#I guess. logically. we make the rules. we can ignore it and pretend they get to say it anyway

[villainsidestep]

me: maybe we should make v3!fawn friendless scar’d to reflect the fucked up relationships they have w everyone

me remembering that means u can’t say it would hurt the people you leave behind at therapy: ….. dang it

[littlemindblabbles]

Don’t Catch Feelings

Can’t believe I’ve never written a fake dating au, it’s literally my favourite trope. This is also my longest fic at 2.7k, hope you enjoy !

Pairing: Doyoung X Y/N

Summary: It was a win-win situation right, fake date and get what you both want. Unless what you want was Kim Doyoung.

Y/L/N, let’s date.

How did you get in this situation? You didn’t know either.

The source of that sentence was standing right in front of you, looking as though he casually told you the sky was blue. Kim Doyoung, your biggest rival in your year, there was never a day where the both of you wouldn’t be arguing or fighting to answer questions in class. You hated him with all your heart, and you were sure that feeling was mutual.

And yet, what did he just say? Kim Doyoung wanted to date you? You must still be dreaming.

Getting annoyed at your lack of response, the said boy rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Hello? Did you finally kill your brain after trying so hard to beat me for chemistry? Anyway don’t be stupid, I definitely do not find you attractive. I meant fake date so we can both get what we want.”

“Huh..” Really wasn’t a good day for you.

“Wow what an intellectual response. Let me break it down for you.” He slowly emphasised each word as though he was talking to a child. “Look you’re not subtle, I know you have a crush on Lee Taeyong. While I’m trying to get Seomin back. Therefore we date in public and make ourselves look more attractive, and get who we want. Finally clicking Y/L/N?”

You involuntarily blushed. Lee Taeyong had been your crush for about a year now. There was something ethereal about the senior, besides the fact that he was insanely popular and had a heart of gold. However, being on the other end of the social hierarchy mean that Lee Taeyong had no idea of your existence. As must as it pained you, Doyoung was pretty popular and dating him would put you in the spotlight for once. As usual, he had come up with a logical plan, and you hated him even more.

“I don’t know how you’ve been stalking me to know that information Kim, but I have to say you’ve come up with a smart idea for once.” Doyoung scoffed at your response, and you ignored his rudeness. “However, for two people to date they must at least tolerate each other. How do you suppose we convince the school we somehow fell in love?”

“Well sweetheart, there’s always a fine line between love and hate remember.” You pretended not to notice the way your heart fluttered at the mocking nickname.

“We have to set rules. And be convincing. I will murder you if people find out this is fake.”

“Whatever you want Y/L/N, don’t worry I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ll ever get.”

You pulled out your notes app. “Okay first rule: No catching feelings. Feel any slight sense of genuine affection and this whole thing is off.”

“No shit Sherlock, of course we won’t. Second rule: we’ll end this only when both of us get who we want, I don’t trust that you won’t dump me once Taeyong so much as looks in your direction.”

“Fair enough, third rule: Physical affection is okay, provided there are people around. Kissing is fine but no make outs.” You turned red while mentioning this but it had to be said. You definitely weren’t super comfortable with physical touch, given the fact that you were never in a relationship before, but who would believe a couple who didn’t kiss in public these days.

“Wow Y/L/N getting daring I see. Okay my last rule: we hang out after school each day and at least once during the weekend. We need to see each other outside to really sell this thing.” More time with Doyoung, how perfect.

“Fine, I don’t have anymore rules too. Guess you’re my fake boyfriend now.” Just as you locked your phone, the empty classroom you two were talking in started to fill up. Doyoung side glanced at your classmates, picked up your hand and kissed it while staring right into your eyes.

“My pleasure sweetheart, meet me after school today.”

-

You both decided to go to a cafe a few blocks away. It was cute enough to be considered a date spot, but also near to school that many classmates frequented it. Perfect to let rumours fly.

Since this was technically your first date, you didn’t know quite what to do. Hoping it didn’t show, you clasped your fingers on the table and tried to make conversation.

“So, how was todays lessons Kim? You must have found it hard.” Sitting across from you, Doyoung frowned and leaned forward.

“Please Y/L/N, we already fight about academics in school, don’t tell me you want to talk about work even on our date. Word of advice, when you go on a date with Taeyong, don’t do this.” Embarrassed, you looked down to your lap, Doyoung definitely knows you’re a dating noob.

Soft hands grabbing yours made you look up. Your rival looked almost gentle as he said,

“Hey, don’t worry. I know it’s awkward to talk to me without arguing. Let’s just do what people do on first dates, try to get to know each other? I don’t think I know much about you except that you’re slightly dumber than me.” The last sentence got you scoffing, rolling your eyes playfully. Doyoung grinned, knowing you were back to your usual self.

“Well, then you don’t know anything about me. But I guess basic facts, I’m the oldest out of 4. My parents put a lot of pressure on me to do well because obviously, I’m the oldest. I don’t really do much else except study.” Sounds sad, but it was true. Besides studying and helping around the house or looking after your younger siblings, there wasn’t much time for you to try anything else.

Doyoung looked a bit shocked by your words, but he composed himself before replying, “No wonder you’re so uptight, you need to relax a bit Y/L/N. Anyway I’m Doyoung, I have an older brother, I’m in the school’s basketball team I love going to karaoke rooms.”

“Karaoke? Like singing?”

“Yes of course, don’t tell me you’ve never been?” At the lack of response, he clapped his hands, “Wells, this means date night for this weekend is settled. You have to try karaoke.”

The conversation flowed quite easy after that. Surprisingly, you two had a lot in common. Once the sun started to set, Doyoung stood up and held out his hand to you, offering to walk you back.

“See ya tomorrow Y/L/N.”

“Hey Doyoung?” His eyes widened. “Don’t you think you need to call me by my first name now. Usually people don’t call their girlfriends by their last name.” Doyoung smirked and gave you a peck on your cheek,

“Alright Y/N, have a good night.”

He turned around swiftly and walked off, leaving you standing at your door blushing furiously. You blamed this on having no prior romantic experience, but Doyoung sure was smooth.

-

Not before long, the whole school was buzzing over the new couple. Doyoung and you were seen holding hands all around the corridors, sitting together during classes and for once, helping each other with school work.

Of course, the underlying plan was working as well. While you were waiting for Doyoung at your locker, Taeyong actually walked past you and gave you a small wave, rendering you speechless. According to Doyoung, Seomin had been pestering his friends about your new relationship as well.

As for your actual ‘relationship’, you might be treading on dangerous ground soon. Doyoung was, surprisingly, a great boyfriend. He drove, so every morning without fail he would wait outside your house and also send you back after. He helped you carry you books when you walk from class to class, and he let you join his friends during lunch so that now you had an actual friend group.

Most importantly, he was kind when he wanted to, always lending a listening ear whenever you had frustrations. Doyoung had even visited your house a few times and got along really well with your siblings. He knew you didn’t have much of a social life, so he tried his best to drag you to new places during your ‘dates’. You still recall the first time he brought you for karaoke.

“Shit Y/N, you have an amazing voice! How have you not participated in any performances?” Doyoung gaped at you as you ended your rendition of Harry Styles’ Falling. Feeling shy at the compliment, you looked away.

“Shush, says the one who actually can sing. You definitely brought me here to show off.” That started the friendly banter the two of you seemed to have comfortably fallen into. It was a nice balance, keeping the to and fro sarcastic remarks you used to throw at each other, but lacking the previous maliciousness intent.

Kissing however, was still a big question mark. You definitely weren’t going to be the one rushing it, it was still your first kiss, but Doyoung didn’t seem to mind either. He’d always find a way to kiss other parts of your head other than your lips; your cheek, forehead, nose. Always asking first, and only when there were people around.

-

“Hey Y/N? I know this isn’t your cup of tea but Jaehyun’s throwing a small party this weekend. Seomin and Taeyong will be there, wanna go?” Your fake boyfriend looked at you apprehensively.

He was was right, loud music and crowds were something you pointedly avoided, but for the fake dating aspect, this party was the perfect place to be. So you took a deep breath and nodded.

Right now though, as you squeeze through yet another group of drunk teens, you start to reconsider your decision. If this was Doyoung’s definition of ‘small’ , he needed to retake English class. Speaking of which, after the first 10 minutes with you, your ‘boyfriend’ disappeared to find Jaehyun.

Not wanting to be in the stuffy house anymore, you grabbed your coat and made your way to the backyard, where it was surprisingly empty. Sitting down on the grass, you signed and wondered how your boring little life got to this point.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name made you turn around. It was Taeyong, though you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed it wasn’t the guy you actually wanted to see.

“Oh hey, Taeyong right. Why did you come outside?” Taeyong was the popular one, there’s no way he was scared of crowds unlike you.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughed, the sound echoing into the darkness. “But I get a bit overwhelmed with large groups of people sometimes, so I get away to recharge. First time I’ve seen someone else at my spot though.”

“Oh, did you want to be alone? I’m sorry I definitely could leave don’t worry.” You fumbled as you started getting up, but Taeyong grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down slowly.

“It’s fine, I’m okay if it’s you.”

This line — pre-fake-dating you would have been turning red right now, heart exploding from hearing your long-time crush say that to you. But somehow, all you could think about is sharp eyes and a smirk, directed at you.

It was then when you realised.

You caught feelings for Kim Doyoung.

-

“I think rule number 2 has come true. Let’s end this Y/N.” The next day, Doyoung came up to you in class, his face closed up again, the vulnerability you’ve gotten used to seeing gone.

“What?” You could feel your heart drop.

“I made out with Seomin at the party last night.” No, no, no this could not be happening. You wished Doyoung would stop talking, stop making the dreaded feeling in your chest worse. “Plus, I heard Lee Taeyong was talking to you all night in the backyard. Good for you Y/L/N, see our plan worked.”

Never had your last name sound so foul. You were so used to Doyoung called you by name, the way he pronounced it made you smile every time. Crap you were in so deep, how did you not notice before?

But it was too late, all you could do was smile faintly and Doyoung left to sit at the other end of class. Guess this was the beginning of the end.

-

The next few weeks passed by in a blur, you were on autopilot, going to school and then leaving when the bell rang. You didn’t even have the effort to argue with Doyoung in class anymore, and since you were too distracted to study, your grades were dropping as well. Soon, you weren’t even in the top 10 anymore, well below Doyoung, but for once you couldn’t care less.

Speaking of your ex-rival, or ex-boyfriend, if you could consider that. After meeting up one last time for closure, you both agreed to let people know the break up was mutual. Since then, you avoided him like the plague. If you had to see him and Seomin together in school, it’ll break whatever remaining strength you had.

Doyoung however, had different ideas. While you were planning to sit in an empty class for lunch, since breaking up with Doyoung also meant you had no more friends, he stormed in a sat in front of you.

“What’s your issue? I just heard from Professor that you’re failing maths? Y/N failing maths?!” Oh right, you forgot about that.

“Well, my grades have been slipping slightly. At least you don’t have to worry about me beating you anytime soon.” You forced out a small laugh, avoiding his eyes. You didn’t miss the fact that he said your name once again.

“I’m worried about you. Are there any issues at home? You can’t go from being the smartest student in the year to failing maths in 2 weeks. I’ll even tutor you if you need. The hell, I know Taeyong isn’t the smartest out there but he’s a senior, can’t he help you? As your boyfriend he should do better.” Maybe you were imagining it but Doyoung even sounded angry towards the end.

“Taeyong’s not my boyfriend. I haven’t spoken to him since the party.” The boy in front of me made a noise or confusion.

“But I thought—”

“You thought wrong. Taeyong hasn’t been the one I wanted for quite some time already.” Doyoung suddenly cupped my chin and turned it, forcing me to look at him,

“Wait Y/N, do you mean?”

“Yes I’m sorry, I broke rule number one and didn’t tell you. I didn’t realise until it was too late. But it doesn’t matter, you got Seomin already, just forget it.” You tried to move away, but instead he used both hands to keep you in place, looking happy for some reason.

“Then I guess I should apologise too, I broke rule number one from the first day.” Huh, that would mean...

“Yes sweetheart, I can hear the gears turning in your head. I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. I only pretended to be rivals so that you would notice me. You can be quite in your own world sometimes. This fake dating thing was only so I could get closer to you without the hostility. I shouldn’t have lied about my feelings, but I didn’t know how else to get you to trust me.” You still couldn’t believe it, you had too many questions.

“But Seomin—” Doyoung shook his head.

“I lied, I never wanted her back. She was clingy as hell, good riddance. I also never made out with her, I promise. I saw you talking to Taeyong and having a moment, so I figured at least one of us should be happy. Didn’t think it would be that hard telling you to call the fake dating off.”

It was slowly sinking in. Doyoung liked you. Doyoung had a crush on you for a long time. Doyoung pretended to be your boyfriend to get closer to you. But all this time, his actions were genuine, and your rival liked you back. Shyly, you looked at him and smiled.

“If you liked me all this while, how come you never kissed me?” Sensing your feelings as well, Doyoung grinned.

“Because it wasn’t right if I did it before confessing properly. I know it’s your first kiss and I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Well you just confessed. And if you didn’t notice, this is me accepting and reciprocating.” Your usual snarky replies were returning. Doyoung laughed and moved over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Glad to hear those remarks again, god I missed you.” And before you had a chance to reply, he swooped down and found your lips.

You had to say, your first kiss was indeed perfect.

Note: I disappeared from this app and came back to dump this. Quite surprised by the length, maybe the ending could have been longer but I didn’t want to drag it out too much. Check out my masterlist for more fics :))

[jackoshadows]

The Arya/Jon post highlighted this bit in the text where Jon assists Bowen Marsh with counts and inventories.

... assisted Maester Aemon with his birds or Bowen Marsh with his counts and inventories - Jon, AGoT

And yet we had a so called asoiaf expert telling me that there was no textual evidence of Jon learning anything about food stores as a steward...

I wouldn’t be so annoyed by things like this if the same person wasn’t also insistently proclaiming Sansa as best at everything because she learned so much by osmosis from any person she spend two seconds with  - despite there actually being nothing in the text that tells us what exactly she learned from Tyrion and the Tyrells and Cersei. Okay, so she mentioned that she would make the people love her instead of fear her. Anything else? Any textual evidence of what kind of administrator she would be? Any deals she she has made with adults to tell us what kind of diplomat she would be? Any laws she has enforced, any justice she has dispersed to tell us whether she will be fair and just or a tyrannical idiot?

Plus, the people she has seen rule as kings are the likes of Robert Baratheon and Joffrey Baratheon. She has seen what not to do. Has she seen what to do? Has she then done it?

Just looking at the characters Jon Snow learned from - Ned Stark, Maester Luwin, Rodrik  Cassel, Maester Aemon, Jeor Mormont, Qhorin Halfhand, Mance Raydar, Donal Noye, Samwell Tarly, Stannis Baratheon - and then thinking that Sansa is more qualified to lead the North? Folks should be honestly embarrassed pretending to be unbiased analysts.

Maester Aemon - The oldest and wisest character in the books - said this of Jon Snow:

“Maester Luwin taught you well Jon Snow. Your mind is as deft as your blade it would seem”

Stannis Baratheon, said this of Jon Snow:

“You haggle like a crone with a codfish”

In book, in story, we have older, experienced characters praising and acknowledging Jon’s intelligence and negotiating skills. Yet, these are so often ignored or discounted.

As an aside, it’s pretty hilarious how much many of these Sansa stans hate Tyrion and disparage his intelligence and yet take his praise of Sansa’s ability to charm as gospel and an indication that she will be The Diplomat ™ 😂. Apparently there are no so called ‘POV traps’ there. POV traps only exist when characters praise Dany or Arya or Jon or when Jon and Arya say something negative about Sansa. 

ASoIaF fandom logic:

Character says something negative about Sansa - Biased and false POV trap. Character says something positive about Sansa - indisputable, absolute truth.

Character says something positive about Dany/Arya/Jon - biased/wrong/POV trap. Character says something negative about Dany/Arya/Jon, usually slavers, Septa Mordane or bigots like Bowen Marsh - it’s the absolute, gospel, indisputable truth about these characters.

Again, the issue is not and never been about what Sansa herself can possibly do in the future and her own skillsets of being charming and well mannered and following the patriarchal status quo rules to the tee and ordering the servants in the Vale to make the bed and clean the rooms and getting SweetRobin to eat his dinner and slowly being able to connect the dots when LF explains his plans to her.

The issue is when people pretend to be these unbiased analysts and then tear down characters like Jon Snow as being an ‘ignorant, privileged rich kid who doesn’t know anything about food stores’ - their own words, and when one then looks at their Sansa essays, it’s nothing but high praise of her exceptional skillsets.

I find pretentious hypocrites to be highly obnoxious. Considering the many posts I have made on this now, folks can guess how annoying I find this  😂. I will stop here... until the next time 😂

[captains-simp]

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 2: Owe Me

One

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The explosion on your left was far too close for comfort. The shock sent your body hurling forward a few feet with a distinct ringing in your ears. The high pitched sound was all you could focus on for a few precious moments.

When the dust started to settle and the ringing got slightly quieter, you knew you needed to get up. You were vulnerable. And you were outnumbered.

You could handle something like four or five-to-one, but twenty was a little more than you had been prepared for. The fact that they were a heavily armed twenty made it worse. You were pretty sure you had seen Owen's logo on one of those weapons.

You turned onto your side to try to take in your surroundings better but visibility was still limited. The shoulder you had landed on protested against your movements but you were forced ignore it. There was no way you were going to get out of there without using it again.

You groaned as you finally got yourself onto your knees and pushed off of the ground to stand. You were extremely disorientated and unsteady but you continued to look around until you could make out distant shapes amongst the dust.

You shook your head and raised your hands in closed fists infront of you in hopes of it preparing you even a little.

Just as you managed to narrow your focus onto those infront of you, heavy footsteps were heard from behind.

You spun around to meet whoever was charging towards you only to stumble sideways. Much to your luck, the exact moment you moved to the side the attacker had swing his fist and ended up stumbling forward too from having not landed his punch.

You noticed this just in time and managed to swipe his legs out from under him while maintaining your own balance. The victory, no matter how small, made you feel more confident about the situation. Maybe you would be able to get out of there in one piece.

Just as you had that optimistic thought bullets went whizzing by the side of your head. You were grateful for the attacker's terrible aim as you ducked behind a large cluster of debris.

Your gun had been thrown from your grasp in the blast and to get it back you would have to run a few feet away from the safety of your temporary cover. Bullets continued to smack against the debris, the frequency and the amplitude both increasing to warn you they were getting closer.

It would hard - near impossible - to get your gun, shoot every attacker with the few bullets you had and avoid getting seriously injured, but it was that or wait behind the debris for a bullet to finally find you.

Your eyes locked onto your unharmed gun as you sat up gradually. Now or never.

You sprang up from your position and sprinted towards your weapon as the bullets relentlessly followed you. You swiped it in your hand and instantly aimed your gun towards the attackers.

They may have had bigger, much more intimidating guns, and there may have been a lot more of them, but they had no idea what to do with those guns or how to work coherently together. That made it easier for you to hit each target perfectly without a single bullet even skimming you.

But there was only ten of them down. The blast had disorientated you so much you hadn't noticed them scatter to surround you. Panic rose in your chest when you saw the remaining attackers spaced out in the distance.

That same panic was amplified when a small object came hurtling towards you, the small blinking light was enough for you to figure out what it was.

With all the energy you could muster, you put as much distance between you and the explosive device as your legs could give you. Your hands instinctively covered your head when your feet left the ground and the defeaning boom filled your ears.

You expected to feel bullets rain down on you. You expected everything to go completly dark. You expected the worst. Nothing happened.

You glanced up at the nearest attacker, your ears ringing once again, and saw him staring up at the sky. He was looking around frantically. You couldn't really make out his face, but you could tell he was scared.

You couldn't see anything in the sky either, leading you to wonder what they were all trying to look at. That was very quickly answered when something bright dropped down infront of you.

You were dazed for a brief moment until the familiarity of the bright light hit you.

The energy around Carol was far stronger than it was the last couple of times you had a demonstration. It was flowing over her entire body and although you couldn't see her face because her back was turned to you, the confidence and power she emitted was something you couldn't help but be in awe of.

The attackers backed away slightly however this seemingly wasn't enough for Carol. She shot her photon blasts faster than anyone could comprehend or get away from. Swirls of blue, yellow and red light was fired in every direction and it was over so quickly.

When Carol turned around to face you her powers were fading yet the soft glow around her made her look angelic, you would never admit that to her of course.

"You look like you need some help." The blonde smiled knowingly down to you.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own." You defied stubbornly.

"On the floor?" She gave a smug grin as you huffed and got off of the floor. You patted the dust of your clothes and tried to assess your next move while you tried even harder to ignore the hero and the fact she may have just saved your life.

"You could say thank you." The smirk was still present in Carol's voice.

"Are they dead?" You asked, avoiding the statement like the bullets you had just encountered. You walked towards the nearest attacker with Carol close behind.

"Just knocked out." As she said that, the nearest man groaned and tried to sit up. "I guess not all of them." The man startled when he heard Carol's voice and sat bolt upright as he legs kicked out to try and back himself away, it didn't work very well.

"Can we go back to our convosation before you started shooting at me?" You asked as you stood over him.

"I don't know anything." He stammered as he looked between the two of you.

"You're awful defensive for someone who doesn't have anything to hide."

"I've noticed that with a lot of people." Carol added. You didn't object to her presence this time.

"I don't, I swear! We were just told that if anyone came looking for Daexire we had to kill them." The man explained with a pleading look.

You smiled at his answer and nodded slowly, taking a step away from the two and glancing around at the other attackers, non of which moved.

"You're happy with that?" Carol questioned as her brows furrowed. Confused by your apparent contentment.

"It's actually quite relieving to hear. It means I'm on the right track. I much prefer people trying to kill me over people misleading me." You explained as you started to wander away.

You had been in that situation before, it always happened with the biggest bounties who had a lot of people defending them. The misleading happened first, and then the paranoia kicked in and everyone was told to go into full defense. It also meant you were getting closer, but with Daexire you were sure you had a way to go before you could truly celebrate any progress.

"So you know where to go next?" You cringed slightly at that. It did help, but the next place you had in mind was one you never thought you would return to. You had wanted to put it off for longer, but seeing how defensive the people in that area had been made it the logical place to go.

You didn't answer Carol, knowing what she was going to suggest. She seemed to know what your silence meant.

"You know...you kind of owe me now." She said slowly. You turned to her sharply and met her searching gaze. You hated that she was right. You also hates being in people's debt. "And don't say you had it under control because we both know you didn't." You still stayed silent but avoided her gaze this time, pretending to survey your surroundings.

"We're on the same side, you know?" She said. There was no arrogant tone to her voice this time. No superiority. She spoke as though it was genuinely something she wanted you to understand. You did.

"I have rules." You stated, looking back at her. Carol smiled hopefully, it suited her. "You follow my lead when we're talking to people." Carol instantly opened her mouth to oppose but you stopped her by speaking louder. "I know these people, you don't. I know how they work, how they think. You can fight, Danvers, I'll give you that. I know that you're a superhero and all, but what we're doing now is bounty hunting. That's my world. It'll only work if you follow my lead." You explained to her as best you could. You needed her to understand that. Carol considered your words as she searched your face for...well you weren't entirely sure what she was looking. So you took a guess.

"I know I'm getting money out of this when it's done. But it's about more than that with Daexire, I know what he's done, what he'll continue to do. He needs to be stopped, and we can only stop him if this is done right. I'm not even going to attempt to boss you around, you're far too stubborn, just trust that I know this better."

She continued to look at you carefully until, you weren't sure you even wanted to hazard a guess as to know what she was thinking. Finally, Carol nodded tightly, you knew she was still unsure. It must have been a while since someone had asked that of her, you just hoped she would understand early on.

"Great." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding and ran a hand through your hair as you stepped back.

"Do I at least get to fly your ship?" Carol asked as a mischievous twinkle emerged in her eyes. You rolled your eyes to stop the smile that threatened to form as you walked back to your ship.

"Don't push it, Danvers."

[david-talks-sw]

About the supposed “dig  at Rey” in the Mandalorian finale.

So a lot of people have taken to YouTube and social media, saying that Luke’s line about “talent without training (being) nothing” is a dig at Rey “bEcAuSe ShE’s A mArY sUe who’s good at everything and never trained!!”

No.

Quick recap: The Mandalorian is created by Jon Favreau, and he develops it with Dave Filoni (who created The Clone Wars with George Lucas, invented Ahsoka Tano, and created Star Wars: Rebels), among others.

As far as Dave is concerned, Rey is no different than Ahsoka, she’s not “OP”, she’s not a “Mary Sue”. He’s all for strong, independent, female characters.

He talked about this at the National Center for Women & Information Technology, you can find his full speech here. If you want to see the extracts specifically about Rey and female character in Star Wars, you can find it here (though I’d advise just ignoring the intentionally-triggering title and seeing the video for what it is).

All the backlash he saw about Rey? He saw it for Ahsoka too.

“Oh, she’s fighting Grievous and she’s only, like 13?! That’s so OP!”

“She feels like a Mary Sue written for a prequel based fan fiction.”

“Oh, she disobeyed an order from Yularen on Ryloth?! She’s so snippy!”

“Ugh, I hate her and her stupid voice!”

“She’s always pointing out stuff other characters have missed, like she’s so perfect! She's a Mary Sue with an annoying voice and personality.”

And honestly? I remember that period. People hated Ashley Eckstein and Ahsoka, just like they hated Hayden Christensen, and most Prequel-related content.

So no, that line is not a dig at Rey. If you expect that to ever come from Dave, big chance you’ll be disappointed. He is all for Rey, as a character (as am I, tbh). There may be issues with how she’s written, but none of it is related to her being too strong, or her being good at everything. Guess what? Captain America and Goku are good at everything too.

What The Mandalorian tackles, with that line, is a debate with bigger implications than just Grogu.

We get two sides of the same debate, from both Ahsoka, and Luke.

“I cannot train him. His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger. I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

“He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the Child… but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.“

The subject they really subliminally tackle is:

Should Anakin Skywalker have been trained to be a Jedi?

On the one hand:

Anakin has the potential of being the most powerful Force-user in galactic history, as the Jedi know it. It’s just a matter of time before he accidentally Force chokes someone in a fit of anger, or when submitted to extreme stress. He needs to be trained to hone his skills so he’s not a danger to himself and others.

Jedi Training would also help him get over the trauma of growing up as a slave on Tatooine, as it is aimed at keeping your emotions under control, whereas Anakin isn’t even acknowledging their existence (he pretends he’s not afraid in front of the Jedi Council, and seems to be the only person in the room to think that he should hide his fears). His hidden fears, his anger… Jedi Training would teach him to confront them.

Also, there’s a big chance the Sith are back! If they let this kid just go out into the wild, who knows, maybe the Sith Lords pick him up and make him one of their own. Better to keep the boy close.

Anakin is a good boy, raised by a loving mother, with a kind heart. If anything, he’s got the drive to do good as strong as that of any Jedi’s. Him being down-to-earth more than your average Jedi can potentially make him the best out of all of them. He could bridge the distance between the Jedi and the Senate, he could lead the Jedi into a new age. If anyone could be the next, better and improved Yoda, it’s Anakin Skywalker.

On the other hand:

Jedi training is for Jedi only. AKA, it’s perfect if you’re raised in the temple at a very young age to be a diplomat/wizard who upholds the values of the Republic, in control of your emotions and in Balance with the Force. But if you’re not? Then the strict rules of the Jedi Order will basically seem like an insurmountable (bordering on unreasonable) obstacle.

Any normal person will see these rules as attempting to turn you into a sociopath. Because if you’re a normal person, they might. For all intents and purposes, Anakin is a super-powerful normal person. If they take Anakin in, 10 years old, with the attachments he’s formed (his mother), the emotions he represses, the trauma from his upbringing - all of which, in a normal person, are totally fine and common - and try to force him in a mold he just won’t fit in, that’s just a recipe for disaster.

Of all people, Qui-Gon Jinn - Mister “I’m always right because I follow the Will of the Force and you don’t” - who is not the most forthcoming of people, as opposed to Obi-Wan, is insisting that he should train the boy. You give a chaotic Master a chaotic Padawan? That’s adding extra ingredients to the recipe for disaster.

The BEST thing to do would be Qui-Gon leaving the Order with Anakin, and raising Anakin as his surrogate son, teaching him his values, rather than training him as a Padawan and teaching him the values of the Jedi (which he’s too old for and which essentially make the Jedi the Senate’s lapdogs). But Qui-Gon’s insisting that he train him as a Jedi.

Anakin’s mind is too fragile as it is. If they add the stress of being a Jedi to that too, there’s a big chance he won’t be able to take it, and bring about the destruction of everything they are, stand for and care about.

And, to be honest? Both points are fair.

Because Anakin was both…

… the best of them…

… and their destructor.

But then, should Grogu be trained?

In my (and Luke’s) opinion? Yes.

Ahsoka’s logic makes sense… but it only applies to how things were before, back when the Jedi served the Republic as Force-sensitive diplomats/ambassadors, making decisions that impacted whole planets and their billions of inhabitants, keeping the peace through mediation, and occasionally investigating a crime.

But in Grogu’s case… things are a bit different.

The Republic is gone.

The Jedi’s mission of upholding its values seems to be gone with it.

So literally any surviving Jedi, has a new mission: just help people.

Be it Ezra & Kanan helping the Rebellion during the Dark Times.

Or Cal Kestis, saving the Force-sensitive children.

Or Ahsoka, helping the village of Calodan, after the fall of the Empire.

Or Luke, literally being a space-vagabond/Jedi archeologist for 10 years and helping out wherever and whoever he can.

The Jedi no longer have to deal with planet-sized problems, or mediations, or investigations, because the New Republic hasn’t included them in its government, seeing as they have their rangers, now.

So now, the pressure of “upholding the Republic’s values” and “going on missions which impact billions of lives” is gone.

Now, the Jedi operate at a smaller scale and just help people out. As they did, before they became Republic officials.

Sure, they still keep their emotions in control, but that’s simply for the sake of living a healthy life, rather than for the sake of objectiveness and diplomacy.

In these circumstances? It’s totally fine for Grogu to be trained, as he should be.

The line was about the fact that training Grogu to hone his skills is fine, and should be done, before he becomes a danger to everyone around him.

[streets-in-paradise]

Family Matters

Troy (2004) reader insert fanfiction - Part 5

The option to vinculate links on words is not working right now for me, i don’t know why. I will add the links to the previous parts later. For now, all can be found in the Troy (2004) tag of my blog. 

Word Count: 2.858

Characters: Agamemnon, Menelaus, Achilles, Myceneaean Princess Reader. 

Relationships: Family relationships of the House of Atreus, Agamemnon and Achilles’ rivality. 

Warnings: Agamemnon and Menelaus being dickheads, hints of casual sexism. 

Summary: Agamemnon finds out about his daugther’s new friendship and his brother tries to stop him from making a big deal about it. 

Disclaimers: As i explained before, i try to follow Troy’s characterizations of most of the characters as much as i can. The Atrides are going to be douchebags because that’s how the movie portrays them. I just discovered i have lots of fun writing about this two scumbags, this was super fun to write. I felt them like the fun kind of scumbags while doing this. 

Tags: @yerevasunclair​ @hrisity12​ 

Thanks for reading!! 

Once the celebrations concluded and the guests started to return to their homelands the princess of Mycenae begged her father to let her stay in Sparta for a longer while instead of returning with him to their kingdom. Agamemnon didn't find major inconvenients on her request. He seemed pretty pleased with the image of family unity that the friendship of his daughter and his sister in law was reflecting. As long as Menelaus could be able to keep her under his watch and bring her back when she would wish it, he didn't have issues against it. For once, he didn't have anything to criticize. 

They discussed the topic early because she wanted to make sure of having enough time to convince him in the case of getting a straight negatory as first reply. She did it shortly before saying goodbye to Odysseus and Penelope, so she would be able to count with her biggest supporters in case of need. Before leaving, the king of Ithaca reminded her in a teasing tone to keep going with the good behaviour. The queen showed her gratitude for the help she was providing to her cousin. She hugged both of them with a great amount of enthusiasm and love. 

The situation became more complicated a short while after. Achilles was leaving the same day, joining his friend in the first stages of his travel. Without any consideration and staying true to his carefree style, he personally greeted the princess in front of her father. 

It was then when the king found out about their meeting. 

" Odysseus introduced us." she tried to excuse herself after seeing the horrified expression in her father's face. Achilles was trying to act in a cautious way because he didn't want to upset her, but the gesture was enough to make Agamemnon's blood boil and it was visible in his reaction. " It was just a formal introduction, very brief."  she lied. 

" I imagined it was a possibility. I wonder why I wasn't informed about it?"  the king recrimined her, looking at her with a deadly serious stare. 

" We didn't consider it necessary. " Achilles added. " As she said, it was very brief. Although, i felt i needed to approach her for a proper goodbye." 

" Since when do you have good manners? You are a killer beast." 

" I can be nicer when i want to be." 

Anticipating a new fight, she interrupted them in an attempt to calm them down. 

" There is no need for hostilities." 

" I didn't give you permission to speak." her father shut her up.

" You should, your rulership would be more stable if you listened to her from time to time. She is very clever and she loves her country. She told me some very interesting things about it, her eloquence makes you feel curious. She does a better job than you in selling off your unity ideal. I have the feeling that she could rule the country better than you. '' Achilles mocked him. 

She wished she could laugh openly at the comment. 

" Like if you knew anything about rulership. You are nothing more than an insolent soldier!!!"  Agamemnon replied, emphasizing the last sentence.

Before the argument could start to escalate they were interrupted by Menelaus. She felt relieved because all the work would not rely on Odysseus again. 

" What's the problem, brother? He is just teasing you." the spartan king commented in a relaxed tone. " Great joke, very appropriate. Polite but innocent. I'm not entirely sure of which one of you is supposed to insult more."  

" Why would it be insulting to me? " she asked, trying to hide her annoyance. 

" Because it is so irrelevant that it's funny. '' Menelaus started to laugh." If he truly wanted to compliment you he should have said something about your face or your hair, he could have praised anything else instead of your talent with words. You are not a diplomat, you are a young princess. That's not how you talk to a girl, that's how you close a negotiation. If all he has to say about you is that you talk a lot then he doesn't have anything too valuable. If I was your father I would be very calm about it. " 

" To praise a woman's intelligence is like to value a bird for its feet, absolutely pointless." Agamemnon added. " I must assume he is in the mood for strange jokes. " 

" Take it as you prefer, but I wasn't talking to you. "  the warrior replied, as sharply as usual.

The girl felt touched by his impl��cit defense. 

" It was an honour and a pleasure to meet you. I wish you good luck and a safefull return to your home." 

" You don't need to worry for him, darling. Danger itself is afraid of him. " Menelaus joked , interrupting them again. 

" I'm as used to danger as your uncle is to chaze girls young enough to be your cousins. " 

Instead of taking him seriously, the king of Sparta laughed again.

" You are a madman, but you never fail to amuse me. I think that the real reason why you two don't get along is because my brother doesn't get your sense of humour. He is a very serious man, always has been. " 

His niece was very happy because she guessed Achilles said that sharp commentary as a hint for her. From the many they had over the week, at least he remembered their deepest conversation. He took the bother of acting as her voice, saying to Menelaus at least a bit of everything she wished she could yell at him. It was a beautiful, kind gesture, more than she ever expected of him. 

She would have shown herself in absolute awe if it wasn't for the rampant rage she felt after witnessing her uncle laughing at something that would have enraged him if it would have been said by her. Pretending to keep engaged in the conversation, she defended Agamemnon. She hated to do it, but it was necessary to look less partial. 

" The weight of the crown makes him more wary but he has his moments."  

" It is the first reasonable thing i heard from you so far." he replied, with a bit of sarcasm." Go with your aunt... NOW!!" 

The young lady obeyed because she had no other choice. Without daring to emit a single sound, her gaze followed Achilles's one last time in a silent goodbye. He smiled at her with the same intention.

 She had to stand a long nagging session afterwards. Once the public gaze was no longer a concern Agammenon was free to show all his disgust and disappointment, threatening about how he was going to drag her back to Mycenae and lock her in the palace until she learned how to behave. 

She barely listened to him, her focus was almost entirely centered in her happy thoughts about Achilles. She was thinking of his beautiful blue eyes, his sweet smile, how much she enjoyed his company and how amazing he was for defending her in front of the biggest authorities of the place. He was so subtle that neither Agamemnon or Menelaus noticed anything. It felt like a last secret gift from him, something only them understood. 

Nothing else  mattered anymore. Not in a hopeless way but in a happy one instead. She was there pretending to care while keeping the happiness in her mind. It was the strangest and most amazing sensation. 

Her uncle was trying to defend her, but that didn't matter as well. She knew he was doing it for his own selfish reasons. He needed her there so she could stay to keep Helen calm, helping her to adapt and teaching her to ignore how much she hated him. She was going to use him for her own reasons as well, making him believe she was helping him when in fact her only objective was to protect Helen from him.

" Look at how happy she is. I can't be more pleased, I would love to have her around some more time" Menelaus was claiming. 

" SHE SHAMED ME!!! DO YOU WANT TO PRAISE HER FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME ??"  his brother complained, yelling annoyingly.  

" Achilles was going to find another way to laugh one way or another. That's how he is, you don't need to punish her for it. " 

" Can you stop protecting her? We always face the same situation. She does something wrong and you want me to ignore it. Why was she talking to Achilles in the first place???" 

" Because we were in a party, a place where it is expected for you to meet people, and we were introduced to each other? "  she answered, trying to reflect some logic. 

" An introduction shouldn't last more than the time and words required to say your name and rank." 

" I wanted to make you look good in front of him. As you always say, I'm representing you. You wouldn't have liked me to act rude, you say it looks terrible in a woman. Some casual talk is needed to keep the appearances. He is important to you, I needed to keep him happy. " she defended herself. 

" Circunstancies force me to need of him, he is not important. You don't have to make him feel important. It is the worst thing you can do. Do you have any idea of how hard it is for me to deal with his ridículous pretensions???? "

" You didn't give me proper instructions on what to do. I had to guess and I did what i would had done in any formal meeting. "

" YOU TREATED HIM LIKE A KING!! He is nothing but a soldier!! You don't owe him any sort of formality, kindness or attention. He is nothing to you, NOTHING!" Agamemnon  emphasized.

Menelaus did his best to soften his speech. 

" What your father tries to say is that he thinks a soldier, despite his fame and recognition, doesn't deserve the same treatment you would give to a royal. A lady of your position shouldn't bother with him, not even regarding positive impressions. That kind of behaviour, even with good intentions on your part, feeds his idea of considering himself higher and greater than his general and king. "  he explained to her in a condescending way, like if she was completely ignorant on the matter. " You can't treat him like you would treat Odysseus. It feeds his ego and that makes things harder for your father.”

" I just tried to be nice. I heard he is a bad tempered hero who gets easily offended. " she fakely apologised. 

Menelaus was smiling at her with his usual enthusiasm. It hurted her a bit to not be able to correspond it but, in her cheerful state, fake it was easier than ever. 

" I know, you did good." he praised her." It's not your fault, you weren't sure of how to react.  Nobody prepared you for it." 

" NOW IT IS MY FAULT??? WHY DID YOU HAD TO INVITE HIM???"  Agamemnon complained, hysterically. 

" Have you seen my wife? She is the prettiest thing i have ever seen. I wanted her to be seen by everyone, you can't blame me. I bet not even Achilles himself had a woman as beautiful as mine. I had to ask him myself." 

" Did you actually ask him? His niece questioned him, laughing a bit and hiding her awkward reaction. Something of that did make her laugh for sure. Both kings were talking of Achilles like if he was a nobody that didn't matter, yet Menelaus had the need of proving himself in front of him. He made him come to his wedding so he could satisfy his masculine needs using Helen as a symbol. He wanted to show off to a godlike handsome man desired by many women that he got a particularly splendid woman he could only be able to dream of having. She was very amused while hearing his response. 

" Sure i did. He had to recognize I was right. There is no woman on this lands as gorgeous as mine. We may have our differences but nobody denies that. It's the only fact every greek agrees with. " 

" A good symbol of unity, the best idea you came up with lately. " she added, keeping the facade of cheerful approbation. 

" You always get me so quickly. That's my girl!!" he replied, hugging her sideways.

" I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR PRETTY WIFE, MENELAUS! THAT'S NOT THE POINT NOW!!" Agamemnon kept shouting. 

" Brother, you know i follow and support all your choices but you don't need to question her now. She had good intentions. " 

" Intentions don't justify terrible results. MY DAUGHTER , OF ALL PRINCESSES, WAS THE ONE TREATING HIM WITH HONOURS!! " 

" I already told you i'm sorry. What do you want me to do? Insult him the next time I see him?" she joked, fed up of his stupidity. 

"Let's hope there will be no next time. " her father assured her. " I try very hard to gradually trust you in the spaces a woman of your age should start attending. I know it is important but you keep bringing me more headaches. You are my daughter, ACT AS SUCH!" 

" Ajax says I'm lovely." she excused herself. 

" I CAN'T GET YOU MARRIED TO A BRUTE FROM AN INSIGNIFICANT KINGDOM!!" 

That was all he seemed to care about, his only obligation as a father. She was so relaxed that she barely cared about the mention of that delicate issue. Her good mood was a good push to keep inventing excuses to delay the talk.

" You have plenty of time to think about it but the world is not going to be conquered by itself. Soon you will rule every corner, being crowned as the greatest emperor of our history. I will be swimming in a sea of suitors, maybe even bigger than Helen's. This little incident will feel funny, we will be so powerful that men would embarrass themselves in front of me to get my approbation regardless of my behaviour. "

" Did you hear that? She is proud of you" Menelaus teased. 

" Of course i am. My dear father is the greatest conqueror this world has ever seen. Free cities tremble to the mention of his name. " she exaggerated to flatter him. As always, she was going to get what she wanted with lies. " I know some people like to spread lies and exaggerations claiming that you would be nothing without Achilles but the truth is that he would be nothing without you. You made him who he is, that ungrateful bastard is becoming a legend because he is fighting for you."  She said exactly what he wanted to hear, knowing she would get a positive response. 

" That's what i always say but nobody listens!! Nestor and Odysseus expect me to stand back and accept his pressures, your uncle thinks everything is a joke. That man doesn't respect me, he never listens to me! He is a threat to my position as commander of the army, I can't allow him to do as he pleases. What kind of example is that to other soldiers? To the kings whose armies are under my command???" 

" A seed of rebellion, you can't hold a weapon you can't control. That's why you do your best to keep him at bay. " she reassured him. " I'm sorry if my intervention ruins your plans. I tried to be a pleasant company to show off and make you proud. "  

Agamemnon was backing off slowly. He never used to make his changes of mind evident. She noticed it because his expression, still severe, didn't show the same rage anymore. 

" I can let it pass... for now,"  he sentenced. 

She gave him her sweetest fake smile, pleased with the outcome of her manipulation. 

" You are the best." 

" Don't make me regret it. " 

" You never asked how the meeting with Achilles felt for me. '' she reminded him, trying to stay on his good side. " He is the most insufferable vain man I have ever met. He thinks he is the best thing that happened to mankind since the flame of Prometheus. I don't know how you stand him. I deceived him because making him feel important was all I could do to keep him calmed. " 

Her lie amused both kings and they laughed in approbation. 

The young lady considered the discussion concluded in her favour. Explicit recognition was impossible, but she read it in their attitudes. Usually, hostilities ceasing and the matter being dismissed was the clearest sign. Disengaging was their way of losing without admitting it. They simply changed the subject and continued as always. She didn't even need to ask again if she could stay in Sparta, the agreement was implicit between both brothers. 

She left the family meeting with airs of triumph, secure of her possibilities. She managed to deceive Agamemnon and Menelaus at the same time. Her ability to fake was intact after all. As she handled both sons of Atreus at once, she started to feel perfectly capable to keep doing it with just one of them for the sake of Helen's wellbeing.

[willow-salix]

Fluffember prompt: Bedtime

@gumnut-logic​ its ya boi again...

Day 10 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

She regretted picking the extra strong coffee, both for what it did to Alan and the fact that, even though she said she felt fine, she couldn’t seem to make her eyes stay closed.

Alan had indeed drunk the entire jug of chocolate chip frappe masquerading as an innocent milkshake and it wasn’t just colours that were behaving weirdly for him. He seemed to be vibrating with hyperactive energy, bouncing around in a permanent state of alertness that I usually only saw from John or Scott when he’d been chugging those energy drinks to get his late night mission reports finished. 

We tried everything to wear him out and settle him down, but it was like having an overly excited puppy with springs for legs trying to get your attention.

“Scott! Scott! SCOTTTT! Look what I can do!” he yelled and proceeded to plant his hands on the floor, flip his legs up into the air and try to run on his hands. He didn’t get far.

Scott’s groan of despair was so deep and heartfelt, I wondered if he might walk out and never return. I hadn’t heard that one since Brandon last came for dinner and told us all about how he'd abseiled for charity wearing a fluffy bear costume, which didn’t sound too bad until you heard that he hadn't been wearing anything underneath it. Apparently the suit was very hot and heavy so he had decided, after trying it on for a few practice descents on an indoor wall, to forgo what he considered unnecessary clothing. That would have been fine if he hadn’t caught the tail on a jagged rock and not noticed. Although, seeing his bare behind on a live stream had doubled the amount of donations that had poured in. Now he was planning to try naked skydiving and was trying to get us to join him. You can guess what the answer was to that.

“Come on, dudes, it’ll be like, totally extreme! Picture it, The Bear and the Boys, think of the publicity, man. You guys are like, thrill junkies, same as me. You’ll love it, the wind in your hair, adoration of millions of fans. It’ll be off the hook!” he’d rambled, getting far too excited for his own good. Scott had had to excuse himself and hide in his office for half an hour while Brandon talked excitedly to Alan about his latest videos. I left them to it too.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, Alan...

“Alan will you stop!” Witchy yelled when he crashed sideways like a felled tree for the fourth time, almost taking out Gordon who was walking past, innocent for once.  

“No! I can do this!” Alan protested, trying to right himself but just making it worse. “The world is upside down” he was lying on the floor at this point, “so if I make myself the same then the world will be right side up again! Simple.”

“No, not simple,” Scott groaned, helping pick Gordon up off the floor. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Alan protested. “I’m totally zen.”

I must say, his idea of zen is a lot different to mine.

Scott grabbed Alan’s legs and flipped him over, dragging him to his feet. 

“Woah! Are you like a wizard or something? That was totally magical!”

"He's even starting to talk like him," Gordon mused, rubbing his elbow, sore from its collision with the side of my piano. 

Witchy groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s gonna be a long day, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t wrong. 

It turned out that Alan hadn’t just magically appeared in the kitchen when he’d gotten hungry, no, he’d just woken up from a four hour nap and needed a drink. So, not only was he hyped up on enough caffeine to wake the dead (or John after a three day mission stint) but he was also stuffed full of sugar…

                                        ***

“Alan, it’s four in the morning, you have to settle down,” she begged, looking so worn out I thought she might keel over. I didn’t blame her, I felt roughly the same. Gordon had gone to bed hours before, as had Grandma, Kayo and Dad. I had stayed up because it was partly my fault that we were in this situation in the first place and Scott was up because he’s Scott and just has to be involved with everything.

“I can’t,” Alan argued. “I’m not tired.”

“We are!”  she insisted. “You can’t stay up all night.”

“You sleep if you’re so tired,” he snapped back. He’d been doing that all day, flipping from adorably sweet and compliant to downright murderous in an instant, we were trying not to take it personally. “I’m not tired. I’m gonna call Brandon and chat to him if you guys don’t want me around.”

“No!” Scott jumped in before we could. He knew full well that if Alan spoke to Brandon in this state he’d agree to a million crazy schemes in a matter of seconds. He had to be protected for his own good.

"We do want you around," she argued. "But we also need to lie down before we fall down. So please, if you love me at all, stop trying to sneak off to eat more cookies and vegemite, because one, it's gross, and two…its gross. Where was I going with this?" she asked me, looking so confused I had to turn away so I didn't laugh. 

“Do I even want to know what’s going on in here?” John asked, appearing in the doorway having apparently just arrived home. There were rules now, if he had finished his work and she was on the island he had to come home, no matter how late it was. EOS was perfectly capable of handling monitoring duty and most things could be coordinated remotely if it was needed, and if it couldn’t it only took eight minutes for his elevator to take him back. He had no excuse.

“Oh, thank the gods, I’m so tired and my eyes hate me, my eyelids are broken” she groaned, making grabby hands in his general direction which he ignored to stare at Alan.

“Alan drunk coffee,” Scott told him. “Their super strong coffee.”

“What? Why? Who was stupid enough to give him that?”

“No one, he helped himself, thought her frappe was a milkshake,” I told him. 

“John! You’re home! This is great! Watch what I can do!”

“No!” Scott, Witchy and I all yelled at once.

“Maybe you should stay where you are,” John suggested, obviously wishing he’d stayed in space even if that did mean he’d get yelled at later.

“I don’t want to sit anymore, I’m bored.”

We all looked at John imploringly, he was the one that Alan would always listen to. 

“Hey, Alan, do you wanna watch a movie?” John offered.

"Is that a good idea," Scott started, his expression clearly saying that he thought John was insane to even be thinking of it. We wanted Alan to settle and calm down, not get extra hyped from watching one of his action movies. 

Alan stopped bouncing for a second, looking suspicious but also interested. “What movie?”

“Your choice, what was that one you’ve been asking us to watch for months, I can’t remember?” John made his way over to the couch and Witchy shifted over to make room for him, draping her legs over his the moment he sat down.

“The new superhero one?” Alan asked hopefully.

“Sure, we can do that one,” John agreed, sending me a small smirk when Alan dropped back down on the couch, ready to watch. I gave it two minutes before he’d be leaping up again and running off to jump in the pool or something.

For once Scott didn’t dare tell Alan it was too late to start watching anything or that he should be in bed, he was just grateful that Alan had stopped rolling around the floor pretending to be a turtle stuck on its back.

“Oh, yay, I’ve been wanting to see this,” Witchy said, perking up, apparently forgetting all about her rebellious eyes and tiredness, getting what she called her second wind. We all knew that one, when you had been up so long and were so tired that you had actually gone past the point of tiredness, past the point of being able to sleep and were suddenly wide awake again.

John started the movie, lifting his arm to drape it across her shoulders when she snuggled against his side, her arm sliding around his waist. Alan shifted too, dragging his movie blanket over his legs, wedging a cushion against her side so he could lean against it, clearly getting comfortable. Scott and I exchanged a look, maybe there was hope for this plan of John’s after all.

Ten minutes into the movie Alan moved to curl up to her, both of them leaning against John, squashing him into the side of the couch, but at least they were settled. 

Another five minutes and she was yawning, her head dropping to rest against John’s shoulder.

“Tired, love?” John asked innocently, smiling softly to himself when she shook her head firmly, but soon, despite her protests, her eyes started that slow blink of a very tired person who is trying desperately to stay awake.

Alan yawned, pulling his blanket up to cover his shoulders and Scott risked a small smile in hope that he would soon be able to get some sleep himself. I didn’t blame him. The ironic part of this day was the fact that we had finished off all the other coffees to ensure we stayed awake longer than Alan.

Her eyes drooped, slowly closing but she snapped awake a moment later.

“I thought you wanted to watch this?” Scott teased her, earning himself a glare.

“I do, I am watching, look, eyes, facing the screen, watching.”

She might have said the words but her actions said otherwise.

“Shall we turn this off and watch it another day?” I asked when Alan’s head dropped forward although he instantly snapped to attention again.

“No, I’m watching it,” he answered stubbornly.

I lifted my hands in surrender and followed John’s lead, staying quiet and watching the movie.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” John murmured to her a little while later when she’d jerked herself awake for the third time.

“No, I’m not tired, I told you, I want to watch this.”

"You just fell-" Scott started but John cut him off with a warning eyebrow raise. 

"I did no such thing," she grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter to prove her point. "I was watching."

“Of course you were,” John agreed placidly, not bothering to argue with her but I did notice that his fingers snuck into her hair, playing with a few strands. She sighed softly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder as she watched the action on the screen, letting herself relax again. 

She lasted another fifteen minutes before she stopped fighting her body's needs and closed her eyes, letting them stay closed. 

A soft snore drew our attention and we turned from the projection to see Alan, mouth open, eyes closed, fast asleep. John shifted slightly, pulling witchy onto his lap, letting Alan's pillow slide down taking him with it. His hand snuck out, tugging at Alan’s blanket, pulling it up to cover his head.

We waited a few more minutes, sitting quietly, not wanting to risk breaking the fragile peace by waking them up, allowing them to settle deeper into sleep.

“OK, I think we’re good,” John whispered conspiritally. 

“How did you know to do that?” Scott asked, shocked to the core that his standard approach of ordering followed by threats had failed on both his brother and his best friend, while John had sailed in and succeeded with minimal effort and without raising his voice once.

“They always do that,” John said, shrugging one shoulder so as not to disturb her. “She’s a woman, you can guarantee she’ll say she wants to watch a movie but she’ll fall asleep half way through, she always does. If she can’t sleep I'll just put an episode of something on and that usually does the trick.”

He pointed to Alan. “It’s the same with him. Who do you think he called in the middle of the night when he was thinking too much about homework or the million other things that teenagers seem to worry about? Tell him to pick a movie, cover him with a blanket and he’ll be out in minutes.”

“That’s…” Scott paused, unsure what to say. “Useful to know,” he finished.

"Arguing and pushing someone doesn't always work, you have to use your brain, assess the situation and pick your battles. Tired people are stubborn people."

"You can say that again," I muttered having dealt with my fair share of tired and stubborn family members, the two worst culprits being the ones currently talking. 

“You take care of him, I’ve got her,” John nodded at Alan, smoothly changing the subject. 

Scott helped me lift Alan who, although skinny, was growing lankier by the day, all long limbs and sharp elbows that you have to arrange carefully or risk dropping him. I took him to his room, putting him to bed then returned to fetch Scott.

“He still asleep”? Scott asked, still in his chair. 

“Yep,” I answered. “He’ll be in for a surprise when he wakes up though, he hardly ever uses his bed. He'll think that he teleported again.”

"True enough," Scott chucked softly. "You need help with her?" He nodded at witchy, who hadn't moved. 

"Nope, I got this, it's not my first time." With the ease of much practice he gathered her closer, sliding an arm under her legs, shuffled to the edge of the couch and got awkwardly to his feet. "You two should get some sleep too." 

"We will," I assured him. 

"Well, see you both in the morning," he said, heading to the door. 

"Wait a second," I called and he paused. I grabbed the little notebook she'd left on the table, holding it up for him to see. "She hasn't filled this in today, you wanna take it?" 

"She doesn't trust me," he shifted her slightly, rebalancing her in his arms, her face buried in his neck. "Not since last time, though I don't know what she expected when she told me to report what had happened, reports are for the facts, I did just that. If she'd wanted me to recall every single detail of the day she should have specified that. You write it."

"Sure, I can do that," I agreed, pocketing it. 

"Night then." 

"Night, John."

"Night, Scott."

"Goodnight."

Three down, one to go. 

"Come on, bro, all your chicks are nested, now it's our turn," I said, patting his shoulder as I passed. "Even smother hens have to sleep some time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, " he grumbled, yawning loudly, stretching as he got to his feet, too tired to even protest the hated nickname. "Bedtime."

[autumn-foxfire]

I've noticed that a serious problem in the fandom is that people refuse to look at an abuser and say that they're suffering while still thinking of them as an abuser. It's easier to either make them worst than they actually are and make them enjoy the suffering of others, or pretend that they aren't doing anything.

But people rarely hurt others just for the sake of it. More often than not, the way we treat others comes from our own pain:

We have Overhaul as an example, who wanted a world free of quirks, felt repulsed because of his own and wanted a world without quirks, and this manifested on him hurting Eri. Endeavor, who was suffering because of jealousy and wanted to be no. 1, and this manifested on him hurting his family. Bakugo, who wanted to be the best, and proceeded to hurt Deku when threathened. And then we have characters like Uraraka, who loves seeing people happy and who doesn't like to impose people, because of her parents. Aizawa, who is very strict as a teacher and it seems to me that it was because of his experience with Oboro. All Might, who decided to become the Symbol of Peace because of the chaos in the past...

The idea is that once you say that x character is an abuser or perpetrator, then you are crazy or people get offended, because it takes the whole suffering away for them. People mostly relate to the victims, and seeing abusers as the ones who get hurt is kind of controversial. If I say that Endeavor was suffering, the amount of people that will probably come after me is going to be terrifying. I don't even have to give my reasons because most aren't going to listen, and therefore my opinion will be useless. So, when you give the public this man, Dabi, who is attractive, charismatic (the video, I guess), related to this person who was an abuser (Endeavor), and then telling his lifestory, it feels anticlimactic to call him an a perpetrator. And then people start saying that you can be both a victim and an abuser, which I understand where do they come from, I mean, you can be a victim and then become a perpetrator, but oh my God, how much I disagree when others say that you can do it at the same time when it comes to these situations from the manga...

Looking at the LOV vs heroes battle and saying that the LOV are the victims, or saying that Dabi is both a victim and a perpetrator at the same time, takes the whole meaning, official meaning of being a victim and a perpetrator in a situation, that are terms that heavily depend of the context in my opinion. There's also people who say it in an abstract tone, and those are the only ones that I can actually understand. But maybe because I've became too logical, guided by the rules when it comes to these types of words that have such a big influence in the real world because the meaning changes depending of the person, that I disagree so much. I know nothing, but I prefer looking at it objectively because that's how I think we should act when it comes to something that could be, potentially, a crime. When thinking like that, I inmediately enter a zone where my first thoughts are "right now, your feelings do not matter", something that could make me look pretty cold, and... I guess that it's naturally hard for people to do that when you are so emotionally invested on someone. Some people are going to assume that I didn't experienced something related, even. And then they start projecting and... ah, it's a disaster. I really think that humans should stop thinking that just because you didn't experienced something, you can't talk about it. Knowledge isn't completely empirical. Like, have you ever heard of being rational--?

If you are the one hurting others or the one who's going to hurt others, then I think that by logic, you are the perpetrator. You include what happens on the outside, and it may change things.

But once you include what's happening inside of you, your reactions and emotions, it changes the whole meaning for others.

I guess that's why things get so simplified on Law--. When you add what makes us humans, it becomes a huge problem.

I think Twice battle is also a huge example of this... You could say that Hawks was the perpetrator, but once you add the reasons of doing it and the context (protecting the civilians), he becomes a victim and Twice is the perpetrator. But people saw the perpetrator suffering and that changes everything, because the general idea is that they don't suffer at all. Twice became more emotional than Hawks, and it translates into him being the victim and Hawks being the perpetrator, regardless of the context. Throw the fact that people sympathized with Twice and it becomes a disaster.

I don't believe that people are bad from birth and it heavily depends of your experiences as a kid. I think that we are all victims of something, and then, some people become abusers. That's just life...

... Maybe I should just write an analysis about it instead xD

Many people do tend to have a black and white view of victim and perpetrator from what I’ve seen in fandom.

As you said, many can’t seem to grasp that abusers much like Overhaul and Endeavor had genuine reasons why they did what they did and it wasn’t based on the need to cause their victims suffering, rather their suffering was an after-effect that they ignored in order to focus on their goals. What many people I think also fail to understand that having a reason for your actions doesn’t excuse what you’ve done and while many seem to grasp this with Endeavor and Overhaul, they don’t seem too when it comes to the League of Villains.

I’m not really sure why this is the case though my guess is because they are victims in the past unlike Endeavor, who’s past is unknown and irrelevant,  or Overhaul, who still had the family support behind him though he may not have had the most conventional of upbringings.

I would say I’m like you, to be honest. While I acknowledge the league and their past, I view it as mostly irrelevent when it comes down to stopping them unless it can be used as a way to speak them down. Knowing their situation certainly makes me understand why they’ve done what they’ve done but it’ll never excuse them in my eyes. I guess I would be considered cold too.

It’s certainly an interesting topic of debate to think about. Many people do act more with their hearts then their heads and that’s neither a good nor a bad thing (it depends on case by case situations), at least what I’ve seen in the fandom, and while I love the empathy most in fandom have, I feel like they sometimes take it way too far for the League. Especially when they don’t show the same empathy for the League’s victims.

...I think I’m just rambling at this point T-T

[notebook-13]

Shigaraki • Development

Backstory

(Note: Tenko was Shigaraki’s childhood name.)

First things first: Shigaraki’s backstory is probably meant as an allegory. The house his father built is a microcosm of society, his father Kotaro represents people with power, Tenko represents people without it, and the other family members are bystanders. The power imbalance and communal emphasis on harmony enables Kotaro to take out his baggage on Tenko while Tenko is required to repress his. Resistance, even if it’s minor, causes Tenko to be shunned and beggared, as Kotaro locks Tenko out of the house in the backyard, in the dark, unfed, without even a roof over his head.

Edit: @codenamesazanka​ has an excellent reading of this allegory!

Theirs is a household that prioritizes unity and a façade of happy domesticity over Tenko’s wellbeing. His mom and grandparents treat him gently, reject him kindly, and refuse to admit to him just how terribly Kotaro treats him. Though the three adults understand that Kotaro is the problem (they criticize him in private or cry out futile protests during an incident), they are unwilling to disrespect Kotaro to Tenko’s face. Doing so would mean facing their victim and owning up to their own culpability, too.

So, throughout Shigaraki’s backstory, Horikoshi intersperses black panels with increasing grains of white. This references Shigaraki’s “wound in his heart.”

The first black panel appears when Tenko is crying to his mom, Nao, about his dad; the second appears when he is similarly comforted by his grandparents.

After an episode with Kotaro, Nao hesitantly asks Tenko if he still wants to be a hero.

Nao: “Tenko…do you…still want to be a hero?” Tenko: “Yup. Because like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said, ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun. And then Mikkun said, ‘You should be All Might, Ten.’ And I was nice and played with them even though they don’t have any friends.”

It’s hard to follow Tenko’s five-year-old’s logic here, but the gist seems like Tenko wants to be a good person who makes people less lonely, and he thinks heroes do that. The implication, then, could be that Tenko is lonely, and his admiration for heroes compensates for what’s missing in his family (a hero).

What’s also significant is that Tenko noticed Mikkun and Tomo were suffering, and instead of ignoring it or playing along like everyone else, he did something about it. What he emphasizes isn’t, “we played heroes and fought bad guys, it was really cool”; he emphasizes that he was kind, that he helped kids who were lonely. This isn’t a kid who wants to be a hero because heroes are strong.

Also worth noting that in bnha, p much every kid wants to be a hero. By forbidding Tenko from even playing, Kotaro draws a line between Tenko and his classmates: Tenko is not one of them. He’s not allowed to dream he’ll be a hero like everyone else. In a society overflowing with heroes (and with adulation of heroes), Tenko can’t be one of them nor admire them.

^^ the first “wound” panel is the black middle one

When Nao tells Tenko that “it’s hard to be a hero,” especially right after hesitantly asking him if he still wanted to be one, Tenko understands that she’s discouraging him—similar to how Inko apologized to little Deku when he asked her if he could become a hero without a quirk.

When Nao tells Tenko it’s difficult, she’s essentially repeating what Kotaro says (“being a hero will cause him nothing but trouble”). By siding with Kotaro, she tells Tenko that he can’t become who he wants to be. He must conform to authority and let Kotaro determine his life. What he wants and feels don’t matter. Kotaro is right.

The wound begins to open.

Similarly, his grandparents offer him empty comfort because they, too, believe in presenting a unified front. The kids aren’t allowed to be aware that there’s conflict between the grown-ups: rules are rules, instructions from your seniors are absolute, social harmony (and by extension, social hierarchy) has to be maintained. Tenko himself is the troublesome one—he’s the one who needs to be comforted, who keeps breaking rules, who can’t pretend everything is okay the same way everyone else can.

The wound opens further.

The initial wound and its exacerbation are both brought on by his mom and grandparents, not by Kotaro directly. Why? Because it’s the permissiveness of the adults that socializes Tenko in how to react to Kotaro. Kotaro’s abuse is too much for a five-year-old to process, so he trusts the other grown-ups in his life to understand it and tell him how to feel about it/what to do about it.

What they tell Tenko, implicitly, is that his pain doesn’t matter enough to do anything about, and it’s his fault it exists. Underneath, he recognizes this and resents them for it. They might not actively participate in Kotaro’s abuse, but they actively support him by trying to wipe away the consequences without any accountability for the problems. They shift blame to other people (Kotaro, Tenko) without owning up to their own role in the proceedings, so that they can pretend life is good and think of themselves as good people who don’t make trouble.

Tenko has a related “wound” associated directly with Kotaro.

((When Kotaro approaches Tenko to begin smacking him…))

The “itch.”

Tenko is five years old, and kids that young aren’t known for their emotional intelligence. This is his little-kid way of trying to describe his negative emotions: agitation, anguish, panic, frustration, aggression, resentment, desperation, (thwarted) hope, and so on.

Tenko scratches himself frantically because he doesn’t know how else to react to the things he’s feeling, and he doesn’t know how else to react because nobody is trying to help him sort through them. He’s only been told to suppress them. Plus, in adulthood, Shigaraki scratches himself when he’s stressed about something, so it makes sense for this ~allergy~ to be the origin.

I dunno why Tenko fixates on his face—his eyes, specifically…maybe out of shame? maybe because his face and eyes are what express his uncomfortable feelings, and/or because his eyes are what he uses to fruitlessly beg for help? or maybe the eyes out of a desire for blindness, to not see what’s in front of him the way everybody else pretends not to see?

(The irony, ofc, is that Kotaro is accusing Tenko of wanting to hurt their family, when in fact Kotaro is the one hurting their family.

Judging by how Nao and her parents approach Kotaro after the fact and tell him that they will leave if he hits the children again, I don’t think it was common for Kotaro to smack Tenko like this.

Also, this is the first time Tenko is shown scratching his neck: when his thoughts are crying out, help me!)

Tenko isn’t begging mercy from Kotaro, which says leagues about their relationship. Instead, he’s begging for interference from the rest of the family, for someone to stand up for him, to challenge the public humiliation Tenko regularly endures as Kotaro’s scapegoat. Nobody does, of course, like always.

It takes a few hours, locked out of the house, for the trauma to set in.

The wound gets worse…but this time it’s different.

For one, it’s accompanied by dialogue, not narration, and “everyone” is centered right in the core of his rage. The second (iffier) difference is that this time the wound and the itch coincide. In the previous situations, he’s either scratching himself or the wound is deepening. This is the first time Horikoshi depicts the two occurring simultaneously, and it’s this moment that his quirk fully awakens.

Tenko kills his dog and begins to have a panic attack. His emotions are choking him; the only way he can ask for help is to reach out to his sister, finally, in the way he didn’t dare to reach out while Kotaro was smacking him.

I’ve seen people suggest his voice fails as a side-effect of his quirk, but I think it’s trauma-related, not physical. For one, he still describes it as an “itch,” and for two, once he processes his trauma and decides that killing his family wasn’t a tragedy, Shigaraki’s characteristic squiggly speech bubbles are replaced by average speech bubbles.

This is consistent, so, his vocal problem was solved emotionally. So maybe his quirk was reacting to his emotions and placing pressure on his vocal chords? But idk, seems to me it was a psychosomatic problem.

Either way, he kills his sister as she runs away, and her scream attracts his mom and grandparents.

Then comes the fourth panel.

(For context, the narration refers to how his negative feelings towards his mom and grandparents accumulated.)

The whiteness is gushing forth, and it surges when Tenko sees his mom staring at him with terror, unable to summon a reassuring smile or any words of comfort for him.

The noises catch Kotaro’s attention. He pokes his head into the hall and walks through the empty house until he spots the open door to the backyard.

(Tenko has now transitioned to mainly scratching his neck instead of his face.)

Tenko reaches out to someone for the final time, and his (deadly) hand is rejected—smashed away, really.

Kotaro’s life is in danger, he’s shocked by the deaths of his family, he panics, and he reacts cruelly.

The tipping point is what happens afterwards.

Kotaro is surprised and horrified by what he’s done. But, like always, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge to Tenko his wrongdoing. Instead, he reacts by doubling down and asserting his authority.

“Mommy, why does Father say no all the time? Does he hate me?!”

I’m not sure quite what Kotaro is doing here. At first I thought he was smacking Tenko, the way he did earlier that day, but that blob in the lower right panel is part of the background, not his hand in motion. So instead, it looks like Kotaro is holding out his hand in a “stop, stand back, stay away from me” gesture, or maybe to literally push Tenko away. (Have to wait on the anime, I guess.)

Regardless, Kotaro tells Tenko “no” for the last time. The immediate blame, the dearth of kindness or sympathy, the reaching out to him—someone’s trying to save him!—only to deny him…it evokes their history. Tenko is already in the midst of a meltdown, and now he snaps.

I hate bringing up real-world examples when thinking about stuff like bnha, so I hope this will be the only time I ever do it, but I’m powerfully reminded of a gun violence incident in Mississippi where a nine-year-old kid and his thirteen-year-old sister got into an argument over a video game controller, and the boy retrieved their parents’ gun from another room and shot her.

It’s ludicrous to think he had any meaningful concept of what he was doing, and, regardless of how Shigaraki interprets his past, the same holds for Tenko. Just because Tenko had a good “reason” to want Kotaro dead doesn’t imply he had a meaningful grasp of what he was doing. He killed Kotaro because he was a kid with access to a deadly weapon, and there’s a reason kids aren’t trusted with those.

But it is meaningful that Shigaraki struggles to make the distinction between aggression and murderous intent. AfO deliberately trains Shigaraki to adopt this warped mindset by telling him that his bad feelings, his “itch,” are equivalent to bloodlust. Realistically, there’re plenty of ways to relieve negative emotion, but Shigaraki has been taught exactly one outlet: destruction. So, he doesn’t realize that his murderousness is a product of nurture, not nature. (Also, lol, “murderousness” is a real word!)

Anyways, for the first time, Tenko experiences catharsis for the negative emotions that have built up his whole life. A fluke of fate enabled him to subvert the established power dynamic, and the destruction of the house encapsulates the collapse of their family’s hierarchy. He still doesn’t understand what he’s done.

By the next morning, it’s begun to sink in. He ran away from the house and then wanders the streets, too consumed by guilt to speak, and he’s ignored by everyone. When someone finally pays attention and seems willing to help him…

He smiles, happy that someone is finally going to help him. But his dirty, creepy smile scares the old lady off.

(reminds me of his early design.)

To him, it’s like people can see what he’s done, and that’s why nobody will help him or even acknowledge him. Notice the lower left corner: the blackness and white grains, spilling over from his wound.

The itch returns, and the scratching and the wound overlap again. It’s hard to say whether the wound is reacting to the old lady in general, or if it’s tied to the narration line “being punished.”

It occurs when Tenko simultaneously wants to be saved but also thinks he doesn’t deserve it, that everyone can see how bad he is and knows he doesn’t deserve help.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Social harmony is forged by repressing conflict, not by resolving it. This happens at his expense, purposefully.

“This is the house my father built.” Creation, construction, building, making walls, making rules, making—these are bad, and they’re performed by the people with authority and power. These things happen for other people, not for his sake.

He’s not important enough to be helped / not worthy of it, and he resents that.

Origin of his self-loathing.

Other notes:

The “itch” is something he can find temporary catharsis for (through violence), and Shigaraki thinks the itch might have gone away if someone had just helped him. The “wound” is not something that ever alleviates or that he suggests could have gone away.

The wound’s origin is from the complicity of his family to Kotaro, not from Kotaro himself.

It’s interesting that his dream to destroy society is a reenactment of his destruction of his family/house, even though killing “everyone” the first time devastated him.

He switched from mostly scratching his face to mostly scratching his throat.

Both these are sites where emotion is expressed.

Hands are another site of expression, and he later develops his fascination with his family’s hands and uses his own hands for destruction.

Activating decay seems to have hugely worsened the scarring around his eyes. He says that he thought the “itch” had gone away, so it’s unlikely he was scratching himself overnight…so I think his quirk had the side-effect of exacerbating his scars? If decay made the skin around his eyes hurt, that could relate to why he switched to mostly scratching his throat.

Even as a kid, Tenko had a certain amount of pride/dignity, enough to blame others for mistreating him instead of blaming purely himself.

Tenko admired heroes partly because his family lacked one, but when he discovers Nana…? Now someone inside the family (inside the house) was a hero, so the rules were different than what he thought?

Upbringing by AfO

When Tenko killed “everyone,” that included himself. All that’s left of him afterwards is an empty shell. He doesn’t even seem to remember what he’s done.

But AfO is willing to extend a hand and touch Tenko.

He’s willing to acknowledge Tenko’s pain, something nobody else was or is, at the moment in his life when Tenko feels he least deserves sympathy.

Now, obviously it’s hella suspicious that AfO already knows Tenko’s name, knows what he’s done, and procures his family’s hands, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to question it. Tenko’s arms dangle there, limp, as AfO embraces him and tears stream down his face. And, ofc, AfO echoes All Might’s motto.

AfO takes Tenko in and tells him he’ll be his master from now on. Then…

Tenko viscerally remembers what he’s done, and his immediate reaction is to scratch himself, puke, and then seize the severed hands, gathering them up and cradling them close to him. It’s probably then that Tenko discovers the feeling that Shigaraki describes—of feeling violently ill but somehow at peace, too. (“When a person’s life starts spiraling, what’s the one thing they want? Comfort.”) There’s way too much to unpack here, so, moving on.

The “purpose” that AfO alludes to is the destruction of society/the status quo.

While Tenko is huddled on the ground, cradling the hands, AfO continues.

AfO’s the first person willing to talk to him about his itch as emotional instead of as an allergy. He tells Tenko point-blank that he cannot control his impulses and that his release must take the form of destruction.

This moment baffles me. AfO openly admits that Tenko’s feelings will fade…if left be. As far as we see, he doesn’t explain to Tenko why it’s important that those feelings never fade, why emptying himself of his pain is a bad thing. But even after being told time would heal him, Tenko keeps the hands close to him—and I don’t think he was just doing what AfO wanted.

This panel is also interesting because it definitely makes it look like Tenko’s wound is glowing, like it’s a light in the dark. Also, AfO’s dialogue nearly obscures the early panel of the wound…hm.

Regardless, AfO implies that those feelings are the most important thing Tenko has, and he should keep them close. It’s not specified if AfO told him to wear his family.

Later, Tenko’s wandering on the streets (his hands aren’t with him) when he encounters a duo of thugs, who beat and mock him. At first, Tenko lurches to fight back, but…

I think these are more “wound” panels: the blackness with white grains. He backs down, even though his rage doesn’t dissipate.

When he returns home, AfO encourages him to embrace his feelings instead of holding them back. Tenko literally writhes on the floor from the force of his “itch,” going all out as he wallows in his overwhelming feelings.

AfO tells Tenko that ethics were invented in order to suppress people and that Tenko’s emotions are more important than anything else. Tenko responds by reiterating what AfO told him: he wants to destroy those thugs, and he can’t control this urge to destroy. He goes as far as to disintegrate one of Kotaro’s hands, even though not too long ago he clung onto it.

But, later, he wears his family’s hands for the first time.

Wearing them clearly affects Tenko adversely—he’s struggling to breathe properly, and he’s entirely slumped over. But these hands, and these feelings, are the only things he has left, the only things he knows, and he won’t leave them behind.

He encounters the same duo of thugs and kills them.

His wound again. Formless, but with a sense of shifting and movement. Undiminished, even if the itch is alleviated. Or, maybe this panel is supposed to indicate a deterioration, like the wound gets even worse after the murders?

Observing the event, Ujiko remarks that he’d thought Tenko had lost his memories. I think he’s commenting on how Tenko is wearing the hands despite not remembering who they’re from? 

AfO comments…

Tenko restrains quirk subconsciously, limiting its disintegration to just what he’s directly touching, which makes it seem like he’s afraid of his quirk and feels guilt/self-loathing for it. He’s aware that his quirk is connected to the things he feels, maybe even blames his quirk in some way for making him feel this way.

It’s ironic that Tenko feels free while he’s being throttled and restrained by the hands of his relatives.

lol AfO gives away the game a bit, here. He tells Tenko to do whatever he wants and not hold back, and then praises Tenko for “holding back” his tears. He just wants Tenko to have no way to vent his feelings except violence. Also, the fact that Tenko is “holding back” his quirk…hmm.

Again, too much here to unpack rn, so, moving on.

AfO gives Tenko the hands of the thugs he killed, plus one hand of unknown origin to replace the hand of Kotaro’s that Tenko destroyed. Shigaraki describes the gift as soothing to his battered body, and he felt reborn. AfO gives him the name Shigaraki Tomura ad implicitly positions himself as Shigaraki’s dad by telling Shigaraki that “Shigaraki” is his surname.

What did Shigaraki learn from this?

Morals are illusionary, merely a tool used to suppress people without power in order to make things easier for people who do have power.

His “itch” means bloodlust, and he can’t control it.

He should just do what he wants (except crying, apparently), or else he’ll just suffer indefinitely.

Rejection of a society he had no hand in making and no place to belong in.

Other notes:

Even without remembering his aggression towards Kotaro, it’s Kotaro’s hand he shows the biggest fixation on.

Shigaraki has three “ailments”: the itch (the agitation he feels from bad things), the wound (the “rage” and “frustration” he feels from bystander apathy), and the nausea he feels when he wears the hands (self-loathing?).

Or maybe the nausea is part of the wound?

More on the wound?

I wonder when Horikoshi decided on how to visualize Shigaraki’s pain, and if he uses it as a pattern in bnha.

I’ve noticed a few panels that remind me of Shigaraki’s wound, especially that amorphous panel after he kills those thugs, but it’s hard to tell if the backgrounds are just atmospheric or if there is actually an attempt to connect these moments thematically.

Here are a few that I noticed.

I’m going to keep an eye out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Edit: here’s another one. This is the most definite example so far: it occurs in ch250, post-Shigaraki’s flashbacks, and the distinct circle doesn’t produce an atmosphere the way the previous ^^ panels do. 

^^ it’s worth mentioning that this appears during Fuyumi’s narration, detailing how Natsuo is the only one in the family who can’t move forward, ie, he’s experiencing social pressure to conform and validate Endeavor similar to how Tenko felt pressure to conform to Kotaro’s authority.

And then this next one, I’m pretty unsure about, but I’ll include it in case:

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 102

Okay, trying to queue this again after it apparently got eaten along with chapter 101.

Y’all pray for me to whatever higher powers you believe in or can make up on the spot. Thanks.

Thanks for this chapter goes to the fabulous anon who sent me an ask about Jedis. I really, really hope you are seeing this chapter and I hope you like it. I also want to thank @baelpenrose​ as my resident Star Wars expert, who checked, double checked, and triple checked my writing to make sure everything was as entertaining/accurate as possible.

Before you all cringe at some comments Sophia makes, she is deliberately downplaying her knowledge of Star Wars in an attempt to see if she can give some of the other characters a twitchy eye.

After an extraordinarily bizarre situation regarding my former foe and who I assumed was his partner, I was profoundly relieved to find myself in a very boring, very normal situation a couple of weeks later. Even the regular family dinner was pretty normal: grilled cheese on a very good sourdough, with a tomato soup so garlicky that even I had no objections to it. I made a point to puree it, so Derek was very happy with the texture and I was happy with the flavor. Arthur shot me odd looks once in a while, but it was a happy, calm dinner.

And things were going… so well… I thought as Maverick dragged everyone into his quiet argument with Sam.

“Sam,” He stated emphatically as he dunked his sandwich and ripped a tomato-soaked piece from it. “We all want it to be real but… humans don’t exist outside of Earth and the Ark.”

“Yoda is not human,” Sam insisted loudly, grinning the entire time.

I choked on my soup. “Yoda? You two have been arguing Star Wars this whole time?”

“Maverick insists they are not real,” Sam enunciated carefully. When he got excited about a topic he loved, he had a tendency to rush everything and drop syllables, making his words nearly impossible to understand.

“They meaning Jedi?” Arthur asked, eyeballing the pile of sandwiches on the table. Finally he snagged his third half-sandwich and dunked it without ceremony. “As much as I wish they were real, I have my doubts.”

So did I. “Human beings who can use telepathy, telekinesis, and distance-empathy?” I scrunched my nose. “I think that’s a bit far-fetched.”

“But extraterrestrials exist,” Sam pointed out.

Conor nodded. “They do, obviously. Otherwise, Noah would be a bloody big figment of our imagination.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “If we didn’t make Santa real as children, I doubt we could make up someone like Noah, right?”

Sam only got more serious. “I was always taught that aliens don’t exist. My teachers told me that the only life off of Earth were bacteria. But, even if Else is bacteria, Noah isn’t. So, maybe other things we thought were pretend are real.”

The table was silent for a moment, shattered only by Derek dusting bread crumbs from his hands as ceremoniously and loudly as humanly possible. “Sam has a point,” he signed. “Fabricators exist, aliens exist.. Hell, telepathy exists - “

“Not telepathy,” Miys interjected from above.

“Neuro-pheremonal communication exists,” Derek finger-spelled, making a point of how cumbersome the term was in a way none of the rest of us really could. Seven minutes later, he took a slurp of soup and continued. “Unicorns exist, even if they are chubby. Why not Jedi?”

I opened my mouth to refute, then realized I couldn’t: we had the genetic code for both narwhals and rhinoceros in the gene bank. Good effing luck convincing anyone unicorns don’t exist, I guess. Instead, I grasped on my one last leg of logic. “But humans, like Luke Starkiller and Obi-whatsit Kenoshi don’t actually exist.”

Maverick looked absolutely revolted by something, which confused me. He liked tomato soup, and actually chose the cheese for the sandwiches himself. “Sophia. Have you even seen those movies?” He was absolutely aghast as he posed his question, and I suddenly understood what he was revolted by.

“Of course I did,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “In college, in Intro to Adolescent Literature.”

Soup abruptly coated everything on the table as both Arthur and Conor spat violently at my clarification. Arthur scrubbed his chin the fastest, so had the honor of levelling his incredulity at me. “Sophia Reid. Do you mean to tell me that you have only seen Star Wars ONE TIME?”

I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve seen all three.”

“ELEVEN,” Sam corrected me loudly. “There are eleven movies.”

“Please, please tell me you at least saw Rogue One,” Maverick begged. “You may not have known it was a Star Wars movie?”

“Is that the one where the robot hits the guy and says he has another fresh one?” I asked carefully.

Maverick nodded. Arthur, however, looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “I am going to force you to consume every bit of Star Wars media worth consuming if I have to get Charly and Derek to program the audio versions to play in every room you enter.”

“I can do that,” Derek signed, unhelpfully.

Arthur just nodded. “See? I can make this happen. Your quarters will feel like Hoth, all digital communications will sound like C-3PO, and many Bothans will die before your datapad functions.”

Alarmingly, Miys interjected. “Wisdom, Bothans are an endangered species. Please do not encourage Educator Farro to commit atrocities.”

I was still gasping in confusion when Arthur recovered from his choking. “Oh shit. Bothans are real? They were a very back-stabby race of dog-type people who fought against fascists in Terran media. I thought, at least. I wouldn’t actually kill a real one… I am far more high functioning of a sociopath than that, thank you.”

“Noah,” I choked out. “Are you serious? Are Bothans real?”

“Affirmative,” they responded, setting off an entirely new round of choking and sputtering. I would need to have something done about my floors if this kept up. “And while they do resemble Terran canines on a very superficial level, they are genetically more closely related to a Terran fern.”

Arthur looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. “That is the least back-stabbing and least threatening plant I can possibly think of.”

Conor, not to be outdone, was still curious. “Boston or Fiddlehead?”

“Asparagus fern, Human Conor,” was the reply that set off a thousand coughs.

Sam recovered first. “That does not mean Jedi don’t exist,” he insisted.

“Of course Jedi exist,” Miys answered in a tone that was as close to being confused as I had ever heard.

Almost immediately, Arthur, Maverick, and Sam started cheering and high-fiving. Conor looked confused, while I spat my soup out again.

“WHAT?” I choked out between attempts at keeping tomatoes and garlic out of my lungs.

“They are as real as any member of any other Terran religion.”

Silence ruled the room for a split second, broken first by Arthur throwing his fork in the air behind him.  Like a signal, it led to Sam and Maverick dropping their head to their forearms with a groan.

I managed to recover enough to slide my food away, lest I risk death over an absurd conversation. “Are there anything like Jedi in the known galaxy?” I asked, receiving a thumbs up from Arthur, who was still trying not to choke on his soup.

“Only in small measures.”

That seemed like the magic phrase to snap Arthur out of whatever coughing fit he was having. “Are there any species in the galaxy that have Jedi abilities?”

“You will need to be more specific.”

Conor, laughter out of his system, joined gamely. “Is there anything that can move physical objects without touching them directly?” he started.

“Several species can,” Miys conceded. “Those who only experience what you consider ‘sight’ as changes in air currents can, in fifty-four percent of cases so far, also change the air currents in a sufficient way as to move physical objects.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “They can stare at something hard enough to move it?”

“Wisdom, if I experienced physical pain, I am certain that your oversimplification just now would have caused such a sensation.”

Without rebutting, I waved for Miys to continue and ignored the laughter caused by the comment.

“Similarly, there are species more limited than Hujylsogox, who can perceive the physical world strictly through sound,” they continued. “In such cases, it is not uncommon for these species to also alter their surroundings by vibrating physical objects at a frequency that causes them to move within physical space.” A brief pause before, “And no, Wisdom, that does not mean they scream at objects until such objects move. I would also like to point out, Educator Farro, that the same species can cause internal organs to vibrate as a sufficient frequency as to cut off air flow.”

“Force choke is real,�� Arthur whisper-shouted, mildly horrified. Clearing his throat, he spoke more clearly for his next question. “What about ‘there is a disturbance in the Force, as if many voices cried out’ etc?”

Miys buzzed thoughtfully for a moment before replying more clearly. “There are number of species who are able to perceive and interpret with great accuracy any changes in interstellar radiation, no matter how small. Should, say, a star go nova or collapse into a black hole, they are very reliable in providing information to cartographers. Should such a species state with certainty that a planet ceased to exist, I would need to see the planet from orbit in order to disbelieve them.”

Maverick let loose a low whistle, but it was Sam who spoke next. “But what about living beings, on an individual level. I know you can do that, but can any other species?”

“It is, perhaps, the most common trait in the known galaxy,” Miys admitted. “Even humans can do this, to a degree, although you tend to ignore it against all logic.”

“Okay. What about force lightning, though?”

I actually started to respond to that, having an answer finally, but Miys beat me to the draw. “Species who communicate through electrical currents are more numerous in the galaxy than those who can see. In the same way, they need to be able to manipulate such currents. Their young are frequently sequestered on their home worlds in order to prevent electrocution of species whose neural organs can be disrupted by uncontrolled communication. The same species are capable of using those same currents to increase their own synaptic response and reflexes.”

I almost wanted to laugh at Maverick’s face. He looked frustrated and ashamed in a way that I could not figure out. Maybe because these abilities existed, but not in humans? Regardless, his tone was frustrated when he asked his next question. “What about force ghosts? Please tell me those are real?”

“Very much so,” Miys confirmed. “Though likely not in the way you think. What you consider ‘Force Ghosts’ are, in the galaxy as it is, the result of technological advancement combined with spiritual beliefs.” A few groans surrounded the table, but Maverick perked up slightly. “Many species believe, as a result of their evolution, that their predecessors’ life energy persists after death. In these cultures, it is so common as to be unremarkable for a person to have a synaptic recording chip installed shortly after birth, to record their entire lives. They, then, pass their chip on to their successor in  position.” Wait a minute… I thought, but Miys continued before I could put everything together. “In such circumstances, many species’s neural organs will manifest a… personality, separate from the original, in order to preserve mental stability. Such manifestations are very similar to what Terran media considers a ‘Force ghost’.”

“Hang on,” I ventured, holding my hand up emphatically to cut off any other questions from the table. “That. Stop there.” Taking a deep breath, I thought back through everything I had read in the past. “I thought the idea of deliberately having multiple, distinct identities was… a story, honestly.”

“Even in your own past, it was discovered that the human brain can host two distinct personalities with no difficulty, Wisdom,” Miys admonished. “These species, however, are uniquely adapted so that, along with the memory implant, they suffer no actual combination or confusion of experiences. What their ancestor experienced is their ancestor’s memory, and what the person experiences is the person's memory. A person cannot overwrite an ancestral core. Only speak to it.”

“Can humans do that?” Sam asked, dazed in wonder at this new revelation.

“Not yet,” Miys responded. “But I do insist on the word ‘yet’, as you were never meant to do many of the things you do now.”

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[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 3: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 1)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav mav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5  for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic. 

Midterms have got me acting up. Despite the quarantine, I literally wasn’t motivated to write until the moment I could use writing to procrastinate. Absolutely brilliant logic. Truly. Thank you guys so much for the wait and I hope you enjoy this chapter.  

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

P.S. For the sake of continuity, I’m going to ignore the Heroes United thing because that episode was basically a fanfic of the fanfic and as much as I loved the animation and the new characters...I’ve seen better plots and explanations for a lot of the similar problems in the Maribat fandom. Also Sparrow is probably a reference to Batman, anyways. Also, canon has just gone out the window...I guess...whoops. 

P.P.S. Swearing tw, death tw. 

Please remember this is rated M for a reason. Also, it is my headcanon that not everyone who dies during the akuma attacks come back. Of course, it’s not mentioned in a children’s show, but I’ve always seen the Miraculous Cure as a cure for physical, non-living objects as they’re easier to fix, and lives take a lot more effort and energy from the user to revive. And since Marinette is a child, there’s not going to be a lot of energy to spare.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @zerotosiki

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To the members of the Justice League…

I am writing to you as Chat Noir, superhero of Paris and holder of the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction, and partner to Ladybug, the official Guardian and the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous of Creation. I come to you with a plea similar to ones that we have sent you a year ago. The magical terrorist, Hawkmoth, is still at large here in Paris, France. If you are not aware of who he is, Hawkmoth is a domestic terrorist in Paris who relies on the power of the Butterfly Miraculous to create a physical and amplified manifestation of a person’s negative emotions, using the victim as a host, using magical butterflies as his form of transmission. These are called akumas. The akuma allows Hakwmoth to essentially get inside the mind of  his victims and manipulate and amplify their emotions.  We have been fortunate enough to have a failsafe in Ladybug, who can repair any physical damages, and even bring back lives, from these attacks. However, both Ladybug and I have reached our wits’ ends with no lead to Hawkmoth’s true identity. The people of Paris are suffering both from emotional trauma and the physical trauma of being subjugated, manipulated, experiencing bouts of amnesia, and even resurrecting multiple times. Hawkmoth has even taken to exclusively targeting a middle-school class at College Francois-Dupont.

Ladybug and I are aware of the risks superhero presence may bring since we will not survive a fight if any more experienced superheroes such as yourselves are akumatized. However, I feel that we have no other choice. Our Master has recently been put out of commission and the rest of our comrades have had their identities compromised. Ladybug is now the Guardian of the rest of the Miraculous. And although she will not approve of my plea, even your  advice or insight will be of use to us.

Please consider our plight and contact us as soon as you can.

Chat Noir 

Bruce Wayne was not a perfect man, he will admit. However, he did pride himself on his sense of logic and adaptability to most situations, as long as they stayed within the mortal realms of believability that is. Magic, however, or anything pertaining to the supernatural was out of his forte; in fact, he often liked to pretend it did not exist despite having acquaintances and enemies whose entire lives revolved around it. There was a reason he did not tolerate the  prolonged presence of meta-humans in Gotham, after all. 

He re-read through the email once, twice, again and again, desperately wishing that it had not been his shift to look through the messages that the Justice League received on a daily basis. Why couldn’t it have been Superman or Wonder Woman? Or better yet, Dr. Fate or Zatanna, never mind the fact that the latter was technically retired. Any of them would’ve made sense of this gibberish that was laid out in front of him. 

Initially, he thought it had been a coded message. It made perfect sense, in his opinion. The only concrete fact he could dissect out of this nonsense was the presence of a domestic terrorist and how they were targeting some middle school students for whatever reason. His mind recalled  the recent conversation he had with André Bourgeois yesterday. Even he had mentioned a domestic terrorist going after his daughter’s class, which was why he reached out to Bruce, since Bruce would be the most fitted to protect them with his resources, despite Gotham being the crime capital of the world. He nodded to himself; the facts were consistent then. There was a terrorist and middle school students were the targets. 

On one of the other screen monitors, he had pulled up records of College Francois Dupont School for a background check using a VPN to connect to French service networks. Both the email from this Chat Noir (Selina would get a kick out of that) and André failed to mention the terrorist’s intentions with these kids. However, looking through the different classes, there had been a special note besides Mme. Bustier’s class that stated:

“High vulnerability to akumas.”

This was where Bruce was once again stumped. Of course, he really couldn’t deny the existence of magic, but accepting that meant accepting that the terrorist used magical butterflies as his form of attack. Bruce wasn’t a qualified psychologist or any sort of specialist, but surely magical butterflies could not give you emotional trauma, mind-control, or even as Chat Noir had implied, a means to murder. 

Bruce scanned through Mme. Bustier’s class to look for anything that might be different from other classes. If he recalled correctly, this was the same class that André’s kid was in. He took note of the name, Chloé Bourgeois, and other notable names such as Adrien Agreste (who’s father was a fashion mogul and a model in his own right), Lila Rossi (a diplomat’s daughter), Max Kanté (a genius, and he noted to himself to see if that held true when the class was under his supervision), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (the class president and the designer of a recent rock album according to Jason who had obsessed over the cover for a few weeks before Alfred confiscated it), and Alya Césaire (an aspiring journalist who ran a blog called the Ladyblog). 

Okay, he rationalized. While not all of these kids were significant, some, like the Mayor’s own daughter, would be prime targets for a terrorist, so that made some sort of sense in Bruce’s mind. 

He sighed again, wishing that he had a cup of coffee or an energy drink with him at the moment. Unfortunately, Tim’s recent addiction meant no one could have it. Bruce scoffed underneath his breath. Alfred had really weird rules when it came to show “family support.” Tim was a grown man who should suffer his own consequences. Alas, no one argues with Alfred lest they risked his wrath. 

Bruce hovered over the link under Mlle. Césaire’s file, the Ladyblog. Perhaps it would give him some answers. 

As a bright ladybug designed website popped up, Bruce realized he might have been so wrong. 

He scrolled through the website thoroughly from the latest posts to the earliest. He noticed a concerning trend where the later blog posts centered more around one of Césaire’s classmates, Lila Rossi, and shaky videos of a red and black spotted figurem and a black cat figure fleeing the scene, or fighting some sort of abomination that Bruce did not even attempt to understand. In one video it was the two heroes against a flock of pigeons, or a gigantic baby, or whatever else. Bruce had half a mind to dismiss the entire blog as based on falsities, however one of the videos caught his eye. 

It was a video titled: “Syren: Paris Going Underwater!!” 

That was concerning, considering a flooded Paris would’ve featured on international news, not just on an amateur blog by a middle schooler. Fortunately for him, the video quality was clearer, allowing him to watch as the camera recorded the scene of that day. 

Bruce jolted awake and snapped to attention when he realized it was being filmed on a rooftop, and that the water levels were still rising as the video progressed. From what the camera captured, there were only a handful of people on each rooftop; not even making up a fifth of the Parisian population in total. 

What the fuck?

Then, as the video concluded, gigantic swarms of red and white bugs (ladybugs?) filled the camera’s frame and when it disappeared, everything was back to what he presumed was normal. The video then faded to black, posting statistics that chilled Bruce to the fucking bone. 

“Death count: 1.528 million Parisians

Resurrection count: 1.51 million Parisians

Injured count: 10 000 Parisians

Permanent death count: 18 000 Parisians

In honour of the Parisians who were not revived and were injured during the attack, the Ladyblog, offers our condolences, and will help in any way we can online and offline.  The akuma victim, as always, will remain anonymous for safety purposes.  Links to help organizations and donation funds to the peoples and families affected will be posted below. Additional links will be posted for available online mental health services.”

And, if Chat Noir was to be believed, some people had died multiple times. 

After making sure the video was not doctored in any way (though that would be cruel to assume about a kid’s blog), Bruce sent Chat Noir’s email (along with the earlier videos from both heroes and an email from Marinette Dupain-Cheng that he had found) and all of the links he had amassed to his own computer in the Bat Cave before closing all the tabs on the monitors. Swerving around, he stormed to the Batmobile, eyebrows furrowed in solemnity. 

Magic or not, whatever terrorist was plaguing Paris had a pretty damn high casualty count, and the only people that were stopping him were this Ladybug and Chat Noir people, who did not seem to be properly equipped (the Ladybug heroine was using a yoyo, for fuck’s sake) to deal with someone of this power. Not to mention, Bruce winced, their mentor  was “out of commission” whatever that meant, with their peers being compromised, so they probably had no outside help.

And it seems, Bruce’s features darkened into a scowl, his dear friend André Bourgeois had a lot of explaining to do. Police department has it handled, his ass. 

In the meantime, he was going to make damn sure the class under his care would have a relaxing reprieve even if he had to lock up every villain in Arkham Asylum himself. 

________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary, 

The talk with Chat was a bust. I know he thinks I don’t trust him, but I wish he knew how much I’m trying to, but it’s not as simple as he makes it out to be...right?  And of course I trust him with my life, but as the Guardian, I can’t just make impulsive decisions like going to other superheroes, especially when there’s no guarantee they would help us, or can even be trusted in the first place! And I can’t just reveal our identities to each other either. It would put Chat and the rest of the Miraculous at risk. And I really don’t want a repeat of Chat Blanc…

That future will never happen on my watch. I forbid it. 

Speaking of other superheroes, I think there might be someone though, who could help us, even a little bit. 

Marianne. 

She wasn’t a Guardian, but she was a Ladybug user for a while and was really close to Master Fu. She must know something. She’s in London so she might not be available but...

I’ll check up on her today after class! If she has any helpful advice, I’ll be sure to share it with Chat too. 

Gotta go!

Bisoux, 

Marinette

Scrambling to get ready, Marinette fumbled with her pigtails and shoulder bag simultaneously, trying to make sure that her pigtails were just right. Tikki zoomed around, helping her get ready by shoving stray pens and pencils into her pockets. When they were done, Marinette rushed downstairs, swiping one of the freshly-made quiche along the way. Just before she exited the store, she turned back to give her Maman and Papa a smooch. Hastily, she then left the bakery, the bakery’s bell ringing behind her as she sprinted to school. 

It was a mystery for most people, but despite living less than five minutes away from the school, Marinette was always late. Marinette liked to blame her Ladybug duties when Tikki asked, but she knew better. She had the habit of being late since before she knew the Miraculous existed. 

To be fair though, Marinette usually slept in because she was exhausted from schoolwork, designing,

and Ladybug duties. Was it her fault that Hawkmoth liked making 3 AM akumas? Was it her fault that coffee- for all the espresso and sugar she dumped into it, and despite all those hipster blogs saying otherwise- did nothing to help her stay awake? Of course not. If anything she was a victim here; a victim of late night akumas and faulty biology. 

Fortunately for her (and her quiche), she was actually earlier today than usual. She could see students milling around the courtyard behind the school. Some sat with their friend groups while others huddled to catch up on the homework from the night before. 

Unfortunately, one of those groups was Lila and her friends. Lila sat on one of the picnic tables, talking about whatever grand adventure she supposedly went on or whichever famous celebrity she supposedly saved from a rare type of cancer or something while her friends sat around her, captivated with every word. Marinette rolled her eyes. It was too early for this. 

She steered away from them towards the other side of the yard, where she could see Alya and Nino cuddling while finishing their homework. She glanced back at Lila, who waved at the couple before going back to whatever story she was regaling to her loving audience. It was probably because Alya and Nino hadn’t seen Lila greet them in the first place, but Marinette couldn’t help feeling a bit happy that they didn’t return her greeting. 

“Morning, guys!” She greeted as she approached their table, sitting on the other side. 

Alya looked up first. “Hey! You woke up early today,” she teased, giving her shoulder a friendly nudge.

“Heh, guess it’s my lucky day today,” she said. As she sat down, she began eating the quiche she had swiped earlier. “Well, almost, anyway.”

Alya rolled her eyes and smirked. “You live in front of the school. It’s your own damn fault at this point.” 

Nino, who had been pouring over a worksheet that was due today, finally looked up. Upon seeing Marinette, he smiled. “Hey, dude. You’re actually early!” 

At Marinette’s exasperated groan, both Alya and Nino fell into giggles, Marinette shortly following along. 

“Keep that up, and I’m not gonna let you guys eat at my place for lunch,” she teased, wagging a finger at them. 

Alya wagged her own finger, engaging in a finger sword fight. “As if your mom would ever let us starve!” 

Marinette laughed, as she wrapped her finger around Alya’s and lightly slammed it onto the table, declaring her victory. 

“Okay, okay, you got me.” Marinette went back to eating her quiche, devouring it before it got too cold. For once, she was in a pretty good mood. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino,”

And of course, she just had  to jinx it. 

Marinette didn’t even try to join in the conversation to acknowledge Lila’s presence. If Lila wanted to talk to her, she needed to stop lying about everything; and with her supposed “lying disease,” that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She only wished Adrien was here so someone could sympathize with her. 

“Oh, hey Lila,” Alya greeted, having gained her hand back and waved. “Ignore Nino here. He forgot about Mendeleiv’s worksheet due today.” 

“Oh, I see.” Lila said. “Well, you know, Nino. If you ever need help with science, one of my cousins actually won a Noble Peace Prize for his contributions in molecular chemistry.” 

Nino, to his credit, only muttered an “uh huh” before turning the worksheet over and frantically scribbling all over it. Marinette briefly wondered if Nino understood what he was writing down- or if he cared. 

Alya perked up. “Wow, that’s amazing Lila! What did your cousin do?”

Lila smiled bashfully, and looked away, waving her hand. “Oh, you know, it was the discovery of some man-made element.” Marinette had to give Lila credit- she knew how to fake her blushes really well. “I’m nowhere near as smart as my cousin, you know? All the scientific words get me so confused!” 

Marinette buried her head in her arms. Did she need to be here for this? She could just slip away? Glancing at Lila, who caught her eyes, she decided against it. Like hell she was letting Lila take away her time with her  friends. 

Alya laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, I understand completely. English is so much more of my forté, you know?” 

“Yeah I totally get what you mean.” Lila stopped laughing as her gaze landed on Marinette. Only she seemed to notice the glare she gave her.  “Oh, hi, Marinette. Glad to see you’re early today.” 

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “Hi.” With a fake smile, she robotically waved at her. 

“Well, anyways I got to go. See you later Alya.”  Lila said, waving her fingers before finally walking away. Marinette exhaled. Thank kwami. She may have been less obnoxious today but that was probably because of Alya’s presence. 

Speaking of, the said girl turned towards her. “You could be nicer towards her.” 

“She almost got me expelled.” Marinette had had this conversation with Alya many times before. At this point, her responses came like clockwork. She contemplated telling Alya’s threat back in Lila’s first day, but she really wasn’t ready for the backlash if Alya accused her  of lying. 

“Well,” Alya stuttered. “It was because she has an illness that makes her lie uncontrollably.” 

Marinette was pretty sure there was no such illness but at this point, Lila had somehow convinced everyone it was an actual illness. That, or no one wanted to point out the obvious lie, including administration. Which would be pretty negligent of the school admin so she hoped not. 

“Alya, if it was just an illness that makes her tell lies, pray tell, who put the test answers in my bag and the necklace in my locker?” she asked. 

“Maybe, well,” Alya tried coming up with an answer but failed, thereby changing the subjects. “Look, both of you are my friends, and I don’t want to get in between the two of you.” 

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, yeah.” She picked up the discarded quiche container and her bag. “I gotta go to class and see if Mme. Bustier needs help.” 

Alya frowned. “Marinette, wait.” 

“It’s okay, really.” Marinette assured her, before walking away. When she was climbing up the steps to the entrance, she sighed heavily. She didn’t really understand Alya’s logic sometimes. If she knew about Lila’s supposed lying disease, why did she put Lila’s trash on the Ladyblog? If Alya knew Lila’s lies had led to Marinette’s initial expulsion, why still defend her? Marinette shook the thoughts away, not wanting to get into that impeding headache. Lila Rossi was never worth her time. 

When she reached the entrance, Lila was leaning against the doors, her arms crossed. Her olive green eyes were glaring right at her. 

“Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Rossi.” 

Lila strutted up to her, getting uncomfortably close to her face. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t play along.” 

Marinette stared back, unimpressed. She really had more pressing issues than this weird power play Lila wanted to play. Leaning back and stepping to the side, she said, “I already told you I’m not scared of you, Lila.” 

Marinette didn’t spare her another glance. In some ways, she pitied Lila. What kind of life did you have that you were so desperate for attention you lied about everything, and tried to get rid of anyone else who called you out? 

She really hoped Alya would soon see sense. Adrien had once told her to take the high road, and honestly? Sometimes, it felt good to not let Lila’s lies get under her skin. 

Then again, when did Lila ever go down so simply? 

[taxicabinmemphis]

Prince Charming - Chapter 1

chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six

So tumblr is being evil and not letting me put a strikethrough on the word ‘prince’ on the title so please pretend it’s there. This was supposed to just be fluffy Intrulogical but look at what happened. It was supposed to be shorter, too! I was like ‘don’t expect it to get to 2k’ but here we are… :/ (Side note - most indications that Janus is lying are in italics, just to make sure y’all can tell since I don’t know of a way to write Janus’ tone and vocal inflection that indicates his lies except using italics (however this is only for Janus, I will use italics in dialogue for other characters and they are not indications of dishonesty.)) Word count - 3,474 Pairing - Intrulogical, Prinxiety (I didn’t plan it, it just kinda happened and I rolled with it), pre Moceit, platonic Logicality and Dukeceit bc they are cute friends, platonic/familial Moxiety bc they cute too Warnings - some characters are a lil insensitive in spots but I wouldn’t call them unsympathetic, swearing, quick food mention in a later chapter, sword fighting, self-deprecation from most sides, a character gets hurt, pining, and Remus-typical behavior (body horror mentions and other stuff heh), if there’s anything else that should be tagged or put in the warnings, tell me please!

Despite his birthday long having passed, Roman was somehow able to convince the other sides to join him in an adventure in the Imagination. While some sides, like Patton, were ecstatic about the idea, others, such as Virgil, weren’t as enthusiastic. Knowing Roman, there would be adventure, royalty, danger, and heroism, and those things didn’t appeal to everyone. But still, somehow, all had been convinced.

Roman threw the door to the Imagination open forcefully, a dramatic gust of wind seeming to help him with the task. The door opened to show an elegant white castle. The entrance to the castle grounds was only a couple hundred feet from the door. “Welcome, fellow adventurers. Please enter, this is where today’s story begins!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil grumbled, shoving past Roman and entering the Imagination. “What got me to do this again?”

“One starts to wonder similarly,” Logan agreed, following the purple-clad side through the door.

“Don’t be so negative, you two,” Patton chastised. “I’m sure Roman has something entertaining planned.”

“Well, I don’t know entertaining unless severed limbs are involved.”

“To each his own,” Roman grumbled at his brother, following the last side in.

Roman closed the door behind him and clapped his hands to get his companions’ attention. They all turned to him, varying levels of excitement on each of their faces.

“Let’s get this over with,” Virgil muttered, before raising the volume of his voice to continue. “What are we doing today?”

“How kind of you to ask, Virgil!” Roman chirped. “Our adventure today is something I have had in the works for a while now. As you can see from the beautiful castle behind me, we will be engaging in a medieval war of two different kingdoms. I, and the sides assigned to the kingdom of Romania–”

“That’s already a country, Roman,” Logan interrupted.

“That is false, Logan,” Janus agreed. “Also, wouldn’t it be more…considerate not to name a kingdom multiple sides will be assigned to after yourself?”

“There’s a reason you’re not being assigned to my kingdom, snake boy,” Roman murmured, before speaking louder. “Fine. I, and the sides assigned to…Azeria will be trying to retrieve the crown jewels that belong to our kingdom. They were stolen by the kingdom of Reptania.”

“Creative,” Virgil remarked sarcastically.

Roman ignored him. “When we get to Reptania, however, we will discover that the rulers of Reptania have been keeping someone prisoner under a mind control curse that puts the prisoner under the cruel will of Reptania’s rulers!”

“Dear Lord-a-mercy,” Virgil commented, lacing his tone with exasperation.

Roman turned to him, annoyed. “Can you not? For one second?” Roman cleared his throat as Virgil snorted in response. “The prisoner can be you if you’re so chatty on the subject.”

Virgil groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Anyway, we will free the prisoner after we defeat the evil rulers of Reptania in an epic battle of medieval weapons, and take the freed emo back to our kingdom.”

“Let me guess,” Janus drawled, “Remus and I will rule Reptania, and Patton and Logan will join you in…I forget what you called your kingdom.”

“You are right, Janus, Patton, and Logan will join me in Azeria and the two of you will be in Reptania,” Roman answered, slightly annoyed. “Does that work for you all?”

Murmurs of acknowledgment and begrudging agreement were heard backgrounding a louder and more enthusiastic “it works wonderfully!” from Patton. Roman hardly gave them time to object, however, as he clapped his hands again with a grin and started walking away from the door and deeper into the Imagination.

—

“I see no reason why we have to wear this strange…attire you have picked out for us, Roman,” Logan remarked, grimacing as he struggled with putting on chainmail.

The three of them were in Azeria’s castle in the prince’s royal quarters where Patton and Logan’s outfits were laid on chairs. They had changed in separate rooms, but now they had to put on the dreaded chainmail (that they got each other’s help with because no one wanted to deal with it alone). Logan and Patton’s chainmail were colored; indigo and light blue respectively. Roman, because of his already princely outfit, felt he didn’t have to bother with the armor, despite Patton’s protests regarding safety and fairness. Patton also had a leather backpack, meant for carrying back the stolen crown jewels to their kingdom.

“We are knights of the royal court, Logan! You must. If it makes you feel any better, I have set out armor for Janus, Virgil, and Remus to wear. I was quite vehement in the note I left that they wear it.”

“Besides, Logan, it’s not that bad,” Patton said as he finished putting on the armor.

“I also don’t see why I am a knight,” Logan added. “Wouldn’t Virgil be a better choice? Fight or flight is his area.”

“He was being a chatty, sarcastic little shit–”

“Roman!”

“–so he was practically asking to be assigned to the prisoner position.”

“From what I could tell, Virgil made no indication that he wanted to be the prisoner,” Logan objected.

“He was being sarcastic and interrupting me as I covered that part of the story, Logan!” Roman argued.

“While I have no idea as to how commentary and requests correlate out of context, I suppose it’s up to you.”

“Yes, it is, and if you both are finished putting on your armor, we should go to the stables and get our horses so we can ride out to Reptania!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Roman?” Patton asked with a sly grin, placing a camera he brought (“to preserve memories”, as he previously explained to Roman) at the bottom of the backpack. He then put the backpack on.

Roman frowned. “Am I? What am I forgetting, Patton?”

“Swords!” Patton exclaimed with a small jump.

Roman lit up. “How could I forget? Come to the armory, my blue-clothed friends. We must arm ourselves!”

“Technically, we are engaging Reptania in a rather unnecessary battle as there is no survival-based requirement for crown jewels, so gathering arms isn’t exactly needed.”

Roman huffed and Patton gave Logan a stern look.

When they got to the armory, Roman immediately took a longsword from where it was sheathed. He seemed to weigh it and test its balance in his hands before giving it a couple of sample swings. The sword had a golden shine on it that Roman seemed to like.

“Don’t you already have a katana?” Logan asked.

“Yes, Logan, I do,” Roman confirmed, “but this is longer. I left my katana in my room anyway, I will not be using it today.”

Patton looked around the room with cautious excitement, obviously concerned for everyone’s safety with the blades, but still thoroughly enjoying picking a weapon for himself. A shortsword seemed to catch his eye. He hurried over to it and picked it up. The sword was a little under two feet in length, the center of its crossguard adorned with a round gemstone of blue topaz.

“Look at this sword, Roman! Isn’t it nice?” he asked, jumping up and down a bit. “It’s just the right size, and it has a pretty blue gem at the top of the hilt!”

Roman smiled at Patton. “It’s stunning, Padre! Perfect for a knight of your skill and prestige.”

“It is indeed quite attractive of a sword, Patton,” Logan agreed. “And the gem at the center of the crossguard matches your outfit.”

On Logan’s right was a rack of swords of various types. He picked up a flamberge sword, a couple of inches over being four feet long. The hilt, crossguard, and a wavy line going through the center of the blade were colored an indigo that matched Logan’s chainmail.

“This seems adequate,” Logan commented, holding the sword in front of him with both hands.

“It’s significantly over two thirds your height,” Roman noted. “Over twice the length of Patton’s sword.”

“Your longsword is similar,” Logan replied.

“I’m a prince.”

Logan sheathed the sword on his person and turned to Roman. “And I’m a knight.”

Patton opened the door and turned to the two. “Come on, you two, let’s get our horses!”

The three armed sides made their way out of the armory and to the stables. Roman raced ahead of his knights to stop at a beautiful white horse, a little bit taller than the others. He mounted the animal with ease and smiled at his friends who had just reached the stables.

“Pick your favorite, there are choices,” he instructed gleefully, but his voice turned serious at his next words. “Diamante is mine, though. She’s mine.”

Logan lifted his hands as a gesture of surrender and made his way over to a black stallion. “Can I take this one?”

“Yeah, you can take Obsidian,” Roman stated. “Only Diamante is off-limits.”

Patton patted a light brown horse’s mane as Logan mounted his horse. “I like this one. Do they have a name?”

“That’s Ophelia. She’s a sweetheart.”

“I love her!” Patton exclaimed, mounting the mare. He, admittedly, had more difficulty than the other two sides with the task.

He eventually got himself properly positioned on the horse, him and Roman exchanging a nod indicating readiness.

“Let’s go!”

The three horses galloped out of the stables, Diamante in the lead. They rode quickly, Roman seeming to know where to go. Azeria castle was soon left behind, and Reptania could be spotted nearby.

“How long until we arrive, Roman?” Patton asked.

Roman glanced at him quickly. “Not much longer.”

Reptania castle eventually came into clear view, the darkly colored walls of its castle giving it an eerie vibe. Some walls on the outer sides of the castle had vines growing up them; that and other creepier features caught Patton’s timid eyes, while Roman stared ahead with an unwavering glare that mirrored his determination. Logan was just relieved the adventure Roman had forced him into was closer to its end.

They arrived at the front gates, slowing their horses to a stop. Two guards moved to stand in front of the castle gates, effectively blocking the three knights’ path. Roman looked at them sternly.

“Let us pass,” Roman ordered. “We have business with the rulers of this kingdom.”

The guards stood motionless.

“Maybe try please?” Patton whispered to the prince.

“Remus is my brother,” Roman stated to the guards, before deciding to take Patton’s advice. “Please let us pass. We come in peace.”

After a moment, the guards let up and moved to let the three colorful knights pass. As the trio’s horses passed the gates, Logan leaned towards Roman (who was on his left) slightly.

“You do know that you communicated a falsehood so they would let us pass.”

Roman sighed. “Yes, Logan. But they were evil henchmen villain guards and we have to get through in order to have the epic battle and get the crown jewels.”

“And rescue Virgil,” the logical side reminded.

“Yes, but we’re not supposed to know we should do that yet,” Roman reminded him, slightly exasperated.

“We’re not?” Patton asked.

“No, Padre, remember? We’re not supposed to figure out Virgil is under a mind control curse until later.”

“How will we know?” Patton inquired.

“We’ll know!”

The three of them dismounted and walked their horses to the stables. They left the horses easily accessible, just in case they had to make a swift exit.

They quickly but carefully entered the castle and followed Roman through the halls. He seemed to have an idea of what they were doing and where to go, unlike the other two.

“Are we going to where Janus and Remus are keeping the stolen crown jewels?” Patton asked.

“Yes, now shh,” Roman whispered. “I think they’re in this next room. There are two guards stationed on either side of the door looking quite purposeful.”

“Oh no,” Logan said with a sigh. “Will we have to sword fight them too?”

Roman grinned at him. “Yes!”

“We should create a plan–”

Roman drew his sword and left the two other knights to stand in front of the guards. “If you let me pass, I will not hurt you.”

The guards drew their weapons, identical claymore swords, and stood in front of the door. The one on Roman’s right spoke. “Leave.”

“You could have at least said ‘please’ to him,” the other guard chastised.

“He threatened to harm us,” the one on the right growled.

“He could still be a nice fellow. Confused, maybe, but nice.”

“Good people,” Roman interrupted. “I am here for the crown jewels your rulers stole from our kingdom.”

“How did you know the crown jewels were in here?” the one on the left asked.

Roman gave the guard a smirk. “You just confirmed it.”

“Idiot,” the guard on the right murmured to their compatriot.

The guard on the left crossed their arms angrily. “Well, it seemed as if he already knew. He also looks like Remus, so I thought that Remus might know him and told him.”

“Did it occur to you that he looks like Remus because he’s his brother?” The guard on the right continued when the guard on the left didn’t reply. “Remus and his brother reside in rival kingdoms!”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You didn’t know that?! It was at orientation last week, you fucking moron-”

“Let me pass,” Roman cut in. “I know the crown jewels are in there, so why don’t you let me in and out and no one has to know.”

“We can’t do that, so leave,” the guard on the right answered sternly.

“Yeah, and any ask for entrance has to be reported to Remus and Janus,” the guard on the left added.

“We can skip that, just this once.”

“Nah, man, I’m afraid not.” The guard on the left solemnly shook his head. “I don’t want to get fired; need to convince my mom I can keep a job.”

“Did Remus make this guy?” Roman muttered under his breath, before speaking to the pair. “Well, I have to get in there.”

“And we have to keep you out.”

“Fine then,” Roman said, giving his longsword a swing. “We’ll have to do this the hard way.”

He walked towards the door, the guards intercepting him. The one on the left took a swing at Roman’s neck, but Roman parried it before disarming him. The guard’s sword clattered to the ground, Logan appearing from seemingly nowhere to take the fallen sword so the guard couldn’t retrieve it. The logical side drew his sword and joined Roman in the sword fight. The two quickly incapacitated the guard who was previously on the right.

“I’m telling Remus and Janus!” the guard on the left cried as they ran away from the Azerian knights. “Better to be unarmed and useful than unarmed and unconscious!”

Roman shrugged, he and Logan sheathing their swords. “We’re gonna have to fight them eventually.”

“Besides,” Patton added, approaching his friends, “that guard was funnier!”

“You mean less attentive and less intelligent,” Roman corrected.

“None the matter,” Logan interrupted. “We should get the jewels before reinforcements arrive.”

“But what about the sword fight–”

“Do you actively search for an opportunity to get murdered, Roman?”

Roman gasped in offense. “I search for adventure, thank you very much.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get the jewels.”

Patton opened and held the door for his fellow knights. The light blue-clad side closed the door behind him and faced a medium-sized room, with the Azeria crown jewels enclosed in a glass case almost five feet off the ground. The three approached it carefully, Roman slowly drawing his sword.

Logan put out an arm to discourage him from whatever he was considering doing. “We must be careful. We don’t know what kind of alarms brashly breaking the case will set off.”

Despite the logical side’s warning, Roman broke the case with his longsword. Logan threw his arms up in exasperation and the lights in the room started to flash red. An alarm started to sound as well. Patton covered his ears with his hands and Roman sheathed his sword, staring intently at the jewels and the shards of glass that had fallen on them.

“Not to mention,” Logan added with an air of sarcasm, “the broken glass would make the jewels much harder to retrieve.”

Roman turned around and gave him a glare. “Real helpful at this point, Specs.”

Logan scoffed. “Either way, Roman, I think it’s only fair that you collect the jewels and put them in Patton’s backpack. Considering you were the one who made it harder to retrieve them.”

“Alright,” Roman conceded, rolling his eyes. “But only because I don’t want Patton to cut his fingers and I know how stubborn you are. Would you come over here for a second, Padre?”

Patton slowly uncovered his ears and tip-toed over to Roman, making sure to watch his step. He took his backpack from around his shoulders and opened it. Roman slowly took the crown, making sure not to touch any glass, shook it gently to get the glass off of it, and then carefully placed it in the backpack. He did the same with the rest of the jewels, Patton loyally holding the bag open.

The second Patton closed the bag and positioned it over his shoulders, three figures entered the room. The three Azerian knights watched as Janus and Remus walked into the room, clad in black and colored chainmail (yellow and green, respectively). Virgil was at their side, wearing purple under black chainmail.

“I take it you have a deep affinity for colored chainmail, Roman,” Logan remarked.

“It helps to tell people apart.”

Logan nodded. “Fair enough.”

Remus, who was in between Janus (who was on his right) and Virgil (who was on his left), drew his sword. It was a rapier, just under three and a half feet long. He gave Roman a glare and a villainous smirk.

“You’ve come for the crown jewels, I see,” he observed, waving a hand in the air, causing the lights to return to normal and the alarm to silence.

Roman matched his brother’s glare. “Our crown jewels, you mean.”

“But we like yours!” Remus objected.

“Don’t you have your own?” Logan asked tiredly.

Remus turned to the logical side. “Really, Logan? You’re playing Princey’s game? I thought I knew you better.” The Duke sighed and shook his head. “And yes, we have our own, but we like yours too.”

“Maybe we could trade…?” Patton suggested quietly.

“No,” Roman rejected sternly. “We must have our crown jewels.”

“Really, brother dearest? You must?”

“Yes, Remus. I must,” Roman reiterated. “They are sacred to Azeria!”

“Seriously, Remus,” Logan started, reentering the conversation, “they’re just a set of jewels. You have your own. Why are you so fixated on keeping them? Stealing them creates unnecessary conflict. By relinquishing the jewels back to our kingdom, you will be avoiding drama and the potential injury of your…companions.”

“But Logan, we want to sword fight,” the two brothers objected simultaneously.

“Really, Roman? You’re arguing against my call for their peaceful return of our crown jewels?”

“Gentlemen,” Janus cut in, “let’s not resolve this. As slowly as we can.”

Remus pointed his sword at Roman. “I think we can all agree with this tried-and-true method.”

“Umm, actually–” Patton started to object, putting his finger in the air.

“Shut your face-hole, baby blue knight,” Remus interrupted, “this has been the plan from the start.”

“I’m absolutely positive you couldn’t have said that nicer, Remus,” Janus chided.

“Since when do you care?” Remus shot back rhetorically. “Draw your sword, fellow ruler and protector of Reptania!”

Janus sighed, unsheathing his especially long sword. It was a Zweihander of a length no side cared to estimate, with a yellow hilt and straight yellow line going through the center of the black blade. The Azerians gasped at the sight, while the Reptanians already knew of the deceitful side’s impressive sword.

After a moment of silence, Roman spoke.

“Are you seriously extra at every chance you get?”

“He’s literally Deceit, Roman. Master of lies and over-the-top deceptions,” Virgil muttered, speaking for the first time. “He has swept us into theatrical and legal settings to work out problems that did not require as much drama and overthought than what was forced upon us.”

“Shut it, Virgil,” Janus ordered. “Don’t speak.”

A yellow light with a size similar (if not a little bigger) to that of a softball appeared in front of Virgil’s face for half a second before disappearing. When it faded, the sides could see Virgil’s mouth had closed and his gaze was directed to the floor. The room was enveloped in an agonizing silence.

“I told you we’d know, Patton,” Roman said quietly, with no real bite in his words.

~

Finally getting some more writing to y’all, yay! I hope you like it. Fair warning: school started again so guess who isn’t gonna be able to write as often (it’s me). Don’t be tricked by this. I have no idea how much homework will be coming my way so I can’t promise a lot more writing. Please enjoy this fic because it’s probably gonna be all y’all get for a while. Thanks!

[marshmallow-phd]

Help From the Other side

Genre: Ghost!AU, Supernatural!AU

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

A/N: So, I was technically going to write something for Ravi, but the sudden urge to write for Baekhyun came over me and... well this happened. 

**

It was happening again. The strange noises, pencils rolling across the perfectly flat table without assistance, books being moved from you’d put them. This always seemed to happen whenever you came to the library and yet no one else had these same experiences. No one else complained or whispered about a possible haunting of this place. Maybe you were just going crazy. That’s right. It was simply the stress of your upcoming exams that was making you crack. 

Another factor that didn’t help was how late you tended to stay. 

As the sun went down, the happenings became spookier. At one point you could have sworn you felt a cool breath on your neck, but there was not a single soul near when you whirled around. By now, you were weighing the options: to go back to your room where it was less like a horror movie or stay here and put in more studying where you could have a possible breakdown. 

The yawn answered for you. It was the fifth one in less than ten minutes. If you stayed too much longer you’d end up spending the night between the bookshelves because you wouldn’t have the energy to walk back to your apartment. 

Gathering up your textbooks and writing utensils, you made sure you didn’t leave anything behind before throwing your bag over your shoulder and heading for the front. 

“Don’t go.”

You reeled around, your gasp echoing around you. But the space was as barren of other life as it had been before. Everyone else had left nearly an hour ago. Even though the library stayed open later at this point in the semester, no one else was taking advantage of it. Or they were being smart and not overdoing it like you clearly were. 

Barely five seconds had gone by when you turned back around that the voice came again. 

“Can you hear me?”

You nearly knocked over the large wooden shelf closest to you when you jumped. “Who’s there?” you called out in a voice louder than what was considered appropriate for a library. “Stop playing around and show yourself!”

At first, all was still. No one peeked out from the other aisles to tell you that this was all a joke to be caught on camera. An elaborate joke, to be sure, if it were one. The air turned cold, making you shiver. But the sound of the air conditioner kicking on made you relax. You were only hearing things. The quietness of the library mixed with your lack of sleep was causing mild hallucinations. Nodding to yourself in the satisfaction of your explanation, you turned back around. 

Then you screamed. 

Not even two feet from you, a boy came out of nowhere. You stumbled back to get away, landing hard on your backside. The boy reached out to try and catch you, but his fingers slipped right through your wrist. The instinct to get away kicked into high gear and you scrambled to hide behind one of the chairs.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the boy scoffed, clearly offended. 

You leaned out from behind the heavy wooden chair that probably wouldn’t grant much protection. “And how am I supposed to know that?”

“I haven’t don’t anything yet, have I?” He had the audacity to cross his arms and look rather smugly at you as he waited for an answer. 

Perhaps it was a ruse to get you to lower your guard. And it worked. 

You emerged from behind your safe spot, fists on your hips. “So it was you who’s been causing all the weird things to happen to me lately?”

The boy grinned broadly, moving his hands behind his back and leaning towards you. “Pretty scary, huh?”

The logical side of your brain knew it was pointless if this boy really was a ghost, but that didn’t stop you from tossing the paperback dictionary sitting in the middle of the table. As to be expected, it went right through him, though he did flinch at the object aimed for his head. 

“Now that wasn’t very nice?” he pouted. You were barely able to ignore the way his cheeks puffed out and the pucker of his lips. It was a childish expression and yet he was pulling it off. 

Ghosts weren’t supposed to look like he did. With his chestnut hair and soft features, he was- dare you think it? Yes, you do. Handsome. He was handsome. In a strange, youthful-like way. The constant smile in his eyes, even when pouting, was refusing to fade the slightest bit. Perhaps he was only looking that way to make you relax around him and that wasn’t his true form. But that didn’t feel true. 

“Well, neither was making me think I was going crazy!” you argued back. “Or that I was being haunted by a poltergeist.” Although… he did have the mischievous air of one. So that possibility couldn’t be completely ruled out. You didn’t think poltergeists were supposed to look like normal college students, but your references were the movies, so you weren’t exactly an expert.  

The boy deflated with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been trying to get someone to see me.”

You frowned. “Isn't that the opposite of what a ghost is supposed to do? I mean, that is what you are, right? A ghost?”

“Why wouldn’t a ghost want to be seen?” the boy asked, confirming your other question in a roundabout way. Really, he was probably too old for you to keep thinking of him in that term, but his aura had a youthfulness to it that call him “the man” didn’t feel right. “It’s lonely being like this.”

“So you wanted… a friend?” The idea was cute enough to giggle at, but the action didn’t feel appropriate. It was a natural instinct to want to not be alone in some capacity. And, sure, it was probably depressing to be in such a state. 

“Sort of.” Reaching up, he scratched the area underneath his ear nervously. “Really, I need someone to help me move on.” 

“Move on?” 

He nodded. “I don’t want to stick around this campus for the rest of forever. There is another side to all of this. I’d like to see it. Besides, if I don’t, then I might disappear all together.”

“What makes you say that?”

The boy lifted up the left leg of his jeans to show a faded calf. While the rest of him was solid, this part was clearly starting to fade away. 

“That’s not fair!” you exclaimed. “It's not your fault that you’re stuck here!”

“I know!” he said. “Can you imagine? Someone handsome like me ceasing to exist? It's a tragedy.”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you shook your head. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that and agree to help you.”

“Really? Thank you!” He lunged at you for a hug. However, he ended up tripping right through you. He blew a raspberry out from his lips as you turned to him, snickering. “Okay, that’s going to get annoying fast.”

“Part of being a ghost,” you said in a not-so sympathetic manner. 

He stuck his tongue out at you then sighed. “One problem at a time, I guess. I’m Baekhyun, by the way.”

“(y/n),” you introduced back.

Baekhyun smiled widely. “It’s nice to meet and be seen by you, (y/n). I’m lucky to have a cute partner in this.” 

You rolled your eyes, refusing to be affected by his words. Or, at least, mostly unaffected. “So,” you put your hands on your hips, “how do we help you move on?”

“No idea.”

Fantastic. Looking around the library, you got an idea. Where else would be a better place to start researching? You headed for the computer station to try and find the section that would help you the most: spiritual non-fiction. 

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun asked, panicked.

Over your shoulder, you grinned, “To research. Like a real ghost hunter.”

He scoffed. “Please. I’m pretty sure I was the one who hunted you down.”

“It’s better than calling myself an exorcist,” you shrugged. 

Thinking about it for a second, he nodded. “You're right. We’ll stick with hunter.” He ran past you like a giddy child. “Let’s get to searching!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at just how goofy this ghost was. Nothing like you would have described a few hours ago. So, you followed after him. What an adventure this was going to be.

[ubemango]

commission 5: otiyr!hoseok

note: for anon who was so kind to help me back in November! I am so sorry this took so long to get out v_v;;; ........... I hope you enjoy ;_;!!!!!

note 2: U kno when person A be like *super tough on the outside AND has no Knowledge of baring themselves to someone AT ALL AND!!!!!! IS SOFT TO ONLY ONE PERSON BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY CAN BARE THEMSELVES TO THEM* and then person B be like *I am the only person they can bare themselves to so I try really hard to get them to come out of their shell ONLY IF THEY WANT TO this is a healthy relationship I like to poke at them sometimes, it’s fine*? Yea this is that but make it more pine-y. Best friends to lovers? It’s more likely than you think!

Coach Park blew the whistle. Obviously this meant that practice had finished, but Hoseok was convinced it’s what called upon the bad omen.

The hockey team’s time at the rink ended right at 3pm. This gave Hoseok exactly ten minutes to shower, three minutes to fend off a nagging Yoongi for practice again the next day, and twenty seconds to realize he had one minute to reject Soojin if he wanted to make it to class on time.

He had no idea how long she’d been there. She sat like a flower, right at the edge of the bleachers, cardigan wrought so tight around her shoulders as if to fend off the tundras. He wondered if she was waiting for Jeongyeon—the figure skaters got the rink for the next three hours now—and that is when he made the fateful mistake of catching Soojin’s eye right when he was about to slip through the exit.

“H-Hoseok!”

First, the freeze-up. Hoseok adjusted his gym bag for the sake of fidgeting; he didn’t even get the chance to pretend he didn’t see her, creep away unnoticed. She’s fast, anyhow, hopping over the bench and standing shy in front of him just as he’s turned around.

“Hey,” she greeted.

Hoseok nodded, only slightly pained. “Needed something?”

Behind her, Hoseok watched Jeongguk coming up, wiggling his eyebrows at him right as he passed by and out the door. Flaunting that exit like it was meant to encourage him to stay just a little longer. Hoseok felt threatened. Soojin took no notice.

“Yeah… it’s—well. How are you?”

“Fine.”

(Soojin most likely had no idea he had class at 3:15.)

“Oh! That’s… good. Well—I don’t want to keep you for long, and I-I know… i-it’s kind of sudden, but. We’ve been talking for a while now and I just—wanted to ask if you wanted to—just—hang out, someday. Like go out, or whatever.”

Ah, Hoseok thought sadly, I’m going to die, right here.

The first response he considered was to refute her claim that they’d been talking for a while—Soojin had offered help with chemistry homework when Jimin wasn’t available for tutoring anymore. He wasn’t aware that discussing the halogenations of alkanes over text qualified as the talking stage. That made him feel weirdly old.

Something else he considered: she was very pretty. He could admit to that. Soojin had eyes like raindrops, small ears with moon-shaped studs. An easy gait except for when she was nervous—and she looked very, very nervous.

Soojin was a nice person. Soojin deserved a nice answer.

“I don’t want to,” he said, which was not a nice answer.

He realized this the second Soojin’s gaze dropped to the floor. It reminded Hoseok of those sparkly cartoon girls, the teardrops that teased, never fell. She wouldn’t cry. No one ever cried for him like that.

“Ah—sure, that’s… fine.”

Hoseok never prided himself for being curt. He was just consistent at saying the wrong things, he remembered you saying, and he had lecture starting in less than a minute. Combine all these together, mix in the inability to read a situation properly, and you got the everlasting unease of being Utterly and Ridiculously Fucked. He felt very pained now.

Hoseok watched Soojin fidget again, shifting her stance. Contemplating that exit Hoseok just wanted to go through.

He was supposed to say something now.

“You can delete my number, if you want. I don’t mind. You don’t need it anymore, right? Since we already handed in that assignment.”

She was quiet. Slowly, Hoseok watched her face transform into what he could only guess was unabated anger. Her nose scrunched.

Then she slapped him.

Hoseok, holding his cheek (which did not ache at all, Soojin wasn’t strong like that), watched her stomp out, shoving the doors open with an animosity he didn’t think she had.

He was most definitely going to be late for class.

.

.

.

The astrophysics study commons is a quaint, aggressive space. There’s posters of Saturn and chalkboard lining the walls with confusing equations scribbled in white and at least five people arguing about velocity in the corner farthest away. This is where people find answers and actually make sense of situations. Hoseok  discusses his tragedy here for this exact purpose.

You sit back in your chair, playing with your slide rule. “She text you after?”

“Nope.”

“Did you want me to give my opinion?”

“Sure.”

You slap him.

“What—!” Now Hoseok has had plenty of time to dwell on his follies last night. But a second time? He wonders if he actually deserves good things in his life. He rubs at the poor spot on his cheek. “You didn’t need to resort to violence!”

“You’re so stupid!”

It’s not unlike you to tell it as it is. He’s known you for seventeen years now, the nicest thing you’ve ever said to him was back in fourth grade when you’d called him a good co-parent of your pet caterpillar. “Damn.”

“I mean you’ve always been bad with these things but I didn’t think you’d do something like that.”

“Like what?”

“Be a complete asshole,” you deadpan.

“I didn’t think it was that bad—“

“You told her to delete your number!”

So it was a bad move. He recognizes this. “It’s not like I don’t feel bad.”

The silence lingers as you catch your breath, watch him pensively. Something about the speed of light is being discussed in the background. He feels weirdly exposed.

“I want to try something,” you say finally.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow at you. “What.”

You stare at him blankly. For a second he thinks you’re going to slap him a second time, but instead comes—

“Hoseok, I really like you.”

The coldest, startling feeling runs up his spine. He reflexively says, “That’s disgusting,” and comes to the conclusion that the universe hates him.

“See! You can’t just say that!” You squawk.

“Why not?!”

“What if I had secret feelings for you that had been festering for years and you broke my heart?!”

“Do you?” Hoseok says, slightly alarmed.

“Wha—would you be mad if I did?”

“I would be mad if you did.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. You’re so mean about feelings.” He watches you focus on the chalkboard behind his ear. He briefly remembers drawing a loopy spaceship on it. “Look. I’m gonna pretend to be a girl confessing to you, and I want you to be more—sentimental. Okay?”

This is the weirdest thing about you. For someone so annoyingly logical about science, you still somehow kept in touch with romance. The dewy-eyed. Everything Hoseok didn’t know. He remembers junior year and the slow dance with Yubok, and how he accidentally fumbled his knuckles against her back—too low, she’d whispered harshly—and how you’d come back from hiding behind one of those big planters near the entrance, looking sparkly and gentle, mussed up, and somehow he knew you were having the best night of your life, and he’d just accidentally ruined his. He remembers that he has never been cut out for this.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok sneers, thinking about how the universe loved you.

“Too bad,” you say. “I’m gonna start. Hoseok?”

He might get smacked a third time if he doesn’t comply, so he replies, “Yeah?”

You feign shyness. Casting your eyes down, fidgeting with your shirt. “I-I… Well, I just wanted to… tell you something.”

“Sure,” he says.

Your timidness slips into anger in a blink. “I said be sentimental!”

“What—did you want to tell me?” He tries again, shrinking.

“I think—Well, I think you’re really cute—and—“ you cross your arms, and he so badly wants to yell at you to stop— “and… I was wondering. If. You wanted to grab coffee sometime?”

His answer rolls down his tongue too fast for him to catch. “No,” he says flatly, and instantly he flinches to block your slap against his arm.

“Hoseok!”

“I can’t take this seriously.”

“But I want you to be in tune with your feelings,” you whine.

“I’m plenty in tune with my feelings,” he argues. “And I’m feeling invaded right now.”

“There’s a good two feet between us right now.”

“You’re breathing in my direction, it’s enough.”

You ignore this, and reach for his hand lain flat on the table. “How does this feel?”

Surprisingly, the first word that comes to his mind is safe. But that is not a safe response. “Feels—like you’re holding my hand?”

“Ugh. Just—look into my eyes,” you urge next.

“Okay.”

They don’t curve into softness like Soojin’s does. Your gaze is hard, strikes him so hard it’s almost mortifying. Then your hand squeezes his. He discovers that he likes it.

“I really like you, Hoseok,” you say, oozing sweetness in your voice. Subdued, something you were not. Hoseok wants to throw up. “So please just consider me, okay?”

He nods, speechless.

You revert right back to your previous stance and let go of his hand. It’s almost like a betrayal. Hoseok wonders why his heart is leaping. “So how was that?”

“You’re so fucking weird,” he spits.

“I’m helping you. Look. Let’s make it a thing! I’ll teach you how to be romantic and all that stuff.”

“I’m not trusting the expert of Tiger Beat romance, thank you very much.”

You ignore his quip. “You’re a good guy, Hoseok. Soojin might’ve come on a little too strong and so did you but—really! You’re a good guy! Who deserves love and stuff because it’s just nice to have!”

Hoseok sighs. It’s not that he hated the idea of being in love, he just couldn’t help but be unavailable. Pre-occupied. He said things he didn’t mean. You know this about it him.

“Fine.” And before you can cheer, he adds, “But don’t… tell anyone about this.”

“But the big scary hockey man getting slapped by the tiniest person on campus story is so—“

“Don’t push it,” he says.

“Whatever.” You snort. “Yes, fine, it stays between us. Yay! Okay. Tomorrow I have a study group so we might need to meet up two days from now, let me check my schedule…”

You grab your planner from your bag, scanning the pages. Hoseok has the vaguest feeling that he’s in trouble.

[soft-stormcloud]

Panic Cord [Part 1/3]

Synopsis: When Virgil and his fiancé, Logan, take in Virgil’s ex boyfriend Roman and his boyfriend, Patton, Virgil’s forced to come face to face with his guilt. 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Prinxiety, Analogical, LAMP, background logicality

Word count: 2684 out of roughly 8791

Trigger warnings: Implied abusive parents, very heavy guilt, financial problems, potentially unsympathetic Virgil? It’s complicated, everyone makes mistakes.

A/N: this whole fic was inspired by the song Panic Cord by Gabrielle Aplin, 10/10 song

    “Are you serious?”

    “Yes.” 

    Logan gave his stubborn fiance a defiant look. “You’re serious?” He asked again, just to be sure. 

    Virgil nodded insistently. “Yes! Look, we play DND every week, tell me it wouldn’t be badass playing on this.” 

    He gestured towards the coffee table he wanted, an overdramatic, gothic table that would take up half of their living room. 

    Logan quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, but we eat dinner every day. Lunch, too. Imagine trying to balance a cup on one of those ridges. We might as well not even have a table.”

    Virgil held his hands up. “I’d be glad to eat on the floor.”

    He couldn’t help but laugh. “Then why… Are we even here?” 

    Virgil cracked up, too, but shook his head. “I don’t want that boring ass table.” 

    Logan pouted. He liked the table. It was simple, but not ugly, with dark reddish brown panels of wood and black iron supports. It was big enough for them to eat, and play DND, too, albeit a bit cramped. He especially liked that it looked easy to clean, and it was the perfect height for their couch. 

    Virgil hesitated, and then sighed as the bell above the shop’s door dinged. “Okay. Fine. We’ll get that table. But! I get to pick the next three games we play.” 

    Logan smiled. That meant three sessions of DND, with Logan dm’ing. “If that’ll make you happy.”

    As giggling sounded from near the door, Virgil looked up and smiled sheepishly at him. Then his eyes slid over his fiance’s shoulder, towards the couple coming towards them- One excitedly pulling his boyfriend, the other nervously and subtly trying to lead him away. 

Virgil ducked down and behind Logan, whispering, “Shit, shit, shit!” 

Logan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“That’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“Which one?”

“The tall one.”

The couple stopped to admire the table Logan picked out. The tall one stared fiercely at it, eyes not moving, stiff. The oblivious one admired the wood. 

Logan didn’t take his gaze off the tall one as he said, “I think they know you’re here.”

The round, freckled one looked at them with a polite smile. “Hm?”

The tall one peeked around Logan a bit and gave an awkward wave. “Hey, uh-” He almost said something else, and then just said, “Hey.” 

Virgil stared at him, anxiety having frozen him solid. They spent thirty seconds in the most uncomfortable silence Logan thought he’d ever witnessed, Virgil’s ex’s boyfriend completely oblivious, until Logan said, “So, you two used to date?”

That got his attention. 

“Um, yeah… I’m Roman,” the tall one said, ignoring his boyfriend’s concerned look. His hair was grown out in a messy enough way that it was clearly unintentional, faded red with inches of brown roots. His nails were painted an assortment of pastel colours. “This is my boyfriend, Patton.” Patton was dressed all in pastels, with golden circular glasses frames and platform boots. He looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t place him. His hair was also a mess, but it was curly and looked more on purpose. 

“I’m Virgil’s fiance.” Logan stuck his hand out, and Roman’s eyes went wide. 

“Fiance?” He didn’t shake Logan’s hand. Patton squeezed Roman’s arm. 

“Yes.” A small smile crawled onto Logan’s face as his eyes slid over to Virgil. Virgil blushed and looked away. “Fiance.”

“So that’s the name you picked? ‘Virgil?’” Roman forced a chuckle and glanced to Logan. “He was still trying a few out when we were together.” 

Desperate to get the attention off of him, Virgil asked, “So are you two moving in together?” 

Patton smiled brightly. “We’re trying to! But, you know, money’s tight. We figured we’d stop by here since we were close and look at some options. It’s more expensive than we thought it’d be, though.” 

Logan perked up. “You know, when Vee and I started looking at options, we found this little store downtown…” 

Logan and Patton got lost in conversation as Logan told him about the furniture store he and Virgil had found, and all the things they found for their new apartment. Virgil’s eyes widened as he realized he and Roman were, basically, left alone. 

After thirty seconds of just staring at Logan and Patton’s conversation, he realized there wasn’t really a subtle way to get out of this situation. He turned to Roman and, after a bit to think of what to say, stuttered out, “You look like you’re doing… Good?” 

A little bit of authenticity bled into Roman’s smile. “Patton’s really great. Do you, um, do you remember him?”  

“Um, I think, yeah?” Virgil looked away and scratched the back of his neck a little aggressively. Shit, Patton? Patton… He couldn’t place the name. “Probably, I don’t know.”

“I met him at that Wicked showing,” Roman reminded him. “It was, like, a week before. You only met him once.” Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh- But we didn’t do anything! We only got together a year ago. I promise, we didn’t-”

Roman tended to go on and on until someone stopped him. 

“After what happened, do you really think I could be mad at you for forgetting to tell me something?” Virgil raised his eyebrows. Every day he felt guilty for what he did. He would let Roman get away with breaking a thousand rules to their polygamy set up, let alone one. 

“I guess not,” he said quietly. He was blushing. He let out a little laugh and shrugged. “I just… Don’t like you being mad at me.” 

Virgil could tell where this headed. He rushed to speak at the same as Roman,

“It wasn’t your fault-”

“If I did anything-” 

Virgil pursed his lips and Roman chuckled. “I mean…” Roman turned away slightly, peeking at him. “There had to be a reason, right? Never mind, don’t answer that.” He fully looked away, pretending to examine one of the tables. “I shouldn’t pry.” 

“Vee?”

They both glanced back. Logan and Patton were standing close enough for their clothes to brush together, and they each had a little dopey smile on their faces. Patton broke off to join Roman, wrapping his arms around one of Roman’s. Roman smiled down at him. 

“Are you ready to go, love?” Logan asked. Little happy butterflies fluttered around Virgil’s stomach. “I have to get ready for work.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Virgil pointed back at the table they chose. “I'll get this to the register.” 

Logan turned for a moment, before looking back and asking, cautiously, “You’re not trying to trick me, are you?”

He grinned. “Which table did we pick again?”

Logan pointed at him. “I’m trusting you.” 

He went outside to go warm up the car, and Virgil reached for the box. 

“Virgil, um…” Roman smiled nervously as Virgil turned back to him. “Before you leave, could I just- Could I hug you?” 

Virgil’s heart stuttered. Dread twisted his stomach into a knot, but how could he say no? After what he did, if the guy wanted a hug, he could have a hug. He nodded. “Yeah, sure.” 

Roman almost stepped forward, but then his gaze settled on Virgil’s face, and he really looked, and he stopped. “I know you too well,” he said with a sad smile. “But, um, here… Pat, can I borrow a marker?”

“Mhm!” Patton swung his pastel purple backpack around to his front and dug inside for a moment before producing a pink marker. 

Virgil held out his arm instinctively and Roman scribbled down a phone number. “We should catch up some time, if you want.” 

Virgil knew what he was doing. It was an invitation, and nothing more. It was Roman saying, I miss you, and I feel like we ran into each other today for a reason, but I would never pressure you into anything. So, if you want to, you can reach out. 

Virgil was conflicted. 

He just nodded and forced a smile, and then got the box with Logan’s pick to the register. 

Later, while they were putting the table together, Logan said, “You know, Patton mentioned they’re still looking for a place to live.” 

Virgil looked at him in confusion. “Yeah?” 

He stared at the screw he was trying to fit in the wood. “They seemed like they were in a hurry.”

“I can imagine,” Virgil mumbled. 

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Personal stuff. Roman’s personal stuff.”

“Oh.” Logan shrugged it off. “Okay, well. I was just thinking, if it gets too bad, we could always rent out my office.” 

Virgil’s stomach coiled. “What?” He asked in panic. “To them?”

“Yes?” He looked up in confusion. “Would that not be okay?”

Virgil dropped his screwdriver. “No! No, that’s- No.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to do that. What kind of idea is that? He’s my ex.” 

“Yeah, I know, I heard that, Vee.” He sighed and set down his screwdriver, as well, giving Virgil his full attention. “But they need a place to live, and I figured things couldn’t have ended that badly. You guys got along fine today.”

“No- It wasn’t a fight.” Virgil pursed his lips and tried to figure out the best way to explain what happened, and quickly gave up. “It’s just- It’s not a good idea.”

Logan crawled around his side of the table to sit next to his fiance, taking his hands. “You’re talking like it’s already decided,” he said gently. “I was just asking your opinion. If you don’t want it to happen, it won’t, okay?” 

Virgil nodded slowly, squeezing his hands. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, I just- I panicked.” 

He smiled. “I know. It’s okay.” Logan kissed him softly, and Virgil leaned into it. “I gotta get going, though, or else I’ll be late.” He stood up and let Virgil’s hands drop from his. “Are you okay with finishing this yourself?”

Virgil picked up his screwdriver again and nodded. “Yeah. I’m off tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Logan leaned down to give him one last kiss, before leaving, grabbing his keys on the way out. 

xxx 

A few days later, Virgil burst into their apartment after work. Logan jumped as Virgil dropped his bag on the floor and dropped himself into Logan’s lap. 

“Bad day?” Logan asked, hiding a smile as he ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair. 

“Whatever,” Virgil grumbled. 

“What happened?” 

“Just a bunch of stupid shit. I didn’t even really want to be there anyway. Apparently I made some mistake yesterday, and my supervisor, like, attacked me for it.” 

Logan was immediately sceptical. “He did?” 

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t even remember, it happened as soon as I got inside.” Virgil sat up, feet planted on either side of Logan’s lap. “What, do you not believe me?”

“No, it’s not that.” Logan rested his hand on the side of Virgil’s face. “I just know how you can be.”

Virgil scowled and stuck out his tongue at him. Logan laughed and kissed him. 

“I don’t know, I was trying to make coffee and he stormed up and started snapping at me.”

“Did you snap back?”

“Of course I did. Can you blame me?” 

He shrugged. “Not really, I guess.” He tucked a loose strand of Virgil’s purple hair behind his ear. “But… I don’t know, he’s your supervisor. Is that smart?” 

Virgil grimaced as chills crawled up his back. He had been trying not to think about that. “Just because he’s my supervisor doesn’t mean he can be a dick,” Virgil grumbled. 

“No, I agree, but…” 

Virgil sighed. “Dear God, what?” 

“It sounds like he was just doing his job,” Logan said with a sigh. 

He scowled. “And being a dick about it,” he said pointedly. 

“Well, maybe, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But besides that point.” 

Virgil didn’t answer. 

“Just think about it,” Logan said gently and pulled him closer.

Virgil easily leaned against him. There was nothing in this world that calmed him down faster than his fiance. It was how he realized he was in love with Logan, in love with him the kind of way that he knew, without him, he would just ache. The first time Logan came into the room and Virgil felt undeniable, bone-deep relaxation, an overpowering feeling of safety- He knew. 

Logan was always trying to encourage him to be better; not because he didn’t think Virgil was enough, but because he saw how Virgil was constantly hurting himself, and he didn’t want to watch it. 

Virgil rolled his eyes and rested his head on Logan’s shoulder, mumbling mockingly, “Should I… Apologize?” He hated apologizing. He only really did it to Logan, and that still sucked. 

“It depends.” Logan kissed the top of his head. “How big of a dick was he being?” 

“... Not really.” 

“Then probably.” 

Virgil sighed heavily. “This is stupid.” 

Virgil knew what he was thinking: You need to stop getting so defensive. But he didn’t say it. Maybe because he knew that Virgil already knew. Maybe he felt like he got his point across fine enough without it. Either way, Virgil was grateful. 

xxx 

Virgil’s phone woke him up at 10am, and it felt like the middle of the night. 

A number unknown to his phone but memorized by Virgil showed across the scene, and his heart at once sunk to his stomach and filled with butterflies. He was frozen with indecision. A mix of relief and regret swirled inside his stomach as the phone stopped buzzing, a missed call showing up on screen… And then it all shattered as it began again. 

“Turn that shit off,” Logan groaned, wrapping an arm around Virgil’s waist. 

Virgil kissed his hand and nudged him away so he could get out of bed. He answered the phone as he tiptoed out of the bedroom. 

In their empty apartment, the world was quiet. Cars buzzed by outside, but it was muffled from so high up. The sun streamed in from the windows they forgot to draw the curtains on before going to bed, shining patterns on the carpet from the stained glass pieces Virgil had hung up. 

He tried to focus on that while he answered the phone. His blooming life with Logan, and how happy it made him. 

“Roman?” 

“Hey!” He didn’t sound happy. He sounded nervous. “So, uh… You busy right now?”

“What’s going on?” Virgil’s eyes settled on the vase of fake roses on their coffee table. They both adored plants, but neither of them had the time or patience to really take care of any. Virgil traced the familiar petals and the child safe thorns on the stem. 

“Well, you know how Patton and I were trying to find a place to live?”

“Mhm.” 

Virgil expected him to ask him and Logan to help them move in, that they found a place but they happened to bite off more than they could chew and Virgil was the only person he felt comfortable asking for such a favour. However likely that was. 

“Well, we couldn’t. And, uh…”

Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. Dread tangled his stomach into knots. “What’s wrong, why can’t you keep looking?”

“Well, we can! It just…” 

“Give me the phone,” a soft voice said from Roman’s side of the phone, and after a moment of shuffling, the voice came out clearer. “Virgil? It’s Patton. We were just wondering if you know anybody who has a spare room for rent. Like… Today, maybe.” 

“Is everything okay?” They were freaking him out. 

“I ran out of rent money a few months ago, and I was hoping to get paid today, but… Anyway, I guess I overstayed my welcome. My landlord kicked me out. And Roman won’t let me stay with him.” 

That much was obvious- Virgil wouldn’t let a frog stay with Roman’s parents. 

“So?” Patton tried much too hard to sound cheerful. “Do you maybe know anybody?” 

Virgil looked back to their bedroom, where Logan was standing in the doorway, watching him in concern. “Yeah,” Virgil said. “I have a place.”

Reblogs are better than likes

[preservationandruin]

Rhythm of War Liveblog, Part One Part Four (Chapters 12-15)

Previous Post

Onward! I feel like these posts are pretty long and don’t cover a lot, but then i remember that a lot of Part One every time is setting up what’s happening, and this one in particular we have an entire year’s worth of stuff to fill in, so I guess it’s warranted. 

Kaladin hangs out with friends against his will, I remember that Adolin is a Horse Girl, Mraize talks about the interplanetary economy, Teleporting Fucker is a Legendarily Sore Loser, I have high hopes for spren necromancy, and Kaladin asks Zahel for advice. 

We’re back to Kaladin, who is...not having a good time. He feels like he has to appear strong for Syl and the others, and not to let his problems affect them; he’s also hit hard by the feeling that Bridge Four is something that was in the past, not something that’s consistent and now. 

“Hey,” Leyten said as they reached the tower entrance. “Rock! Got any stew for us maybe? For old times’ sake?” Kalaidn turned. The word “stew” pierced the cloud.

Rock can’t, he’s busy, and Kaladin goes to his rooms--which are sparse and empty, even though he has pretty good accommodations--and tries to self-isolate, which...mood. He starts going into what seems like a panic attack (paralyzed, curling into the fetal position, thoughts spiralling to what Moash was talking about) when the door is near-literally kicked down by Adolin and Syl. 

(will i use this every time Adolin does things? probably) 

Adolin manages to drag Kaladin out of his room, in what is--honestly--a pretty good way to do it for someone who is depressed--he makes the point that Kaladin doesn’t have to be happy, he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy, but he should be miserable around other people. And he does it in just...a very Adolin way: 

“You spend too many evenings alone, bridgeboy,” Adolin said, glancing at the nearby exhaustionspren, then grabbing Kaladin by the arm--something few other people would have dared.  “I like being by myself,” Kaladin said.  “Great. Sounds awful. Today, you’re coming with me. No more excuses. I let you blow me away last week and the week before.” 

I love that “blow me away” is Roshar-slang for “blow me off” 

Kaladin tries to lash out and say maybe he just doesn’t like being around Adolin, Adolin dares him to say, with an oath, that he should be alone right now--and Kaladin can’t, because--of course--Kaladin shouldn’t be alone right now.

“Ha,” Adolin said, tugging him along by the arm. “Come on, Brightlord Master Highmarshal Stormface. Change your coat to one that doesn’t smell like smoke, then come with me. You don’t have to smile. You don’t have to talk. But if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well do it with friends.” 

This is so good. I think on some level when you self-isolate, what people want (or at least, what I want) is to have someone willing and able to drag you out of it despite the fact that you don’t want to be around people--and I’m so glad that Adolin is that person. 

Kaladin demands to know why Syl got Adolin of all people, despite that scene literally showing why Adolin was the perfect person to bring, and Syl responds that she needed someone Kaladin couldn’t intimidate...and, in the end, Kaladin ends up thanking her. 

And then we go to Adolin’s favorite bar, where Veil is waiting, where the gang just start hanging out--and Adolin and Veil start talking about trying to set Kaladin up with someone. This is about the moment where I crowed in victory, because while I didn’t see this specifically coming up, Adolin and Veil being drinking buddies who are a) overly-invested in Kaladin’s love life and b) end up talking about attractive people together IS something I called at the end of Oathbringer. Bi Disaster Drinking Club lives. 

(Casper, Adolin isn’t confirmed bi-- Listen. listen. give me this.) 

“Oh, don’t be sour,” Veil said, smacking [Kaladin] on the shoulder. “You didn’t even glance at her. She’s cute. Look at those legs. Back me up, Adolin.” 

I love all the Veil and Adolin banter we get here, because it only gets better--Veil asking for details of one of Adolin’s past relationships, Adolin trying to get out of it, Kaladin getting to enjoy time with his friends even when (maybe especially when) those friends are ridiculous. And then we also get another good moment of Adolin and Kaladin friendship when Veil goes off to gamble--Adolin asks Kaladin for advice for how to help Shallan with her own issues, but the advice Kaladin gives is also good advice for dealing with Kaladin, which Adolin knows and did on purpose. Kaladin asks why Adolin hasn’t become a Radiant yet, to which Adolin says that he’s not a good fit, he guesses--but the real reason, of course, is that Adolin refuses to give up Mayalaran. 

Listen--by not giving up Mayalaran, Adolin is proving himself the Edgedancer she deserves and I will die on this hill. 

And then things go back to being sad, because Rock is leaving--going back to his people to recieve judgement for breaking their rules by killing Amaram. He says he probably won’t be returning and hugs Kaladin, who gives him a few other members of Bridge Four as an escort--some of his kids, including Cord--the Shardbearer--stay in Urithiru. 

I deeply suspect this will not be the last we see of Rock, because there’s no way in hell, but it was both touching and really sad at the same time. 

We move back to Shallan the next morning, going through her day while Adolin is out horseriding; I can’t believe I nearly forgot Adolin is a Horse Girl, despite literally everything about Adolin being prime horse girl. Shallan gets a message about a spren coming to negotiate--probably one  of Sja-anat’s spren--and she visits her brothers as well, sketching by their fire. 

We get that she’s researched DID--or, the Rosharan understanding of DID--and the results haven’t been heartening, with people who have DID mostly being objectified and ridiculed. It also notes that memory loss is a common symptom, which Shallan notes she doesn’t really experience. 

Mraize shows up at her brothers’ house, both as a threat--his cover is an older soldier who is known to be clumsy and could, in theory, injure someone around him--and to talk to Shallan. We get more of the goals of the Ghostbloods--they’re trying to set up an Investiture trade across the Cosmere. Which is actually super smart--investiture is pretty easy to come by on Roshar, which is the entire reason Vasher/Zahel is there. I can see Nalthis in particular loving a way to sustain their gods that, uh, doesn’t involve sucking out souls. 

Mraize also basically confirms his mole is a lightweaver, which...I’m really hoping this isn’t the case, but I’m starting to suspect the mole is perhaps Formless, or a similar Alter of Shallan’s. She’s had some weird logic gaps that she doesn’t understand, and we just got the mention of alters maybe not able to remember what each other are doing. 

Now, I really hope that’s not the case, because that’s a tired old trope with DID--the evil alter ego. It’s really tired and awful for people who have DID, so I hope that’s not the twist here. 

Anyway, Mraize gives her her next job, which is going to find Restares--who is in the honorspren citadel of Lasting Integrity. Mraize says when she meets Restares, she’ll know what to do, and that once she completes that, she’ll get all the answers she could want from the Ghostbloods. 

We go back to Venli in Kholinar; a new group of Fused are here for bodies, and Leshwi is worried about one of them in particular--one of the fannahn-im, Those of Alteration. We meet the Nine, leaders of the Fused who are in pillars fused to the floor of their chamber, which Venli points out is just dooming the people whose bodies they took to a horrible form of entombment. 

Venli can feel Odium watching, which I responded to with “come on motherfucker, 1v1 me.” Listen, I would die, but what a way to go. 

The Teleporting Fucker--Lezian the Pursuer--is one of the Nex-im, Those of Husks, who are the Ninth Brand. He doesn’t defer to the Nine and claims Kaladin has to be Fourth Ideal because he “couldn’t be defeated by an ordinary human.” Which is hilarious, because he was. You were defeated by an ordinary human whose powers were blocked. Kaladin is just that good. 

Anyway, he claims he now has to go kill Kaladin because his whole deal is that he murders any human who kills him: 

“Milennia ago, Lezian was the first Fused to be killed by a human. To avoid the shame of such a death, upon returning to life, Lezian ignored all orders and rational arguments--and went into battle seeking only the man who had killed him.” 

So he’s a loose cannon who everyone goes along with because they can’t stop him and because he developed a legend around his stupid decisions? Got it. I’m really amused that this guy’s entire thing is just being Roshar’s Sorest Loser. Anyway, Leshwi disputes his claim and says that she has first dibs on killing Kaladin--Venli notes that Leshwi probably doesn’t even know that she’s trying to protect Kaladin. 

Guys, I can’t believe Fused war tactics operate on the dibs system. Also, this feels just like a continuation of my joke that everyone in this series has a type and that type is Kaladin. 

Anyway, then we meet the new lady who Leshwi is worried about--Raboniel, the Lady of Wishes. She was one of the Nine but stepped down to become more active; Leshwi talks about how she is a scientist without morals, whose plan the last Desolation was to release a plague that would affect Singers as well as humans and actually did, but fortunately didn’t have as great an effect as she hoped. So now biological warfare is coming onto the table. 

Raboniel pushes to seize Urithiru to strike against the humans; she created the anti-powers Fabrial and now wants to reverse the “Sibling’s heart” to nullify radiants in Urithiru, although she notes that Fourth Ideal ones could pull through--and she wants to experiment on the Sibling, who is effectively a deadeye. 

This is interesting, because we’ve already seen a deadeye start to respond to people--Mayalaran. Is spren necromancy going to get a day in the sun in this book? Please, please let spren necromancy through the power of friendship be a plot point. 

Anyway, Leshwi offers Venli to Raboniel as an aide, while wanting Venli to spy for her on Raboniel’s plans; Venli is happy about being on this strike, because she wants to see if she can find someone who can teach her how to be a Radiant. 

We also get this good note from Leshwi, which--to me--calls back the fact that there’s a whole narrative about if war can be honorable happening here: 

“Extinction is the natural escalation of this war,” Leshwi whispered. “If you forget why you are fighting, then victory itself becomes the goal. The longer we fight, the more detached we become. Both from our own minds, and from our original Passions.” She hummed softly to abashment.

We get back to Kaladin, who pushed through the worst of his depressive episode (although I would note that this could support the idea that something Odium-y is making it worse; now he’s in the Tower, it’s Regular Depression which he’s better at dealing with). Sigzil has now been put in charge of administration for the Windrunners; Kaladin tried to make it Teft but Teft was like absolutely not, fuck you for suggesting it. 

Kaladin goes to find Zahel, wanting to talk to him, and finds him doing laundry; on the way he talks to Rlain, who is overseeing people growing plants by gemlight and music, which is how the listeners used to do it. Rlain gets excited at the mention of an honorspren who will work with him, but when Kaladin explains the situation, he demurs--understandably. 

“I will wait for a spren who will bond me for who I am--and for the honor I represent.”

Rlain--in particular Rlain, who knows the experience of being forced into partnerships and jobs you don’t want--doesn’t want a spren who sees him as a burden or something that they don’t want to bond, and that’s completely valid of him. 

Anyway, Kaladin finds Zahel hanging up bright scarves in the laundry; Kaladin asks Zahel if he should join the martial ardents as a solution to what he should do next, noting that Zahel “couldn’t give up the sword.” 

“Oh, I gave it up. I let go. Best mistake I ever made.” 

YEAH, AND NOW YOUR SWORD SON IS TERRORIZING ROSHAR, VASHER. 

Well, not terrorizing. Mostly it’s just with Szeth, who is...somewhere around here, probably. Somewhere Zahel is avoiding at all costs bc Nightblood would take one look at him and just start yelling. 

Zahel spars with Kaladin, fully exploiting the colored cloth around them and his own style of fighting while talking to Kaladin about why he fights. In the end, he says he can’t sponsor Kaladin--because Kaladin still loves fighting too much for him to really be an ardent. Kaladin also notes that Zahel fights like Azure--Zahel irritably corrects that she fights like him. 

God I really want to see Azure and Zahel on the same page. Vasher you can’t run forever. 

There’s also a meta discussion; Zahel talks about the different levels of invested beings, and how he’s had to update it from the time in Warbreaker he did the same thing. He notes that for people like him: 

“We’re spren masquerading as men. That’s why she takes our memories. She knows we aren’t the actual people who died, but something else given a corpse to inhabit...” 

So that’s both interesting and rather somber; “she” in this case is of course Endowment. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this bit, other than that it’s sad and interesting in that it draws a comparison with the Fused, who do a similar thing but instead of taking the shape/personality of the corpse they’re inhabiting, kill it and replace it. 

Also, I’m not sure Zahel is right, here, because Lightsong did remember his past as the story went on, and did remember emotional connection to people from his past. So there might be more there than Zahel is giving it credit for.