#I started this with far too many expectations

[northwest-cryptid]

So I realize that a lot of people might take this response in bad faith, and while I don't have a catch-all answer to the problem. I do want to state a few things I've seen and that I fear we in the left are chronically bad about. I genuinely hope that people won't view this as some ignorant idiot running their mouth; and rather as someone who's looking to help, because what I'm going to ask of you sounds a little accusatory.

A big thing is that you have to stop with the generalization. I've heard people say "but they do it" and "but it IS most of them" and such. I get it, I get it but you can't say "Cis, Straight, White Men are bad" and then expect the good Cis, Straight, White Men to still stand up for you. I've always been told "but the good ones won't care!" Yes, they will.

I was once told by a Rightwinger on a forum that "the Left are a powerful force in converting people to be conservative." When I asked him about what he meant exactly; he explained (with the use of far too many slurs and insults I'll be omitting) that essentially when otherwise Left-Leaning individuals see the way Leftists talk about them or people like them, it's very easy for Rightwingers to sweep in and basically say "we're not going to judge you like that." Of course they hide the fact they will judge you in other ways, but for that moment; they are a beacon of shelter from the otherwise very loud mob of Leftists who would deem you literally the most inherently bad person for being... a cis man.

Am I saying you have to go out there and start forgiving every bigot, humoring every fuckboy; stop holding sexists accountable for their bullshit? Absolutely not. In fact, what I'm asking you to do is stop firing a shotgun at a target that can only be hit properly with a sniper rifle. I'm asking you to stop giving the bad actors a scapegoat. I'm asking you to be specific.

If you take a young man, who doesn't have any concept of things like gender identity, the patriarchy, homophobia, etc. You take that young man and you look him in the eyes and you tell him:

"Men are a disgusting and violent gender, men do not deserve respect. The only good man is a fictional man. All men deserve to be treated poorly, women shouldn't have to put up with men. Cis men are the worst. Straight Cis Men should go to hell."

He's going to become a conservative rightwinger, because at least they won't hate him for being a man. They'll just hate him for being the wrong kind of man. It's easier for that man to seek acceptance through forcing others to be below him, than for him to accept that he is inherently a problem. If you instead literally word it as:

"Sexists and bigots, who would view women as nothing more than objects are disgusting. Anyone who would look down on, and see someone as lesser because of their race, gender identity, or sexuality does not deserve respect."

Well now he's not a target. Because he doesn't see women that way, he doesn't have racist thoughts; he's not currently a bad person and you're not talking about him. Now I know that a lot of people say "but I'm NOT talking about people like that!" I know that, you know that; you know who doesn't know that? The young man who's reading your posts, the young man who hears you at the store, the young man who read your forum response 3 months ago. What they see, plain as day is "men are a problem" and they're going to seek shelter from that.

Unfortunately for everyone involved; the shelter they end up finding so many times is conservative rightwingers. There are tons of people you can hear talk about this on youtube and forums, people who got indoctrinated because they would rather be praised for being a man than hated for it.

Now you might not talk this way, a lot of people don't; but a lot of other people DO. I see a lot of "the only good man is a trans man" or "the only good man is a fictional man" type posts, and even if you want to say it's just a meme or it's all a joke. You need to understand that when you speak generally, a man, especially a young man is going to see that and react to it. It's going to shape their idea of how the Left, who you represent to them whether you want to or not; see them.

If a young man who currently is unaligned on either side of the political spectrum sees a bunch of gay and trans people shitting on men for simply "being men" and not for the patriarchy, not for the sexism, not for male privilege and all that. Not actually educating anyone, not speaking out about the injustice; not discussing toxic masculinity or anything that may even shine a light on the issues people face. Just saying "men suck" and leaving it at that. Only to then see a bunch of Rightwingers saying all those gays and trans people are stupid and they are bad people and they hate men for no reason. That young man is going to make a no-effort decision in that moment to side with the people who do not openly hate him.

It's genuinely that easy for someone to become indoctrinated. Once they're in, they're rewarded for thinking less, promoting the ideals that promise them a higher spot on the social ladder; and generally following the mentality that Leftists are bad, and Rightwingers are good. They keep digging themselves into that hole trying to find a place they belong, somewhere they won't be hated; somewhere they don't need to feel guilty and wrong for just being who they are. Until they learn that the Right also thinks they're bad and wrong, they're a "beta" because they haven't fucked someone yet, they're a "soyboy" if they're not benching 200 pounds, making six figures, and banging a new girl each week. So now the urge for acceptance has shifted. Being a man means nothing if you're not "the right kind of man" if you're not an alpha, if you're not a sigma male then you're not good enough.

Go figure now they start viewing women as objects. That's not a woman, that's a ticket to not being a beta virgin anymore. She can be bought, she can be manipulated because he's an "alpha" he has money, he has control; he's a man. He's been taught all of this, he's been taught that "bitches don't matter." He's been told that working out and having money can get him any woman he wants. He's been taught women are dumb, that they're materialistic; that they don't matter outside of being a quick fuck. If someone tells him off, or doesn't like him it's because "she's a crazy bitch." I was once told "men don't have friends, men have competition." This is how they're taught.

So now you approach this man in some attempt to help him understand the faults in his ways. The problem is he's been convinced for the last so many odd years that by simply being a Leftist, or by being gay, or by being trans; you're wrong. Before a single word leaves you mouth. Because "all Leftists are special snowflakes who just get triggered by everything." Which unfortunately the internet has "proved" to him because of those videos of gay people screaming at cameras, or posts that generalize all straight/white/cis men to be bad people.

Again, this isn't some catch all solution. It's not going instantly turn the tide or something, but you have to stop using general terms. Be specific; don't say "men" say "Sexists" if what you mean is "sexist men" then say "sexist men." Because when you just say "men" you do imply "all men, including you; the man reading this." Whether that's what you mean or not. I don't believe that men are inherently born with a want for things like sexism and racism. I really don't believe men are some inherent evil born with bad intentions. I believe it's a combination of the way the popular culture tells them they should be something great; and the way the Left tell them they're a horrible person for how they were born. That's a fast track for becoming a "Crypto Hitler."

I cannot tell you how many genuine conversations I've been able to have with Rightwingers, where I've been able to sort of get them to see my side of things even just a little. Because I didn't point a finger at larger audiences. I was talking to a man on a forum just a few days ago about the inherent issue of sexism in an abortion ban. I made sure to use the word "sexists" and the word "men" as separate entities. When I was discussing how men have bodily autonomy that women don't, I would say just that; when I mentioned that sexists want to control a woman's body I would also say just that. He still mentioned several times "Well I never said I wanted to do that." To which I had to point out to him that I never said he did, I said Sexists did; so if he wasn't in fact Sexist then the shoe doesn't fit.

My goal in all of that was to absolve him of blame; but only so long as he didn't fit the bill for the sort of people who deserved the blame. I let him see it as a matter of simple fact. No different than saying "if you didn't shoot this man then you're not the murderer." I didn't say "everyone with a gun shot this man and therefore everyone with a gun, including you; is in fact the murderer." Because doing so would cause nothing but argument. Rather I treated the whole thing as though he couldn't have possibly been at fault right? By the end of it he came out of it saying that abortion still goes against his religious beliefs; but that he can understand how it's specifically a women's issue; and how there should be further discussion about the effects of abortion as a treatment that could potentially save lives. Crazy how that works right? I got a Rightwinger to admit that hey, abortion isn't an issue men should be speaking on. All because I ensured that he didn't feel as though I was pointing a finger specifically at HIM as a man, for being the problem; and instead let him come to the conclusion of whether or not he specifically fit the mold of a "sexist" or a "man." He told me that I was a lot smarter than "those autistic leftists" but he never knew I in fact am an autistic Leftist. That's literally just because in his mind he knows what an "Autistic Leftist" is, what they will say; how they will act, how they'll react. By not being that stereotype; he couldn't just label me some buzzword and write off what I was saying. In his eyes I was a man with a wife and was merely concerned over the safety of our wives and daughters.

Sometimes that's what it takes to make someone see things your way, if I explained to him that I'm a pansexual genderfluid individual who never intends to have children and just believes women should have the right to bodily autonomy for the sake of bodily autonomy the same as cis men have; well he'd probably write me off immediately.

I'm not saying you have you hide who you are, I'm not saying you have to appeal to their bigoted whims and humor their insults. However I am saying that you need to conduct yourself in a way that's going to show young men that you care about them too. That even the young cis white straight men have a place in a Leftist society; that they won't be hated for simply being true to themselves, how they identity; and how they love. That what we want is equality for everyone; and specifically what rights they have for simply being those things, that the rest of us don't for simply being who and what we are.

tl;dr We can save a lot of young men from becoming Crypto Hitlers if we actually stop talking about men in general like they're already Crypto Hitlers.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus likes to stare at you

cw: suggestive themes, hardcore pinning, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, obsessive thoughts, yandere?? optimus i guess, bro is down bad for you

word count: 995

an: had a blast wiritng this, i love making characters disgustingly obsessed with reader lmao

He was doing it again.

Optimus is a calculated being. He didn’t make rash decisions, never threw words to the wind. Every action he took had meaning; none were purposeless or born of impulse or whim. He was crafted to be the perfect leader, to guide thousands, millions. He was supposed to be an authority, the alpha and omega, someone to be respected, admired, and followed. But there was one creature who turned his philosophy upside down and broke his facade.

He blinked once, twice. His optics returned to reading the report on the datapad. However, not even ten seconds of focus passed—a return to being the Prime—and his attention was anchored somewhere else again.

He couldn’t tell anymore, was he doing it on purpose or automatically? A force stronger than him, stronger than Primus himself, was pulling his optics toward that one being capable of breaking him. In the presence of this rare power, he was truly defenseless, revealing to everyone close to him the truth of his feelings, the intensity of which surpassed his wildest expectations. They had grown beyond his control, fierce and unyielding, like a wild beast impossible to tame.

He knew it was inappropriate, and unfitting for you and his friends; he should have restrained the beast before it became a problem. But he hadn’t. He had failed, and another burden had taken residence on his shoulders.

You laughed, and his optics instantly shifted to you. His spark throbbed pleasantly, distracting him from tormenting his very being. He adored that sound, rejoicing every time he heard it. It was melodic, soothing, and calming. In an instant, it tamed his chaotic processor, now focused solely on you, the real you. Optimus observed every smile, frown, and wrinkle on your face with great curiosity, even though he had done it countless times. He watched your chest rise and fall, counting how many breaths you took in a minute. He searched for any abnormalities or signs of illness. Nothing escaped his attention.

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the report. Not when you were so close to him, when he knew there was a microscopic chance you’d start a conversation with him. You’d honor him and look at him, too. He didn't dare to ask for more. He longed, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself that—at least not now. For the sake of keeping an image, he still held the datapad in his hand, but his thoughts were circling around you.

You were discussing something with Miko about a topic he didn’t understand, related to Earth’s video games. For some time now, he had planned to gather knowledge about them, so he could have conversations with you beyond his comfort zone, aligned with your interests. He wanted to be more approachable, and friendly, enticing you to spend more time with him. Amidst the stream of words, he caught a single one, which he assumed was a title, and made a mental note to study it later. Would you be happy to see him as someone worth talking to? Would you smile, let him hold you on his servo or shoulder? Help ease a processor constantly focused on unknowns and daydreams?

Content simply to be in your presence, yet fantasizing about something deeper, more intimate, he was still intently watching you. He had drifted so far from shore that he acknowledged Jack's and Rafael’s greetings a second too late. He nodded to the kids and briefly watched as they climbed onto the couch beside you. You had a way with children, caring for them, and helping with their school projects, but most importantly, you were their friend. Seeing you surrounded by children had an effect on Optimus—a feeling he was even frightened to contemplate because it easily took over him, pulling him away from reality, creating visions that would never come true, no matter how much he wanted them to.

"You are crossing the line," he reminded himself, fully aware that he had crossed it long ago. The cup had overflowed; there was no going back. Primus, he had just daydreamed about having offspring with a different species.

The truth was, despite all the self-flagellation, despite the hatred for what he had become, the ruin he had brought upon himself, he didn’t want to stop. You were a pleasant distraction from the war, death, and suffering that had accompanied him since becoming Prime, and for now, he didn’t plan to (couldn't) let go of that distraction. This didn’t mean his little obsession with you was painless—quite the contrary. However, those brief moments when your attention was focused on him, when you shared your touch as you traveled with him through Jasper when you looked only at him, made up for all the pain, torment, and hell he went through. Then there was no war, no Decepticons, no Optimus Prime. There was only him and you.

One last time, he tried to return to the report, but this time it wasn’t his illusions sabotaging his work. This time, it was you.

“Optimus,” your voice freed him from the prison of his thoughts. “I’d totally understand if you don’t have time to leave the base. But… would you perhaps like to drive me home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course, [Name],” he replied immediately because refusing you made no sense.

“Can’t you ask Bumblebee instead of dragging Optimus to fulfill your whims?” Ratchet intruded into the conversation.

“That will not be a problem for me,” Optimus assured, with an unusually stern tone aimed more at the medic than at you. “I am at your service, [Name].”

“Thank you!”

He transformed and waited patiently for you to join him. He opened the door, and once you climbed into the seat, he fastened the seatbelt himself. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the slow pace he had settled upon, that this time he had decided to be selfish, savoring the unrestrained pleasure of your privacy.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork. 

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too. 

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress. 

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough. 

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses. 

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way. 

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them. 

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion. 

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him. 

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once. 

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

​​Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up. 

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case. 

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter. 

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile. 

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp. 

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems. 

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi. 

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast. 

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway. 

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong. 

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know. 

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him. 

It’s not like it’s a lie. 

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm. 

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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[that-basic-simp]

R&R

Lara Croft x Fem! Reader CW: N/A WC: 1.1k+

"Are you sure we're in the right place, Lara?" I asked.

"I was the one who gave you directions," she sighed.

"That is true, but I didn't expect your house to be this..."

"Big? Huge?"

"Yes," I whispered.

She chuckled, "I get that a lot."

She pulled her arm from around my shoulders and limped towards the gates.

"S-Should you be even walking on that leg?"

"No."

"Then why are you?"

"I don't want to burden you with carrying me."

"I can carry you, Lara. No problem."

"You're banged up, too, Y/N."

"I know I am, but I'm not the one with a sprained ankle."

"I'll walk it off."

"If you walk it off, it'll need more than just a splint."

As soon as the gates were pushed open, I grabbed Lara by her shoulders to turn her to face me.

"What?" she asked.

"Get on my back. I am carrying you to the door."

"It's a bit of a walk from here."

"I don't care. Just as long as you're off that leg, that's all that matters."

Lara sighed, "There's no saying no to this, right?"

"No. I know your charismatic ways, Lara, but let me take care of you for once. Please."

She smiled, "What would I do without you, Y/N?"

"Walk on a sprained ankle."

She laughed and I turned to where my back was facing her. She jumped up and I grabbed underneath her legs. I started to walk towards the door of the mansion after she had closed the gates to it. It wasn't a terrible walk, but I underestimated Lara's body mass. Of course it was mostly muscle, but damn. She sure has a lot of it. Once I reached the door, I set her down and fell to all fours.

"You ok?" Lara asked.

"Yeah," I huffed out. "J-Just give me a minute."

Lara unlocked the door and pushed it open. When I got up, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and grabbed my other arm, wrapping it around her waist.

"Let's just do it how we did before."

I nodded and I followed her directions as she led me through the house. When I entered her room, I almost fell once more. It was huge. There were a lot of artifacts from ancient places. There were taxidermy animals in every corner and even mounted on the walls. A large bed sat against the far back wall and there was a door to the right.

"What do you need? I can get it for you," I said as I set her on the bed.

"I just need to rest for now," Lara said. "Afterwards, I need to get back out there."

"You're not going out there."

"What do you mean?"

"With a sprained ankle? You're not going anywhere until it is properly looked at and healed."

Lara shook her head, "I can't afford to rest and relax."

"Yes, you can. You need it, Lara," I reached down and grabbed her hand. "Please."

She let out a sigh, "Fine. I wouldn't mind if you drew me a bath."

"Of course," I said and walked towards the door that was behind me.

"Wrong door," she said.

"There's so many damn doors in here!"

"One over there," she pointed to the door that was on the other side of the room.

I walked over there and opened the door. Afterwards, it was smooth sailing from there.

"Do you want extra bubbles?"

"Just a normal amount," Lara responded.

"Extra it is!"

"Y/N! Don't overdo it!"

Once the water was hot and there were a good amount of bubbles, I headed over to Lara and helped her into the bathroom. I stepped out and closed the door to let her have her private time.

"You're not coming back in here?"

"I-I didn't know if you wanted me in there with you."

"I want someone to talk to aside from myself."

I opened the door and almost fell for a second time. Her back was facing me and her hair was out of her ponytail. I could see where every muscle creased and flexed, where her shoulder blades were if she moved her shoulders back enough. Not to mention, the many scars and scratches that were on her back. I stepped towards her and lightly ran a hand over one I distinctly remember. I was the cause of it. It didn't happen too long ago, but it healed to where it left a white jagged line in its wake.

It was also the first time I had run into Lara, starting our friendship. I had stolen a priceless artifact from people who were going to sell it people in the black market. From there, with the money they got, they were going to do illegal trading in the ivory business. When they saw my not so sneaky get away, they were after me. I tried to get rid of them, but they had cornered me. Lara came in to save the day, but while she was fighting the men, one came up behind her and cut along her back with a dagger. After her fight with them, I took her to see a doctor. Afterwards, we had become inseparable.

"Don't blame yourself," Lara said.

"I-I just can't forgive myself."

"It wasn't your fault," she turned over her shoulder. "You did the right thing."

"I didn't want to hear anymore news of the illegal trade."

"You did your best. And so did I. That's all that matters."

I pulled my hand away and sat on the stool that was in the bathroom. I rested my arms on the ledge of the bathtub and rested my head on my arms.

"Look where it brought the both of us," Lara said softly.

"I guess there is an upside to that situation."

"Always has been."

"How did you not get lonely out there?"

"I had other people beside me, but with our line of work, I kept people at arms length. I couldn't get close to them because I was afraid of them losing me or me losing them."

"Have you lost anyone so far?"

"So far, no. I am grateful for it."

"I'm glad I haven't lost you either," I smiled, my heart beat faster against my chest.

"You know, Y/N," Lara inched closer to me, placing a hand on my forearm. "Out of all the people I met, you're by far my favorite."

"Really?" I smiled giddily.

"Yeah," she inched closer. "I told myself to not get close to anyone, no matter what circumstances. When I tried to push you away, you just kept coming back harder and harder. There was a fire in your heart, in your soul that I couldn't understand until recently."

"It was hard to get through to you, but I'm glad I did," I whispered as I leaned closer to where every word grazed her lips.

Her one hand came up and was placed against the back of my head while the other cupped my cheek. She pressed her lips against mine and I happily kissed back. Oh how I waited, how I longed for this moment. I pulled away and pressed my forehead against Lara's.

"Good thing I am taking some R&R," Lara said.

"Yeah."

"Will you spend it with me?"

"Of course, Lara."

[lazyscience]

So for my followers who come with a factory-installed uterus I know you're concerned about your health and autonomy. And you well should be

But here's something all of you should be thinking about and planning for no matter what your plumbing - if Trump goes through with putting RFK Jr. in a position of power as far as the Department of Health and Human Services, he could do a LOT of damage as far as vaccines. Vaccines are not super profitable for pharma companies, despite what cranks think; they take a LOT of development for only a few uses. Vaccines are driven by public health requirements and a lot of places would shrug and say "ok, bet" if there isn't a guaranteed market for them.

The professional medical community will still have recommendations about when and how to vaccinate, but they won't have the force of law, and insurance will probably smell blood in the water and start kicking up a fuss about covering vaccines when they're not required. So then when doctors recommend them there'll be suspicion and pushback that they're just doing it for "kickbacks" even though the only doctor who would have gotten paid for vaccine is ironically Andrew Wakefield, the lying fuckshit, because his whole "vaccines cause autism" lie was to push his OWN, SPECIAL proprietary vaccines that wouldn't cause his made-up syndrome, because NO vaccines were causing it. May he roast somewhere warm when the devil comes for him.

This will not happen immediately, but. Because there will no doubt be anticipatory compliance on the part of drug companies and healthcare systems. I HIGHLY advise you get the fuck out there and get your Tdap updated (tetanus, diptheria and pertussis). Whooping cough is out there, and it is horrible for babies. If you are eligible for shingles vaccine and haven't done it, get that. Get your COVID vax if you haven't, there might not BE another one, at least not that's available in the US.

If you have kids, especially make sure THEY'RE up to date because their classmates might very well not be mandated to get them any more - state regulations will undoubtedly vary, but with the current composition of the Court, it will rule in favor of every possible exemption for antivaxxers as possible because the conservatives are all "fuck the weakest of us, I got mine fuck you." And expect idiocy like "pox parties" to spread (not like the average suburban parent can tell measles from rubella from chicken pox from hand foot and mouth by fuckin' looking at it, who knows what the christ they're going to be passing around). Measles is NOT just a "bit of a rash." Rubella is the world's leading preventable cause of birth defects. Chickenpox can result in scarring, encephalitis causing blindness or even death, and the risk of shingles later in life. I have a cousin who would be 57 this year who died as a toddler from hemophilus influenzae strain B meningitis, one of those "too many" childhood vaccines that were invented in the 1990s. Tell my aunt that's too many vaccines -oh, wait, you can't, she fucking killed herself out of grief her baby died.

tweens? get them the HPV vaccine if they haven't gotten it (given its associations with sex it'll probably be one of the first to go, but it prevents CANCER. who wants their child to get cervical cancer, or penile cancer, or throat cancer, or rectal cancer? IT PREVENTS CANCER. JUST DO IT.)

Similarly, if you have a child with any kind of immune issue that precludes vaccination, I would very much look into homeschooling, because bye-bye herd immunity.

If you have teenage kids, encourage them to update their Tdap and get the meningiococcal meningitis vaccine if they haven't been mandated to already by campus policy. Tetanus and meningitis aren't common, but they are frequently permanently life-altering when they're not fatal. We're talking months in the hospital. I'm old enough that I remember people fucking dying in college, and the panic that went around campus every time one of those breakouts happened in the state wondering if it would make its way to our campus.

Stay safe out there. I have no idea what this will do to our already teetering healthcare system but I don't think it'll be pretty. Everybody pray Trump pulls his usual scam and hangs RFK Jr. out to dry, because while the plutocrats consider regulations an unnecessary burden, they don't have a stake in creating a public health state of emergency when we already have a workforce not keeping up with demand, unlike Captain Convenient Brain Worm.

[writingtraumaforever]

Die With A Smile: A Sonadow Oneshot

Notes: My friend challenged me to write Sonadow karaoke. This is the result. Very crackhead. Much gay.

Summary: Shadow loses a bet with Rouge and has to attend a karaoke party. Shenanigans ensue.

Rating: T for language

Start:

Shadow has got to stop placing bets with Rouge.

It’s his own fault, really. His ego is too big, and his need to prove himself as the Ultimate Lifeform in every possible way is far too strong. Rouge? Rouge knows this and takes advantage. Every. Time.

And as it has been many times before, her cons came in the form of a bet.

Walking over with a towel, she fiddled with it in her hands as she spoke, “So you coming to Amy’s Karaoke Spectacular??”

“I’ve already answered this. Seven times,” Shadow grumbles as he washes dishes, passing one off to Rouge to dry. This is their routine. They’ve been roommates for a little over eight months now, and the deal is whoever doesn’t cook has to wash the dishes. Tonight, that’s Shadow.

Rouge gives him a little pout, placing the dried dish on the rack and waiting for the next one, “Aw come on, Shadow.. Not even for me?”

“Why on earth would that make a difference?” Shadow questions with a quirk of his brow and teasing little smirk.

Rouge rolls her eyes at him with a huff, “Okay then. What if I said ‘pretty please’??”

“The physical appearance of the please doesn’t matter,” Shadow says unbothered, handing the next dish to her as he then begins scrubbing at the pan the chopped potatoes had cooked on, “And begging doesn’t suit you..”

“Hmph,” she growls a bit, placing her hands on her hips a moment before then growing a slow smirk, “What if we made a bet??”

Shadow’s ear twitches at that, looking at her out of the corners of his eyes a moment. She has that mischievous glint in them. He knew it was trouble, and still he-

“I’m listening..”

Rouge moves the pan Shadow is working on out of the sink, Shadow’s brows furrowing questioningly as he watches her instead place the towel she’s been holding in his hands.

“Here’s the bet. I lose, I’ll cook and wash the dishes for three months.”

Shadow’s brow raises at her, looking at the towel in his hands a moment before back to her, “And if I lose I have to come to the karaoke spectacular??”

“AND sing a song of my choice,” Rouge adds with a wicked grin.

Shadow is immediately handing the towel back to her and shaking his head, “Absolutely not.”

“Oh what’s wrong??? Got a case of the stage fright??”

“No. I just refuse to lower myself to such insolent and ridiculous standards as singing cheesy songs that no one asked anyone to cover,” Shadow’s arms cross.

Rouge shrugs, “Fine. Guess I just didn’t expect the Ultimate Lifeform to back down from a challenge so easily.”

Shadow’s eyes narrow at her with a scowl.

Rouge’s narrow with a challenge.

“...We have a deal?” She asks, reaching her hand out to him with a knowing grin.

Shadow growls a bit, already mentally scolding himself for falling for this shit again. But he still finds his hand reaching out to shake hers, nodding with a firm, “Deal.”

Rouge giggles a bit giddily, “Great!”

“So what’s the challenge?” Shadow questions as he retracts his hand, realizing now he probably should’ve asked that before making this bet.

Rouge hands the towel back to him again, Shadow watching as she moves his hands into position under the tap of the sink. Shadow holds an end of the dish towel in each hand, arms outstretched and spread as wide as the towel goes. Rouge then reaches to turn on the water, the tap flowing in the space between his arms, himself and the towel.

She crosses her arms then, nodding her head to him with a simple, “Move the towel without letting go of either end or getting it or your arms wet. And NO chaos control.”

Shadow’s brow raises at her. Crimson eyes roll at this, smirking confidently with a scoff, “That’s it?? I expected more from you-”

He looks back down at the towel and his brain freezes.

He stares at it a long moment, the gears in his head practically groaning and creaking with how he tries to find the solution. He could move it to the left, but then his right arm would get wet. Same with the right getting the left wet. He can’t simply move it towards him because then it’s wet. His brain begins to hurt. Rouge can’t help but let her grin widen as he successfully allows himself to get overwhelmed and overthink the entire puzzle.

His teeth grit, growling low as his body starts to tremble.

Rouge just leans against the counter and waits, examining her nails as if she has all the time in the world.

They stay like that for a solid sixteen minutes, which is terrible for the environment to let the water run that long. And then Shadow groans and growls out, “I can’t! I don’t get it! What the hell am I supposed to do!? Tell me!! Tell me or I’m gonna destroy this damn sink and rip the towel to shreds–!”

Rouge simply takes the towel from him, moving her arms into position while holding the towel. She then moves her hand while still holding the towel to simply turn off the water, successfully retracting the towel back to her body without getting it or her arms wet.

Shadow just stares dumbfounded and feeling smaller than a pathetic worm.

“But you can’t just– you– that’s–”

“See you at karaoke~,” She coos as she playfully rolls the towel up to whip and snap his tail, making him jump about two feet with a yelp.

And that’s how he ended up here. Standing outside Amy Rose’s front door with nothing but shame for what’s going to happen tonight. He can hear music coming from the backyard, what sounds like an agitating rendition of ‘We Built This City On Rock and Roll’ being sung.

He could run. He could chaos control somewhere far away, and no one could ever force him to socialize or sing or any of it.

But he can’t.

He made a bet and promised Rouge he’d come.

And he always keeps his promises.

Taking a deep breath, Shadow collects his dignity while he still has it and lifts his hand to ring the white doorbell next to the pink door.

Breathing out the breath he had just taken slowly, he hears footsteps approaching from the inside.

The door opens to reveal Amy standing there with a wide grin that only seems to get brighter the second she sees it’s Shadow who had rang the doorbell.

“Shadow!” she beams, her voice reaching octaves that shouldn’t be possible for most Mobians. He’s always like Amy, though, so he tries not to seem too agitated by this.

He offers a tired sort of smile in return, not quite reaching his eyes but still trying to be in good spirits for his host’s sake, “Hello, Rose.”

Amy quickly reaches to grab his wrist, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind him, “Come in! It’s chilly out there..”

“Isn’t the party outside??” Shadow asks with a quirk of his brow. Amy giggles in response with a sheepish, “Well, yes, but we have a bonfire going and everyone is toasting marshmallows and hotdogs and there’s a chili bar with hot cocoa— I even made some coffee in case you showed up!”

Shadow hums with a soft look to his eyes at her thoughtfulness. “That was kind of you.”

“I’m so glad you came!” Amy grins, bouncing on her toes as she leads Shadow to the kitchen where Cream and Miss Vanilla are helping her whip up some more chili since they’re running low outside, “Rouge has been saying you’d be here, but I honestly was doubting her.”

Before Shadow can respond, another squeaky voiced girl is wrapping her arms tight around his torso and squeezing for dear life, “Mr. Shadow! I’m so glad you’re here!”

Shadow looks down at the rabbit hugging him, chuckling a bit as his hand rests between her ears and pets there tenderly, “Nice to see you too, Miss Cream..”

Cream giggles at how he addresses her formerly, looking up at him with those big, starry eyes he can’t help but have a soft spot for, “Miss Rouge said you were coming, but I wasn’t sure she was being honest.”

“Why would Rouge lie, Creamy Dear?” Miss Vanilla says as she approaches, “Hello again, Shadow.”

“Miss Vanilla,” Shadow nods to her politely before looking back to Cream, “Unfortunate for all of us, Rouge is right most of the time.”

Cream giggles at this, letting go of Shadow and moving to tug on his hand, “Come with me, Mr. Shadow! I have a free seat next to me just for you!”

Shadow smirks a bit and allows himself to be towed behind the little one towards the backyard’s door, giving a small wave to Amy and Vanilla as they stay back in the kitchen.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible.. Shadow does enjoy seeing Cream. She reminds him so much of the time he spent on the ARK taking care of Maria.. That and the little rabbit has never once looked at him with any sort of judgment or fear in her eyes. She always looked at him as though he had all the potential in the world to be nothing but good. And he couldn’t ever say why that meant so much to him, but it did.

If Cream ever looked at him with disappointment, he’d lose his mind.

Upon entering the backyard, he looks around at the decorations. Amy really is the best host for gatherings. She never misses, always hits the nail on the head perfectly and seems to enjoy seeing everyone have fun and appreciate her hard work.

The yard has fairy lights dangling all around, circling a bonfire in the middle that is in the center of a stone firepit. There’s wooden seats around the firepit for those who get a bit chilly, though most are empty currently. Only Espio sits there, not seeming too keen on the cold weather. There’s a coat rack just to the right of the door with complimentary, hand-knitted gloves, hats and scarves. Next to it along the porch is the coffee, hot cocoa and chili bar Amy had spoken of along with a little basket with long, metal skewers sticking out of it and a chalkboard dangling from the front that reads ‘For your Hot Dogs and Marshmallows’. There were hot dogs and marshmallows stacked into little pyramids on a table, ready to roast. Amy even had a vegan option..

To the far left is a stage pressed against the wood fence surrounding the yard, white curtains providing a backdrop behind it and spotlights hanging from the bottom of the stage to provide good lighting.

On the stage bouncing far too energetically up and down was none other than the dynamic duo themselves: Sonic and Tails.

Sonic is jamming on his electric guitar he seems to have brought for himself and Tails is singing next to him with laughter in his voice. Sonic is banging his head so aggressively that Shadow wonders if he’ll still have all his quills by the end of the night.

Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous display, Shadow looks back down to Cream who leads him to the coat rack.

The rabbit lets go of his hand to ponder the choices of winter weather clothes for a moment before she reaches and pulls off a deep blue scarf, turning to him and holding it out for him to take, “I think this one will look nicely with your eyes!”

Shadow looks at the scarf as he takes it into his hands, observing it a moment. Amy really outdid herself making all these for everyone.

He can’t help but look at it and think of—

“Thank you,” he says with a gentle smile at the little girl, wrapping it around his shoulders and then tying it secure but comfortable around his neck, “I like your light blue one.”

Cream giggles at this, beaming at him as she rocks back and forth on her toes, “We kind of match!”

“I believe we do,” he says with a wink, offering his hand to her again which she takes with pride.

Walking them towards the stage, Cream Explains her seat is in the front row. She likely chose this spot due to her short size, but Shadow really dreaded being near the front like this..

As they approached the stage, Shadow took notice in who all was there.

Vector was DJ-ing, of course. Charmy was sitting on a speaker near him, watching Vector’s hands move over the sound system as if he was taking notes. Rouge had Knuckles cornered near the back of the seats, leaning towards him a little too close for Knuckles’ comfort if how red his face was was anything to go off of. Omega was stood behind them, seemingly ignoring them with his robotic eyes locked towards the stage. Sticks the Badger was there. She was a relatively new member of the group that Amy had apparently taken quite the liking to. And Shadow trusted Rose’s judgment.

Big the Cat was sitting in the front swaying side to side in his seat with his frog in his hand as if this was a slow song, not at all matching the upbeat momentum of it. Even Silver and Blaze were there, to Shadow’s surprise. It’s not every day one should break the time stream just to come to a party.

He doesn’t dwell on this, though. Moving with Cream towards the front to find his seat just as Sonic and Tails finish up their number. The group hoot and holler for the two, applauding as Sonic gives a dramatic bow and Tails sheepishly grins and rubs the back of his neck. They exit the stage and Vector announces the next song,

“Alright everyone! That was a pretty sweet song, gonna be tough to follow up with that! Next on the song list is another duet! ‘Club Can’t Handle Me’ by Flo Rida! Let’s see who our duetists are!”

Shadow’s eyes watch Sonic as he walks off the steps to the right of the stage, high-fiving Tails as they go. They’re both laughing and saying something to each other that Shadow can’t make out, but it’s probably dumb anyway.

Sonic’s whole voice is dumb. And his dumb face and his dumb smile and dumb eyes—

He’s looking at Shadow.

Shadow quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit as he dips his head down in hopes his scarf will mask it some. Was he staring?? No, he wasn’t- he just got lost in his thoughts of how dumb that faker is..

His eyes are on the ground as Vector pulls two random names from a hat and announces it will be Blaze and Big performing this next song.

“Woo! Everyone’s favorite purple felines teaming up for the win!” Sonic yells supportively, Shadow flinching slightly at how close he sounds.

Oh.

That’s because he’s close.

Bright red, signature shoes appear in his line of sight, crimson eyes trailing up Sonic’s form to find emerald looking right back.

Sonic smirks. Shadow scowls.

“Well looky here. Didn’t expect to see you here, Shadow!“ the blue hedgehog beams, wearing a red scarf that matches his shoes. His has a tiny ‘S’ on the end of it, Shadow notices. Amy must’ve made one especially for him.

“I try not to make a habit of social gatherings,” Shadow gruffly replies, looking away as if to take in the event except it’s really just to escape that gaze..

Sonic chuckles at that, hands moving to his own hips as he speaks, “Well, maybe you should..”

Shadow’s eyes return to him at that, eyeing the blue hedgehog questioningly which seems to make Sonic blush a bit as he quickly gestures to Cream.

“Looks like you’d make a certain little rabbit real happy if you came around more.”

Cream beams at that, standing on her chair to try and be as tall as Sonic, “I would be, Mr. Sonic!”

“See??” Sonic grins, looking at Cream now, “Who could say no to that face???”

Cream giggles, bouncing on her toes to which Sonic reaches over and picks her up to toss her up then set her back down as she laughs excitedly. He bends down as she speaks to him.

“Can I make you a ‘little-bit-of-everything’ chili dog, Mister Sonic?!”

Sonic winks at this, giving her a thumbs up, “You make the best ones, Cream.”

She nods with a determined face, dashing off to the chili dog stand as if she’s on a mission.

Sonic watches her with a chuckle, rubbing under his nose as Shadow looks at him..

Sonic looks at Shadow.

Shadow looks away.

Sonic smiles a bit at this, moving to take a seat next to Shadow as Blaze and Big start their performance. It’s quite a comical one. Blaze’s raspy and shier voice paired with Big’s own off beat and tonedeaf one. She definitely looks uncomfortable but Silver is giving her thumbs up in the audience so that seems to motivate her.

“So what made you come?” Sonic asks after a moment, looking at Shadow with a tilt of his head.

“Rouge,” he mutters, looking over at the bat who is still pestering that poor echidna, “Lost a bet.”

“Ah,” Sonic immediately answers with a grin, “She’s a trickster for sure.”

“Mm..,” Shadow nods in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“…So how have you—“

“I’m getting coffee,” Shadow interrupts, standing from his seat and leaving Sonic behind. Sonic’s ears droop a bit, watching Shadow go with a quiet, “Oh. Okay. See ya.”

Shadow walks quickly towards the coffee bar, grabbing a cup once he gets there and working to fill it up with his heart pounding in his chest.

Anxiety is a bitch.

He takes a long shaky breath as he pours the drink, watching the steam rise from it. Black. Just how he likes it.

He cups it in his hands and blows on the top before taking a sip and immediately feeling his shoulders slouch and some tension fade. His sighs slow and takes another sip, swallowing down the lump that felt like it had been forming in his throat.

He hated he got like this. It always made him feel so weak. He didn’t do well in groups.. he always felt out of place or like he has nothing to contribute to conversation.

And that hedgehog… that damn blue hedgehog.

Sonic always seemed to make Shadow lock up even more than usual. Made him feel like his defenses were both down and up all at the same time. Like his walls were crackling apart and thus making Shadow panic to rush to build them higher and stronger.

He thought it would get better with time, but instead, it just seems to get worse.

He does fine on assignments or missions with Sonic, whenever they’re required to work together for the greater good. It’s easy to speak to him then. They work well side by side, a power that can’t be beat. But in casual conversation??? Sonic is.. intimidating.

He’s so quick witted and talkative. He always knows what to say and how to say it. Shadow admires this and hate it about him. It’s overwhelming.

Just like his dumb face.

After a moment to gather himself, Shadow moves to instead approach Rouge who sees him coming and snaps up with a grin, “You came!”

“I’ve been here,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes, noticing how Knuckles seems relieved her attention is elsewhere.

Shadow can’t help but wonder if Knuckles feels the same way about Rouge as Shadow does about Sonic. Two painfully charismatic people talking to two painfully awkward people.

Except with Knuckles and Rouge, it’s flirting and bickering.

That’s not what Sonic and Shadow do.

Well.

They bicker.

And Sonic might be naturally flirtatious now and then.

But it’s not the same.

“Oh. Sorry, I’ve been busy with Knuckles here,” she smirks, gesturing to Knuckles who offers a small “sup” to Shadow, Shadow nodding back before returning his gaze to Rouge.

“How long do I have to stay??”

Rouge blinks, “But— you just got here?”

“I’ve been here for about ten minutes, actually. And that’s plenty long, I think.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she rolls her eyes at him, placing a hand on her hip as she juts it out all sassy-like, “Besides, you still have to sing your one song.”

Shadow had been hoping she’d forgotten about that.

“Then can we just get it over with so I can leave??”

“No way!” Rouge huffs, poking his chest with a finger as she narrows her eyes at him disappointedly, “You are going to stay here and socialize and be happy about it! And when I decide you can sing and leave, you’ll sing and leave.”

She crosses her arms, sticking her nose up a matter-of-factly as she closes her eyes with a “hmph.”

Shadow blinks.

He looks at Knuckles for help.

Knuckles just shrugs at him, “She scares me too, dude.”

“What did you say?!” Rouge glares down at the echidna who flinches immediately with a “Nothing!”

“Oh I’m scary, huh??? You know what’s scary is an echidna whose only friend is a rock!”

“Oh yeah?! Well—“

Shadow leaves before he gets a headache.

He looks at the spot near the front that Cream has saved for him.

Sonic is still sitting there eating his chili dog and talking to Cream and Tails and now Amy as well..

He turns on his heel and makes his way to the bonfire where Espio sits alone. At least he can depend on Espio to not try and spark a conversation with him.

He sits in one of the wooden chairs, leaning back in it with a sigh as he sips his coffee.

Espio, in fact, does not try to talk to him. He keeps his eyes shut in silence a few seats away from Shadow. Honestly, Shadow thinks he might be asleep.

His eyes flutter shut, holding his coffee in his lap as he sighs and lets the karaoke going on fade to the background.

He surely won’t actually be able to sleep Like Espio. He’s use to silence in his slumber. White noise. Like when he was in the tank on the ARK..

But he might be able to look enough like he’s sleeping that no one will disturb him.

He stays like this a long time.. at least three or four songs are performed as he sits there unbothered.

‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ performed by Silver and Cream.

‘Firework’ performed by Amy.

And ‘Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better’ very ironically performed by Rouge and Knuckles.

The next performance is Tails singing ‘Count On Me’ when Shadow hears footsteps approaching.

He doesn’t open his eyes, hoping whomever it is will take the hint and leave him be.

His ear twitches at the sound of the wooden chair next to him creaking with someone being seated in it. The person takes a breath as if they’re gonna speak and then stops.

Shadow expects them to get up and leave.

Instead he hears some fidgeting and movement. And then he hears the quiet sound of guitar strings..

His eyes slide open just slightly to peer over and see Sonic sitting there with his guitar in hand picking a quiet and relaxing melody..

It’s… odd to see.

Sonic who is chaotic and fiery and adventurous and always loud and obnoxious and can’t sit still..

now sits there picking one of the softest and quietest melodies he’s ever heard.

And he looks content while doing so. His face is soft with a smile on his muzzle, humming quietly as he plays. Like a lullaby.

Shadow watches him a long moment.. and then his eyes drift over to the fire. He watches it burn as Sonic plays, finding himself almost hypnotized by the moment. The calm of it. The warmth and the lull of the melody..

He sips his coffee. Sonic doesn’t bother him.

It’s nice. Shadow wasn’t even aware Sonic played guitar before tonight, if he’s honest. He never thought the hedgehog could even sit still long enough to learn such a thing.

And without much thought, he voices this, “I didn’t know you played.”

The strumming stops a moment, Shadow seeing Sonic’s head lift out of his peripherals to look at him. Sonic starts playing again and shrugs as he does so, “Yeah, I have since I was a kid. Use to be in a band, believe it or not.”

“I shockingly can believe that,” Shadow says with a small quirk of his brow, eyeing Sonic as he sips his coffee to which Sonic chuckles at in response.

“I don’t play a lot anymore. Only when I need to clear my head some or am at events like this. Sometimes both..”

Shadow turns his head a bit more towards Sonic at that, eyeing him a moment as Sonic’s own gaze returns down to watching his own fingers move.

“…Has something been on your mind?”

Why is he asking that??? It’s not his business and he doesn’t care—

“Mm..,” Sonic shrugs, “Just been having trouble sleepin’..”

Shadow hums at that, “Can’t say I relate fully. As the Ultimate Lifeform, I don’t require sleep.”

Sonic’s head lifts a bit at that, looking at Shadow with a slight tilt of his head, “Seriously??”

“Mm,” Shadow nods.

“Then what do you do most nights??” Sonic asks curiously, his picking on his guitar never stopping.

“It varies..,” Shadow says, not planning to elaborate but seeing how Sonic is leaning in tentatively, he keeps going, “Sometimes I read. Sometimes I do research for work.. sometimes I watch the stars or go for a run.”

Sonic smiles a bit at that, seeming to relate to that, “So you never sleep at all??”

“Well.. occasionally. For the sake of the pastime. Or for the sake of simply resting for a bit.. shutting down and not having to think for a period of time can be therapeutic.”

“I can’t imagine not sleeping,” Sonic says with a chuckle, “I’m a professional sleeper, I’ll have you know.”

“Well what kind of professional sleeper has trouble sleeping?”

Sonic’s cocky demeanor falters at that, looking at Shadow with a faded smirk before he looks back down to his guitar and mutters, “I’ve been having nightmares is all.. they’ll go away, though, and when they do, I’ll be a shooin’ for the Snooze-lympics.”

Shadow watches the blue hedgehog deliver the joke with a little grin, but he sees how it doesn’t meet his eyes..

He knows about nightmares.. he has far too many of his own.

“Do.. you want to talk about it??” Shadow asks after a moment, holding his now nearly empty coffee in his hands as he shifts his body a bit more towards Sonic.

Sonic hums a bit, looking up from his guitar to the fire instead. He seems hesitant. Reluctant. Shadow won’t push him if he is made uncomfortable by the conversation. He shouldn’t have asked in the first place, frankly.

“…You know.. in all my years of heroing and what not, I’ve rarely not been able to save someone,” Sonic says after a long pause, Shadow’s brows furrowing a bit at the subject change but he doesn’t interrupt.

“..So I guess when I fail, it would haunt me.. huh?”

Shadow purses his lips, not liking the way Sonic guilts himself but understanding the toll being a hero can take, “Makes sense..”

Sonic nods.

“..It’s the same dream. Over and over. Reaching and not being able to grab it. Not being fast enough.”

Shadow feels a sense of uneasiness grow inside him, his heart starting to rise into his throat again. He grips his cup a bit tighter and raises it to sip to try and swallow the feeling back down.

“I watch it fall like a star.. out of my sight. I try to get to it, but it’s like I can’t move. I feel so helpless..”

Shadow swallows the last of his coffee but keeps the cup to his lips, eyes staying on Sonic.

“…Why didn’t you let me save you, Shadow??” Sonic’s eyes lift to Shadow’s then and Shadow feels his chest hurt.

When did Sonic stop playing his guitar??

The only sound now is the crackling of the fire and the distant karaoke performance currently happening on stage.

Shadow doesn’t answer. Just watches Sonic in a long moment of silence. Sonic doesn’t push. He just waits, leaning his elbows against his guitar in his lap and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

The ebony hedgehog lowers his cup after a moment, clearing his throat before speaking at last, “I-… don’t really remember much of that event.”

Sonic doesn’t seem too convinced of his answer, so Shadow tries to add, “After the fall, I simply remember waking up and not knowing anything anymore.. I’m not sure what was going through my head—“

“You remember,” Sonic says. And there’s such conviction in his voice that Shadow’s mouth immediately shuts. Their eyes stay locked as if a challenge.

Shadow’s crimson orbs glare for a moment longer before Shadow huffs and pushes himself to stand from his chair. Sonic watches with his ears sinking back a bit.

“I’m leaving. Tell Rose I appreciated the hospitality.”

Sonic stands then, moving his guitar out of his lap and setting it on the chair, “Shadow, wait—“

“Alright! Next up is a special request from our belovedly devious Rouge the Bat!” Vector announces from the stage, Rouge standing beside him with a wicked little grin. Shadow is making his way to the door with Sonic not far behind him.

“Our two performers will be..,” Rouge whispers in Vector’s ear and Vector seems a bit stunned, “Sonic and Shadow???”

There’s immediate silence and whispers among the group, Shadow’s attention brought to the stage upon hearing his name and his eyes widening at realizing he’s being summoned.

Sonic too has paused, staring at the stage and then back to Shadow and then the stage again.

Shadow doesn’t spare a glance to Sonic, defensively crossing his arms with a stubborn, “I was just leaving.”

“Ohhh no you don’t, Grumps,” Rouge immediately protests, leaping from the stage to glide over to Shadow and tug at his arm, “You promised me a song of my choice. It’s your turn to perform.”

“Now is not the time, Rouge,” Shadow growls under his breath to which she shrugs unbothered.

“Not my problem,” she pulls him to the stage and pushes him towards the steps, “Now knock ‘em dead, Shadow! Metaphorically, of course.”

Sonic has walked to the stage now as well, seeming very off-put by this but also seeming as though he’s resolute.

Shadow watches him approach the mic on the stage, refusing to join him as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. He looks out at the small intimate crowd staring at him expectedly and then back to Sonic and then to Rouge and—

“Fuck this-“ he huffs before quickly making his way towards the exit again, Rouge standing from her seat to follow him.

“Hey! Shadow, hold on a second!”

The music starts playing.. emerald eyes watching the black hedgehog making his escape. Sonic swallows hard, moving a hand to hold the mic as he keeps his gaze on Shadow.

A surprisingly angelic “oooh” coming from him as he warms up to the song. Shadow’s steps falter a bit at this, not expecting Sonic to actually perform. Rouge stops behind him, her attention turning back to Sonic again, and then Shadow who is now standing still with his hand on Amy’s backdoor..

“I.. I just woke up from a dream,” Sonic sings with a slight sway on his feet, trying to loosen up some but his eyes stay on Shadow, “Where you and I had to say goodbye..”

Shadow’s brows knit a bit, turning to look towards the stage again and seeing Sonic standing there watching him.

“I don’t know what it all means..,” Sonic sings with a small shrug, averting his eyes a bit shyly now as he continues, “But since I survived, I realized..”

Shadow steps away from the door.

“Wherever you go that’s where I foooollow. Nobody’s promised tomooooorrow.��

Sonic’s eyes shut as he grips the mic a bit tighter and gives his all, “So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night- like it’s the last night!”

Everyone watches as Shadow approaches the stage between the chairs, Sonic singing his heart out quite literally into the mic with an undeniable amount of emotion and earnest.

“If the world was endin’, I’d wanna be next to youuuu! If the party was over, and our time on earth was throuuuuugh.”

Sonic’s eyes open again to look up at the stars now, reaching a hand out to them as if to grab, “I’d wanna hold you just for a while..,” his hand returns to his mic with shut eyes, “And diiiiiie with a smile!”

Everyone is in absolute awe of what’s happening. Sonic’s voice demands attention and captures them with its feeling, but so does the fact it feels like a very intimate moment between Shadow and Sonic..

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next,” Sonic’s eyes open again, “to you..”

Sonic’s eyes widen a bit when he looks for Shadow but doesn’t see him, a quiet breath escaping him as he immediately backs from the mic and begins to leave the stage to the right to look for him when—

“Ooooh lost..”

Sonic’s eyes widen as he spins on his heels to see Shadow has joined him from the left side of the stage and is now holding the second mic singing into it..

He seems shy.. quiet at first, but his voice is so.. enchanting. Smooth like silk and mesmerizing.

“Lost in the words that we scream..,” Shadow sings with a knit to his brow, cheeks rosy as he glances to Sonic from the corners of his eyes, “I don’t even wanna do this anymoooore.”

Sonic quickly moves to his mic and joins in to harmonize as they both sing.

“‘Cause you already know what you mean to me!”

“And our love’s the only one—“

“Worth fighting for..”

“Cause wherever you go that’s where I—“ Shadow turns towards Sonic then, point down at the ground as if to make a damn point and Sonic just smiles and steps towards him a bit.

“—Fooooollow.”

“Nobody’s promised—“

“—tomooooorrow.”

Shadow and Sonic are now gripping their mics tight, and it’s as if the rest of the world has faded away.. Shadow’s stage fright gone as it feels as though they’re both confessing to one another right then and there.

“So I’ma love you every night like it’s the last night! Like it’s the last night!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to youuuuu! If the party was over and our time on earth was throuuuuugh!”

Shadow gives an ever so small smile as he sings,

“I’d wanna hold you..”

Sonic harmonizing with him with a heart melting grin, “Just for a while..”

“And diiiiiie with a smile!!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you..”

Sonic smiles as he steps closer to Shadow, “Right next to youu..”

“Next to youuu..,” Shadow coos with a slight tilt of his head, taking a tiny step closer as well.

“Right next to youuu..,” they harmonize, Sonic’s hand moving to touch Shadow’s only for Shadow to reach and place his hand on the small of Sonic’s back. Holding him there, he pulls him close so their chests bump together.

Sonic beams at this, face going red as he tosses his head back and lets out a howled, “Ooh-Oh!”

And then Shadow is yanking Sonic in as the music reaches its climax, planting a hard and firm kiss on his lips to which the crowd of friends screams and cheers at excitedly. Whistles and applause but all of it is drainage in their ears as they share their kiss. Sonic’s free hand lifts to hold Shadow’s quills tight, fingers curling there as he holds himself to him and feels his heart soaring. Pieces of him mending that have been broken a long time..

Shadow feels whole in that moment. Complete. And not alone for the first time since he can remember..

It’s euphoric. It’s cheesy. It’s straight out of some corny chick flic and neither of them give a damn.

They eventually part a bit reluctantly, Shadow’s eyes staying shut as his forehead presses to Sonic’s with quiet pants for air. Sonic’s eyes open all half-lidded and dopey as he lifts his mic in the small space between them to sing,

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to youuuu..”

Shadow smiles at him a bit dopey as well, opening his eyes as he lifts his hand to lock their arms and sing into his own mic, “If the party was over and our time on earth was throuuuugh..”

“I’d wanna hold you..,” Shadow’s hand lifts to cup Sonic’s cheek, “Just for a while,” Sonic’s head tilts to nuzzle into his palm.

Both of them then tossing their heads back to sing with their whole chest, “And diiiiiie with a smile!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next—“

“To youuuuuu!”

“If the world was ending, I’d wanna be next to you..”

Their foreheads touch again, noses nuzzling as they melt into one another.

“I’d wanna be next to you..”

Their eyes lock as the music fades, Sonic’s grin wider than ever and a soft little smile on Shadow’s own face..

He leans in to kiss him again only to be snapped out of his daze by the wolf whistling and applause their friends teasingly and knowingly give them.

A mix of “about time”s and “congratulations” were shouted at them as Shadow’s cheeks heat up beet red,

He turns his head away from them towards the back of the stage, trying to hide from the group. Sonic chuckles at this and moves to crouch slightly and tilt his head up to put himself in Shadow’s line of sight.

His hand moves to squeeze Shadow’s. And Shadow smiles and squeezes it back.

“In their defense,” Sonic teases with his thumb rubbing The back of Shadow’s hand, finally able to reach him..,

“That was super gay.”

[narriose]

Thoughts on Veilguard so far:

Preface: I’m ~50 hours in with a handful of endgame spoilers.

My general values are: Story > Characters > Gameplay > Romance > Rep > Visuals.

My rating of the previous games: DA2 > DAO > DAI

Spoilers under Cut:

What I expected: Having to deal with an unappealing art style and clunky gameplay with leftover multiplayer and live service era elements that they couldn’t get rid of for the sake of the story and characters.

What I got: Well…

Let’s Start with the negatives:

-Dialogue: I want to know what happened there. Ik for a fact they had veteran BioWare writers on the team and it feels like there was a decision to dumb everything down to the point of me immediately having a line in my head that would sound better in universe every time someone spoke. It proved especially grating once I heard Morrigan speak. And when people compare the writing to MCU I cannot really protest. “Dragon Age has always been unserious” yes but like. Not every other line was a joke or relatable™️ millennial awkwardness . When jokes did happen they became memorable moments for the fandom. It’s often very difficult to listen to. Especially when Rook talks. It is getting marginally better though.

-Tone: Dragon Age has been compelling to me because it wrote conflict and trauma and corruption in a way that felt developed enough to feel grounded and believably horrific. Even with all its faults. DATV mellowed out the horrors and seems to gloss over a lot of sociopolitical dynamics and lore. Stuff like portraying crows as vigilantes and not showing the evils of Tevinter slavery. The tone itself just feels like theyre trying to make an easily marketable sanitized IP out of it to cater to a wider audience.

-Character Writing: A lot of characterization has been “Tell not show” because I’m disappointed in Lucanis and Neve. The story says one is a serious killer and the other is a cynic but both have only been friendly soft and positive which is like??? I feel like a lot of their intro has been cut out or something where they establish those traits on screen. Another thing is: there don’t appear to be actually detestable and controversial traits in characters or even internal conflict they need to overcome. They’re just dealing with some kind of external thing thrust onto them and that is very shallow to me personally.

-Intro: I know we’re not getting Origins style personalized intros again but it felt like too much is handwaived into people making their own OCs and forming headcanons when the game doesn’t let us RP much at all outside identity stuff anyway. Like how do we know Varric? Why should any of the pep talks he gives us mean anything when we haven’t experienced anything to warrant the complements he gives us?

-Villains: possibly the worst part of the story: they lit act like theyre in a preschool cartoon down to body language. No nuance no controversy no actual horror to them when in previous games the evil felt so much more pronounced because some of the villains felt human enough to be a shitty person irl.

-Rep: Sigh. Even as a transmasc I might be a little too internally transphobic for the rep in the game. It feels like so many steps ahead of what the story should be handling. Like fix the slavery problem in a meaningful way then start philosophical gender discussions about what a gender binary even is. And it’s very cringe to me when it’s spoken about in game. Like yeah I love that there’s no way to dispute what the characters are but it also feels so entirely uncreative using modern day terminology for this stuff. And I don’t mean “replace it with ambiguous sad baby talk” but something more. Like is it terrible to want that? Even if you were planning on using the word nonbinary, at least tell us what a binary even is and how it was instituted as an idea into this world. Like I do adore Taash, I just wish the gender stuff wasn’t so clumsy.

-Visuals: It’s hard man. As an artist who sees human bodies as proportion reference points, the bodies still look off to me. Like it was worse and I’m getting used to it but it’s still painful. And I’m all for trying to stylize but this particular heroforge direction was not something I would have picked.

-OST: At first I couldn’t tell Zimmer/Balfe’s stuff apart from Morris’s but yeah, the new stuff is more boring(Sans the Rivain part)

-The 3 choice thing: yeah not a fan of that. I feel like perhaps it was a part of the multiplayer era where they would not be able to import much if everyone had a massively different world state so they limited it to the tiny MC choices. Still sad that the romance thing only really matters if you romanced Solas because the Dorian cameo wasn’t anything to write home about. Kinda feels like they added him in last minute because someone pointed out how much Solas-skewed the choices were. Idk. I so expected Josie in Antiva but alas.

Now Onto the Positives:

-Codices: The very way-too modern simplified conversational dialogue style carries over to the codices. And while I despise that as a creative, I do find myself actually reading them as they come because they are so easy to absorb. I feel like a lot of people would benefit from not skipping them because there are some references and plot reveals worth checking out.

-Story: If you deafen the dialogue style, the story itself is top. Gets way better as you play and from the spoilers I’ve heard, yeah. It’s good. Can’t wait to find out more.

-Gameplay: Listen I have a massive preference for DA style combat even if most ppl call it a slog. The turn based element, the pause button, the hoarding skills I never use. It’s like coming home to me. I hated DAI combat for the amount of anxiety it induced and I usually hate fast-paced action combat in most other games. DATV made me eat my boots. Its combat is insanely fun and engaging and often times I’m looking forward to fights more than quests themselves. Very colorful, very flashy, and very effective. The pause button gives less freedom but it’s there. The combos are fun. It is like Mass Effect except I did not find commanding the companions in Mass Effect as intuitive. Tho I wish non mages had less magicey feeling attacks.

-The CC: Yeah it wowed me with the options. I like how much can be done with the facial sliders and how good the hair looks.

-Puzzles: Listen the puzzles are extremely stupid in this game. But I also am very stupid and lazy when it comes to solving them. I have looked up the vast majority of puzzle solutions for DA games. No more DA2 Fade Barrels and no more trying to circumnavigate the ad infested Fandom Wiki to get to the Kitty’s prison solution. Crafted specifically for me.

-Mechanical Things: The game is optimized insanely well. Both when It comes to your PC and the gameplay. I’m amazed how well it runs on my PC when games like BG3 and Cyberpunk make my CPU scream. Love that. As far as gameplay goes: everything is super streamlined and designed to be as un-annoying as possible. No carry weight, no collectibles as annoying and unrewarding as the shards and mosaics. The maps are easy to parse. The game does not bombard you with useless NPCs, banter can’t be interrupted and characters catch up on banter at the Lighthouse if you’ve been avoiding certain party comps by accident. The quest locator is actually helpful. Skill points can be refunded. Looting is easy and finding shit feels rewarding.

-Characters: Honestly they do have some interesting things going on and while most characters feel a little hollow so far, I was pleasantly surprised by Davrin and Bellara. Davrin is the one I’m romancing and while the actual romance isn’t groundbreaking I’m glad I chose him. Yes, his character has a lot to do with Assan and his arc, but he does have stuff going on of his own. He’s very refreshing because some of the things he says low key both makes you think and also worry about him. He’s also not your usual preppy jock type. He can be a little mean sometimes. He’s artistic and principled. He has some remnants of “opinions I don’t agree with” that I love early DA for. When it comes to Bellara, she absolutely breaks the sort of Manic Pixie/Quirky Awkward young coded girl mold. It is the fact that there is self awareness and hints of history of failure and isolation in her words. There is also masking and over-clarification that I can relate to personally. I hope there is stuff like that to other companions when I get to know them better.

Visuals: the UI and Locations are stunning. The outfits the best the game has had so far(tho wish the overall look was less stylized) The blighted stuff(sans the ogres) and the Crossroads. Beautiful.

-Dwarf Lore: started out as fucking cheesy but I just finished meeting Valta and I’m seated.

-Solas Stuff: Hated the man for a while. Caved and made a solavellan to import to get more story stuff. NGL he is actually tolerable/interesting to me in this game.

Overall: A sickly sweet combo of Disappointed and Impressed. And I’m still gonna be playing. I am used to not liking something about every DA game. That’s part of the fun for me. But damn is this one testing me. Am I having a lot of fun playing it? Absolutely. Am I finding it difficult to get through a concerning amount of dialogue…yeah. It does still feel like a DA game but also like if someone made a pg-13 live action of Inquisition and then made a supplementary game based off that. If I forget that it’s supposed to be a sequel and just treat it like an action game with plot then it’s easier. And like I’m sure at least half of what I listed as a negative can be attributed to EA meddling or prev iterations of the game being inseparable. Anyway. Can’t wait to see the ending and I will add more thoughts when I’m done.

[lafaiette]

Your Lavellan breaks through the fog of Solas’s expectations and suppositions of behavior, limits, and nature that he has held and observed as a millennia-old being. Lavellan is a mortal, a fragile, flawed mortal with death looming and immense social and political and military power and yet she does not allow it to corrupt her. She holds steadfast to duty, to what is right, what is ethical. She is open minded in defiance to everything the world has taught her of spirits being scary and unknown.

@yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy THIS, EXACTLY. This is who Lavellan was for Solas in Inquisition. Not all Lavellans are the same, of course - some are ruder, harsher, more cynical than others, but all of them must have an open mind about spirits, want to save people, and not be tyrants to start a romance with Solas. I don't remember if an Inquisitor can ever say they enjoy having been thrust into this whole mess, like "Hey, interrupting Corypheus' ritual was worth it, look how powerful I am now! >:D "

I believe most Lavellan would feel very disconcerted at the sudden position they are in, even if they were not happy in their clan. They can grow to love the Inquisition and their new leadership role, but it's not something they asked for, that they fought for - it happened because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And this is the first difference with Mythal. Morrigan says that Mythal loved ruling, that she asked Elgar'nan to share power, but wanted to do so in a kind way, like a mother guiding her people. However, she was also prickly, because she hated being wrong, being corrected, wanted to be respected as a god, but not in a servile way, wanted to right wrongs, but only if they were just and interested her according to her ideas. Like all spirits, Morrigan says, her emotions were incredibly strong and volatile.

How, then, can Lavellan remind Solas of her? To continue her romance with him, Lavellan must actually face and accept the idea that the Dalish remember many things wrong. One of the first things she can say to him in Haven is "I am sorry - if the Dalish did you a disservice, I will repair that. How can we do better?" - and in being humble, Lavellan makes Solas humble. He falters, accepts her apology and apologies in return, and admits he was wrong, because the Dalish could never recover what is lost. By showing him humility, Lavellan allows him - a spirit made flesh - to reflect that humbleness and embody it. Mythal never did this, she actually turned his very nature, his wisdom, into pride.

When Solas tells Lavellan about the vallaslin, there are several possible reactions. She can be sad and ashamed ("We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep?"), angry because she is hurt, react in shock - but she always accepts the truth. She doesn't get angry at Solas because he corrected her ("They honor the elven gods." "No. They are slave markings."), which is what Mythal would have done; she can get angry because of shame, yes, but at the end she knows what he's saying it's true and she accepts the truth, the wisdom, he gives her. And she can choose what to do with it: renounce the vallaslin's terrible history or embrace the new meaning the Dalish gave them.

Lavellan can make decisions that are wrong, according to Solas, like not exile the Wardens or not use Gaspard as a puppet for Briala and her elves. But they talk about it, they can have a par-on-par discussion about it, something it's clear he never could do with Mythal. In all the regret cutscenes we see, he always accepts to do what she asks of him, never once arguing with her. Yes, he starts his rebellion also against her, because she betrayed him and his ideals of freedom, but it's clear he still feels reverence for her and even asks to meet her in secret to warn her about the Blight they created.

Mythal liked ruling and didn't give up power, even when the Evanuris started going too far. Lavellan gives up her power, in one way or another: she can either completely disband the Inquisition or give it to the Chantry. She doesn't keep the power for herself or start a coup to undermine Ferelden and Orlais' demands. She has lost her arm, discovered world-shattering information, and is surrounded by bloodhounds: so she gives up her position and influence, something not even Mythal, in all her "wisdom and kindness", ever did. Something no ruler, Solas once warned her, would logically do. But she does!

Never, not even once, I considered Lavellan to be a foil to Mythal while playing Inquisition. In that game, Mythal is actually described as a foil to Andraste, to Flemeth, to all the women of Thedas betrayed and cast aside. Flemeth announces there will be a reckoning, and Mythal allows Solas to take her power from her without question, because she wants to be avenged. She has been crawling through the ages for this very purpose.

But in Veilguard, the last regret mural shows her suddenly changing her mind and questioning him, with Solas making just the vaguest comment about the elves deserving to get their immortality back, the faintest of threads tying it back to Trespasser. Why then allow him to take her power, if that's not what she wanted to do anymore?

And how can the fragment of Mythal from the Crossroads, that very fragment Morrigan warns being still tied to vengeance and rage, be the one who manages to change his mind? Why should that part of Mythal, still hungry for retribution, tell him to stop and free him from his service?

So basically one of Solas' murals

is the Crestwood scene, but with reversed roles. Solas is the rejected one, Mythal is the one who walks away, leaving him alone in what I presume was a glade at night, judging from the environmental sounds and hushed tones we can hear.

And, to be honest, I don't know how I feel about it - it feels like it cheapens the Crestwood scene, repeating an abusive pattern, stripping away the romance and softness of that scene. It's, once again, something Solas already went through with Mythal, not something he shares with Lavellan only. It's Weekes saying yet again that Solas saw Mythal in Lavellan, and that's why he fell in love with her. Not because she was Lavellan, but because she reminded him of Mythal and gave him hope that all elves could return to that "level" of wisdom.

What we learn in this game also ruins the kiss scene on the balcony, where Solas say "You have showed wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade."

Most of us believed he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since my ancient days in Elvhenan", but it's basically confirmed at this point that he meant "Wisdom I have not seen since Mythal".

A month ago, someone here mentioned how Weekes had said there was a specific reason why Solas had falled for Lavellan. I never found the interview where they said so, but I saw many believed it had something to do with reincarnation, lost soulmates finding each other again etc., but once again, it's clear what Weekes meant, and it's bad, cheap writing.

They could have written a god finally learning the error of his ways thanks to his love for a mortal - a love completely different from that of who was basically an abuser, a parent-like figure forcing him to take form and serve -, but instead they went for the easy route: a god still loving another god, feeling love for a mortal who reminds him of her, and changing his mind only because his god finally gives him permission to be free.

The mortal who supposedly "changes everything" serves no purpose - she actually tells him "There is no fate but the love we share" after he's been "freed" from his service, which in this context, in this situation, sounds more like a punishment, another yoke, some sort of "I finally got you, you can't run from me anymore".

I don't know what happened to Weekes' writing - either they were forced to make these decisions due to various constraints, or they completely changed their style/ideas during development, because this is not the Solas, this is not the Solavellan romance, we got in DA:I.

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Rafayel would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too!

1,051 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Sylus

There have been many different things in Rafayel's life that inspired him when it comes to his art, But nothing took control of his heart so intensely as much as you have. Like a whirlpool you shook him to his core from that first meeting, and all he wants to do is capture you on his canvas for eternity.

It really was quite the blessing with how willing you were to become his bodyguard- not only can he keep you within arms reach but you can also protect him from all the shady people after his life. Like killing 2 birds with one stone, except you were so much stronger and beautiful than any stone he’s ever set eyes on before

He absolutely felt like a flirt to you at the start with all of the compliments and casual physical touch between you guys, He just loved to say how amazing you are while enclosing you in a deep bear hug. It was strange at first you'd admit, but it never felt like he was trying to make any passes at you or act like he was expecting anything in return. Perhaps that's just how he acts with people he trusts?

When Rafayel isnt painting, you two spend a lot of time outside finding inspiration all around. He usually has a sketchbook with him scribbling away anytime he sees something interesting- the landscapes, pretty flowers, or even a parfait you guys got to share. You’ve seen some of these sketches as he works on them, it always amazes you how much detail he can capture with so few lines.

He never let you fully flip through the sketchbook however, claiming all sorts of reasons why, like that the drawings were scared of the sunlight or you had to go through many trials to be worthy. It was obvious how much he cherished it and you respected his wishes, though it would be nice to reminisce on some of the good times you guys had together again. Though its not like your phone wasn't filled to the brim with photos already

Late one night, you stop by his place to make sure he didn't need any motivation to finish a painting for a deadline set the next morning. You have confidence he could make it in time, he always did, but you want to help him as best as you can otherwise. When you arrive you spot a stunning completed painting and a Rafayel sleeping on the sofa below it- both stunning as they're illuminated by the moonlight.

Taking it upon yourself to clean up his supplies a little, just enough to not be a walking hazard of course, you spot his precious travel sketchbook on the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind if you took a little peak in it, you'd love to see how he finished the last landscape you guys saw before he locked himself up to work. As you flip through the pages you see so many familiar sights from your time together so far, but scattered around them filling maybe even more pages was many drawings of a person. Of you. All surrounded by hearts and little notes about things you've said.

When did he have a chance to draw all of these? Is this how you look to him?? Questions race your mind as your face flushes at the image of him intensely scribbling in the sketchbook as you dance around the beach being dumb. You decide to grab a pencil and add your attempt of a sketch of him in the back, signing it with a little heart of your own. It’s nowhere near his skill level but something that captures how you feel, and maybe he would get a chuckle out of it once he spots it.

You don’t realize when the casual acts of affection he started out with turn slightly more romantic- going from linking arms together to holding your hand, and you swear you feel him press little kisses on the top of your head every time he wraps his arms around you. But you don't hate it, in fact it makes your heart flutter every time you realize it

Rafayel often messages you at the most random times to meet him somewhere, usually it was because he found a stunning view and wanted to share the experience with you. Sometimes he would even show up at your apartment to whisk you away, and every time it filled you with joy. These dates and every moment you get to spend with him fill your heart with so much warmth.

One particularly warm night you were woken up by a call inviting you to the beach near his studio. It was worth crawling out of the bed at an ungodly hour, not only for the view but for him. While you were admiring the waves, he couldn't keep his eyes off you as a cautious pinky is hooked around yours. Two faces flush as you look at him, it lasts for only a moment before its interrupted by your watch.

Your face falls as you read the notification “It looks like I got a last minute mission in the morning…I guess this means I have to head back already.” As you take a heavy step to start walking away he reaches out to stop you with a pleading look on his face “Wait, don’t go yet” “Rafayel…. I’m sorry, I really am. This night- everything was wonderful, it really was” “Can’t you just stay the night?” He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck “Please just stay the night, I don’t want you to leave.” Your heart flutters as you wrap your arms around him in return “Okay, I’ll stay for you my sweet painter”

He is the most clingy man you’ve ever met, constantly torn between wrapping himself around you while peppering every inch of skin with kisses and diving headfirst into hundreds of paintings with you as his muse. His studio would be covered in nothing but paintings of you if he didn't have to focus on his commissions.

He sculpted out a place in your heart that held him, and in turn you've devoted yourself to him- loving him with every fiber of your being

[allie-leth]

Hey ya'll, gather round, time to talk about what happened and what's next. I normally avoid having anything super serious on here, but this warrants it.

First, no one tumblr user caused this. Don't get mad at people on here for being apathetic, for doubting harris, for refusing to vote. They are the symptom of a broken system, not the cause, please be kind. They're far more ideologically aligned with you than those selling the apathy and reinforcing the status quo. The infighting and turning on each other is the desired outcome, please don't do that. That's how we got here. Now take a deep breath, lets move to what happens next.

Not much will likely change over the next year, you will see a lot of bullshit in the news about bills being passed and other things that attack people, but most of that will get watered down by the court systems and judges and get escalated to higher courts. Like with Florida's "Don't say gay" bill that got watered down so hard as to be almost meaningless, most of what passes over the next year will have no teeth when it's actually implemented. The point is the news headlines and fearmongering, using a scape goat (Queer, POC, immigrants) to sell success to people who have been told those are the problem with this country. Many things will be passed, very few will matter.

If you're in a deep red state, you will likely see anti trans/anti queer items on the docket next year. It's extremely important to vote against those and to get involved, if you can, to make sure everyone votes against those. Those are the real dangers, those are the real weapons. The point of all the items in the headline, all the fear, is to sell apathy and fear to get laws like those passed this time next year or this time in two years. But those won't come for a year or two, and some won't even be implemented for a year after that. That means that for the average person here, if you're in a red state, expect a 3 year timeline before you start seeing laws implemented that actually hurt you. I'm sorry, but if you're in a red state, those are likely coming.

If you're in a purple state or a weird red, like utah, expect that 3 year time frame.

HRT likely won't be limited in any real way to adults, if you see all those "water is wet" studies about trans topics, those studies were done to protect the process and treatments in times like this. Those represent a solid basis of proof that doctors associations won't want to move away from. There is a possibility that supply side regulation is done to artificially create shortages, but that would hit a lot of older cis woman just as much, so I don't see that as likely. I do not have enough information on hand to make any comments on hrt for ftm, I'm sorry, but I'm not involved enough in that process to have the knowledge to make comments.

There will be a lot of laws that are passed over the next 4 years that cause long term economic damage. Most of these will take 10 years to really show their face despite what the headlines show. This isn't great, but it's not going to destroy your life tomorrow. Amusing side note, the US downgrade that happened in the early 2010's was actually because of a prediction of partisan politics creating divides that cause situations exactly like this one.

I've said this before and will say it here again, find community irl. It's the single most important thing you can do. They will have the best resources, the best shoulders to lean on, the best people to be there when things seem bleak. If you've been too scared to go to events that interest you, to find your community, please let this be the sign that forces you out of your shell. Community will be your true savior over the next 4 years, please find it. Find ANY topics that interests you, it does not matter what, just any topic with groups that meet weekly, and start going. Every. Week. Week in, week out. You will make friends, it will take a bit, but you will. You can find community in that. I found mine in the kink and rave communities by doing exactly that. You can too, in whatever community you desire, but you just have to go and be there. I love ya'll, things will be okay. If you are truly scared and need someone to talk to, feel free to reach out and I'll reply as soon as I can. 💜

[moonscape]

isat: explores the concept of found family outside of the expected nuclear family dynamic. goes even further by being explicitly against the idea of a found family always being nuclear, and shows this by having the characters cringe and express discomfort at the idea of being assigned specific roles. wants you to accept its found family being an amorphous blob

isat fans who don't understand themes outside of fandomized incorrect quote blogs: okay but what if odile was the mom friend and the rest of the group are her kids

[darkpokemonspecialist]

OP, You're too young to understand how the real world works, so let me make it simple.

There's no such thing as good or evil Pokemon. Period. Every single Pokemon professor in existence stresses this point in every lecture.

The things Dark Type Pokemon do that get labelled as "evil" are the things they have to do to survive in the wild. Pokemon do not abide by human morals, because humans made them up. You cannot take a member of another species and expect them to learn human morals.

The idea ANY Pokemon is evil is based on centuries of ignorance, and has led to mass discrimination against trainers worldwide. I know people who got PHYSICALLY ASSAULTED for having a dark-type service animal. Attitudes like yours contribute to this. Many Houndoom, Mightyena, Absol, and Mabosstiff are certified service animals. Dark types are VERY common service animals.

I specialize in Dark types, and they are the most loyal Pokemon I have ever trained. No other Pokemon has had my back like these guys. The world of Pokemon isn't black and white. You're old enough to start learning this.

I'm sorry some people are taking this too far, so I hope I actually explained well.

No type is inherently evil.

Judging the morality of an entire population is… never okay. It’s lead to some very dark places.

We’re all just creatures trying to live our lives, human and pokemon alike.

Well,they should live their lives in a way that doesn't hurt us. There's no reason for them to keep coming back if we show them that they can't stay here other than to just be mean.

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[waterfallofspace]

Welp- I have done my first (incredibly rough/awful) digital drawing/animation and despite the uh, rough quality, to be kind, I'm dropping it under the cut~~

(set your expectations LOW please haha <33)

Tadaaa~ my first awful attempt at digital art/animation!

Why am I posting something I fully know isn't good? Well, to be honest, I always see AMAZING artists on here, and personally I love when you can see that when someone started, they weren't nearly as good as they are now! So if one day I ever get better, I like the idea that my starting point is on here~

Orrrr maybe I just haven't slept in over 24 hours and I'm out of my mind. Either could be the case <3333

[catboii]

← Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 → Full Thread

[Day ####]

It’s been several days since there were any markable concerns. No breaches, no alerts, no deaths on the clock... Everything has been running smoothly. As it should. 

The Overseer of the current area leads their Agents through the corridors, writing up directives for the daily observations and handing them to the respective Agent.

The Anomalies here are usually very quiet, although sometimes, one of them will just sort of- change… Wake up… And then they completely flip. You can’t trust them. Sometimes Agents have underestimated what seemed like a normal inanimate object, like the hairbrush that hypnotises people, pulling them with psychic tendrils into its room, so that they'll brush their hair with it, then two weeks later they'll wake up from a coma; or a small animal, like the mouse that turned out to eat concrete and burrowed out by nibbling around the steel reinforcements before anyone noticed. There was so much paperwork...

Most of the chambers look the same, bland, metallic grey inside and out, the only difference being the cautionary and instructional stickers of varying sizes, shapes and colours, on the corridor-side of their doors. Some have more than others, and some seem to tell a story. 'No eye contact', 'No turning your back', 'No auditory interaction', 'Unconfirmed: Inanimate', etc; the list could be endless as more instructions are being discovered and printed every day, although it's not a fast process as the braille needs to be sized and punched correctly. Whenever something is Suspected, they use a medium sized Yellow sticker, with a dashed border for the colourblind. If something is confirmed, then it’s a larger sized Red sticker with a bold border. There are the occasional smaller, Green stickers, with a wavy line as a border; this makes them look more whimsical and friendly, although doesn’t mean that whatever is being contained is safe, just that the action is ‘safe’, such as 'Safe: Eye contact', 'Safe: Slow movement', 'Safe: Liquid exposure'. As it’s quite difficult to confirm that something truly is ‘safe’, there aren’t as many Green stickers as the others, and they’re easy to peel off, in case something turns out to not actually be safe... There are alot of Yellow stickers through the halls, as it’s all too easy to have an unconfirmed suspicion, rather than to prove that something is safe or not. 

After a few Agents are sent on their assignments, the Overseer leads the remaining toward another bland silver door, with the usual square viewing window and several Yellow stickers: the expected, and potentially obvious instructions when approaching any wild animal, ‘maybe don’t touch or feed this thing, it might bite, but we’re not sure’. There are also some White and, some rarer, Black stickers though. The White stickers are confirmed guidelines, Agents normally call the neat little sections of White stickers Biogs, as they’re a bit like summaries, and you need a better name than ‘what do their Whites say?’ when discussing cases with your peers. The Black stickers, however, are important notes to keep in mind if you have to go into the room. These are always very specific, but usually a little cryptic, as if their info is on a need to know basis. Which it sort of is, as they only get explained to you if you’re the one going in. 

Most Anomalies in this section have the White 'Does not eat' sticker, as they’re inanimate objects (less of an instruction, just an observation that it doesn’t need to be fed, although someone must have tried, to be able to confirm it, which summons amusing images of Agents trying to coax mysterious Diaries or amulets to nibble on some fruit or a raw steak), but this one also has this sticker, and it appears to be some kind of small animal. Trying to peer through the door window, Agent 23 thinks it looks like a crow sitting in the middle of the floor, although there are too many layers of thick, toughened glass to get a clear view from this distance. There also appears to be a large, Red, octagonal sticker ,right beside the White one that looks like the 'Do not approach' instruction, based on the size and shape, but it’s covered by a Black sticker frantically scribbled over with what looks like black sharpie? As if someone was trying to take it back, but didn’t have the right sticker to hand. The white text is still easily readable, and says 'Caution level C-3'. The Caution level 'C' stickers are reserved for the Anomalies that have shown cannibalistic traits, which is a rabbit hole of a definition when you consider that these Anomalies aren’t human, and eating other animals is a perfectly normal carnivore activity… for animals. 

But why would a creature that doesn’t eat, according to that White sticker, show interest in eating other creatures..? 

Moreover, the level is a scale, like 1:1 or 1:10 in scale models. 'C-1' is for creatures that will attack and/or eat other creatures the same size as them, 'C-0.5' would mean creatures half their size, etc. So 'C-3' means that it’s 'shown an interest' in attacking and eating something three times its own size. Which, based on how small it is, doesn’t sound too worrisome. And besides, this must have been observed before it was put into containment...

As the Overseer looks over the paperwork left hooked on the door, a couple of the Agents peer through to the chamber. There are three interlock doors, which seems excessive for such a small creature. Two is perfectly fine for most of the other, larger Anomalies. Besides, the extra door space takes away some of the chamber space, leaving it alot smaller, even if the creature inside isn’t very big itself. There aren’t any perches or furniture inside, nothing for enrichment. There are also two chairs outside the doors, one either side, when there are usually just two. Only one is the metal kind with the little document shelf under the seat though, the other doesn’t look like it belongs here, more like it’d been dragged from somewhere else, possibly a staff room on another floor, since the ones on this floor are cushioned. 

“Alright,” the Overseer starts confidently, “have any of you had any experience with this Anomaly?” Two of the six Agents raise their hands, one being Agent 23, a low level Agent who'd been working at the Facility for three years so far. “Perfect. Now please lower your hand if any of those experiences have been negative in any way, if you have verbally expressed any negative thoughts around this doorway, or if you may have been overheard disciplining another Anomaly or member of staff in this hallway, at all”, they slightly raise their voice at the end, as if to emphasise how important this was. Agent 23 keeps her hand raised, but she couldn’t see why any of the staff would do anything like that; however, the other Agent had already lowered his hand, but Agent 23 wasn’t sure at which point of the statement. The Overseer looks down at the clipboard, ‘uh-huh’s to themself a few times, then hangs it back on the designated hook. “Alright. You may lower your hand now. The rest of you, I trust you have jobs to do, you’re dismissed. Agent 23, I’ll instruct you on your tasks for the next…” they pause, as if thinking, “week. If all goes well”. 

The instructions sound like the usual, to observe the Anomaly through the cameras and the door windows, to record everything on the sheet every hour. Although there are also extra, lined sheets to fill in if the Anomaly tries to communicate. Any sign of intelligence should be recorded. It's been reported to react to the verbal greetings given by the Agents through the intercom, and if someone gets close to the glass, sometimes it seems to be looking toward the door. The Overseer has instructed 23 to actually try to get it to respond this time, however she can. If it looks like it’s reacting to the intercom, to continue talking, to see if it’s just the noise, or if it’s the actual speech it recognises. There are the odd notes in the ‘Guide’ that say that it has been observed to obey basic commands such as ‘step away from the door’, ‘stand still’ and such like. 

All of the initial pages in the observation log seem to have been crudely torn out, then the first intact pages have nothing written on them aside from the first boxes having mention of observations being difficult, due to the Anomaly being ‘outside’. 23 decides this must mean before it was put into containment, and was just being observed; because if it had breached containment, then there would be far more paperwork, and more Red stickers on the door. Breachers normally went to a far more secure floor several stories lower, and had their own guards stationed at every checkpoint. The pages documenting the last month or so are all basically uneventful, and nothing of note jumps out at her. 

As 23 turns on the intercom to read the obligatory greeting statement, there’s a slight electrical crackle-buzz as the speaker turns on, and a red LED indicator light at the bottom lights up. The small, crow-like creature turns its head toward the soft sound, its eyes dull and reflectionless, staring slightly off from the main door camera, as the intercom speaker is about a foot underneath. “Greetings. I’m Agent 23,” she begins, trying to sound casual, though professional, as if she doesn’t feel the least bit silly trying to talk to a bird, who probably doesn’t understand anything she’s saying, “I’ll be observing you today. I’ll be here for-” she briefly flicks her eyes down from the monitor to check her notes, quickly counting the start to finish times in her head, “Six hours. Please go about your business as normal.” She lets go of the intercom button, and it makes that same quiet crackle, then silence resumes. 

The creature keeps staring toward the speaker for a moment, then, as 23 observes as instructed, she thinks it glances up to the main camera, but it keeps turning, openly facing one of the side cameras, just staring toward it for what feels like the longest moment. 23 starts to wonder if it can somehow see her, and that its watching her, so she makes a little waving motion with her hand at the monitor to see if it'll react… But then it turns to face the back wall, away from the three cameras pointing toward it, and stays facing that direction.

The rest of the day is relatively uneventful, another Agent nearby makes a breakthrough when they say they got a recording of an inanimate object moving, and they furiously scribble in their observational notes. 23’s ward just sits there, once or twice taking a few slow steps toward one side of the room, a few hours later going to the other side. 

Once it’s time to finish up, she stands, stretching her arms above her head, making a little squeak noise through her nose as her spine pops, and when she turns toward the intercom, she notices the creature on the camera monitor, looking toward the door. Perhaps it could see her shadow move? She pauses briefly before pressing the intercom, there’s no movement at the buzz this time, not even a twitch. “This is Agent 23. I have concluded today’s observations. I will be returning tomorrow. Thankyou for your cooperation.”