't have more to recommend yet.

Discussion of childhood trauma below, specifically incest. Skip to the next bold header if you don't want to read this.

I will say, very frequently you see Parentification paired with another term, emotional incest, which refers to a parent putting their child in the position of a romantic partner but without the physical aspect of incest. It can involve venting to the child about romantic partners or work problems, depending on the child for emotional support, preventing the child from peer activities or age-appropriate friendships because of jealousy, and sometimes physical contact that's not sexual but also not parent-child appropriate.

I think "emotional incest" is a real behavior but also a really ugly term for that behavior, and Therapist agreed. It feels like the term adds stigma simply because incest is such a loaded word. It's something I have seen people use to refer to their own experiences and that's absolutely their call, I am not going to step to anyone who needs it or feels it applies to their situation. But if the term makes you uncomfortable I think that's also justified. In talking about it, Therapist and I reframed it as Boundary Breaking, but I think with a bit of work I can come up with something a bit more specific.

So, just, if you see a discussion of emotional incest I do recommend you have a look because it's an advanced form of parentification and may be something you want to deal with, but be aware the name may feel like it sucks and be ready to uh, deal with that.

Okay, here's the second bold header, you can come back now.

So yeah, my research has been very surface level, in part because once I found all this I wanted to bring it to Therapist for guidance in further research. But I do think that "emotional dysregulation and parents" is sadly not a great search term. You're better off searching for "high self-monitor" or "parentification" and keeping a keen eye out for additional keywords those searches may generate. Good luck...

[treacheryinblue]

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter two

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 7.1k a / n : we're really setting the scene and the vibes with this one. more noah time will come in the next chapter, both in person and through the infamous window. do not fret.

masterlist

FLASHBACK - READER

“Why are you looking at her? Huh? You look at me.” 

The guttural tone of Vane’s voice that only reared its ugly head when he was angry made your skin crawl. It didn't matter that you were tucked away in his SUV because the response it coaxed from your body was nothing short of fearful. You had been on the receiving end of it many times before but not this time. No, this time it was one of his business friends, colleagues, whatever they were to be called. The man in question had been eying you from the open trunk of his own vehicle while showing the new merchandise to Vane. He obviously hadn’t been very subtle about it. This didn't stop your heart from racing nor did it prevent your palms from clamming up. You were still very much aware of what sort of hell Vane would rain down when pushed. 

“Why did you bring her along, Vane?” The man spoke through clenched teeth as if you were a threat. Between everyone currently present at this business exchange, you were the last one to worry about. You had no weapons. No phone. No way of tattling on any of these unsavory men even if you wanted to. Who would you tell anyway? The only person who had the means to protect you was your father and he was already in the know of your whereabouts. He and Vane had probably discussed it over a nice glass of bourbon earlier in the day. 

“Don't fucking question what I do. You got a problem? Just say so and we can handle it right here.” 

You heavily sighed at Vane’s overly dramatic show of dominance while leaning further back in the passenger seat. He was such a joke when he put in hours - always so over the top and a show off - and the one time you confessed this to him had landed you on the floor with a busted lip. Vodka made you mouthy and gave you a hefty set of balls apparently. That wasn't a mistake you made again. 

Vane may have been a son of a bitch but he was willing to act, typically before thinking. He didn't hesitate to reach for the gun tucked in the back of his pants, though he didn't pull it out. The shift of his arm was enough to set the man straight and return the conversation to what was important: Vane’s merchandise. 

“Pack this shit up,” he commanded after a few beats, his annoyance towards the man evident. The seller stammered over his words but Vane was quick to cut him off. “Stop your goddamn blabbering, Diego. I'm taking it but that look you stole of my girl is gonna cost you two grand off the price.” 

And there it was. The real reason why he dragged you along to these deals. Honestly, Vane wasn't very smart most of the time but he knew who he could shove around and who he needed to back down from. Diego was not the latter. Shit, you probably could've gone out there and gotten him to knock even more off the price just by flashing him a smile. You had no desire to get in the middle of Vane’s dealings, though, and he was also far too possessive to allow anyone beneath him to live if he caught them staring your way. He was a menace in a knock off suit. 

“Load it all up.” Vane further demanded while he was tossing his cigarette out and stomping his way back to the SUV you occupied. You forced a smile onto your face because you knew better than to let him see your true feelings towards all of this. Drugs. Weapons. All of it was a one way ticket to jail or possibly even the grave. Neither outcome was one you had any interest in living out. He made you an accomplice simply by having you witness the deals. Just another way to keep you under his thumb. 

As he slammed the car door, he immediately reached across the center console to roughly grab the back of your neck. Although the dig of his fingers was painful, you kept your expression neutral. His mouth was soon on yours, one hand squeezing your nape as the other firmly grasped your chin to keep you in his hold. Vane tasted like smoke and shitty beer – both of which you hated. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from kissing him back. Not like you had any other choice. You really put on the performance of your life when you were with him. 

“I've got a good thing going here for you, baby,” he muttered against your swollen lips. “Don't fuck it up by getting that annoying self righteous look in your eyes.” 

Okay, maybe you weren't ready for your Oscar win just yet. 

PRESENT - NOAH

There was the lingering threat of cutting himself every time he fidgeted with his knife, the swift back and forth motion of opening and closing the blade making those around him nervous. That's what he enjoyed about it though – keeping people on edge. Noah couldn't even remember the last time he accidentally drew his own blood and the pain would be fleeting even if he did happen to nick himself. 

That wasn't stopping Jolly from shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It took a lot to make the boss squirm, but Noah sure was a pro at it. He attributed this to his years of practice in the field. 

“Everything is on time?” Jolly cleared his throat, his eyes shifting back and forth between the glint of the freshly sharpened blade and Noah’s relaxed face. 

“Aye, sir,” Noah mocked just as the knife clicked shut for a final time. “Truck hit the last checkpoint around midnight, so the shipment should be arriving within the hour.” 

No one knew that Jolly had recently taken over for his father. The older Karlsson made a point for the shift of power to be kept hush with only the inner circle being made aware. Everyone knew that a transitioning empire would have a moment of turmoil before everything went calm again, but they weren't currently in an area of peace where their empire in particular could handle the shakeup. If it wasn't for Jolly’s father being a little worse for wear, then they would've still had at least a decade to prepare for this. It was a good thing that Noah could remain calm amongst chaos. 

Jolly released a sound of irritation while shuffling the mouse of his computer to wake the screen. “Don't fucking call me ‘sir’,” he grumbled. His face was then illuminated in a wash of blue from the multiple feeds of their security cameras before a few additional clicks threw the images to the large television screen mounted on the wall. They both watched in a momentary silence, Jolly’s eyes shifting between each feed while Noah focused in on one specifically. 

You were balancing a tray of drinks, hips swaying in a natural motion before bending at the knees to pass a table of business men their order. Noah could tell that you were trying your best to smile but he had been watching you enough to know when it was genuine versus forced. He felt a pull to swoop down and rescue you from the hustle and bustle of the long Nocturnal nights but he had a job to do and being your knight in shining armor was not one of them. 

“Are the girls getting along better?” 

“In the Garden or in main?” 

“You know they're too preoccupied in the Garden to give a shit about petty drama.”

Noah did know this because there was rarely an issue with the dancers. The servers on the other hand…they were as catty as could be. He shrugged, his tattooed hands intertwining to tuck behind his head. “It's improving by the day.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

Another click of the mouse and the squares of different security footage became only one – the feed that was directed at you. There was no audio but Noah didn't need sound to know that you were having a heated exchange with another waitress that he knew as Charlotte. Your jaw was clenched, grip tight on the edges of your serving tray that the bartender was currently filling with an order. Noah had to give you props for fulfilling your duties in a timely manner once the final drink was passed along with the bleach blonde still shrieking. 

Nevertheless, whatever the argument was about, it needed to end. Nocturnal was not going to become one of those clubs, not on his watch. He had helped build this place to what it was today and he would rather die than see its crumbled remains. 

Before Noah could get a word out, the scene that unfurled next played out in slow motion. You were unloading your tray when Charlotte walked by, her hip pointedly jutting into your backside to send not only your tray, but also the remaining drinks crashing down to the table. You fumbled from the impact in an attempt to right yourself but it was too late. You didn't stand a chance against the sneak attack. 

“Goddammit.” Noah groaned, Jolly exhaling one of his own in tandem. 

“Go fucking handle it! Bring them both up!” He hollered.

Noah wanted to argue that this immature nonsense was way beneath his pay grade but he wasn't going to pass up the chance of seeing you up close again. He was still trying to get the color of your eyes just right in his memory. 

READER 

Everything was soaked in a mixture of different alcohols. You, the table, the highly irritated men now hurling a combination of insults and complaints at you. You were frantically trying to clean things up by reaching for toppled over glasses and promising a drink on the house – if you could even do that – but nothing was helping with lessening their anger. 

“Fucking amateur.”

“Can't even serve a drink.”

“Shitty fucking help.”

There was a part of you that was plopped right back down to a year ago when everything you did was heavily critiqued by your ex boyfriend. He always had something to say about the way you held yourself, the foods you liked, your choice of makeup style. Nothing was ever to his standards unless he was the one to choose it. You fucking hated feeling like that helpless girl again, and by a group of strangers no less. 

“I'm so sorry, gentlemen!” you repeated again and again. “I must've slipped.”

You hadn't slipped. You had felt the way Charlotte shoved into you and if you didn't need this job then you would've been whacking her across the head with your now empty tray right this very second. The men continued to rant and you continued to ignore them for all of your sakes. 

Squatting down in the most ladylike way you could, you carried on with cleaning the area. Your hands were shaking, your nerves beginning to get the best of you. Anxiety had only recently become a problem for you and being the center of attention in this regard worsened the effects. You kept telling yourself to suck it up, that these guys weren't Vane, but your brain refused to follow through with the order. There was never a moment that you weren't expecting to look up and see his face staring back at you. 

A hand lightly touching your shoulder caused you to jump and nearly fall over to the now sticky floor. Thankfully you caught yourself at the last second. Your head whipped around, breath catching, just to see hot neighbor towering over you. Fuck. Your fight or flight had just almost kicked in. That really would've been embarrassing.  

“Boss would like a word.” He retracted his hand when he noticed the bewildered look in your eyes, a curious yet concerned gleam flashing within his own at the sight. 

“But, I - uh…I'm cleaning up –” 

“It'll be taken care of. Head for the back stairs and Shauna will show you to his office.” 

Slowly you stood back to your full height, nodding at his instructions. Your hands smoothed down over your skirt to straighten it out, followed by a slight tug at the hem as if that would help further cover the view of your legs from the angry men now narrowed in on you. 

“She looked better on her knees,” one of the men murmured to his pal at his side, both of them erupting into laughter. It was like you were up in VIP again with Marcus taunting you. Why were all men such assholes? 

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something you may regret. Choosing between your livelihood and your pride was difficult but you knew you would be no good to anyone, not even yourself, if you landed back on hard times. Taking in a deep breath, your eyes cut over to hot neighbor who now appeared to be rather…angry? The lights of Nocturnal encompassed him in red, but something told you that his skin would still be the same shade even under horrid fluorescent bulbs. 

“Now.” He demanded in a deep voice, his head nodding in the direction you were meant to go. The tone he used was frightening, this being more than enough to light the fire beneath your ass that had you quickly scampering across the club to the opposite side where the stairs sat. Just as he had said, Shauna was waiting at the base to guide you up. 

“What did you do to get King all in a tizzy?” Shauna laughed during your journey up the narrow staircase that would've been otherwise hidden had your new tour guide not been waiting. 

“I didn't do anything,” you shrugged. “Who is he, by the way? King?” 

A glance was taken back at you, the same amused expression you were used to seeing whenever you asked a question present across Shauna’s darkly painted lips. “He's the head of security…technically.”

“Technically?”

“He wears a lot of hats around here,” she sighed. “Security, second in command, amongst many other things, and now apparently a waitress wrangler.” 

The small jab made at your expense wasn't lost on you, but it was just one more thing you preferred to stay silent on. You were already stirring the pot a bit too much to have only been employed at Nocturnal for a week and you didn't need to further add to it. This must've been a new record since Shauna had mentioned in passing once that the turn over rate wasn't high. The workers loved it here, yet of course you were the only one having issues. 

Shauna’s pace slowed the further she led you down a dimly lit hallway. You had come to the conclusion that they didn't like light around here. Abruptly stopping in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, she turned to look at you, her eyes immediately sinking into yours. It appeared as if there was something she wanted to say by the way her lips faintly twitched, but she decidedly covered it with another smile. 

An arm extended off to the side to plant three firm knocks on the door, the sound of the lock electronically unlatching following seconds later. “Don't ask too many questions,” Shauna lowly added before she was sidestepping you and strutting back down the endless hallway, but only after she had twisted the doorknob and pushed the thick barrier open a couple of inches. 

X X X

You felt small standing in front of the boss. He was finely dressed in a black suit, a cross earring dangling from his ear, and his long hair secured back into a bun that sat low on his neck, while you were…well, you currently resembled a wet dog after having an entire tray of drinks find their way onto you. 

His face was emotionless as he stared at you, silently sizing you up, but you refused to be intimidated. So, you held his gaze despite the way your trembling fingers were anxiously fidgeting with each other. He must've noticed because he only chuckled and shook his head before releasing a deep breath you hadn't realized he had been holding. 

Well, fuck. Had that been some sort of test? 

“Genevieve…” he slowly spoke, sounding out each syllable to himself. 

“That's not my name. I mean, not really, that's just what I chose to go –”

A hand was lifted to motion for you to stop and his head turned in a single shake. “I know that's not your real name. Everyone here has a chosen alias. Some for fun and others for safety precautions. Doesn't matter to me what you choose to call yourself.”

There was an accent attached to his words, though it was one you couldn't quite place. 

“What does matter to me is how you choose to conduct yourself in my club. And what I saw tonight doesn't reflect too well on my business.” 

There wasn't yet a chance for you to defend yourself and tell your side of the story because the door opened and your conversation was immediately overtaken by Charlotte’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. You didn't miss the way the boss let a cringe briefly overtake his otherwise stoic demeanor. 

“I didn't even do anything! She was standing too far out and I accidentally ran into her! It's not my fault she likes to stick her ass out like some feral cat in heat!” 

King was right behind her, the same annoyed expression plastered across his own face. He didn't say a word as he crossed the office to take his place beside where the boss sat at his desk, leaving both you and Charlotte standing on trial before them. 

Your arms crossed over your chest to hug yourself, a chill setting in from all the different beverages soaking into your clothes. Maybe if you let Charlotte keep talking then she would dig her own grave deeper and deeper until there was no way for her to get out. She was already doing a pretty bang up job of it. At least that meant you could get out of there faster. 

Charlotte stepped up beside you with her hands on her hips, one leg extended out a bit further. As if on instinct you shifted a bit to your left, purposely placing a little more space between you and the loud blonde. When you looked up, hot neighbor was watching you, the same curious gleam in his eyes as it had been moments prior. It seemed as if he was always watching you, even when you weren't fully aware of it. You would never forget the way it felt to have his eyes raking across your skin whether it be from a security camera, in person, or from your open window. 

“What happened?” Boss asked, his fingertips lightly planting against the top of his desk. Charlotte immediately raced to recite a scenario you were sure wouldn't be the actual truth, but she was stopped within the first word by the boss holding his hand up to her. “Genevieve.” 

You looked back and forth between the two men watching you. You were expecting to feel uncomfortable beneath their gazes but the only thing bringing you discomfort in that moment was your wet bra. Maybe your naive brain wasn’t scared of them, your intuition telling you that they were not your enemy, or maybe you just hadn't yet clocked them as a source of fear. 

“I was serving my table and she purposely ran into me which caused me to drop my entire tray.” Simple. What more was there to be said on the matter? 

“What prompted the argument you two were seen having beforehand?” 

You could sense Charlotte tensing beside you, the toe of her shoe beginning to lightly tap against the floor in quick succession. She knew this was where she was going to go down for what happened because she couldn't explain it away as an “accident”. That is, if they believed you. Charlotte was a seasoned veteran at Nocturnal, whereas you had only just started. They were already more likely to take her side based on that alone. 

“She…um…she was accusing me of flirting with someone she was interested in.” Your eyes did a quick glance to King since he was the someone in question. “I wasn't, of course, because I've only had one conversation with the guy and she just…assumed.” 

Charlotte witnessed the little run in you had with hot neighbor on your first shift after he had escorted you down from VIP. She found joy in riling you up about it ever since during every one of your shifts, and typically you ignored her, but tonight you had been fed up and finally started trying to defend yourself head on. People, Charlotte specifically, thought you were weak merely because you were quiet. You wanted them to know that it was best not to underestimate you. You just knew how to pick your battles. 

“You made her drop her drinks because of a guy?” The boss was now looking at Charlotte. His tone read as calm but you could tell by the widening of his eyes and the way his hand flattened on the desk that he was growing more and more irritated by the second. “This isn't high school, Charlotte, so why are you acting like an immature child?” 

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but King’s heavy sigh of boredom put a halt to her attempt. “We don't have time for this,” he exclaimed after taking a glance at his watch. Boss looked his way and hot neighbor raised his brows, both of them partaking in some sort of private silent conversation that you weren't privy to. 

“Your tips are paying for those lost drinks.” The boss concluded after a few beats. “As well as their replacement ones.” 

“What?! Nothing happens to her?!” Charlotte scoffed, her voice again piercing your ears and making you lean back a bit. 

“It's not up for debate! Now out! Get back to work!”  

You were quick to head for the door behind Charlotte, who was grumbling angrily to herself, despite having an eerie feeling that the blonde was going to make the rest of your shift a living hell. Maybe even all of your shifts for the foreseeable future. You had one foot out the door when a hand secured around your bicep, firmly stopping your motions forward. “Not you,” his low voice sounded in your ear, a chill immediately radiating down your spine. 

King was gentle as he pulled you back a step and used his free hand to close the door. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning your hair and making it tickle your neck. The slightest tilt backwards and you knew his chest would connect with your back, and honestly, you were very tempted to do just that. You had been imagining the way his body would feel against yours for over a month at this point, never once thinking it would actually come to fruition, but now here you were. The only reason why you resisted was because you weren't alone in the room and you didn't need your boss witnessing you becoming a complete puddle for his right hand man. 

“Jolly just wants a few more minutes of your time.”

X X X 

King. Jolly. You felt like you were in some dark fucked up version of Candyland with those names, but instead of the Lollipop Woods and princesses, it was nothing but tattooed men and their load of secrets. Not nearly as tasty as the candy would've been. Well, at least not until you'd become knowledgeable of these secrets. 

You strolled into your apartment a little after 2am, your new boss - Jolly - allowing you to leave early since the entirety of the last bit of your visit with him had consisted of you sitting in front of his desk and shivering. King passed you a Nocturnal t-shirt at some point in an attempt to help warm you but it didn't do nearly as much as either of you were hoping. You swore you saw him briefly contemplating giving you the jacket he wore, though he did a quick glance at Jolly before ultimately deciding against it. You couldn't say you blamed him. 

The quiet of your apartment was welcoming, this finally giving you a chance to hear your own thoughts and actually process the night. Jolly merely wanted to chat with you, your new hire file laid out in front of him, since he hadn't been given the chance to formally introduce himself as he usually would when new employees began. He explained that his father had been the original owner of Nocturnal but he now did the majority of all the work that went along with the club since his dad had his hand in other things. You politely smiled and nodded, unsure as to why he was choosing to tell you this. All in all, he was nice. There was a kindness to him that wasn’t overtly obvious but you could sense it. 

Hot neighbor only spoke up a few times, instead opting to remain seated back in the dark corner with his feet propped up versus at Jolly’s side. This probably meant that you weren't deemed as a threat. He held the same knife from VIP the entire time, and you knew this because the blade would occasionally catch the light and shine on you. Each time it would and you'd glance his way, he would greet you with a barely-there sideways smirk. Fifteen minutes later, he was looking at his phone and then springing to his feet with a reminder to Jolly that they had a shipment to receive. And that was that. End of meeting. 

It was all so normal, the interaction, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. What? You had no idea. 

After your entirely too long and too hot shower, you took solace in front of your open window. His was open as well, as it always was, but there were no signs of movement. This wasn't unusual since you knew he had business to tend to when you left, though you were still curious as to how late he was usually at the club. Was that where he always was when he wasn't home? That's what you were going to tell yourself was true. 

You remained awake for an hour longer, occasionally glancing at his window, but everything remained still. 

X X X 

“Come out with us! Pleaseeeee! Please please!” Mel begged via FaceTime, a dramatic pout pulling at her lips. You could see the usual crowd behind her as she walked down the street, the group headed towards their normal haunt for a few drinks before eventually finding a club. It was the same weekend routine every time. Normally you would attend but you weren't feeling it that night. It was your first day off, as well as night, in awhile, so you were going to take some much needed alone time. 

Your nose scrunched and you shook your head at the phone camera. “I'm really just not feeling up to it,” you explained in a playful whiny voice of your own. “The club has been kicking my ass and I have to be at Red’s bright and early tomorrow.”

“Ugh! Just tell me you're actually having a steamy affair with hot neighbor! Tell me you're going to his place to let him absolutely ravish you!” 

“Yeah, that's totally what's happening,” you joked. “He's getting the whips and ropes ready for me right now.” 

This was even funnier to you because you hadn't yet revealed to Mel that you worked with hot neighbor now. There was no real reason for keeping it from her. Just that it tended to slip your mind when the two of you were around each other. 

“That sounds so sexy! The fuck!” Your best friend squealed, the loud noise causing you to pull the phone back a bit. 

“Okay, you go enjoy yourself! I promise I'll come next time.” 

“Fineee! Love you!” 

The FaceTime call ended with Melinda then laughing at something someone around her said before it all went dark. You sighed softly to yourself, your gaze remaining on the blank screen for a long moment. You were tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and go out but the exhaustion was really starting to hit. You would be no fun. 

As the silence set in, that's when you found yourself wondering about King. All day you had managed to avoid looking at his window because you weren't going to let this random guy be a defining moment in your life. Plus, he was your boss. Kind of. Second in command definitely made him your boss in a way, right? But now that the sun was setting and your loneliness was creeping in, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over. 

A big part of you was hoping he wouldn't be there. After all, it was the weekend. Okay, it was Sunday, but you knew that was still a busy day for clubs when it came to the city. Nevertheless, you couldn't get involved with him. It wasn't smart for so many reasons and you were really working on trying to be smarter these days. Why did that have to be so hard? 

Taking in a breath, your eyes danced along the other windows of different apartments before ultimately landing on his. No curtains still - go figure - but the space wasn't empty as it had been the night before. There he sat, drink in hand, his focus on the large screen television mounted on his wall. You could barely make out the images but you did know it was some sort of cartoon. Your chin propped comfortably in your hand the further you sat up until you were on your knees leaning over the back. Very similar to how you were positioned the first time you saw him. 

The only difference was that now you didn't care if you got caught watching him. 

When he didn't look your way within the first few seconds, you shifted your focus to the darkening sky. Deep pinks and oranges swirled around, fading into the blue that would soon fully overtake the sky. You couldn't see too much because of the position of the apartment building, but it would have to do for now. You could remember staring at the sky for hours on end in your previous life. It was all you could do when Vane was working and you had no choice but to tag along. You weren't allowed to have a phone to keep you entertained back then. Not even just to play Candy Crush or some nonsense like that. Look at you now, still staring at the same sky, thinking the same wonder-filled thoughts. Old habits truly did die hard. 

It was the slight motion in the corner of your eye that brought you back down to the present. King was looking at you, his hand waving to help draw your attention. When he noticed you looking he offered a friendly smile, one you returned without hesitation. The fact that he seemed much nicer outside of the club confused you, but you were going to continue to believe that he was wearing a mask at Nocturnal. You at least hoped that was the mask and this version of him wasn't. Not that you cared…since you were being smarter and all that…

King raised his hand to his head, his fingers shifting so that his thumb was at his ear and his pinky at his mouth. The universal symbol for ‘phone’. Was he asking for your number? Your brows furrowed slightly, your thoughts running rampant. This was not something you had seen coming. At least he was asking instead of simply taking it from your file, though. 

Nodding, you brushed your hair away from your shoulder to ready yourself for the task of using your hands to communicate your phone number. You slowly tossed up each number, hot neighbor looking from you to his phone every time until he had all the information he needed. Seconds later, your phone vibrated, a message from an unknown number popping up. You immediately saved it under ‘hot neighbor', naturally. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Hello, neighbor. 

You arched an eyebrow at the simple greeting, your eyes briefly glancing back up to where he still stood across the walkway. He was looking at you, phone in hand, patiently waiting for your response. 

YOU: Caught you staring. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: I decided to take a play from your book. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Seems like it worked. 

You couldn't fight the smile that spread across your lips. Your teeth sunk down into the lower tier while you simultaneously shifted so you were sitting down on your couch again. Your back to the window to keep the view of your face hidden. The last thing you needed was hot neighbor seeing you smile as you made the mistake of getting closer to him. 

YOU: Are you watching cartoons? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: I'm an adult, Genevieve. It's anime. 

The use of your work name made your lips twist in distaste. You were already pretending to be a different person in your day to day life. You didn't need to mix things up even more with the addition of your Nocturnal alias. Something about it just didn't sit right with you. 

YOU: You can call me by my actual name when we're not at work. 

Funny, since even that also wasn't your actual name.

HOT NEIGHBOR: I guess that means I should extend the same courtesy to you. 

YOU: Is King not your name? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: It's a nickname from when Jolly and I were younger. 

The gray typing bubbles continued to pop up and disappear, as if he was unsure of what to say. You watched them do the same dance a few times, your curiosity rising by the second. What could he possibly be typing? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: My name is Noah. 

X X X

Three hours. That's how long you spent texting with Noah the previous night and you were definitely feeling it. Two Red Bulls, a cup of black coffee, and a couple of pieces of some weird energy gum Mel had told you about wasn't even enough to keep you from yawning every few minutes. Yes, you were exhausted, but you didn't regret a minute of it. Maybe you would one day when you were forced to remember why getting close to people was a bad idea, but you were going to live in ignorant bliss until then. 

“I told you not to run yourself into the ground.” Red wagged his finger at you like a stereotypical grandfather would. “It was going to come back and bite you in the ass.” 

You laughed, shaking your head at him. You continued to go through the motions of folding his linens as he hobbled into the room with the help of his solid wooden cane. Red was a kind man, at least from what you could tell. He enjoyed reciting stories to you from his heyday and introducing you to new foods that his personal chef would whip up. You disliked a lot of them because of how picky you were but Red got a kick out of listening to your outlandish comparisons. 

“I know, I know,” you heavily sighed. “I was off from the club yesterday, but I still stayed up too late.” 

Red released a breath as he lowered himself down into his favorite sitting chair. His eyes remained on you, a knowing smile occupying his lived-in face. “You're too young to get caught up in the headache of boys. Or girls. Or whoever you're interested in. You need to live a little first.”

You both laughed as you set the neatly folded sheets aside and began working on the basket of towels. If only Red knew that you had ‘lived’ enough for multiple lifetimes. None of which you had any desire to relive. So why were you going down the same path with Noah? Of course you didn't want to believe that's what was happening because it felt so good in the beginning stages like this, but you knew better than anyone how it could abruptly turn and crash. You had the scars to prove it. 

“I'm not getting caught up. I promise. I'm just…making friends.”

“Friends,” Red snorted. “That's how I ended up with five kids, by making friends.” 

“Red!” You lightly smacked his arm with the towel in your grasp, your lighthearted laughter continuing. It felt good to be able to have a relaxing conversation like this, even if it was with an older man pushing eighty. In your opinion this only meant he was better at giving advice than anyone else in your life. 

Still grinning, he reached for the remote on the side table by his chair and turned the TV on. Before you knew it, a CSI rerun was on and Red was leaned back, lightly snoring. 

X X X 

HOT NEIGHBOR: What are you doing? 

You used one hand to retrieve your phone from your back pocket as the other placed a small pile of washcloths in the hall linen closet. Your heart began to race when you saw who the message was from, cheeks instantly reddening. Well…fuck. That wasn't a good sign for your mental well being. 

YOU: Folding an old man’s laundry at my day job. Yes, it's just as exciting as it sounds. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Drop a pin and I'll bring you coffee. 

You had to give it to him, he surely was straight to the point. You did as he said because what harm could come from a quick coffee visit? Plus, you desperately needed more caffeine. You would take an IV of it straight into the vein if it was offered to you. 

Half an hour later you received a message from Noah saying that he was outside. You took a glance at Red’s still sleeping form as you tip toed out of the house, carefully maneuvering your way down the narrow stone path that led to a small black wrought iron gate. It was only waist high, but it was a nice little touch in front of his city mansion. Typically flowers would be lining the path as well, but the frigid air kept them at bay for now. 

Arms crossed over your chest, your eyes zeroed in on Noah who was standing on the sidewalk. He was once again wearing his usual black on black attire, black gloves, and a black coat to finish off the look. How was he so effortlessly attractive? You could assume he was heading for the club based on his outfit alone. Not only that, but he appeared perplexed. His brows were furrowed, his eyes constantly looking up and down the sidewalk like he was on the search for someone. 

“Hey,” you breathed out into the cold as you stepped closer after latching the small gate behind you. Noah extended the second coffee to you which you graciously took and immediately sipped from. You didn't even want to know how he knew your coffee order. Sure, it was simple, but how did he get it so perfect? 

“This is where you work?” He motioned to the large brick building behind you. You glanced back at the house along with him, nodding. 

“Yeah, it's pretty easy. I'm basically a glorified errand runner slash housekeeper.” 

Noah slowly nodded, though his puzzled look refused to break. You weren't at the point yet where you could call him out for it, at least not in the way you would've wanted by just being straight forward. 

“Everything okay?” You eventually asked, to which Noah relaxed his shoulders and smiled at you. 

“Sorry, yeah. I was just remembering something I needed to do at the club.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, how much do I owe you for the coffee?” 

“What? No, you don't owe me anything.” He was now peering at you as if you had two heads. “Consider it an apology for keeping you up so late.” 

“No apology needed.” You wanted to tell Noah that you actually enjoyed talking to him. He made you feel comfortable, as odd as that may have sounded since he was still practically a stranger. But you didn't. You skirted the topic completely. “Did you want to come inside? I didn't mean to leave you standing out here in the cold.” 

“I've really got to get to the club. I just wanted to see you for a minute”. 

“Well…you've seen me.” You laughed, your hip dipping a bit and your free hand motioning towards yourself. Fuck, that was so lame. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious to him that you were completely out of your comfort zone. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You couldn't even remember the last time you had tried genuinely flirting with someone. 

Noah's dark eyes focused on yours, his look intense. You felt bared beneath his gaze, vulnerable, but something about it kept you hanging on. 

“That I have.” 

NOAH

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He tried not to seem too flustered as he said his goodbyes to you and headed down the street. The further he walked from your eyesight, the faster his steps became. Noah hated leaving you like that because he could sense your confusion but it was for the best. There was no telling who within that house was watching you with him and he didn't want to put your well being in danger anymore than he probably already had. 

As he turned the corner, he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jolly. It only took two rings for him to pick up because Jolly knew better than anyone that he didn't call people. He actually despised talking on the phone. He would only do it for Jolly and now maybe you too, if that's what you wanted. 

“We have a problem,” he breathed out the moment the call connected. Dark eyes continued to dart about, every nerve in his body on edge. 

“What kind of problem?” 

“Our lovely little Genevieve is working for the enemy.” 

There was a long moment of silence and then Jolly sighed. “Which enemy?” 

“The worst one.” Noah didn't need to give any further explanation. His best friend knew how hard it was for him to think about the past, let alone talk about it. After all, it wasn't everyday he was plunged back into the memories of the night his parents were killed. 

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The Problems With Charlie As The Main Protagonist

I've spoken about my thoughts on Charlie as a character before a few times on this blog, but I think it's finally time to discuss why Charlie isn't exactly the best protagonist. On the surface, there doesn't seem to be much wrong with her, she's likable and endearing enough and she's easy to root for. But...once you look deeper, the problems begin to rear their ugly head.

1. Charlie Never Grows

The first major issue with Charlie as a character is how she never really grows over the course of the first season. The show never really gives her much of an arc...? Like, by the end of the season, what does Charlie really learn by the end? The only thing I can think of is that she was right about sinners being redeemed and...that's it.

And it doesn't really make Charlie that particularly compelling as a character, she's entirely stagnant. She does have a conflict with her father, which, while executed fine, isn't enough to make her a developed character. She only gets small tinges of development and that isn't really enough for me.

Charlie doesn't learn anything or grow as a character, which makes her pretty underdeveloped as a character. The show never really gives her any real character flaws to grow from and become a better person, she's always portrayed as in the right anyway and never challenged once. Speaking of that...

2. Charlie is Always Right

This more or less ties back into the "Charlie never grows" point I've said before and I've talked about this several times before, but it's still an issue with Charlie's character; she is ALWAYS in the right. Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is never once challenged by the narrative, and anybody who does oppose Charlie in any way is considered as wrong by the narrative.

The reason why this is a problem is because Hazbin Hotel heavily preaches about being against black-and-white moralities, as seen with Heaven and especially Adam. Heaven is meant to be seen as bad because of its black-and-white mindset of "Sinners can't be redeemed and never will". This is put on full display with Adam, and his song Hell is Forever, to the point it literally includes lyrics like "the rules are black and white there's no use in trying to fight it".

You Didn't Know further pushes this with this line "the rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say and you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again".

So the show wants to push a message of "black and white morals are bad", but...it's rendered moot by the fact that Charlie is purely portrayed as in the right. Charlie is completely correct, everybody can be redeemed, everyone even the most evil people who did the worst possible things can still be good, and anyone who opposes her is wrong cuz she's completely in the right...gee, for a show so heavily against black-and-white moralities...doesn't this all seem very black and white in it of itself?

Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is just as black and white as Adam's "nobody can be redeemed", they are both extremes leaning in opposite directions, that are also both wrong in their own ways, yet the show portrays Charlie's extreme as the right one and Adam's as the wrong one.

I've already talked about this before but Adam is a pure straw character; he only exists so Charlie can prove him wrong, he cant have any real character depth beyond being a generic asshole or have a real point because the show is so dead-set on making Charlie purely in the right no matter what; the narrative never challenges her and anyone who opposes her is portrayed as automatically in the wrong.

This is not the only time this happens btw. In episode 5, Lucifer is also portrayed as automatically wrong for opposing his daughter’s goals. He himself says that “Our people are AWFUL. They got gifted free will and look what they did with it!”, and the show…never counters this, despite what Lucifer is saying…being true. The people in Hell ARE awful and it's their own fault, many of them ARE deserving of death because…well, their shitty people.

Charlie is never challenged once throughout the show and its a problem because not only does it fly in the face of the show being so anti black and white, it also wastes an opportunity for the show to develop Charlie as a character; with her learning that some people can't be redeemed because they either are incapable or uninterested in changing.

That would fit more with the show’s anti-black-and-white themes and also have Charlie go through real growth as a character as she learns that not everything is all sunshine and rainbows. But sadly, we can't really have that.

So Charlie's ideals are never challenged by the narrative and thus it not only flies in the face of the show's themes it also wastes an opportunity for Charlie to grow as a character. Now it's best to get into the next issue with her...

3. Charlie is Barely Focused On

Another big issue with Charlie as the show's main protagonist is that the show doesn't really focus on her that much, especially the first half. Now, shows don't need to focus on the main protagonist at all times, obviously giving some screen time to other characters is definitely something shows should do.

But the problem is that Charlie gets very LITTLE focus in the series despite being the main protagonist, and this contributes to the problem of her being underdeveloped. The first half of the show is especially bad at this; episode 1 Is the only episode in the first half that focuses on Charlie, but even then it's overtaken by the B-plot involving the other characters trying to film a commercial.

Episodes 2&3 are entirely dedicated to what characters like Alastor or Angel Dust are doing and episode 4 is completely focused on Angel and his arc. It contributes to the issue of the show not being able to develop Charlie that much as a character because she's constantly being overshadowed by other characters. The second half is better in this regard for focusing more on Charlie but still, for the first half of the show, it feels like Charlie is overshadowed by other characters which is embarrassing because, well, she's the main character, yet she feels like she's barely gotten any actual spotlight.

4. Conclusion

I want to love Charlie as a character. I really do. I mean, she's a part of one of my favorite character archetypes. I always LOVE over joyful optimistic characters because I just find them a joy to watch on screen, but sadly, Charlie doesn't have much depth beyond that archetype. She isn't that developed making her fail to be much of a compelling protagonist, her ideology is never challenged by the narrative wasting an opportunity for her to grow and contradicting the show's themes, and she's heavily overshadowed by other characters despite being the main protagonist.

So ya, that's why Charlie isn't that great of a protagonist...bye.

[dr-spectre]

Guys, i wanna preach something to y'all.

If you really love a character and if they are really important to you, but you feel like a large majority of fans treat them poorly and they mischaracterise them. Don't be scared to talk about it.

PLEASE!

This is not even focused on Splatoon, no, this is just in general. If you genuinely love a character so much and they are treated in a way where you feel like it doesn't represent the character's true personality, events, arcs, etc, then speak up about it. Make a post on any social media platform or forum. Speak your peace, share your evidence, do what you can to say "hey guys. I think you should all take a second look at this character i really like! They have some cool stuff about them that not a lot of people talk about!"

I think a really great example of a character who's been really mischaracterised is Deadpool. In the comics he's a sad clown sort of guy where he hides his pain, suicidality and depression behind jokes and 4th wall breaks. He's a bad dude who tries his hardest to be a good person, but he fails over and over again and he doesn't believe he can ever be loved or respected. He's funny but he also has depth and layers which is so important to create an everlasting character. Or at least that's what I've heard he's like from comic fans. I haven't read the comics but i plan on to some day because I'm fascinated by his depth and i wanna experience that.

However in his first major solo appearance, which was the game, he was treated as only a loud mouth jokester who sees every woman he comes across as "awooga! boobies and ass!!!!" and all the depth and nuance is gone. Even though they had a comic writer who worked on Deadpool comics for years, he didn't fucking ATTEMPT to give the character any form of intrigue. Just... nothing. Only memes and pop culture references that'll become dated in 5 years.

And a lot of people think that's just who Deadpool is... That's how so many people got introduced to this character which caused misinformation to spread about him for so long... And that fucking sucks dude.

Thankfully the movies have some form of an emotional center with Wade and Vanessa's relationship and they give the character... SOMETHING!!!!! At least the comic fans seem to be pretty okay with movie Deadpool from my knowledge, which is good.

ANYWAYS! BACK TO SPLATOON!

Do you guys remember when Pearl and Marina used to be treated like this? Pearl as some big forehead joke of a character, while Marina was some bimbo with huge honkers and a giant waist.

Oh yeah, this was how they were treated for years. I remember it man, i fucking remember it all. I was there. Sorry to tell the new fans who joined from Splatoon 3. Even after Octo Expansion gave them detailed backstories and further explored their personalities, they were still mischaracterised as flanderised jokes and nothing more in the community.

But after people took the time to get to know these two, after people spent 7 years with them and discussed the interesting things about them online, they are now portrayed significantly better than how they used to be treated in the community and are celebrated as some of the best characters in the franchise. As they fucking deserve to be treated. Fans don't treat them as jokes anymore, casuals don't make tired old jokes anymore. Everyone loves these two now and for the right reasons.

And all it took was a small section of people to praise their best attributes and eventually overshadow the misinformation about them. Pearl is celebrated because she is genuinely a great character with a heart of gold and a want to care for the people around her. To make every day chaotic and to have fun with her CANONICAL GIRLFRIEND!

Marina is celebrated as a character who autistic people can look up to and find comfort in. AND THAT IS FUCKING AWESOME!!! AND IT ALMOST NEVER HAPPENED! If no one bothered to look deeper at her character then maybe many peoples lives could have never been changed for the better... Isn't that crazy to think about?

If you can change one person's perspective on a character you love, and they feel that energy and they wanna help you share that energy with more people, then i think you've done something truly amazing. Eventually that shit is gonna spread further and further AND FURTHER!!!!!!

Remember when Shiver and Frye were treated as jokes similar to Pearl and Marina at the start of Splatoon 3? Frye with her big forehead jokes and people calling her ugly due to... well... i'm gonna make some wild accusations here but... there might be an undertone of racism when people call Frye ugly... like... i'm just saying... I'm scared of what these people think about Indian women in the real world... What views they share about them... Frye is inspired by Indian culture and by proxy, Indian women. I'm just saying...

And, of course, fans gooning over Shiver because god forbid a woman exposes her midriff and has curvy hips... ugh...

BUT THANKFULLY IT'S CHANGED NOW! Lots of people see Shiver as a silly yet fun character who has the potential for depth down the line, which people are excited to see. People adore Frye and love her personality and her family.

There are people out there who say that Frye is actually cute and beautiful, AND YOU KNOW WHAT!?? I FUCKING AGREE! If people didn't share their love and takes on Frye then maybe she wouldn't become my favourite Deep Cut member.

Now... To tie it all back to me, I'm seeing this change in perspective for a character.... with Callie Cuttlefish.

During the years 2017 to 2022, Callie was always mischaracterised as some airheaded idiot who ended up getting herself "kidnapped" and "brainwashed" and had to be saved as she was some stupid helpless victim. This was seen in official material and fan comics too. I remember it man, i really do. Hell it STILL happens till this day. That fucking summer 2024 Nintendo magazine? Jesus christ dude...

But now? That perspective is changing... Sure not everyone is gonna fully agree and there probably isn't gonna be massive change in official media, social media such as YouTube and twitter, and of course wikis. Not everyone is gonna know about what Callie is truly like and what she has truly gone through. But....

That's okay.

I really don't wanna come across as some sort of gatekeeping fan, i really hate those kinds of """fans""" so much. I just wanna educate and share my love for a comfort character of mine. Eventually the perspective shared by me and others will be spread to other social media platforms and many more people. Because that's how the internet works baby!!!!

The perspective that Callie was just a girl suffering from fame and loneliness, a girl who wanted an escape from it all, a girl who went under hypnosis to numb her pain and stay in the corruptive darkness she built up for so long, a girl who wanted to help her enemies rather than stay in her current life with a cousin who isn't there for her anymore... A girl who didn't need to be saved, but a girl who needed to be reminded of the good memories she had with her cousin, to remember what she truly stood for and the love she wants to share with everyone via music... A girl who just needed... a fresh start....

She was never kidnapped despite what official sources say... She was never brainwashed despite what they tell you... Callie had agency... Callie was suffering... Just in a more nuanced and fascinating way.

that perspective... is spreading and... I'm so happy about it...

Anyways, that's all i have for you guys. Please share your love for a character with others, share your unique perspectives to the world, you have a voice, USE IT! I DON'T CARE IF IT'LL REACH TEN THOUSAND PEOPLE! ONE THOUSAND! A HUNDRED! ONE PERSON! DON'T FUCKING MATTER!

USE YOUR VOICE! PLEASEEEE!!!!!!!!

[yukimomodivorce]

The Ghosts in IDOLiSH7 are a Literary Device, Mostly

(an essay by me)

People are always asking me, "Robin, what the fuck is up with those ghosts in IDOLiSH7? How come this otherwise completely non-supernatural universe randomly has these two ghosts that show up and then never get acknowledged again? Is it just canon that ghosts exist and only Riku and Momo can see them?" and I am always telling them that I have an analysis about this I just haven't written it yet. But that ends today, as do all of these very pressing concerns about the i7 Ghosts™, because here I am, finally writing the analysis. This essay will have two sections, the first on the training camp ghost from part 3/third beat, and the second on the Re:vale house ghost from Yuki's third chapter of Re:member. So, spoilers for all of part 3/third beat in both sections, Re:member in section 2, and there's one extremely minor spoiler for part 4 in section 1 but it's honestly so predictable I don't think it even counts. Also, I'll reiterate this once we get to it, but just a warning that section 2 will contain discussions of depression, suicide and suicidal ideation, and a brief mention of self-harm, so please stop reading after section 1 if you don't want to see any of that! Another less important disclaimer about section 2 is that I am going to spend an entirely unecessary amount of time talking about Yuki. I am normal about Yuki. Okay. Without further ado, let's watch my spiral into ghost analogy insanity unfold!

Game translations: @seigyokus Re:member translations: @ takara_time (+ scans and editing by @ waitamomoment) Rabbit chat translations: @osakaso5

Section 1: The Training Camp Ghost

This first point applies to both ghosts, but I wanna start by noting that I think superstitions and beliefs like this are more common in Japan than a lot of other places, so yeah it is entirely possible that ghosts are just a canon and accepted thing in Idolish7's universe and this isn't really that strange of a detail for the series to include. However, I don't have any real background knowledge about if ghosts are normal in non-supernatural anime/etc. and I am not committing to that kind of research, so we'll have to leave the specifics of the ghost canonicity issue to someone else. But regardless of how canon they are, I think we've established well enough by now that the i7 writers don't put much of anything in the series without reason (re:vale band name you will always be famous. to me), and that definitely applies here as well - both of our ghosts are doing a LOT of potential symbolic work in their brief appearances, and that's what we'll be unpacking today, starting with the TCG.

The infamous TCG (training camp ghost) of Atami needs no introduction, but I'll give her one anyway. During the filming of the Friends Day special, upon following the shopping group home, she offers her services to Riku (inexplicably the only person capable of communicating with her) for the evening entertainment group's test of courage, terrorises several cast members throughout the day, and finally brings us Soma Saito's incredible cover of Dis One before probably being sent back to idol fan purgatory forever. Who is she? Where did she come from? I have several theories.

1.1: The TCG is the audience

While the 'ghosts are real in i7' possibility is there, I think it's also important to note in this case that the whole training camp is very explicitly being filmed for TV, and the biggest vibe I get from this episode of the anime is that the ghost is a part of the show, and we're seeing that show through the eyes of its in-universe audience. This happens pretty often in i7 (for example, when we see the groups talk to their fans during concerts), and generally the line between the real fans and the fictional ones can get pretty blurred (which deserves its own much longer analysis but I Am Not Writing All That), so everything with the in-universe audience here kind of naturally extends to us as the real audience. The TCG would probably be easy enough to manufacture with special effects as long as Riku and the driver guy were in on it, and it would make sense for the Friends Day producers to include it to keep things entertaining and be a stand-in for their viewers/fans of the idol groups - the ghost is specifically a female fan of male idols (Zero), and a lot of her interactions with the cast would qualify as self-insert material (e.g. Tenn singing for her and Riku looking directly into the camera to smile at her). And speaking of Tenn and Riku,

1.2 The TCG is Nanase twins angst

I think this connection is fairly obvious in their exchange here. You could make a case for the ghost representing either one of the twins. Like Riku, she's being pushed away by Tenn before she's ready to leave, told that it's necessary and for the best that they stay separated - after all, they live in different worlds. Like Tenn, she's leaving despite Riku's protests and part of her not really wanting to go at first, because she believes it's for the best that they stay separated - after all, they live in different worlds.

There's also the association with ghosts of being ignored/invisible, and Riku being the only person able to see or talk to her. Maybe it's because he's the only one who's able to reach her. Maybe he can see her because he understands her on some level - she was torn away from life like he was torn away from his brother, and she's now practically invisible to everyone else around her, like Riku probably feels to Tenn (and arguably the rest of his family in some ways). Maybe he wants her to feel seen, and he can make Tenn acknowledge her in the way he wants to be acknowledged by him. I might actually be going somewhere with this so bear with me for a second.

1.3: The TCG is monster Riku foreshadowing

So my first thought when I watched the Nanase twin angst portion of this episode was 'well obviously the ghost isn't real and Riku is just using it to talk to Tenn indirectly' because they are always having indirect conversations like this and it makes me insane, and I do still think that's the idea here, just not quite in the sense that Riku is making things up. Going back to the whole 'ghost is a stand-in for the audience' thing, and assuming that she's saying the things that Riku wants to say and Tenn is telling her the things he wants to tell Riku, then we could say that rather than Riku purposefully having the ghost speak for him, this is an extension of the monster effect. I guess in this scenario the TCG is a real ghost (and a figurative representation of the audience), and Riku is having the same effect on her that Iori says he has on everyone else. He unknowingly projects his desire to connect with his brother onto her, and she tries to help him. Really, the only times we see her after she follows the shopping group to their cabin are when she's helping Riku, with the test of courage and then with speaking to Tenn. This gets convoluted so I kinda doubt it's intentional? But it's fun to think about.

1.4: The TCG is the friends we made along the way

Riku spells this out a bit more explicitly in the game here, but the TCG represents the each of the groups in the series in a couple different ways. I guess one way you could interpret this is that the ghost is meant to be there to emphasise how extraordinary it is that they're all together, but I don't think that really holds up considering how often they end up working with each other throughout the series anyway. What's important here is the idea of the ghost itself, something that can be present and felt even when it isn't physically or actually there. Again, the ghost is the audience - a constant influence for better and for worse on these idols even when they aren't watching, even in their personal lives; and vice versa, the ghost is the idols being able to reach their fans without ever actually knowing them. More relevant to what Riku says, the ghost is the groups to each other - friends, mentors, rivals, pushing them forward even when they aren't standing side by side. You could even say the ghost is ZOOL, friends who aren't here right now but will be someday. Re:vale and Idolish7 as groups don't especially fit the ghost description, but they have their fair share of ghosts - Banri, Haruki, Tenn, Aya, Sougo's uncle. Zero. The list goes on, for Trigger and ZOOL as well, but I think the most important way the ghost analogy applies to this section of the story is with Trigger. Because during the imminent Arc Where Trigger Gets Cancelled™, despite leaving their agency and disappearing almost entirely from the public eye, they're still very much there to their fans and to their friends. So. I kinda forgot what I was saying but to sum it all up the ghost here represents everything that stays with you even when it's far away or after it's gone from your life. Mikanseinabokura and all that. And now that I mention it-

Section 2: The Re:vale House Ghost

Once again, a warning that this section has a brief mention of self-harm, as well as in-depth discussions of depression, suicide and suicidal ideation (which I'm gonna be talking about pretty bluntly the entire time), so please don't proceed unless you're comfortable with all of that!

Like most things in Re:member, the RHG (Re:vale house ghost) makes me insane. Today I am going to attempt to form coherent thoughts about it and it is unlikely that I'll succeed, but try to bear with me. Though it isn't around for as long as the TCG, we have a little more info about the RHG - it's the ghost that haunts the shitty apartment Yuki and Momo live in together in their early days as Re:vale. Supposedly. All it actually does is slam the door of one kitchen cabinet and I don't think that this is definitive evidence of paranormal activity because most houses are just like that. It's all a little bit vague, but according to Re:vale, their house is definitely haunted by the ghost of someone who died in the kitchen, because when they move in there is a mysterious black stain on their kitchen floor. Momo introduces himself to the floor stain while Yuki stares at him in awe and blushes and shoujo filter flowers appear in his eyes. God I hate them. I think the RHG is just a figment of their collective imagination or maybe they're having one of those shared delusions or something. But that's really besides the point because this ghost exists for one very specific thematic purpose: the RHG is Yuki.

And on that note, let's go back and talk about Yuki for a few minutes (potentially hours) before we get to our actual analysis of the ghost scene. Mostly because I just wanna talk about him, but also because I do understand why some people think the 'Momo starts talking to ghosts' part of Re:member is kinda weird and random, and I think at least some of this is important to go over before we unpack it.

A consensus has already been established among Yuki scholars that our subject has autism (Kei et al. 2024). Today, I would like to propose an additional diagnosis: Yuki has depression.

2.1: "I lost my dreams, friends, and passion as well."

So, Yuki pretty clearly gets depressed when Ban leaves him. He loses interest in everything he used to care about, gives up on his dreams, blames himself for Ban's injury and disappearance, he's constantly sad, tired and irritable, and he lashes out at Momo (and Kujou, though there are some other pretty strong reasons for that one) and presumably everyone else he knows (I doubt he had a particularly good relationship with anyone else in the first place, but still).

He's grieving here, and it would make sense for him to react this way because of that fact alone. But I really don't think that's all there is to it, because he exhibits these symptoms (among others) long before Ban leaves him. He can't get out of bed in the mornings, he rarely leaves the house if he can avoid it, he has days where he can't eat or sleep, he's underweight and always tired and generally known to lack energy and be slow (or 'lazy') and in some cases listless and despondent. Ban even says that he wouldn't put it past Yuki to start slitting his wrists. And it's subtle, but there's one more really big one that really never goes away for him, even after he finds Ban.

2.2: "I don't need anyone to love me."

I'll get straight to the point. Yuki hates himself. Maybe only a little bit, maybe only sometimes, but it's there. Especially when he struggles with composing - he even says it himself in part 1 of his birthday photobook rabbit chat, almost immediately after saying that it made him want to kill himself but we'll get back to that part.

But it's really everywhere on what seems to be a mostly subconscious level for him, if you know how to look, even from the very beginning:

On paper, this line is just his frustration with being judged by anything other than his music, because it's something he cares a lot about and puts a lot of work into and he wants that to be acknowledged. But I think that if you take it in conjunction with some of the other things he tends to say, there's a little bit more to it.

I dont need anyone to love me. Yuki's songs are worthy of love. Yuki is not. There is nothing valuable about Yuki other than his songs, he has nothing else that deserves any sort of praise, and without them, he's just a useless burden with nothing to offer. He doesn't need anyone to love him - he doesn't understand why anyone would. And Momo does, and he's a good person, and Yuki doesn't deserve that when there's nothing he can actually do for him. And when that starts to change and he starts getting better at showing kindness to others and being there for Momo, he doesn't see it as learning to better express his feelings, he sees is as learning to feel affection and be a good person, because he believes that he is inherently not. As far as he can tell, Yuki is just naturally a bad person and a bad partner who isn't kind and isn't capable of love or compassion, not unless he tries to be. He knows, because he's heard it god knows how many times - even Chiba Shizuo blatantly tells him that neither of them can become good people - and maybe things are different now, but on some basic level it'll always be who he is.

Ok breaking character for a second, imagine you show up to your acting side gig and on the first day Keanu Reeves comes up to you and gives you $300 cash and then later he indirectly tells you that you're a nasty lonely egotistical failure. Now imagine you're Yuki and you have no fucking clue who Keanu Reeves is. He also shows you pictures of his top secret illegitimate son after talking to you for like 10 minutes and you have to lie to him about being straight. I think this is objectively the funniest situation to be in ever. Chiba Shizuo and Yamato both probably have depression also, but I'm not gonna spend any time on it, because every three months a person is torn to pieces by a crocodile in Northern Queensland. I forgot what I was talking about. Anyway

2.3: Hey remember that one time Yuki just straight up tried to kill himself

Yeah, that one. As far as I know this is really never addressed or acknowledged again, so we're just gonna take the page-long gag from Re:member at face value and say that after Ban's disappearance, Yuki (almost) attempted suicide, and the only reason he didn't go through with it is because he couldn't find anywhere to hang the noose. And like, yeah you could say it's just because he thought Ban might have killed himself and he's always been the kind of hopeless romantic to be waxing poetic about how "I can't live without you," but at the same time, he had no apparent reason to believe this (even if Ban did have suicidal tendencies I doubt Yuki would've really known), and he was planning to go through with it (I know it's probably just for comedic effect but he left a will. He left a will. He's, like, 20, and surely not the kind of person who would just have something like that in order already). This is also emphatically not the last time or the only reason he thinks about it.

I told you we'd get back to the photobook chat! I think there's also a lot you can infer from all the times he says he'd probably be dead by now without Momo and he wouldn't be able to handle losing him, what with the whole "when you jump, you'd better take me with you" thing. But regardless, this really isn't just that one time that Yuki tried to kill himself. It's suicidal ideation, and it's something he consistently struggles with especially in the few months after Ban leaves him. It even comes up in how he sees the 'paranormal activity' his new apartment:

2.4: "It seemed as though someone had hung themselves there."

Yeah it's the ghost I'm finally gonna talk about the ghost. I'm done with my Yuki has depression rant we can talk about why the ghost is Yuki now. I guess it might be more accurate to say that the ghost is Yuki's depression/suicidal thoughts/Banri trauma/whatever, but either way I think it represents him and he might also be semi-consciously projecting onto it, and I'm gonna go through line-by-line and try to explain my interpretation.

I think if you want to there's definitely room to take the 'usual paranormal activity' super literally and say that Yuki was having outbursts and slamming doors at the time (which would also match up with him being startled by it). I think it's also important to note that this is happening around the time he mentions feeling suicidal and not being able to compose in the photobook chat, but the main thing here is that second line. Even though Momo is always so nice to him, he can't stop himself from getting mad and being difficult and depressed, and he can't return that kindness - he can't even be useful to him.

I've already mentioned how I think Yuki's conclusion about the stain here plays into his suicidal ideation, but let's look at it a little more thematically. It's the way that even though it's glossed over earlier in the manga, Yuki's suicide attempt and everything that accompanied it still follows him, and it hangs (lol) heavy in their house like a ghost. To Yuki, it's startling and eerie - it scares him, and he's expecting it to scare Momo once he sees that side of him too. And it probably does scare him a little, and he hesitates, but he doesn't scream. Again, there's room to interpret this more literally as Momo finding out about his attempt/ideation/depression, or just as him inevitably seeing how he gets on his worse days, but either way the outcome is the same. Momo is starting to know Yuki as a person instead of an idol, flaws and probable mental illness and all, and his first reaction isn't to shy away or start to hate him or want to leave. It's an introduction. He makes it clear that they'll both be staying here from now on, that he's willing to live with the 'darker' sides of Yuki, and to help him do the same. Another point on this that's up to interpretation (because let's be real they're probably never gonna deal with this stuff explicitly in canon), you could see the whole ghost thing as neither of them really being able/wanting to accept that Yuki's symptoms are actually a part of him (and this is veering completely into fanfic territory but now I'm just imagining both of them silently agreeing to blame the things Yuki does on bad days on the ghost) but we've had enough angst for one day.

Everything else lines up well enough with the ghost and Yuki, but it's really his reaction here that sells the whole thing for me. It's a simple gesture, but just by Momo greeting him, being by his side, waiting for him when he comes home, that constant reminder of all his darkest thoughts becomes just another mark on the floorboards. It's not gone, and it probably never will be. But at least now, he doesn't have to face it alone. And it doesn't look so scary anymore.

2.5: "Now I know joy, and the meaning of a smile."

I must confess that I lied to all of you earlier. I'm actually not done with my Yuki rant and also there's a good reason I've been ignoring all the parts of Re:member where he isn't being self-deprecating or trying to kill himself. The end of the ghost scene is only the beginning of the end of this analysis, and the end of this analysis is pretty much just me having a meltdown about Yuki. Also I'm running out of space for images so we're doing some of the quotes like this instead.

After losing Ban, I lost my dreams, friends, and passion as well. I could only feel a sting as the wind passed through an empty, gaping hole in my chest. But I breathed as best as I could, and he tried to clear the dirt out of that hole, filling it with his earnest words instead.

Yuki still exhibits a lot of symptoms of depression all the way through the series, like the low energy and the trouble eating and sleeping, and [redacted part 5 spoilers] makes me think there's definitely some sort of connection between his writers' block and his depressive episodes. He still mentions feeling guilty towards Banri in second beat, the suicidal ideation doesn't really come up explicitly but he kinda hints at it on a few occassions, and he's very adament that he was a bad person and still isn't really a good one. But it's like. I don't really know how to put this, but I guess it's not his default state anymore like it was right after Ban left (and possibly before that, too). For the most part, he really does get better, and these things become less intense and fewer and farther between. He would probably say that it's all thanks to Momo, and it is, but he also very much does it of his own volition. Momo refuses so desperately to give up on him, and because of that he makes that choice to keep going by restarting Re:vale with him.

Yuki allows himself to let someone else in and start to love again - his partner, his music, his life. Even while he's thinking that he's just a burden to those around him, he doesn't resign himself to his fate like he might have done in the past. He's determined to become a better person, someone who can be a source of strength for Momo just like he was for him. And in the end, he does, but it's not just that. Now he knows joy. Now he can genuinely smile. And now,

I want to hear them scream my name. The voices that called out had annoyed me in the past. But now, I'll smile, together with Momo, who'll be by my side.

Going back to what I said about some of Yuki's subconscious self-hatred coming through in the way he wants people to look at his music and not at him, I. Cannot finish a sentence. Do NOT think about Yuki learning to love himself and see himself as worthy of love because Momo loved him just that much in a way that he could accept. BAD IDEA. Okay. So. It's Ban's advice and Momo's fan letter that get Yuki to accept that his fans do genuinely love his music in the first place, and I think it's here that it really starts to turn into him accepting the idea that they love other things about him too? Or that he really starts to want it and be happy about it instead of just accepting it? Whatever. I give up. I don't even like Re:vale anyway

That day, I would play the guitar I'd almost thrown at Kujou, because I now knew the power of a song that could not be silenced. I would dry my tears, open the door, and say, "I'm home."

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word.  It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving.  His palm presses against your stomach.  You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.  

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet.  Unfortunate .’  So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime.  You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs.  He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling.  You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up.  You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot.  You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you.  He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth.  If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much. 

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down.  You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense.  And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs.  You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too.  Not that you realize it yet but he actually could.  If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there.  But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night.  It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize.  You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets.  Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire.  Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair.  He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair.  For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest.  He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him.  Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours.  He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly.  He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal?  It can’t be, right?  You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you.  His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature.  It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you.  You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in.  “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask.  The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says.  “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed.  It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine.  I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.”  You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.  

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt.  “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine.  It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy.  “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh.  It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out.  You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to.  The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves.  He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you.  You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.  

Idrisa peers in, concerned.  “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.  

You look over at her.  “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form.  Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement.  He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.  

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you.  Don’t acknowledge it.  Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens.  He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them.  “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.  

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out.  It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed.  You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice. 

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you.   You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh?  Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.  

“Yes, Baron.  It is getting easier, though.  Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him.  He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential.  He probably doesn’t care.  He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.”  And it is, much as you hate to admit it.  All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet.  You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure.  If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels.  You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways.  The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place.  Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story.  It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says.  “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to.  The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards.  Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile.  See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere.  It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference.  It’s going to take some getting used to.  He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days.  At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train.  You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases.  Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort.  You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene.  He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something.  The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match.  Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper.  It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon.  Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.  

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you.  You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed.  The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings.  “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head.  “Not only then,” he says.  “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t.  You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.   

“It’s time,” he adds.  “To start training you.  It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”  

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says.  “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this.  “Fine.  Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought.  “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually.  You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible.  It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide.  You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering.  “In a few minutes,” he decides.  “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body.  When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What?  Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up.  “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds.  “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser.  He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters.  Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms.  “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser.  “Your coffee is on the desk.  He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid.  Right.  The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not.  I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected.  Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room.  It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh.  If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead.  You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says.  His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance.  “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now.  When we first met you said you were out of practice.  How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think.  “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.  

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information.  Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up.  “Have you used one of these before?”  You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him.  “During fighting lessons.”        

“Good.  You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him.  The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says.  “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class.  “Which are you more familiar with?  Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.  

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says.  “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye.  They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be.  His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea.  It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle.  He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position.  Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move.  He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other.  You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder.  Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body.  You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized.  When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says.  He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress.  You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones.  Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back.  There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves.  You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife.  “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up.  You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone.  You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness.  You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha.  It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.  

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo.  Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both.  “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork.  Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw.  You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says.  “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today.  I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.”  He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.  

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet.  An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls.  You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago.  You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then.  You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out.  It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself.  The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind.  Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade.  It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease.  He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know.  “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?” 

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably.  It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good.  Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says.  “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm.  This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier.  After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner.  This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says.  “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine .  You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck.  Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh.   This kind of close range .  You inhale sharply.  You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed .  Your pulse quickens.  He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed.  His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around.  They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing.  Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention.  They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night. 

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it.  It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance.  “I changed my mind.  I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.” 

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard��with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck.  “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear.  “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused.  You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises.  So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you.  “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members.  You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned.  You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them.  It feels far longer than a week.  You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays.  Your planet has a beautiful night sky.  You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence.  During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not.  He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself. 

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.  

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice.  When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him.  He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath.  Your eyes widen.  

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him.  She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her.  She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’  You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer.  You look at each other for a moment.  He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says.  He glances towards the bed and back at you.  Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you.  You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you.  He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says.  “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way.  “Next time I might.  And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.  

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think.  I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you .  He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position.  He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back.  And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him.  You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles.  You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him.  It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively.  He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.  

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you.  The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that.  The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls.  You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close.  I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak.  Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him.  That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you.  Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings.  You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do.  You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him.  C’mon, please , you want to tell him.  I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined.  It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder.  He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed. 

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone.  It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft.  It feels oddly nice.  Like he’s finding a home within you.  As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate.  Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair.  What color would it be?  What texture?  He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment.  It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.  

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.  

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him. 

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says.  “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head.  “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either.  I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.” 

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says.  “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now.  “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.  There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes.  He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough.  He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff.  “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say.  “The climate sounds a lot like my planet.  I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding.  “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat.  After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air.  It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .”  There are so many questions you want to ask.  Did you like it, though? What did you like about it?  Have you ever missed it?  Were you happy back then?  Did you love the family you’ve lost?  Have you ever tried going back?  You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever.  “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.”   You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide.  Geidi Prime has nothing.  It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons.  You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless .  You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do.  Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family.  Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you.  Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed.  “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him.  “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face.  You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom.  You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them.  Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you.  He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him.  “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says.  “I can barely tolerate them as is.  That’s not the point.  We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday.  They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny.  “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says.  “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary.  Especially with Arrakis.  We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him.  What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there.  In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might.  I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe.  That’s what our children are meant to inherit.  That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .  

 Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips.  He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen.  He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side.  His lashes flutter closed.  He looks peaceful.  He'd be blond, you realize.  His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond.  Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think.  Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor.  The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.  

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away.  When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back.  Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile.  A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you.  You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you.  For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light.  Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back.  The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure.  You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them.  You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant.  It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched.  For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones.  The two of you stare, caught in silence.  Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in.  He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned.  You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word.  He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers. 

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves.  You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep.  You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

[aeithalian]

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

[notfreetoday]

My Personal Weatherman Ep 1 Subtitle Corrections

So I've been analysing the way MPW uses language to showcase the dynamic between Segasaki and Yoh - something that I suspect is not quite coming through with the English subs - and decided to watch Ep 1-3 again, with Eng subs this time. I am now going to complain about some of the subtitle and translation choices and edit them way too literally because I'm nerdy like that.

Disclaimer: Everyone translates differently for different audiences. This is not meant to disrespect the official translation team in any way because they are subbing for a more general audience and have different pressures, so don't come at me or them for our different priorities. I'm talking to the particular group of viewers who like this show and/or like Japanese and want to go a step further in interacting with the characters. That said, I'm happy to discuss MY translation choices so please feel free to drop in about any line.

Under cut because this GOT REALLY LONG.

I'm translating directly from the Jp, so sometimes my subs differ only slightly - I will lean towards a more literal translation here because that will allow me to explain my language analysis better in a follow up post so some phrasing may be awkward. Big changes/missing info have been italicised and bolded. Explanations of nuances/connotations have been added where I feel they add to the understanding of the character/scene, and the relevant phrase is marked with * in my translation and the Jp.

Ep 1

[S: だから、漫画つずけりゃいいじゃんって　衣食住の金は保証してやるから　おれんとこに来い。んで、その代わり　*俺の言うこと全部聞け]

Original: I said, just keep drawing manga. I’ll take care of your food and lodging *expenses, so come to my place. And in return, you’ll do everything I say.

Mine: I said, *it's fine (for you) to continue (being a) manga (artist). I'll take care of the expenses for your *food, clothing and lodging so, come (live) at my place. And, in exchange for that, (you must) *listen to everything I say.

*This whole paragraph is extremely blunt and direct. Every sentence is worded as an order, and this last line especially - the word "listen" is used here to mean "obey" - so this line really translates to, "in exchange for that, (I want you) to obey my every word". The reason it's not been translated this way is that it sounds so strong it borders on corny in English. In Jp though, the connotation of "obey" comes across not in the words but in the extremely strong/direct delivery of the line (contrasted with the extremely nonchalent tone), so it sounds more shocking/overbearing than it does corny. The original translation here works very well actually.

Technically Segasaki introduces himself here as 気象解説員 (weather forecaster) as opposed to 気象予報士 (meteorologist), but in the show's character bios, and when Man-san talks about him later, he's called a meteorologist anyway, so this difference is of absolutely no importance (I'm just anal like that). FYI, in Japan, all qualified meteorologists (who must pass a national exam) can be forecasters, but not all forecasters have this qualification.

[Y: 明日も雨…か*] Original: More rain tomorrow Mine: There'll be rain again tomorrow, huh? *Said with a falling tone, the "huh" here hints that Yoh is likely a little down/disappointed about the rain continuing, and lays the ground for his reaction later about the rainy season.

[M: 人を沼に召喚しといて　何なの？その態度 S: いや　むしろ　万さんがかなり能動的に突っ込んできた印象しかないんだけど M: ごちゃごちゃうるさい　ややこしいオタクめ S: ごめん　ややこしくて]

Original: M: Why summon someone into your otaku pit and act like that? Y: No, it’s more like you actively intrude into my life M: You’re being noisy and complicated, you complicated otaku Y: Sorry for being complicated…

Mine: M: (You’re the one who) dragged me into this fandom, (so) what’s with that attitude? Y: No, on the contrary, I have the distinct impression that it was you, Man-san, who pretty much jumped right in of your own volition M: (You’re) babbling nonsense (you) troublesome otaku Y: Sorry for being troublesome

[S: めし　なに？ Y: あ、しょーしょうがやき]

Original: S: What do you want for dinner? Y: Stir-fried ginger

Mine: S: What's for dinner? Y: Sho-shogayaki

Shogayaki is a style of cooking meat, usually pork, where you stir fry the meat with ginger. Unless the type of meat is specified, it refers to Pork Stir Fried with Ginger, or Ginger Pork Stir Fry. Very common home cooked dish.

[S: あ、そ] (A, so?) S: Oh, is that so?

"I see" is a totally ok translation too. "A, so" can mean "Oh I see" or "Oh is that right" or "Oh is that so" etcetc but it has the air of a really bored "Oh, really?/Sure/If you say so" This is why Yoh's reaction after this is "if you aren't interested then don't ask!". This is the first of many times that Segasaki will use this phrase, as we will see in the following episodes, so I'm highlighting it here for now.

No translation issues here - but I just want to point out that it's reeaaally difficult to make tasteless shogayaki hahaha If you've had ginger stir fried in anything you'll know - it's not a meek herb at all. Canonically, Yoh is apparently a really bad cook. This will be pointed out again later, when he makes curry, because again, it's gotta be some kind of talent to make bland japanese curry; it's r*eeeeaally *easy. Anyway, the sauce that Segasaki asks for here is Soy Sauce, which is different from the sauce that he asks for later! Seems like a few people think they're the same thing (also pay attention to the sauce rack position here - Yoh'll will move it closer to himself by their next dinner hahaha)

[Y: ちかいんだよ、いちいち*] Y: He (leans in) so close, every (damn) time*!

*Not sure if this comes across, but the word for "every time" here is usually associated with slight annoyance, but the way "close" is said here implies Yoh's a little bashful about it.

[Y: 雨、多いな*] (ame, ooi *na...) Y: Rain...so much of it*

*This has the same feel as the "there'll be rain again tomorrow...huh" that we first saw earlier this episode. The ending particle "~na" bakes in a sigh and a sense of disappointment here (if you didn't notice the utter depression on Yoh's face lol)

[S: めし、まだ？] S: Food's not ready yet?

See, you don't notice it with the Eng translations because even the most basic Eng grammar will form a complete sentence. In Jp though, Segasaki is once again taking "man of a few words" to the extreme. He has taken out every single part of the sentence he possibly can whilst still keeping it grammatically complete. So this line is literally just "Food, not yet?". He's done this throughout the episode btw - it's why he comes across as so cold/distant.

[Y: やっぱ　わかんねえよな] Mine: As I thought, he doesn't understand...

[Y: 結局　従ってしまう自分の従順さが憎い*] Original: I hate my obedience, always giving in Mine: In the end, the obedient part of me that always ends up following his orders - I hate* it

*the word used for "hate" here is "nikui" which is different from the word Yoh uses when he says he "hates (dai kirai)" Segasaki. "dai kirai" is simply the opposite of "dai suki" - to really like, so is more accurately "really dislike" than it is "hate" (even though it is frequently translated as such). "Nikui", which is much stronger word, bringing to mind the idea of a "strong rejection of/detest/disgust for" something.

If you didn't already know, the word "embrace" aka "抱く" here is a euphemism for "to sleep with (somebody).

Shoyu = Soy Sauce. Sauce = worcestershire sauce, unless you're in a tonkatsu shop. Then sauce = tonkatsu sauce (which is a slightly different variation). Don't look at me, I don't make the rules.

(This is very long but I'm going to write the whole monologue here)

[Y: 晴れ予報の度に抱かれて 晴れ　なんて単語は　暗いなかで湿っぽく行われる　それとは　ちぐはぐなイメージなのに。。。 まるでやらしい言葉みたいに　頭に刷り込まれていって わかってんのか？　あんたの口から　予報をきいて　どんな気持ちになるか わかんないんだろうな　一生考えもしないだろうな だってあんたは　恋人でもない俺に　平気でこんなことができる]

Original: Every time there’s a sunny forecast, he does it with me The word sunny feels out of place for such activity in a dark and damp room It’s as if it’s such a lewd word being forced into my mind Do you understand, how I feel when I hear that word from your mouth? You probably won’t understand or even think about it for your entire life You have no problem sleeping with someone you’re not even going out with

Mine: (He) embraces (me) every time the forecast is sunny A word like “sunny” … (brings up) a completely different image from that damp, humid activity taking place in the dark And yet (to me) it seems like a lewd, obscene word, searing (the image of) itself into my brain Do you understand? How exactly I feel when I hear the forecast from your mouth? You probably don't understand, do you? Probably won't ever think about it your entire life, right? Because you're able to do this with me, (someone)who isn't even your lover, without any issues at all

This line was ad-libbed btw, if you didn't already know (link leads to Kouhei's 16th Aug IG livestream, and his explanation starts around 07:20 mark) They've talked about this a few times on both their IG lives, and Kouhei seems to get prouder about it each time hahaha. In the linked IG, Kouhei said:

(reading a fan comment) "More" was an ad-lib?? I'm gonna die

Kouhei: Yea it was…ah that was…um, Mashiko-kun… Acchan (his nickname for Atsuki) gave me a really good expression so…somehow, (by the time) I realised (what I had done), yes, (by the time) I realised it,I had said it. Well probably saying "by the time I realised it" is weird but… yes. By the time I realised it... "even more"…(I'd wanted him) to open his mouth more so. Yes. That's all.

[S: そこそこ高給取りになる予定*だから] Original: I'm planning to *become a high earner Mine: It's likely* that I'm gonna be drawing a pretty decent salary so...

*The exact wording here is actually "(it has been) planned that (I will) become (someone) drawing a pretty decent salary so" - the way this is phrased indicates that this conversation probably happened in Segasaki's last year of university, probably right before he graduated when he already had a job lined up for himself. In Japan, your final year of university is spent interning at companies and if they like you, you'll stay on as a salaried worker, so most graduates will have something lined up before they officially leave university.

[Y: 流されるな] Y: Don't get swept away (by this) This phrase is usually used to warn people not to let themselves be swept away/caught up by the latest trends/public perception/societal expectations/their own emotions/panic etc Here, together with his insistence that he's just Segasaki's slave and so obeying him is a natural consequence, and so is sleeping with him (as opposed to Yoh doing it because he likes/wants to) - Yoh is basically telling himself "don't get swept away" by the situation/his feelings because their relationship doesn't mean anything.

[Y: じゃあ、しばらく…ないのか。*slaps face* しばらくしなくていいんだ！]

Original: So, it won't be happening, for a while huh? *slaps face* I'm fine without it for a while, right?

Mine: So then... there won't be... for a while, huh... *slaps face* (It should be) "I don't have to do it for a while!"

Again, you can see, Yoh's literally spent this entire episode trying to convince himself that he's not actually in love with Segasaki, and everything he does for Segasaki, be it listening to him, or sleeping with him etc, he does simply because he is fulfilling his end of the bargain as "a slave".

OMFG I FINISHED THAT WAS TOO DAMN LONG.

I will finish Ep 2 & 3 before I do the language analysis post. But first... I need a break....

[skzhua]

Episode four.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: Swearing, mentions of divorce, mentions of deceased parents, arguing. (And Min Ho gets on my nerves in this one.)

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

"You kicked her out?" you yelled as soon as you stepped in your dorm.

Min Ho frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Kitty. I just walked her to her new dormitory. I thought we agreed you wouldn't call Campus Police."

He got up from the couch and approached you close enough so you had to look up at him. "We agreed I wouldn't call Campus Police on you, which I didn't do. You never said anything about Portland Stalker."

"I wouldn't have minded that much but since her new dorm mate is weird as hell, I am concerned."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Then don't be? I don't get why you all worked up on this."

You groaned and left to barricade yourself in your room. First day of school went on even worse than you expected. You were startled when you phone started to ring.

"Y/N! We just wanted to check on you. So, first day?"

The excitement in your aunt's voice made you feel bad for not enjoying as much as you should. They had been trying to get you the scholarship for a while to give you the best scholar environment and you couldn't be ungrateful to them. Especially not when it was all Principal Lim's doing for allowing you to stay there.

"Great. I met up with Yuri and made some friends. Classes seem fun and I like my roommates."

They smiled through the small screen of your phone. "We're happy to hear that. Tomorrow, you have a class with me. I can't wait to see you there." your uncle said excitedly.

"Me too. I'll go to sleep now. Good night!"

"Good night, Y/N! Take care."

After changing into your pyjamas – that were surely too revealing for some people but you didn't care at this point – you went to the bathroom for your night routine. Min Ho was already there, doing his own skin care. While he didn't talk to you, he still stepped aside to leave you some space. Him checking you out didn't go unnoticed by you but you decided to not say anything about it. You brushed your teeth quickly and then proceeded to apply your primer.

"That's mine." Min Ho pointed out.

"It's not, I just brought it with me."

He chuckled. "I don't think you did. This is worth $200 and my mom got it for me."

You observed him take it from you. "You do realize I have money too, right?"

"Because of Principal Lim and Yuri? Yeah." he attempted to mock.

You took the primer back. "Because my rich parents died five years ago."

Stunned, he didn't move for an instant. While satisfied with the reaction you got from him, you began to regret spilling out about your parents. You usually kept it to yourself that even Yuri didn't know what happened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." he said, his voice now much softer.

"It's fine."

You went back to your room immediately. You didn't want to discuss it any further, nor did you want Min Ho to be pitying you. You needed sleep, and fast.

A week went by pretty quickly. Your uncle taught your history class and you both agreed to not act like family in class, although most of the students knew you were relatives. You bonded closely with Kitty over that week and rarely ever saw Yuri since she was so busy with everything going on in her life. Plus, Kitty was avoiding her as much as possible.

You, yourself, had avoided Min Ho successfully for most part. The only times you really interacted with him were in chemistry class or in the morning where he would always make you a cup of coffee.

You were walking to the library when Kitty intercepted you.

"Help. Me."

Analyzing her appearance, you took in the bags under her eyes and the hairdo that seemed have been done last minute. You held back a laugh and Kitty simply told you you could laugh at her.

"I'm so sorry, but what is this?" you sneered and gesture her whole figure.

"My roommate is the worst human being on this planet. She eats all day, screams at night, throws tissues at me – used tissues – and I have never smelled such a horrid odor. Get me out of there."

"Have you talked to the dormitory advisors?"

"Yes but they said the girls dorm is full."

You smiled apologetically. "Then there's not much you can do, I'm afraid."

She whined. "I hate this."

"You'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"Says the one who seems to live the perfect life with the guys. How is that going for you?"

You let out a chuckle. "Q is the sweetest and Dae is pretty respectful of my privacy. But then there's freaking Min Ho who can't seem to give me a break."

She squealed. "Oh, Min Ho! I almost forgot about him." she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"You're so annoying." you shook your head in despair.

"I know." she snickered. "Ah, by the way. Remember how Q and I found a baby bracelet?"

"Ah, that."

"I wonder how I can find my half-sibling. Do you think they would want to meet me? Do they know our mom has passed?"

You sighed loudly. "Kitty, I love talking to you but we went over the same questions yesterday."

"Sorry." she said in a small voice. "I'm just really excited."

"I know." you gave her a smile.

"We have a watch party tomorrow evening at your dorm, by the way, if you didn't know."

"I didn't know." you frowned.

"It's normal, I just planned it with Q. You can join us. Min Ho's going to participate."

You faked a smile and walked straight to the library. She really was determined when she had a plan in mind...

Q had begged you to join the Outdoors club. While you weren't one for physical exercise, you did love enjoying nature. So you agreed to go to the first hike at least. When you considered having packed everything you needed, meaning sunscreen and a bottle of water, you went to the living area and just had to listen to Min Ho whine like a child.

"I really don't remember giving permission to Y/N to use my custom blend products. She doesn't even need to use them, she has her own stuff!"

Dae zipped up his bag and ran out the door in a second. "Sorry, man. Got to go." he said quickly before closing the door.

"Thanks, great talk!" he yelled back even though Dae couldn't hear him anymore.

He seemed to not have noticed you were in the living room as he slumped on a stool and took out his phone. He looked at it for a bit and then sighed.

"You're always busy, you're never around." he said out loud before dialing to call someone.

"My darling boy!" a female voice spoke.

"Hi, Mom! You're doing good?" he waved at the phone.

"Yeah, just about to head to set." she informed.

"I miss you."

Your heart warmed up from the cute interaction. You were happy to know he had a great relationship with his mother, which you wished you still had.

"But since you're more important, should I tell them to wait?"

He paused for an instant. "No, it's okay. Let's just talk next time."

"Okay, kisses."

He hummed as the call ended. His head down, he folded his phone and breathed out. He kept the same position and you noticed that his jaw clenched.

"Your mom seems sweet."

He turned to look at you and was suddenly alert of his surroundings. "You heard?"

"Not on purpose, I was getting ready for the hike."

"I see. Yeah, my mom's great."

"That's good." you awkwardly went to the front door and put on your shoes while he stood still at the counter, not having moved much. "See you later, Min Ho."

"See you."

When you joined the group outside, you were surprised to see Kitty already stretching out. You walked up to her and asked what she was doing there.

"Q suggested I joined the club so I can have some time with Dae without Yuri around." she explained. "As friends, you know?"

"That's a good idea, yeah." you nodded in agreement.

Q was quick to arrive and encouraged everyone present to do some stretching beforehand. Dae then arrived as well and was surprised to see Kitty there. He joined her the moment he laid eyes on her and she explained to him that she wanted to stay friends. But it was rapidly ruined when Yuri spawned out of nowhere like a character in a video game. She interrupted their conversation and led Dae away from Kitty.

"Do I really have to hear from Min Ho that you're hanging out with Kitty?" you overheard her say.

Just when you thought the man had some sort of feelings behind his pretty face, he had to pull a move like this. Kitty changed spots and, after sending a glare to Yuri's direction, you moved as well and positioned yourself next to Q.

"Alright, who's ready to go on a hike?"

And Min Ho spawned too, and just right next to you. You were about to question him on his presence but Dae was as perplexed as you were and asked him first.

"What? I can't hang out with my best friends?"

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. If there wasn't anyone else around, you'd definitely be beating the shit out of him. And what annoyed you even more was Madison coming up to him with a flirtatious look on her face. Though he surprised you by not looking so thrilled with her advances. You were thankful that Q started the hike soon later and you stuck with Kitty to avoid having to witness Madison almost drooling over Min Ho. It also allowed Kitty herself to forget about Yuri's presence.

"You guys are making great time. Let's keep with the pace, people!" Q encouraged proudly as you were almost to the top.

Walking behind Yuri, you almost walked into her when she stopped so suddenly and let out a yell. She jumped around trying to get worms off her and Kitty took the opportunity to go see Dae.

"We're in nature, embrace it." Q tried to get some sense into her but she kept on yelling.

"They're just worms, Yuri." you said but in vain, she wasn't hearing you.

"Is it on me? I thought the worm followed me, where is it?" she talked to herself.

"I'm surprised you aren't the one screaming about bugs." Min Ho joked as he joined your side.

You moaned in annoyance. "I'm not talking to you."

"Why not?"

"I think you can answer that yourself." you spat out.

Not looking in front of you properly, you didn't see that Kitty had tripped. Luckily, Dae caught her but as for you, you halted your moves too fast and fell backwards. And again, Min Ho was the one who caught you in time.

"So clumsy." he tsked at you.

You quickly broke away from him and cleared your throat. Meanwhile, Yuri interrupted the duo in front of you and Q went on about safety before walking again. You definitely regretted coming here.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" you acted clueless.

Min Ho chuckled. "So we're being petty now?"

"I'm always petty with you." you argued.

"You weren't this morning."

You groaned, growing impatient with him. "Can't you leave me alone for a day?"

He didn't know what to respond and you took it as he understood the message. With that being said, you fastened your pace and arrived next to Dae.

"Hey." he smiled at you.

"Not in the mood, just walk."

The poor guy gulped but listened to you and didn't speak to you again. But your hike was halted once again when Kitty and Yuri started to run to the end.

"Just, make sure that you stick together!" Q yelled at them.

"I'm pretty sure they can't hear you." you smiled at him sadly.

"I know." he shrugged.

Min Ho then went to Dae causing you to walk away from them. You hated this, all of it.

"Why did you come?" Dae complained to his friend.

"Because I'm looking out for you, that's why I called Yuri."

"Let me deal with it on my own."

Dae came next to you again, visibly avoiding the man as much as you were.

"So much drama." you heard Madison from behind.

"No one asked." you said loudly for her to hear.

With Kitty running away from the hike, you went on with the watch party without her. After Q set up everything, he sat next to Florian while you sat on the floor to let them have their moment. Focused on the screen, you were disappointed to get interrupted by Min Ho walking out of his room.

"Hey! My mom is in this. She plays the king's second daughter."

"Nice, now shut it." you said rudely but he dismissed your request as Florian asked him about her.

"Does she still act?"

"Oh, yeah. She's absolutely smashing it right now in LA. She's up for a role as a mermaid in the mafia."

"Great, can you go now?" you asked, insistent since you didn't want him to be ruining Q's moment just like he had done with Kitty.

He ignored you again and walked to the couch, asking Florian to scooch over to leave him space to sit.

"Oh, I could give you, guys, the behind-the-scenes dirt on this." he continued and you mentally cursed at him.

"Okay, I love dirt." Florian replied.

He finally shut it for a while and you thanked whoever for it. As per usual, it didn't last long.

"It took that guy twenty takes to nail that."

You threw your head back in disbelief. Was he that clueless to not get a hint? The thousands of glares he got from you and Q weren't enough?"

"Oh, hey, look! It's my mom."

"Oh, wow." Florian commented. "She's gorgeous."

"I know! Thank God I got her bone structure."

"Taking any opportunity to make it about yourself, uh?" you turned to look at him.

The infamous smirk was already there. "Always."

"Wait..." one of the other guys said. "Didn't your mom and dad have that messy divorce?"

"The whole mess was exaggerated to sell magazines." he said in defense right away. "But yeah, they did get divorced."

That part was said which a much calmer tone, it sounded almost sad to you. Determining that it was enough of him ruining Q's evening, you let out a long breath.

"Okay, we get the point." you announced as you got up. "Your mom's an actress, it's great and all but I need to talk with you."

You took him by the arm and forced him up. He tried to stay at his seat but you were stronger than he expected. So he let you forcefully get him off the couch and you dragged him back to his room, not forgetting to close the door.

"Is it the moment that we're supposed to kiss after you reveal you have a crush on me?"

You scoffed. "So you really do think about yourself all the time. I was saving your ass from talking any more about your parents and that's how you thank me?"

He smiled with a knowing look. "So you do care about me."

"I care more about Q. Tonight was for him to make a move on Florian but you couldn't shut it."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

You deadpanned at him. "Really? Ah, you're killing me."

"Fine, maybe I did get the message but I'm looking out for my friend."

"Yeah, just like you're looking out for Dae when it's none of your business."

"Y/N, this isn't your business either."

You huffed. "You're damn right it isn't but for some reason, I get dumped with all of it and it's a hassle to carry so many drama when it doesn't even involve me."

"Just go away then!" he snapped at you. "If it's that hard to deal with."

Your jaw clenched as you stayed still, glaring at one another. You scoffed once more and left his room without adding anything else. It took you aback when you heard him follow you. The other guys had already left so only Q remained in the living room. That made arguing less embarrassing.

"Y/N." You stopped and waited for him to continue. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

You went to hide in your room and you heard him sighed in defeat. You didn't know what was up with him today but it only confirmed to you that you wanted nothing to do with him.

taglist: @nanaspalette | @schniti-is-in-the-house | @bakugou-katsukis-wife |@soobin-chois | @honeydewpie

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[utilitycaster]

I may have mentioned this phrase before, but I was introduced to "would anyone be swayed by further discussion" in college to put an end to debates where people simply would not agree and (in that case) to just put it to a vote or make the decision that was being discussed. The thing is, on the internet there's not the same impetus to wrap it up already because we're doing this all asynchronously and aren't actually people who need to work together in the first place, and so two differing opinions can endlessly sling mud without real consequence, and I think the discourse has reached the point of "you're stupid" "no you're stupid", and to be clear, I have participated heavily.

I don't actually mind if the discourse remains that way, for reasons that will become apparent in the course of this post, but here's what I propose: this isn't the kind of discussion that vagueing forever can solve. It requires actual back and forth with opportunities for requests for more information (eg: if I'm not understanding the themes of this campaign, what are they, in your own words, and how are they being demonstrated throughout the course of the campaign) and a cessation of ad hominems and at least the appearance of an assumption of good faith on both sides.

Here is the other thing, though: it is my hypothesis that most people posting about why they don't like Campaign 3 are in earnest: they don't like Campaign 3, they are articulating why (perhaps imperfectly! perhaps even incorrectly, in your eyes), and that's that. I think the people complaining about those people, ultimately, are mad that their personal preferences aren't shared by all. Or, to descend back into the mud for a moment: I think when I call you an idiot it hurts your feelings, and when you call me an idiot I say "Likely thing for an idiot to do." I think if the discourse continues, anyone who dislikes Campaign 3 will keep posting and say "wow it's a little annoying that people keep complaining about me expressing my opinion but them's the breaks, I know what I'm about" and the people complaining about those posts are simply going to feel worse and worse, no matter how much they yell about the other side's stupidity, because what they really want is agreement and validation. In other words, there's a pretty clear advantage, because one side doesn't rely on the good opinion or really any actions of the other. Or in the words of what I consider to be a far superior campaign, you need me more than I need you.

So with that in mind. If you'd like to make a good faith attempt to convince me of Campaign 3's excellence (and I can only speak for myself but if anyone else wants to do this, be my guest), my inbox is open [note: if you're doing this, you'll need to be off anon as I'm not carrying on a discussion via 20 annoying asks that clog everyone's dash - we're using replies], you can @ me, and if you are blocked and you're someone who does not have a specific history of direct harassment of which I'm aware, have a friend message me and I'll unblock you for the duration of this discussion. Ad hominems in the course of this specific discussion constitutes an immediate failure on behalf of the person saying them. The focus is on the text of Campaign 3; bringing in external circumstances as supporting information is valid if relevant but I hope it's obvious that "WELL IT'S THEIR CAMPAIGN AND IT'S ENTITLED TO CRITICIZE A THING THEY KNOWINGLY PUT ON THE INTERNET" is an automatic forfeiture as well due to the utter lack of argument and the fact that I cannot be swayed of the belief that little is above criticism and even less above judgement. Otherwise, I'll leave your posts and inbox alone while saying whatever the hell I want and you can deal with that accordingly. You want to make this an actual discussion of literary criticism in which you need to structure arguments and provide evidence instead of yelling "but I like it and I think it's brilliant so you have to agree with me or you're a mean anti-intellectual [broadly despised group]"? Sure. I can do that. I think most people who agree with me can also do that and would love to.

(this is nonrebloggable because I don't think it needs to spread, but feel free to link it. Also, I hope it's obvious: yes I'm aware I sound like an anime villain; it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make to either elevate the discussion to the point where something can get done; or call your bluff and keep doing what I was doing)

[niiine]

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

Character(s). Wanderer (Scaramouche)

Synopsis. Wanderer's voice lines (omg talk about redundancy) as your slow burn love story.

Fluff, comfort, CLICHE! CLICHE! CLICHE!

Mentions of Scara being taller than the reader. F! reader (because this is safer. I keep messing up gn reader fics because I always put her or any fem pronouns.)

Surely you don't expect me to proofread, right?

Not all of his voice lines are included, only the few where I can write something I enjoy BUT STILL WHY IS THIS SO LONG? Might do Xiao next but idk.

Babygirl Xiao ver.

NAMES

The first time you met was when lesser Lord Kusanali introduced you to the wanderer as his temporary companion. Something the latter deemed unnecessary as he will be staying under the Dendro Archon's supervision for a while.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to aside from me. The archon mused before leaving the two of you, saying something about discussing a few things with the traveller.

Your eyes travelled towards the lad in front of you, slender figure towering over yours. And his eyes— you couldn't point a finger at the emotions blaring through it, He's scary.

You inquire about his name, trying to start a proper conversation that may make him feel comfortable. But then all he did is stare at you for a good three seconds before clicking his tongue and walks away.

Talk about manners.

A bit irked by his actions, you followed through his steps before yanking his sleeves, "I asked what's your name"

The irritation in your voice and your bold actions amused the lad, if Kusanali thinks it's a good thing to have another companion, then surely she'll not complain if he enjoys himself a little, right?

"I've gone by many names throughout my life—" you noticed how he paused, and a flash of misery waved in his indigo orbs "But you can call me anything you want. Just don't disappoint me by your choices"

It took you days to decide, until you learned from the traveler that he was referred to as SCARAMOUCHE before things happen.

When you told the lad that it is what you plan on addressing him as, he refused right away. But your words struck something in him and somehow, he's glad it is what you've decided to.

"You've had so many unwanted things that relates to this name, and I want to turn it around."

SMALL TALKS

He always looks at you with bored eyes and crossed arms before turning his back at your every attempt to spark little chat.

And when I say every time, it means every time. Your first few days accompanying the lad were just awkward with him denying you any form of conversation.

But don't get me wrong, as much frustration it gave you, the wanderer is enjoying it. How your nose scrunch up, vivid annoyance, etc. He's loving how much entertainment you're giving him.

You've caught up to this, you really do. But you just want to feel the satisfaction of making him talk. Besides, how are you gonna comply to your archon's wishes if you can't talk to him?

That is until you stumbled unto the man in question sleeping. His face drawn in between fear and resentment as his chest heaved heavily, a drop of tears adorns his visage— A nightmare.

You shake the man awake, saving him from further heartbreak the dreamland is serving him.

And when he opened his eyes to look at you—archon's, when he looked at you. The steel emotions are gone, it doesn't looks like he's intimidating or anything alike.

To you, Scaramouche looks like a love deprived child.

His eyes flashed pain and exhaustion boring holes onto yours before he regained composure, the usual wanderer now back.

Yet you noticed how his hands still tremble, so you took it in yours, him wincing in the process. "What are your doing?"

"I don't know, but I'm here" you really don't, yet as he laid his head on your shoulders, shushing you as he do so, you know you're doing something good.

"Don't speak. It's aggravating when you try not to be awkward with silence"

ATTACHMENTS

If he weren't so pretty, you might have bruised his face by now.

Three months have passed after your fated interaction with the wanderer. And in such time, your patience isn't getting any longer.

"What? Gonna cry to Mama Kusanali now and ask to take you away from the meanie?" Scaramouche taunted you, just like yesterday, and the day before, and so on. "Such a crybaby, this is why you've got no lover still"

"Hah?! As if you have one! You're so tactless people will scurry away even before you speak" you spat back, missing the way he flinched at the thought.

"Heh? You think I've got a sharp tongue? I just tell things the way I see it. Isn't your problem that you're too sensitive?"

You end up arguing more, of course. But much to your amusement, and unusual worry, the lad toned down his insults for the following days.

You tried to confront him and his poor attempt at being friendly, but it's Scaramouche we're talking about. There's no way in hell he'll let you have what you want.

"Fine, fine. If you don't want to tell me, then don't" you notice how his face contorts into that of his when he's about to insult you, but then he holds it back.

You're not sure where you'll be shocked at. The way he controls his mouth, or his next choice of words—

"Since—since Buer brought you hear, you will not leave me right away even if I'm a bit tactless—right? "

I'M HERE

You watch his eyes narrow at the painful memory as he recalls what his creator did to him. Scara barely talks, and you appreciate the small moments he decides to tell stories about him self.

But when hurt become evident in his indigo orbs, you feel guilty for asking the wanderer.

He probably guessed your thoughts, flicking your forehead and muttering "I don't need pity, dumbass" before hiding his emotions once again.

"I don't pity you, idiot—" you started, gaining his attention. "You're kind. The world did things that made you mean though" he rolled his eyes at your words, ready to say something but you beat him to it

"But I admire you. You're strong. You've been wronged so many times and yet you're still willing to atone"

Your companion looks at you with confusion adorning his pretty face, words long died down in his throat so you decided to speak more.

"They may leave you, but I won't. If there will be a time that the strong you needs someone to wipe your tears, "

You took his gentle digits into yours, on usual occasion, he may have slap it away, but something tells him not to.

"I'm here. I will be here. " and with that, you have his eternal, undying loyalty.

SPECIAL TREATMENT

"Buer told you to bring an umbrella, didn't she?" you pursed your lips at his words. Your archon did remind you about bringing the said item, but then the sun was all high and mighty earlier today that you decided to neglect her words.

"Yes, but it doesn't look like it's gonna rain today!" you huffed, surely he wouldn't be that drenched if you two share his hat, right?

"But it did. So now, suffer"

Annoyed at the lad, and by the fact that he's right, you proceeds to stomp your feet away from the shed the two of you are currently residing, determined to get back to the city before the downpour comes heavy.

The wanderer watch as you angrily walked away from his direction. His idea of staying a little longer outside with you now in the dumps because your stubborn ass can't get a hint.

Sighing, he unleashes his elemental skill and hover towards you.

You met his indigo eyes, annoyance still vivid in yours. "You act like a five year old sometimes"

His words, as usual, irked you. but then the irritation quickly dissipates when he put his hat on your head and gestures you to climb up his back as he kneeled.

"We don't have the whole day dumbass"

You comfortably settled on his back while he secure your knees.

The journey back to the city was silent until you speak, and archons, the wanderer is grateful that his face is hidden from your sight.

"You smell nice"

CONFESSIONS

"Just do it"

You hesitantly placed your palms on his before he maneuvered your body and carried you princess style.

"Scara not too high!" you warned as he gives you a soft chuckle and called you a scaredy cat.

"Look" you heard him say, gesturing towards the scenery the night of Sumeru City can offer. To say that it was breathtaking was an understatement— the image before you is enchanting.

The flickering lights of the busy streets adorned the darkened city, and the stars above aren't taking any competition into account. The air up high is cold, considering the altitude, but something keeps you warm.

Scaramouche.

"It's beautiful"

The wanderer's gaze flicks towards you and saw how in awe you are at the view. He wonders, will you ever look at him the same way? he'll never know.

"Of course it is." he huffed, proud that he get to show you such a wonderful view. He almost dropped you, though, when you voiced out another thought of you.

"Do you consider me as pretty as this?"

one... two... three seconds and you brushed it off with a laugh. His silence is enough proof that once again, you sound so stupid.

"Kidding. idiot."

You thought that the discussion is over, but then when you were about to wave him good bye for the day, you felt a small tug at your sleeves.

You turned around to see a flustered wanderer, his eyes avoiding yours. "There's only one similarity between you and this city,"

He began, not entirely sure of whether to continue his little speech or not.

"I'm in peace."

Your heart flutters at his words. Maybe he feels the same way about you, maybe he doesn't. But he's an immortal, and you have a lifetime.