#I wish there were a whole lot less people in this world having to deal with oppressive governments and invaders

[medicinemane]

Various stuff I've seen lately just makes me feel like saying this once again in plain terms

I stand with Ukraine and I stand with Iranians. I stand with anyone fighting for their freedom

[sp4ceboo]

Stray: Lee Dokyeom x Cat Hybrid!Reader

A/N: so there are a lot of hybrid AUs out there where the members are the hybrids but it got me thinking about dk with cat hybrid reader (i heard dk was allergic but dw i got it covered)

tw: 18+ because of eventual smut, swearing, hybrids are not treated well by society, a bit of trauma from reader being treated badly, reader doesn't have a home or food at the beginning, reader is extremely emotionally repressed whoops, mentions of death + starving, not really slow burn it's just long and has weird pacing because i refuse to cut out some bits, dk is a huge ball of sunshine, it starts off waffly but gets sm better i promise, cheating and breakup (not dk and reader),

wc: 11.7k (oops)

you'd had your dealings with humans, and most weren't pleasant

as a hybrid, you didn't fully belong with cats or humans

the latter often thought you were inferior, and treated you as much

you find your fully cat form is much more agreeable to your human form with ears - it feels less obvious that way, even though normal cats can smell that you're a hybrid

still, the world isn't kind, and you don't have a home

you'd stood up for yourself at your last job - a secretary in a huge office block - pointing out that you got a much lower salary than the comparable human employees, and had been promptly fired

briefly, a human couple had taken you in, but once they realised you were a hybrid, they kicked you out

which leaves you where you are now, wishing that you were just one or the other and not both

the winter is especially harsh this year, and your soft coat, matted from too many days on the streets, doesn't do much to keep out the cold

the wind is cutting, and you find yourself slinking through the back gardens of some low rise flats, wondering if anyone will spot you and think you're just a stray cat

you can't believe you're stooping this low, but you'd rather this than death by frostbite

like hell you're just going to give up now

it's not like you'd stay permanently without the home owners knowing you're a hybrid, anyway - you know how that ended last time

the muffled sound of laughter floats towards you, and you scale a fence, following the noises until you make your way into a rather overgrown garden

warm light spills through the glass doors, and you curl up on the patio, at the edge of the beam cast by the full kitchen

by full, you mean full

there must be over ten guys in there, all crammed shoulder to shoulder around the dining table, laughing raucously

they're all human, from what you can tell

you can feel a bit of the warmth seeping out from the miniature crack under the door, but before you dare inch forward, further into the light, one of them turns around

he's got a sweet face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he laughs at one of his friend's jokes

the hackles on your back rise as you feel his gaze on you

you've learnt that when humans smile it doesn't always mean they're good people

retreating quickly, you find yourself thankful for the crowded garden, slinking behind a bush to get out of sight

you immediately feel the lack of warmth, the laughter more muffled from here

for some reason, an empty feeling wells up inside you, like you lost something

like you strayed from the path of your destiny

but deep inside you, the survival instincts tug you away from the warm kitchen and the warm smiles

those instincts haven't failed you yet, so why would they fail you now?

however, despite your so called survival instincts, you find yourself in the same garden a week later

again

you'd visited a few times, but they didn't really count, because all you did was peer furtively over the fence, ears swivelling vigilantly

you'd caught sight of the guy who spotted you before, peering outside and frowning

you assume he's the one who owns the bottom floor flat

you hope he was wondering if he should get his garden in order, because if he was, you whole heartedly agree - you almost poked yourself on the brambles a few times

right now, the Guy is washing up, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a bit of a mess, elbow deep in the soapy sink water

his glasses keep falling down his nose

the kitchen lights are on - it's almost dark, and the night's chill is creeping further into your bones

it's been so long since you've been inside that you find indoor lights kind of... mesmerising

it might seem strange, but you almost crave the fake yellow light the light bulbs give off

the Guy suddenly stops washing up and you almost fall off the back fence that you're perched on, thinking he's seen you

then he bobs his head in time to a beat you can't hear while busting out some quite respectable dance moves, and you realise he's just listening to music

it must be some pretty good music - now he's singing, and you can hear it faintly

wow, he's good

he also looks pretty engrossed

that's your queue; you jump down from the back fence, your paws pattering against the frosty patio as you approach

there's something that always draws you back here

and it's not just because of the warm air radiating from his badly insulated flat

still, you're wary - he might seem friendly, and you might feel a certain pull towards him, but that doesn't mean anything

lots of things have felt right that weren't

you're not making any mistakes this time

you're tired of being mistreated because you're a hybrid, and tired of being seen as a pet and not a person

never mind if this ends with the Guy feeding you caviar some cats could only dream of, if he looks at you funny, you're not going to even set foot in his mess of a garden again

with that thought, you curl up beside the glass door, happy to bask in the lingering warmth from the kitchen and enjoy the artificial light

turning your head, you peer at the Guy over the lip of the door

his shoulders are turned in your general direction, but he's looking studiously at the dishes in the sink, shimmying his shoulders and tapping his foot along to the rhythm of the music, so you decide to stay a little longer

that's when the grey clouds coalescing above you decide to start snowing

you feel the fur on your sides fluff up in response, and you wrap your tail around your paws, edging an inch closer to the door

the air is bitingly cold, and you wonder if you'll make it through the night if the snow settles

you haven't eaten a real meal in ages, and you're suddenly aware that it means your poor little cat body has even less insulation

you're certain that if you don't find shelter soon, tonight will be your last

but do you really want to seek help from some random human?

it's ended badly before, but you know it could have ended worse

you won't let that happen again

abruptly, you stand up, tail lashing in irritation at yourself - like hell you're going to come crawling into some human's home, ears pinned back like you need their help

it's not your fault you were born a fucking hybrid

you're halfway down the patio when a warm gust of air blasts down your spine

you wonder if hallucinating heat is an early symptom of hypothermia but continue resolutely making your way towards the back fence

'hey,'

you whip around, a snarl half forming on your face in shock, but it's just the Guy

he leans in the doorway, a smile on his face and his eyes sparkling

'you can come in, if you want.'

the warmth coming from inside his flat is absolute bliss

you're a metre away from the open door, but you can feel your bones defrosting, and you know however hard you try, you can't leave now

not now that he's offered

not when his kind smile triggers not zero, but minus one alarm bells in your head

you approach but hesitate, knowing you're being too quick to give in - he doesn't know you're a hybrid, and you don't know if he's secretly evil and plans to skin you as soon as you step through the door

just to be safe, you stop just out of kicking distance, staring up at him quizzically

surely, he wouldn't voluntarily let a hybrid into his house - you're much more expensive to look after than pets, because you'd basically be another human in the house who can't earn enough to pay bills

you're considering backing out, even with that delicious heat emnating from his kitchen, when he moves to the side so you have a clear path in

your eyes widen a little

you feel like he's being too nice

he laughs a little at your indecision, squatting down so he looks smaller and less intimidating

'come on. i know it must be way too cold out there. i'll let you out whenever you want to leave, if that's what you want.'

that's the final straw

you step over the threshold and bolt

you're not even sure where you're going, but you swerve away from a room where there are clothes strewn over a chair and the desk filled with clutter - that's definitely his bedroom

the only other room that isn't the bathroom or the kitchen is a dusty room full of cardboard boxes and a bed with no sheets on it

a guest room, you assume

flattening yourself against the floor, you crawl under the bed

quickly, you tuck yourself behind one of the boxes which had been artfully stuffed underneath the bed

once you're settled, it occurs to you that that was frankly rude of you

the Guy let you into his flat, and the first thing you do is sprint past him and invade his guest room

but then again, he probably thinks you're just some feral cat who he saved from becoming a feline icicle, so your behaviour would make sense

you tense when you hear footsteps pass the door, but he doesn't come in, just walks into what you assume is the bathroom

a few minutes later, you hear the shower turn on, and you relax a little more

maybe he'll let you be for now

curling your tail over your nose to stop yourself from snorting in the ridiculous amounts of dust under the bed, you wedge yourself further behind the box and close your eyes

it's amazingly warm in the Guy's flat, you'll give him that

warm enough that despite the hunger that's been gnawing at your stomach for the past week, you find yourself falling into a sleep deeper than you've been able to reach for ages

you'll get to sorting out the details of your little invasion of his flat in the morning

for now, you're happy to sleep

when you wake up, he's gone

understandably, though - he must work pretty hard to afford a nice-ish flat like this, and it is also twelve noon

unfortunately, he doesn't appear to have any cat flaps, so that means you'll have to momentarily shift into your very naked human form to let yourself out the back door

you wonder if you should check in his fridge if he's got anything to eat, but then you decide against it - he's already given you a place to stay for the night, no need to eat his food as well

ignoring the call of the fridge and the shower, you pad over to the back door, pausing when you see something propped against the glass

it's a little whiteboard, and as you approach, you make out the writing

it's got 'hi, i'm dokyeom, dk for short :D' written across the top, with a little flow chart beneath

it starts with two options: 'are you a hybrid' with a box for ticking under 'yes' and 'no'

under the option for 'no', it says 'i'll buy cat food' and under 'yes', it says 'there are spare clothes in the guest room and towels in the bathroom (both clean, don't worry), help yourself to anything in the fridge'

you sit down on your haunches, shocked

so he did consider that you could be a hybrid?

and he's alright with it?

plus, he managed to leave clothes in the room you were sleeping in, and you didn't wake up?

maybe your instincts aren't as good as you thought

or maybe your body thought you were safe last night - safe enough to not wake you up when the Guy (dokyeom, you've learnt from the mini whiteboard) came in

you cock your head, staring at the whiteboard for a few moments longer before making your decision

honestly, it's not hard to choose

you make your way to the bathroom, already eagerly anticipating a shower

sure enough, he's left a towel on the rail, and you're quick to hop into the shower, shifting into your human form and turning up the heat high

it's strange to be out of your cat form, your body suddenly seeming too large and ungainly, your senses immediately dulled

but in a way, it's also freeing - you haven't been able to be like this in ages, as clothes unfortunately don't shift with you from cat to human form

you feel more real this way

that's the problem: you can't exist as just one or another, both animal and human are part of your soul, your essence - you can't just pretend that one half of you doesn't exist

eventually, you drag yourself out of the shower

you're aware that he might have limited hot water, and what kind of guest would you be if you used it up before he even got a chance to get home?

wrapping the towel around you, you slip into the guest room to put on the clothes he'd left there

it's a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, a large white t-shirt and a grey hoodie, all obviously his

even in your human form, you can smell the mixed scents on his clothes

there's the fresh smell of clean laundry, a hint of aftershave, and his own unique scent: you can't quite put your finger on it, but it feels... cosy

it's a smell that's all over his house, actually

barefoot, you enter the kitchen again, scooping the whiteboard off the floor so you can write on it

you tick the box under 'yes'

underneath that, you write a quick note:

'thanks for letting me stay. i'll be out of your hair in no time, i just needed somewhere for the night. you're very kind, dk. thank you so much :))'

signing your name and setting the whiteboard down on the counter on the way to the fridge, you rummage around, wondering what you can cook

you're pleasantly surprised - the contents of his fridge aren't awful, and although they could be organised a little better, it's thankfully not full of expired ready meals or anything like that

feeling better than you've felt in ages, you wander around his kitchen until you find his rice cooker, and then you get cooking

you're absolutely ravenous, but you make sure to make enough for him too - he's been unnecessarily kind to you, this is the best you can do for him

you're just finished washing up your dishes when your instincts prickle

it's a sensation that happens a lot when you're in your human form - it means that your cat form would be picking up something that your human senses are too dull to detect

rushing back to the bedroom, you slip out of the clothes he laid out for you, hastily folding them before shifting back to your cat form

logically, you have no reason to fear

he's been nothing but kind to you, but he's still a human

and humans aren't always as nice as they seem

you feel so much more secure in your cat form - smaller, faster, better at avoiding sticky situations, better at surviving

your ears twitch as you hear a key scrape in the lock

that must be him - dk

you stand indecisively in the middle of the guest room, your claws sinking unconsciously into the carpet before you hastily retract them

by then, he's toed his shoes off and is in the kitchen

you hear a soft 'oh'

he's probably found the whiteboard on the counter, moved from where he left it, and the dinner you cooked for him

he calls your name then, and you almost jump out of your skin before you remember you wrote it on the whiteboard

feeling far too nervous, you trot out into the corridor, nudging the kitchen door open before entering

he's right there, leaning against the counter, his smiling eyes bright as he looks down at you

this is the first time you've really seen him, really realised you let your guard down and allowed some random guy to let you into his house

he looks absolutely huge

like, he could crush your cat form in his bare hands if he wanted to you, although you realise that's not that great of a feat considering your small stature

he would also tower over your human form, but then again, that's not much of an achievment

still, it makes you take a small step back

humans have unquestioned power over hybrids - you're pretty sure if he killed you right here and now, no one would know or care

and if someone did know, the case would be as likely to make it to court as you are likely to become a billionare next week

your hackles begin to rise, and you mentally run through your escape options

unfortunately, none avoid you shifting into your naked human form, even if it's just for a few seconds

you're beginning to panic

a lot

but then, he crouches down, just like last night

slowly, keeping his movements predictable, he reaches his hand out towards you

'i won't hurt you,'

you relax just a tiny bit, ears twitching, waiting to see what he'll say next

'promise.'

of their own accord, your hackles lower, and you find yourself inching towards his outstretched hand

'you don't have to leave, you know. it would be nice to have some company. plus, i don't want to make assumptions, but i'd rather not let you go if you have nowhere else to stay.'

part of your brain wonders why he's being so nice

the other part, the part that you've shoved down for so long, surfaces like a long lost ache, reminding you how lonely you are, reminding you how much you miss simple human interaction

dipping your head forward, you sniff at his broad palm, before lightly licking his fingertips

he chuckles, albeit a little nervously, as if he's scared you're going to bolt at any second (to be fair, if you were him, you wouldn't write off that option either)

his other hand comes up to rub behind your ears, and your eyes close at the feeling

the beginnings of a purr start to form in your chest, and you know that's when your fate is sealed

the permanence of that thought unsettles you

pulling away, you head towards the radiator, settling close to it, glad that your cat form means that you don't have to talk to him

he grins brightly at you, picking up the plate you left on the counter and putting it in the microwave for warming up

'thanks for the dinner, but you know you don't owe me anything, right?'

you blink up at him from your spot on the floor

he's literally the kindest human you've ever met

then again, you haven't met very many kind humans

that night you sleep curled up on the sofa - it's much more comfortable than wedged underneath a bed, and his cushions smell nice

in the morning, you hear dk get up, but he tip toes around quietly

cracking an eye open, you yawn, eyes blinking into focus as you watch him quickly scribble on the whiteboard, his brow furrowed in concentration

he glances your way, and for some reason, it shoots a bolt of panic through you, and you duck your head back down, closing your eyes

it's not that he's threatening - quite the opposite

it's just that you're not used to this; not used to being in such close proximity with another being for prolonged periods of time, not used to interaction with humans after avoiding them for your own sake for so long

you hear some shuffling, the sound of the fridge door, and then his footsteps approach

as he walks past, he brushes a hand lightly down the soft fur of your back, as if in greeting

you almost twitch at the feeling

you wonder how long it's been since you've let anyone come that close

not daring to move a hair, you wait until you hear him ease the front door shut

the second he's gone, you jump up, eager to see what he wrote on the whiteboard

it's on the counter, so you shift into your human form and put on some clothes - you're not sure what his rules about paws on tables are

there's a fresh t-shirt on the guest room bed, but you opt to wear the one you wore yesterday

a smile plays on your lips as you read what he wrote

it's a short but sweet message extolling the virtues of your cooking and telling you to help yourself to the fridge again, followed by a question asking if what food you would like and whether you prefer cat food

still grinning, you write your reply, explaining how you can eat both human and cat food and how you love tuna in either form, adding a short shopping list of ingredients and asking how his day was

once you're done, you decide to explore his flat properly

it consists of two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a tiny room with a washing machine and various bits and bobs crammed inside, and the kitchen which sort of melds with the living room (if you could call the couch and TV in one corner a living room)

you spend most of your time snooping around his bedroom, just to sate your curiosity

it's not neat, but it's not messy either, and the smell of him is strongest in there

you're sure his desk should be buckling under the combined weight of his pc and the impressive amount of paraphanalia that's collected upon it

it's not that it's dirty - it's actually pretty orderly, there's just... a lot of stuff

there's a mug full of pens which says 'dude kisser' on it (you're not going to question that one), a haphazard stack of books - the top one of which has a fuzzy bookmark sticking out, a pile of mismatching keycaps, a group photo of dk and twelve other guys with moustaches and other flattering things lovingly drawn on, and tons more stuff you couldn't explain even if you tried

the chair has a lot of clothes draped over it: nice, comfy clothes, like the ones he's lended you

you're tempted to explore further into his room, but you feel kind of rude so you scuttle back to the kitchen/living room to make the happy discovery that he owns a nintendo switch

that means he probably has some more complicated games lurking around but you're happy to settle with mario kart for now

it's not something you've played before, although you've heard some of your human ex-colleagues talking about it

by the time dk returns, though, you're a pro

well, maybe not a pro, but not inept, either

by then you've made dinner and left it out for him like yesterday - you feel kind of weird doing nothing but playing video games while he goes to work, and at least cooking for him makes you feel a little useful and not like some awful parasite taking advantage of him

he tells you about his day as he eats at the dinner table while you sit in cat form on the chair next to him

he smiles the whole time, and you find yourself relaxed and content, infected by his happy virus

once he's done with his debrief, he unthinkingly asks how your day was

you look at him and give him your best deadpan meow

he laughs and you find it a bit dazzling - he hands away smiles as if they're free, and honestly it kind of restores your faith in humanity

'what if you blink twice for yes and once for no? how about that?'

you blink twice at him

dk grins, his eyes lighting up; he's so excited you can almost imagine him clapping his hands and kicking his legs like an enthusiastic little kid

'do you like pineapple on pizza? is it wrong to wear socks and sandals? how about socks in bed? are tomatoes a fruit? is it right to have toilet paper over? or do you like it under?'

he bombards you with random yes or no questions, each one getting weirder than the last, but you find his delight in your answers is more than enough to let him continue

after about half an hour, he either runs out of questions or decides to spare you, asking instead whether you want to watch a movie

that's how you end up curled up on the sofa beside him

he'd insisted on a horror movie, even though you'd said no, very clearly blinking only once

you would leave but you think it's kind of entertaining how bad the makeup and plot are and how violent his reactions are (they consist of a lot of flailing and terrified squeaks)

despite your reluctance to watch a horror movie, he's actually more scared than you are

the poor thing is tense as anything, his mouth hanging half open as he stares wide eyed at the tv, transfixed

you're actually too busy watching him that when the jump scare pops up on screen, you jump about a foot high, landing hissing on his lap with your tail all fluffed up

your claws accidentally come out and prick him through his jeans and he yelps

'ouch - shit - ow - '

you hop off his lap and watch him dramatically curse and pretend to be wounded, both of you distracted from the movie now

eventually he calms down and goes back to watching, but not before he picks you up and plops you back on his lap, one hand anxiously smoothing down your back as you both wait for the next jump scare

after a while he goes so far as to pick you up and hold you to his chest, hiding his face in your fur every time the music warningly crescendos, whispering to you how utterly terrified he is

even still, his grip stays loose enough for you to move away at any time if you want

you'd think that after your previous experiences with humans, you'd hate him anywhere near you, but you don't

you don't mind it at all

it's kind of ridiculous actually, the way you feel safer than you have in months when he clutches you to him while watching a literal horror movie

you don't think much of it though

he's just a guy who's letting you stay for a bit

you don't plan to stick around

a week later, you find yourself writing an apology on the whiteboard that you'd been putting off since watching the movie

dk is welcoming and warm and friendly but you're sure he must be wondering why you haven't shifted into your human form yet

sometimes, you wonder that yourself - there's something in his eyes that instantly puts you at ease

the day before yesterday, you'd planned it, changing into your clothes - his clothes, and sitting on the sofa, ready to greet him, but the moment you heard his footsteps up to the front door, you just couldn't

your cat form still feels so much safer, even though you have nothing to fear

well, apart from all the explaining you'd have to do once you shift into a form with a tongue that can talk

you don't want to see the pity that would spring into his eyes, or worse, disgust

you're scared of the change it will bring

you're scared to let your walls down

you're scared to bare the soft, vulnerable part of your heart

clenching your teeth, you force yourself to relax, the marker in your hand shaking from how hard your fingers had been clenching around it

you lean against the counter for a while, writing messages then rubbing them out, needing to tell him why but also terrified of what he'll say

solitude has been your only companion for so long, you find that you don't have the words to express what you feel

you don't know how to tell him how you hadn't realised how lonely you were until he let you in

you don't know how to articulate the warm feeling inside you when he smiles at you, as if he doesn't care whether you're a human or a hybrid - because he doesn't

you don't know how to say how eternally grateful you are to him for finding something soft and gentle and innocent within you that you thought you lost years ago

in the end, you decide to keep it short, an apology that feels more like an excuse, but it's the best you can give him

sure, you don't plan to stay here with him forever, but you owe it to him anyway

your restless for the remainder of the day, pacing around the flat and the garden for a little too, tail lashing agitatedly

you've almost convinced yourself to go and rub out your message completely when you hear the front door open and dk comes in, calling out that he's home

peeking around the corner, you see him down the hallway but he doesn't spot you

he's got a strange look on his face, one you can't decipher yet, and there's a flowery scent on him that you've smelled only one time before

you wait just out of sight, not wanting to see his face as he reads

slowly, you venture out, feeling far more nervous than you should be

he sits down on the floor opposite you as soon as he spots you, signalling for you to do the same by patting the spot in front of him

you sink down on your haunches and curl your tail over your feet, nerves a tight ball in your chest

'you don't have to shift if you don't want to.'

the words immediately give you space to breathe, and you feel kind of silly for being so worked up about it all day

'i know hybrids aren't treated well at all, and i'm okay with whatever form you feel most comfortable in, you know? you can shift when you're ready, and whether that's tomorrow or in a decade or never, that's fine. you don't owe me anything.'

your chest feels tight at the earnesty of his words, and you know that if you were in your human form right now, tears would be welling up in your eyes

getting up, you close the gap between the two of you and rest your shoulder against his knee, needing to show your gratitude, needing to be closer to him

he rests his wide palm on your back, a silent assurance

'it's nice to have you here. i used to share with a bunch of my friends - the ones coming over tonight that i told you about this morning, actually - and sometimes it gets lonely in a flat all by myself. i like talking with you.'

you meow, nuzzling against his other hand as he lifts it to stroke the silky spot between your ears

it's amazing, how simple his words are but how he can use them so well, articulating how he feels so boldly

he smiles down at you and you look back up at him, leaning against his hand before he gets up, groaning and cracking his back

his friends will be here soon

he'd warned you this morning, informing you they were noisy but harmless and that if you didn't want to see them, you could hole up in the guest room

they're the first people he's had over since your first night in his flat, and you feel kind of nervous about so many humans, but dk will be there, and you're determined to at least attempt to meet them

anyways, if they're all anywhere close to him, you'll have no problems

still, you stay in the guest room, ears twitching with each arrival

they laugh and chat, their voices carrying through the flat as they jokingly rib each other

occasionally, they have a little karaoke break where they all stop talking to sing along to the song playing on dk's speaker

then there'll be peals of laughter that follow, usually after an exaggerated falsetto note or a scuffling noise which you assume is dancing

it's after their laughter dies down a little when you finally whip up the courage to approach

poking your head into the kitchen, you peer in

there's twelve of them, not including dk, all sitting around the dining table, an array of soju bottles and mainly empty takeaway boxes arranged around them

you're pretty sure they're the same group that you saw the first time you found yourself in dk's garden

one of them spots you in the doorway, and he grins, leaning with his elbows on his knees and opening his palms to you

cautiously, you trot over to him, and he scoops you up, tickling your chin

one of dk's friends across the table gapes at you - he's a bit more drunk than the others (or he holds his liquor less well), and the guy you're sitting on chuckles at his expression

'dk, you got a cat?'

that's the drunk one speaking, his speech a little slurred as his eyes well up with tears

he's a sad drunk, it seems

'dk, you're a dad - '

dk scratches the back of his neck, watching his friend sniffle

'well, hoshi, not a dad, but - '

the guy still holding you adjusts you in his grasp, letting you catch the thoughtful frown on his face

'why didn't you tell us? i thought you were al - '

he's cut off by a sassy looking guy

'jun, just because you want to have a baby shower for a cat doesn't mean all the rest of us do.'

this causes absolute chaos, and the one holding you - jun - lets you down on the floor so he can stand up in order to argue with the sassy guy about the benefits of cat baby shower

navigating your way through the mess of legs under the table, you make your way over to dk

he grins and rubs the spot behind your ears, and you lick his palm before someone grabs you around the middle and cuddles you

you hear dk telling the boys to be careful and it warms your heart a little that he's still looking out for you

he doesn't need to be worried, though

dk's friends are as sweet as he is

you sit with the boys for the rest of the evening

they all leave eventually, trickling out in ones and twos

the last one left is the one they call cheol - he seems to be the protector of the group, and he makes sure dk is alright and helps him clear up a little before he leaves too

once he's out of the door, dk crouches down in front of you

'you okay?'

you blink twice and he grins

'they can be pretty overwhelming and noisy at first, but they're my best friends.'

there's pride shining in his eyes, and you can't help but agree with him - despite their banter, you could tell that they care so much for each other, and for him

'i didn't know whether you wanted them to know you were a hybrid or not, i hope you don't mind that,'

you blink twice again, meowing and padding forward to rub against his shins

you're not quite sure what makes you do that, what primal part of you tells you to put your scent on him, but he chuckles, smile as bright as the sun as always

he scratches at the spot behind your ear and you purr, leaning your head into his touch

'oh - '

you look up, the wonder on his face making it seem like he just made you sprout wings and flash neon

it's cute that he's so proud that he's made you purr

it's been a few months since you first started staying with dk, long enough for the two of you to have a little routine

you cook and clean and generally try to make yourself as helpful as you can around his house while he's at work

he'll write a message for you on the whiteboard every morning, and you'll write your reply during the day

you always come out to greet him at the front door, no matter what

then he'll eat the dinner you made and answer your whiteboard message

from then on, you'll watch a movie with him or just chat

your communication has become easier - sometimes, he'll get his laptop out and you'll type what you're saying, but recently he's gotten scarily good at reading your body language

and no, you still have not worked up the courage to shift into human form yet

you're studiously ignoring the fact that the longer you leave it, the harder it gets

you're also ignoring your previously stated intentions of not staying

you know that this can't go on forever, and even if dk can understand you to an extent, that's not enough and you cost him extra water bills and food

you know he's too kind to bring it up but it eats away at you inside

you're happy to remain blind to the fact that you can't have a proper conversation with him until you shift into human form for now

you tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, whenever later is

another thing that you refuse to acknowledge is your feelings

your fear that you won't be good enough if or when you show him your human form, your fear that you're a dead weight, and worst of all, the growing realisation that he's stupidly fucking handsome

you'd realised but you hadn't realised until one day, after he got back from the gym

his skin had been covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he told you he was going to shower before eating

you'd kind of just blinked at him, too entranced by the amount of skin his tank top was showing

like, what does this guy not have?

he took a little longer than normal in the shower - you heard him absolutely belting out the lyrics to some ballad you'd never heard before, so you trotted down the hallway to listen more closely

and then the door to the bathroom popped open, along with a billow of steam and a delicious lee dokyeom

there was a towel around his hips, low enough to make your stomach twist, and the water rolled down the planes of his chest in a way that made you want to shift into your human form right then and there, just to wrestle that towel off him and kiss him until you ran out of breath

instead, you yowled and jumped about a foot in the air

he just laughed, running a hand through his wet hair to push it out of his eyes before crouching down, telling you he didn't mean to scare you

you meowed and kept your eyes on his face, not on the gap that had opened in the towel due to his bent knees, and definitely not on the wonderful sliver of tanned thigh that showed

the image of dk, damp and glorious under the tinny light of his bathroom, cloaked in steam, often circles around your mind to this day

and it's not just that either - he's also funny and kind and sweet and you feel yourself drowning in his eyes when you look at him too long

just as a reminder: cats do not like water

let alone drowning

the sound of footsteps on the pavement outside dk's front door shake you from your thoughts

there's clearly two people, and you hear dk's voice as the key scrapes in the lock

he's speaking in a tone you've never heard before, low and emotionally charged, like he's angry

you peek into the hallway as the front door opens

dk steps in, followed by a girl you've never seen before, but her scent matches that flowery scent you've smelt on dk a few times before

something sinks inside you

you didn't think he had a girlfriend, which now, in hindsight, seems like a really, really stupid assumption

he's handsome and kind and considerate with a smile brighter than the sun

but then you notice something else - the obvious frown on dk's face

there's a sort of tension in the air, crackling and heavy, like a storm's brewing and there are dark clouds swarming above

she ignores it, instead spotting you and immediately crouching and patting her thighs to try and entice you over as dk shucks off his shoes, face like thunder

she says something to him in an airy voice about him not telling her he had a cat

he shrugs, not mentioning that you're a hybrid and staying silent, which kind of alarms you, because the dk you know is friendly, warm - even when he's angry, it's always firey, nothing like the frigid detachedness in his eyes right now

cautiously, you approach, not really sure what to expect - you're sure she's his girlfriend; now you think about it, you did hear dk's friends discuss it briefly, you just didn't understand at the time

she reaches out to stroke your back, but it brings the cuff of her oversized leather coat near your face

you get a smothering whiff of heavy, masculine cologne that you know is not hers and is definitely not dk's

there's no hint of aftershave, no smell of fresh laundry, and not even a trace of that scent on him that makes you feel warm and comfy

and if this isn't her coat, and it's not dk's, then who's is it?

cheater

hissing, you recoil, your hackles up as you swipe at her hand with your claws out before she can lay a finger on you

you're kind of taken aback by the violence of your own reaction - the tension in the air must be getting to you, too

'oh. it doesn't like me much, you're sure it's not one of those hybrids, right?'

dk's frown deepens into a scowl you've never even seen a hint of on his face, his eyes flashing, filled with something absolutely livid

'let's talk in the kitchen.'

he doesn't even look at her when he says it, and as he turns to go, you can see how hard he's clenching his jaw

you head to the guest room to give them privacy while dk's girlfriend slinks after him

even across the apartment, you can hear too well

it's partly your enhanced cat hearing and partly that new timbre in dk's voice - he's not yelling, nowhere close, but his words carry through the walls

it's the angriest you've ever heard him

you've seen him angry before; frustrated, annoyed, down right incensed, but it always passes quickly, the sun breaking through the clouds with ease - dk doesn't hold grudges

you catch 'cheating' from his sentence, and then suddenly, his girlfriend raises her voice, like she's the one who should be angry, screaming that she doesn't get why he's so worked up over this

that's the exact moment where you want to march into the kitchen and fucking injure her, somehow

punching her in human form would be preferable but you'd be down to claw her eyes out in cat form too

who is she, to cheat on dk, the kindest man alive, then tell him it's nothing? tell him she doesn't know why he's worried?

she doesn't know what she's taking for granted, and she's a fool for that

plus, from what you can hear, he's being half as angry as he really deserves to be, anyway

you sit there in a tense, seething ball of rage, protective and furious on dk's behalf until he puts his foot down

his voice is quieter, more subdued, but he's moved to the kitchen door and you hear him clearly

'get out.'

mentally, you pump your fist in triumph - he should have kicked her out the moment she had the audacity to tell him he shouldn't be getting so worked up about her cheating

in fact, he should have never have let her in in the first place

you hear her screech something over her shoulder about breaking up, as if that wasn't already obvious

honestly, you're kind of embarrassed on her behalf

she should be winning awards for how far her head is up her own ass

dk shuts the door behind her

he doesn't even slam it, just eases it closed like he always does and plods to his room

you hear the rustle of the blankets as he slumps down on the bed, hear the shaky sigh he lets out, and then the heavy silence

you get up and go to his room - the door is ajar, so you peek in

you don't go in; he has every reason to want to be alone, so you hover in the doorway

he lifts his head up and gives you a valiant smile

he looks exhausted

you hop up onto the bed and wait, not wanting to crowd him if he doesn't want contact, but he picks you up and sets you on his chest

you can tell he's fighting with his words as he formulates something to say to you

he stares up at the ceiling, avoiding your eyes until he covers his own with his arm, hiding the upper half of his face in the crook of his elbow

'i found out she was cheating this morning, but i'd suspected it for a while before. i wanted to talk it through with her, give her a chance, you know?'

he squirms and you realise your claws are coming out and poking his chest so you withdraw them and attempt to relax

'she told me i was overreacting, and... yeah. i guess i should have listened to my mum. she's always right.'

he laughs, but it's a loose, raw sound that echoes weakly around the room, and he still won't look at you or uncover his eyes

there's a moment of silence, thick and suffocating with heartache

a sob wrenches from his chest

it's a sharp, painful sound, like he's been holding it in for hours

the floodgates open

dk covers his face with trembling hands, tears leaking out from under his palms

you never thought seeing someone else cry would hurt this much

nudging his hand with your nose, you let him hold you close, rubbing your cheek against his and gently lapping the tears off his face, even as they soak your fur

you feel helpless, like the pieces of his heart are in your hands and you don't know how to fit them back together

he just clings to you, eyes tight shut as his sobs begin to subside

you stay there with him, wishing you could do more as he hides his face in your fur and hugs you close to him

you don't know what that girl was thinking when she decided to cheat on dk

actually, she probably wasn't thinking at all

you kind of want to tell him he's too kind and trusting for his own good, but you know that even if dk was capable of not being like that, he would choose to be the way he is

his hand strokes down your back, and you watch him from where you rest your head on his collarbone

he's staring at the ceiling, and although his eyes are red and a bit puffy and he's sniffling, his crying has subsided a little

dk props himself up on his elbows and gives you a sad smile

'sorry about that. and thanks, too, i - i needed that.'

you huff, tail flicking and smacking against his abdomen - as if he needs to be sorry

nuzzling into the hand he brings up to rub your head, you lick his palm, nudging it with your nose

then you hop off the bed and wait for him to follow you into the kitchen so he eats his dinner

you don't take your eyes off him, not even when he goes to sleep

you curl up in the corner, happy to sleep on the carpet, but he pats the mattress next to him and you can't refuse

it's nice, to sleep beside dk, his body warm and near as he reaches across the bed to run his hand down the fur of your spine and beckon you closer

over the next months, you watch dk heal

you help him heal, too

at least, you hope you do

you make sure to stick close to him

you've slept curled up at the foot of his bed every night since the day of the break up

he calls his mum the day after, and a few of his friends too

he stays strong and determinedly brave in front of the boys, not shedding a tear, but he cries on the phone to his mum

he also cries over a few emotionally fraught kdramas during the first week before you sit on the remote and refuse to move until he chooses another genre

truth be told, you were getting kind of sick of the same plot with different characters, and the pile of tissues on the coffee table in front of the sofa was growing frighteningly large

exactly a month has passed since the break up when, over his dinner, dk announces to you that he's finally installing cat flaps for you

he also mentions that he wants to introduce you to his friends properly, as who you are

the latter comment kind of makes you nervous

his friends are some of the most welcoming, commendable men you've ever interacted with, but a niggling part of your brain wonders if they'll be more sceptical than dk

what if they tell him you're taking advantage of him?

or that you're just a hybrid and don't deserve the kindness he's giving you?

because after all these months with dk, you realised you're not just staying for the roof over your head or the warm meals

you're staying because of dk

you care about him

a lot

not just because you're sort of a little bit hopelessly in love with him, but also because he's kind of... your best friend

he's so sweet and silly and and considerate and funny it makes you want to punch a wall sometimes

you'd protect him with your life

you don't really know how to say it to him, though

there's nothing more you can do in the house, and the words don't seem right on the whiteboard

you wait out the hours until he gets back from work, doing chores around the house or out exploring the neighbourhood through the newly installed cat flap in the back door

or singing in the shower, like you are now

dk's bathroom has very good acoustics

it means you can belt your heart out, happily knowing that dk won't be home for another few hours

you're singing one of the songs dk's friends had been singing the other night

it's kind of sad but also kind of a hoe anthem and the chorus has something about not understanding something - you don't remember the rest of the lyrics

it has a good tune, though, and your own singing combined with the splashing of the shower seals you off from the outside world

which means that when dk gets home early, you don't hear

originally, the only explanation for a female voice coming from his bathroom that he can think of is his ex, but that's dumb because she never had a key in the first place

also, her voice can't even compare to yours

because it is you, he realises

it's you in the shower right now, oblivious to the fact he's home early and is hearing your voice for the first time ever

a little bolt of nervous energy shoots through him, and he panics

what's he supposed to do? should he shout that he's home?

he decides he doesn't want to scare you just in case you panic, so he approaches slowly, hoping to knock on the door and let you know

he soaks up the sound of your voice, a smile playing on his lips, because of course you sound amazing

he's about to knock on the door when the handle turns

wait is all he gets out before suddenly, there you are, right in front of him, wrapped in a towel, cat ears peaking out from your hair that's dripping onto the tiled floor

his brain freezes

shit, you're pretty

you gape at dk

you didn't even hear him come in, let alone him walking down the hallway

this is probably karma from that one time you saw him fresh out of the shower

you'd known that it was inevitable for him to see you in human form at some point, whether it was intentional or not

you just didn't expect it to be so soon, and definitely not like this

oh no

he didn't hear your singing, did he?

instinctively, your hand comes up to make sure the towel around your chest is secure

you're seconds away from shifting and running, but you're rooted to the spot, paralysed by his eyes on you

he blinks a little, as if he's coming to his senses

'...hey,'

that's all he says, his voice soft and wondrous, his eyes sparkling the way they always do, sweet and inviting as the smile pulling at his lips

'hi,'

unfortunately for you, it comes out half strangled and breathy, but a grin immediately appears on his face, his eyes scrunching with happiness

he hasn't looked away once, gaze roving over your face as if he's committing you to memory, and you feel a hot blush begin to creep over you

'i, uh, let me go change.'

you scurry back into the bathroom, almost tripping over the bathmat as you shuck on a shirt and trousers, small tremors going through your hands

you tell yourself it's fine

because it is fine - you're not scared of dk, you trust him, it' just... you should have shifted for him ages ago

placing your hand on the door handle, you take a deep breath

turning back to the mirror, you hastily fix your hair before biting the bullet and opening the door

dk waits outside, leaning against the wall, still smiling

when you peek out, half hiding behind the door, his grin widens, and he opens his arms

you barely need to think, your body just moves, and then he's got you tight in his embrace, your nose pressed into his chest: just like that, any semblance of unease or self consciousness you were feeling evaporates like the space between you

slowly, you breathe in, then out

he smells like he always does - laundry, aftershave, and the scent that you've begun to associate with home

you sigh, resting your forehead on his chest so you don't have to look at him when you speak

'well, that wasn't so hard for me, was it?'

he laughs, eyes dancing, and with that, everything is back to normal

it doesn't matter which form you're in, it's still dk, and it's still you

you talk to him for ages - first over dinner, and then the two of you move to the couch, losing track of time as you fill him in, answering every question he fires your way

his sincerity makes your heart flutter: he clings onto your every word as if it's precious

in the end, you wind up telling him how you got to the situation you were in before

you lay yourself bare, letting your walls down for him to see the scars on your soul

you're not sure when the tears pricking at your eyes spill over, but dk wipes them away gently, spreading his arms for the second time tonight, letting you soak the front of his hoodie with your tears

he tucks your head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing up and down your back the way he always does

his heartbeat is comforting under your ear

you fall asleep like that, held safely in dk's embrace

things continue as normal, even with your human form revealed

you realise how stupid you were for worrying so much about things changing when you shifted into your human form

you talked to dk about how you feel like a burden, how although he doesn't mind, you don't like relying on him to pay the bills, and how you want to get a job

he reassured you that it was fine but after seeing the look of determination on your face, he realised there was no point in opposing you

so he pulls some strings (more like cheol pulls some strings) to get you a part time job in the local library

it's just three days a week, but the important thing is that you get paid and treated the same as any human would

your boss is a little old lady with very thick reading glasses

she bakes you cakes sometimes, and once she's fed you a slice or two, she forces you to take the rest home

it's not anything like your old job, but neither would you want it to be

it doesn't pay your bills either, but it's a happy compromise

dk claims that coming home every day to a meal that you cooked is worth the money of those bills a hundred times over, anyway

you also officially meet his friends

they're sweet, a bit noisy and chaotic at first, but they make sure to keep you included in the conversation despite all the private jokes that they seem to have

they act a bit like a huge family unit (they bicker like brothers)

despite their closeness with each other, it doesn't push you away

they didn't even care that you were a hybrid

you caught a knowing look pass between the one called joshua and the one called jeonghan when dk introduced you, but you're not really sure what it could have been about

you were probably just imagining it, to be honest

anyways, aside from occasionally attending their boys nights (on demand, they always clamour for you to join them), the little routine you and dk made is still very much the same

you still cook for him, except now you wait and eat dinner with him

there's never a dull moment with dk, and he makes you laugh until you can't breathe

he's made it his personal goal over dinner to make you laugh so hard you snort food up your nose again

you talk about everything and anything to him

he'll tell you about a funny thing at work and you'll tell him about a customer at the library and somehow that will bring you to a debate on hogwarts houses

today he sits across from you, the food on his plate already all long gone and eaten while you're just finishing up with yours

'you know, i'm allergic to cats.'

you gape

because he's what now?

'you're what now?'

'well, not to you, i guess. maybe you're hypoallergenic?'

now you think of it, you do remember one of his friends almost saying something about that the first time you ever saw them

it might have been jun, you can't quite remember

'you know, when you first sat next to me on the sofa, i was panicking because i didn't know what to do with cats.'

you snort

you address him as you get up, dumping your plate in the sink before proceeding to dive onto the sofa

'you didn't know what to do with cats? you just stroke us, dk.'

he follows suit, and you're propelled upwards due to the force that he lands on the sofa cushions with

'yeah, but it's different from how you stroke dogs. it doesn't matter, anyways, because i still got you to purr.'

he crosses his arms and smiles smugly

you throw back your head and laugh, realising why he looked so proud when he found the spot behind your ear

actually, you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and it's only egged on by the small indignant noise that leaves him at your reaction

eventually, you need to catch your breath, and as you wipe the tears from your eyes, you glance over at dk

your heart lurches

he's staring

there's this look on his face, in his eyes, that burns

his lips are slightly parted, and suddenly the air between the two of you is charged in a way that makes your heartbeat pound loud in your ears

his gaze flicks down from your eyes, down to your mouth, then back up, and all of a sudden, you can't breathe

you can't even think as he leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips

your head spins, fear and elation fighting for control

is he... is he going to kiss you?

his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his slender fingers warm and so undoubtedly right

like it's meant to be

'can i kiss you?'

his words come out so softly that you could almost believe you imagined them, if not for that look in his eyes

it's deep and immense, full of want, full of longing

it sweeps you up in its arms, promising you the love you only dare to dream of

it's beautiful

it's everything

also, it's fucking terrifying

panic grips your swelling heart and crushes it

he can't want you, he shouldn't - you're a hybrid, he's a human, it will never work, you'll just get hurt when he realises you're not good enough, when he realises how much harder it is to be associated with your kind, you can't disappoint him -

leaping off the sofa, you shift into cat form and sprint for the back door

you shoot right through the cat flap and run, legging it to the end of the garden and launching yourself over the fence

despite your speed, you still spare dk a backward glance

he sits, frozen on the sofa, his head turned towards you, eyes wide and bewildered

they're brimming with regret and what you'd like to imagine is sorrow

you never thought the ache of yearning in your chest would be returned, so you let it carve out a space for him in your heart

you didn't think he'd try to fill it, you didn't think he'd be dumb enough to want a hybrid like you

that night, you try to leave

you try to walk down the road, away from dk's house, away from dk and his comforting scent and warm hands

you can't

your soul seems tethered to his, and you can't bring yourself to cut the strings

you spend the night sitting in the garden next to his, tail curled around your paws, bathed in the glow of his kitchen lights that don't turn off until around three am in the morning

you shiver in the dark, fighting with yourself until you decide to go back, to talk it out with him because that's what he deserves

you hate to slink back to him after being such a coward, but you need him to know that you do want him, that if you were a human, if you were good enough for him, you would have kissed him in a heartbeat

quietly, you slip through the cat flap make your way into the guest room

it's changed so much since the first night you spent in it - dk moved most of the boxes out of it, making it your room, even though you sleep in his most of the time

there's a selfie of you and dk, wrapped up in blankets for movie night, and a group photo of you and the boys halfway through the most chaotic game of cards you've ever participated in

you're determined not to lose this, lose them

you're determined not to fuck this up more than you already have

quickly, you shift and change into your clothes, just to stand in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what to do with yourself

you remain there, silently fretting, until there's a soft tap on the door

your breath catches in your throat but you manage to wheeze out a somewhat convincing 'come in'

dk peeks in and leaves the door open - you're aware that he's left it that way to give you a clear escape route

he chews on his lip, running a hand through his hair, and you notice that he looks tired, as if he hasn't slept all night

'i heard you come in, and i just wanted to say that i... i'm sorry. i didn't mean to overstep the boundaries. i just - you're... i'm sorry i messed up. asking to, um, you know, wasn't a good idea on my part, i don't - i didn't know what i was doing, i kind of just...'

he sighs, looking at you sheepishly once he realises he was rambling

'please don't go?'

that's the moment you give in

you let go of it, of everything, and let yourself fly into freefall

stepping forward, you hook an arm around his neck, sinking your other hand into his hair, bringing his face down to yours to fit your lips to his

he makes a soft, awed noise, his fingers curling around your waist to press you closer to him

he tastes divine, like heaven, like the best kind of destiny

the feel of his lips against yours becomes everything you'll ever need

hesitantly, you begin to pull away, words already forming on your tongue, but then he darts forward to steal another sweet, sweet kiss from you, and then you're drowning in him again

he tangles his hands in your hair, his fingertips brushing over your ears, tracing their shape as if to show you that he doesn't care what you are

when he eventually breaks the kiss off, he presses a finger to your lips before you can draw a breath

'don't tell me i don't know what i'm getting into. i thought i lost you, i thought you were leaving, and i couldn't... please, just let me love you.'

he immediately cringes at his own words, and you let your head fall forward until your forehead rests against his chest, huffing out a laugh

'i'm sorry i freaked out before, i - i got scared. then i didn't know what to do so i just kind of ran. i didn't mean to scare you.'

he pouts cutely, in a way that makes you want to poke his cheeks

'well, you did. i - '

you cut him off with a kiss, just to taste him again if not to shut him up

his hands find your hips, drawing you closer to him

'i think i love you.'

the confession slips out of you, mumbled onto his lips before you can stop it, but all he does is smile into the kiss

'i think i love you too.'

when the boys find out, they tease dk mercilessly while somehow also hyping him up

seungcheol, jeonghan and hoshi all claim to have known about it from the start, although everyone knows hoshi is just saying that

jeonghan purposefully sits next to you just to quietly tell you about how he managed to get dk drunk enough one time for him to confess that he was in love with a cat

dk gets pouty about it later, so you kiss his face all over until he smiles again

in fact, he pretends to sulk a lot to get kisses from you

sometimes, you'll catch him just staring at you with a huge grin on his face

he makes a point to hold your hand in public, telling you that he's proud of having you

his sweet words make it easy for you to brush off the stares of the people on the bus, easy for you to ignore the way they whisper

sometimes dk kisses you and loudly calls you disgustingly sappy pet names in front of them, just out of spite

you realise now that they don't really bother you, not when dk doesn't care about them and not when he loves you the way he does - unconditionally

he shows it in the way he hangs onto your every word, in the way he cooks your favourite dishes for you, in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses you as if you're the most precious thing in the universe

you take every opportunity to show him how much you love him, too

hence why you're up early, cooking breakfast for dk

it's a saturday, and the sun leaking through the curtains woke you, even though it didn't even affect dk - he remained snoring beside you, his legs tangled with yours and his arms locked around your waist

you'd eased your way out of his grip and replaced yourself with a pillow, pressing a light kiss onto his forehead before shifting into your human form and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head

most nights, you sleep in your human form, but he'd been hogging the blankets so you'd shifted into your cat form in a desperate effort to make it easier for you to squirm into his blanket burrito

'what're you smiling about, huh?'

you almost drop the pancake you were transferring to a plate already heaped high and steaming with others

his arms wrap around your waist, and you sigh as he kisses your neck

'actually, i was thinking about how rude it was of you to steal the blankets last night, you sneaky little bastard.'

'hmm, my bad.'

he nips at your neck before his tongue flicks out to brush over the same spot

his hands wrap around your hips, and you sigh noncommittally as he sneaks his fingers under the hem of your - his - t-shirt

'babe, the pancakes will get cold - '

'don't care.'

you don't even try to shake him off as he continues to kiss at your neck from behind, nudging the collar of your shirt to the side so he can suck a hickey onto your shoulder

the air of the kitchen is cold on your bare legs, but he's nice and warm and solid, and you lean back into him, eyes closing as he laves his tongue over your skin

a low purr emnates from deep in your chest, and you feel him pause at your back

'that's never happened before,'

'and?'

'it was kind of hot.'

you huff out a laugh, but it's cut off as he spins you around, gripping your chin so he can kiss you

dk kisses you passionately, like he woke up with the one desire to taste every inch of your mouth, his teeth grazing dizzyingly over your lower lip

he grins against you when you moan at the feel of his tongue against yours

hooking your arms over his shoulders, you draw him closer

picking you up, he deposits you on the island, not breaking the kiss

he slots himself between your legs, his fingers skimming over the tops of your thighs, pushing the hem of your shirt a little higher

hooking an ankle around his hip, you nestle your heel in the small of his back, nudging him closer

something in your stomach pulls wonderfully tight when you feel the grind of his hardening cock against your clothed cunt

he chuckles at the involuntary noise that leaves you, one of his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he leans down, palms dragging down the length of your thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders

he helps you shimmy out of your underwear, chucking them carelessly over his shoulder

and then, just like that, he's got his mouth between your legs, spreading your pussy with his fingers, his eyes disarmingly guileless

his tongue is divinely velvet as he sweeps it through your folds

he tastes you as if your essence is the nectar of the gods, teasing the pleasure out of your body, holding your trembling thighs up with his big hands

as you come, convulsing around his tongue, he looks up at you with stars in his eyes, as if you're a goddess

it's ridiculous, the way he can make your heart flutter while fucking eating you out like a man starved

he straightens, kisses you with honey drenched lips that bear a virtuous smile, and lifts you up in his arms so he can make love to you on the sofa

he makes your eyes roll, makes your toes curl, makes you cry his name, sets you alight with his touch

and when he sends you over the edge, coming with you, when he scoops you up in his arms, sets you on the bathroom sink to clean you up, when he kisses you in the shower, you know one thing

you are willingly trapped in his gravity; you orbit him as if he is the star at the centre of the universe, yet somehow he looks at you with a light in his eyes, like you are the sun, the warmth on his skin, the reason for life

you love this man, irrevocably so, and somehow, miraculously, he loves you back

[alexanderwales]

Castle Solutions was the only time travel company in the world. They had a giant corporate headquarters in downtown Chicago, which was the only place in the entire world with a time machine, at least as far as anyone knew. They were worth hundreds of billions, and the only reason they weren't worth more seemed to be that they didn't care all that much about money. The time machines were used for everything: reporting, media, market corrections, the surveillance state, and industry. Castle Solutions was the lynchpin of the modern world.

Daniel had thought the waiting room would be nicer.

He sat in a blue-gray chair that would have been at home in any waiting room anywhere else in Chicago. Slightly tinny music played over speakers from the ceiling. A fake potted plant sat in one corner, failing to look lively. There were no windows, because the waiting room was deep in the heart of the building, close to the machine itself.

Daniel was the only one in the waiting room. He'd come half an hour early, lugging all his gear, and now the only thing left was for the clock to run down. A bored-looking woman had come in to tell him that it might be awhile, that they were running behind schedule — the time travel company, running behind schedule. So there had been more waiting than expected.

A man in a charcoal gray suit with a simple blue backpack came in. He slung the backpack down onto the ground with a sigh and rubbed his face. He had stubble there, but an artful amount of it, like he'd spent some time in the mirror making sure that it was the right amount of scruff to offset his expensive suit.

Daniel looked straight ahead, trying not to look, keeping his face blank, like he was passing by a homeless person who might ask him for money he didn't have.

"Wow, you've got a lot of stuff," said the man. "Is that a sword?"

"It's a katana," said Daniel. He didn't match the eye contact the man was giving him.

"Oh, cool," said the man. "You're going to ... katana times?"

"Edo Japan, yeah," said Daniel.

Daniel was trying his best not to engage, to get this conversation over as quickly as possible. He wasn't making eye contact.

The man picked up his backpack and moved across the waiting room to be closer to Daniel.

"You speak Japanese?" the man asked.

"Hai, watashi wa nihongo o hanashimasu," replied Daniel. He wished that he were more fluent, that the words had come out less rote.

"Cool," said the man. He had apparently also come closer to get a look at all of Daniel's stuff. His eyes moved over the duffel bags. There wasn't much to see, everything had been carefully packed away. "Wow, you sure are prepared, huh?"

"It's a different time and place," said Daniel with a shrug. It represented five years of planning, five years of training, learning, honing himself.

"Personally, I'm going to 1946," said the man, though Daniel hadn't asked. He held out his hand. "Archie Vedder."

Daniel reluctantly took the hand. "Daniel Strom." He had never really gotten the hang of shaking hands. He worried that his hands were too clammy, a worry that proved founded when Archie wiped his hand on that expensive charcoal suit.

"I went with the kit," said Archie, pointing to his backpack. "I've got papers, I've got a computer with a backup, I've got a projector, a media library, a science library, the whole works, plus some forged bonds and a stack of cash. I got a sweet deal on it, they're overstocked now."

Retreating into the past had seen its heyday. Now most of the people who had been most enthusiastic were gone, and there were only the dissenters left. Everyone agreed with using the machine for the mundane stuff, but simply leaving, never to return, rubbed people the wrong way.

"I guess they don't sell kits for Edo," Archie ventured.

"They do," said Daniel. "They're trash."

"Ah," said Archie.

"This is all custom," said Daniel. "Higher quality, field tested, everything I'll need to set myself up there." Only some of it was stock. He had two computers, three smartphones, chargers and plugs, solar panels, replacement batteries, and redundant media libraries and science libraries.

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean, field tested? Because people don't come back. You're there for good, right?"

What it actually meant was that Daniel had gone out into a field and tested it, made sure that it worked under various conditions, set himself up like he might be explaining all this to a carefully chosen daimyo. There was only so much that camping in the woods and taking dry run vacations could tell him though.

"Some of it is theory," said Daniel. "Research."

"Yeah, see, that's why I went with 1946," said Archie. "It's really well-trod. You know, I was reading an article the other day that maybe the Baby Boom was a little overstated? Like, we're obviously living in the wake of time travelers, but that's the prime time to come back, anywhere from 1946 to 1960. The economy is doing well, tech is advancing, it's familiar enough. The culture is so close you can sell some stuff from a media library, it's brilliant. You're five steps away from becoming a multimillionaire in a time when that meant something."

"Sure," said Daniel.

"Any reason you're doing hard mode?" asked Archie. "I mean, samurai and ninjas are cool, sure, but —"

"It's not about that," said Daniel.

"Alright, sure," shrugged Archie.

Daniel looked over at the waiting room's lone clock. You would think that a waiting room for a time travel company would have better clocks, but it was a cheap utilitarian design, thin plastic and wobbly hands.

"What's it about then?" asked Archie.

"I was going to go with a friend," said Daniel. "We had practiced together, trained together. Then he got cancer."

"Ah, shit," said Archie.

"He lived," said Daniel. "He's fine. But he's on medications now, and will be for the rest of his life, and he can't go anymore."

"Huh," said Archie. "So there's a friend who you're leaving behind?"

"No," said Daniel. "I mean ... this was what we did together. We talked about it a lot. We read history books and practiced crafts and skills. At the start, I didn't really take it that seriously, it was just a hobby, but I got invested, and I guess I kept seeing it as — I don't know."

"I mean for me, it's a way out," said Archie. "Most people feel that way, yeah? My wife filed for divorce, I got fired from my job, so hey, time to start over in 1946, pretend I'm part of the Greatest Generation, ride the waves I know are coming. Exploit it."

Daniel grimaced. The Vietnam War, segregation, the Red Scare? People had a rosy view of that time. He'd never felt particularly aligned with people like Archie who were just looking to make a quick buck.

"Oh come on," said Archie. "You think you're better than me? You're a, you know, what's the word. Colonizer."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "No."

"What, just 'no', it's not, you know, what we did to the Native Americans?" asked Archie. "The whole 'conquer the past' thing?"

"I'm a single person," said Daniel. "I'm bringing back things that will change their culture forever, but I'm not an agent of my country, and even if I were, I think those people who want to be a god king are morons. And sorry, I'm not spending my last minutes in the present on badly rehashing a debate I've had a thousand times already."

"Why not?" asked Archie. "See, I think having arguments right before you go is great. You can leave on a high note. I've spent the last few days saying whatever the hell I wanted to people. It's great. I went to my dad and said 'hey, you were a terrible father, I never liked you, and it's sad that you thought I needed your approval'. And then you know what's hilarious? I get to just walk away and never be seen again. How's that for a power move? How's that for a mic drop?"

"Seems immature," said Daniel.

"Well, see, I'm actually fine being immature," said Archie with a little laugh. "And when this conversation is done, one or both of us is going into the past, never to be seen nor heard from again, and isn't that great? You don't like me, I don't like you, and then we're strangers again."

Daniel had been looking straight ahead, but he turned to Archie after that. "You don't like me?" he asked. "You don't know me."

"I know your type," said Archie. He leaned back. "You spent what, three years cooking up a plan, making this trip back in time your entire personality, and now you think you're better than me, better than everyone, like you've got it all figured out. You talked yourself into throwing away everything you've got going on here. You got dreams of a future in the past. It's quitter talk, is what it is."

"Fuck off," said Daniel. In his normal life he'd have never said it, but he was on the precipice.

"You think going into the past is going to transform you?" asked Archie. "That another world, a second chance, you'll somehow become the man you think you were supposed to be? Well let me tell you, if you were a loser here, you'll be a loser there."

Daniel stood up and drew his sword. He'd practiced the draw a thousand times. The sword gleamed, even under the ugly fluorescent lighting of the waiting room. "Fuck off, or you'll be going back to the 50s missing a hand."

"Bah," said Archie. "Fine." He stood up and took a seat further away, the same one he'd taken when he first came in. He was bouncing his leg and reading something on his phone.

Daniel was putting his sword back in its sheath when the receptionist came into the room.

"Daniel?" she asked, glancing only briefly at the sword. "They're ready for you."

"Finally," Daniel thought but didn't say, because even though he wasn't going to be around anymore, he believed in basic politeness.

He gathered his things and left the waiting room, ready to leave.

~~~~

Archie sat outside Castle Solutions, in their little courtyard, vaping.

It wasn't long before the receptionist, Lydia, came to sit next to him.

"It didn't really seem like you wanted to convince that one," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

She shrugged and pulled out a vape pen of her own. "Sometimes you just want to yell at someone. I get that. But you're risking us getting caught. And if we get caught in the future, we probably get caught in the present."

"Yup," he said. "Won't happen again."

"Give it a few days before you come back," she said. "Three, let's say. He didn't file a complaint, so there's nothing in the system."

"Mmm," said Archie. He made a long, slow drag of the pen. They sat there vaping together for a while. It had often occurred to him that vaping was impossibly lame, but it felt less lame when done with someone else. He watched as the vapor left her mouth in a thin, concentrated stream. "You wanna go out sometime?"

"On a date?" she asked. She gave the tip of her vape pen a casual look. "No, not really."

"Alright," said Archie.

"I don't really know what your deal is," she said. "Why this is important to you. Why you want to talk people back from the brink, or yell at them."

"Mmm," said Archie. "You want to tragic backstory?"

"Meh," Lydia replied. "I'm not going on a date with someone who has a tragic backstory. That's all. Sorry. I've got my own tragic backstory, thanks very much."

"Fair," said Archie. "It was my kid brother, that's the short version. He up and left one day, left us a note that read like ... well, you know." He drew a finger across his neck.

"Where'd he go?" asked Lydia.

"England, 16th century," said Archie. "He thought he was going to take Shakespeare's place." He shook his head. "Only eighteen, you know? Unconscionable that they let kids that young through. He had his whole life ahead of him and he just ... disappeared."

Lydia sighed. "Yeah."

She turned off her vape pen, then mimed stubbing it out on the bench like a cigarette before slipping it into her purse. He felt a surge of attraction for her.

"Alright, I'll go on the date," said Lydia. "But if we're going to be dating, you've gotta stop this."

"Vaping?" asked Archie.

"You know what I mean," said Lydia. "You going in there trying to convince them to back out, that's one thing. It's noble, almost. But if it's going to be fighting, if it's you trying to work through some shit, then I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Doubly so if you want to get together. You process your trauma some other way, or repress it like the rest of us, alright?"

Archie thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Sure."

"I've got to get back to work," said Lydia as she rose from the bench. "You have my number."

Archie nodded, and after she had left, he stayed, looking out at the courtyard.

He wondered how Daniel was doing out there, in that other timeline, but he supposed that he would never know.

[browniefox]

I asked for fic recs so it only makes sense that I provide some.

The Invisible Stan by The Last Speecher (HeidiMelone)

Simple, short, but elegant. You know how hanahaki disease is a trope? I feel like this should be a trope, but idk what you'd call it - Ninny disease sounds bad, but like it's clearly based off of Ninny from the Moomins. Anyway, great fic <3

An Outreached Hand by WDW

Ghost trick au! Love a good ghost trick au! I reread this recently and it still holds up so well, still so good even if unfinished. Haven't played ghost trick since, some of the twists make a hair more sense - especially the twist in the last chapter posted and being like 'OH IT'S *THE* GHOST TRICK'. Shoutout to undead creepiness and cute kitties :3

Retrograde by scrawling_stardumb

Kissing this one on the mouth. Only one chapter and unfinished, but it's a long chapter and really makes you go 'whoa'. It's interesting because the summary *technically* gives you more info than the chapter itself, but it's that kind of dramatic irony that fits the writing so well. A good solid McGucket POV too, which there really isn't enough of. Tbh, it stands okay almost as a one shot? I wish this became a whole popular au like all the others, bc it kicks ass as a concept.

Finding the Right Frequency by impish_nature

A pretty cute one! Ford trying to figure out how to deal with Bill, and Stan having found a stable job, and someow their two worlds intersect. Cute moments between the two, and some good Stans getting to reconnect.

Things You Can't Take Back by thesnadger

Classic by the Snadger! I always appreciate people who take Stan's memory less and make it more complicated, or at least have there be aftershocks to have your whole life erased :D So well written.

like they were a perfect fit by hapful

Stanford Pines and the photo he never looses. A beautiful story about Ford throughout the ages and his opnions on family, specifically Stan.

putting the dog to sleep by parsnipit

Old Yeller is such a sad story, and also some of this made me think of Mice and Men, and ugh just Stan and Ford and beign willing to kill something you love - sometimes because you love it - and it's such a perfect analogy to them I could die.

none of those phds is an md, you dumb idiot by untrustworthyglitch

I always love a fic that acknowledges language barriers. It reminds me of a really old fic where I did something similar, but like, being away from Earth would lead to you forgetting a lot of things, including language.

Too Late, Too Soon, Not Enough by IncomingAlbatross

Ah, gotta love a good fic that shows the missing scene of Ford and Stan switching places. Who came up with the idea? Who needed to be convinced? What swears do they get to use while off camera? Stan I love you so much, and Ford I lov eyou for beig nso complicated.

Raising Stakes by MaryPSue

Mwah! A Classic if I've ever seen one! While I'm partial to werewolf!Stan, Vampire!Stan does have so much potential and MaryPSue puts it to use so well! A great look into what Gravity Falls was like back in taht time period, and I love when people utilize Susan in fics that take place pre-portal <3 Also, Carla! I miss you so much Carla <3 It's drama, it's action, it's everything!

Lost and Found by PengyChan

Tate & Fiddleford have a lot of untapped potential, and while I think going the angst route makes a lot of sense, this one is almost more fluff and catharsis, I guess? I love it, near and dear to me.

Off-Season by anistarrose

Time Travel fic, but not a timestuck au? More likely than you think! A cute oneshot with particular focus on Stan, Mabel, and Dipper. Just a fluffy little thing with a couple strangers helping Stan out through a difficult winter.

Persist and Dwell by fencesit

A bit of Soos's trust in Grunkle Stan, and a mystery that isn't so much mystery as it is simply just not explicitly said. One of the final scenes has still stuck with me, and this is defo a concept I'd love to see explored more.

flee from your ghosts (burn your house down) by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

While typically OTGW x Gravity Falls crossovers are, like, Pinescone, I'm partial to this version where Wirt is their dad. There'a few details that didn' sit well with me, but over all so incredible and well written. Some of the metaphors are just so evocative I could eat them. The descriptions are to die for. And I love the depiction of a dad struggling to get his kids to open up to him that feels like it's part dads struggle with teens and part those pines twins just won't tell the truth.

If you have any Gravity Falls fic recs, feel free to comment them!

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

I legit just see you randomly on my feed and your writing was really good and I thought why not? Since requests are open, may I request for yandere skyward sword link with goddess reader? Reader can either replace Zelda herself or is a whole other goddess that doesnt even belong or own Hyrule. Id love to see what else you have in store here!

Order up!

Sorry it’s been a while! I’ve been dealing with a lot these past two weeks but hopefully life will improve (?) Love this concept and there’s a mention of @monpalace’s idea with Skyloftians using shed loftwing feathers to propose. Not proofread, I am sorry, this took wayyyy too. Much like Link, i am eepy. That’s about all!

Hope you enjoy!~

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

There was little refuge for Link on the surface, that much he knew. That much the world made incredibly apparent. Aside from what little lands like that of the kikwi or the ancient temple, there was little non-hostile life. The sun was fading from the sky, Hylia’s light fading from the surface land, letting monsters run rampant across the untamed earth. Not a particularly pleasant situation given the stab wound he’d nursed, limping through the forest as he tried to find a way home. With no statues in sight, he resigned himself to his fate —alone within an unkind world. Not that it’s a first that he’s felt such a manner, everyone knew everyone in Skyloft, his business was never truly his. And with Groose and his goons taunting him for his every breath, there wasn’t much to say for company. He could be surrounded by people, and yet he was —to some level— still alone. That was, aside from Zelda, missing among this realm. There was some small, nagging part of him that wish he needn’t search for her. Sure, he valued her companionship, and yet… it’s been odd lately. Originally he kept from the sky to be with her once more. But now knowing he was a piece in a prophecy —one she knew, no less— he couldn’t help but question the authenticity of their friendship. He feels wrong about it to question. The hylian people serve Hylia, he should be grateful that he’s been sent on a mission she foretold. He should be so many things. It just seems added onto the pile of things he should be. More outgoing, Zelda would say after he’d share his difficulty with speaking to his peers. Less pathetic, Groose and his lackeys would sneer. Dead, He’d often think, looking at the bags under his eyes and tousled hair. So it seemed irrelevant that Hylia wished he’d be heroic. The small decaying temple looked surprisingly stable from the inside. Vines and mosses grew into the cracks within the marble, nature filling in where people could no longer support. The door was easily blocked and the main area was large enough to safely light a fire without smoking himself out. Above a plinth stood a statue, sharp imposing eyes glaring at whomever entered with judgement. Their face was alight with the golds of the fire, setting in the allure within his mind. Looking down past stone ceremonial robes were offerings, placed at their feet, still fresh despite the centuries since any people lived down here. A deity, he noticed a little too late. Perhaps it was sacreligious of him to stay here, the Hero of Hylia taking refuge in a different god’s home. But perhaps that kingdom has since crumbled, their blades too rusted to do him any harm. The blood seeping through his tunic was the least of his concerns as sleep pulled him in familiar as ever.

Link liked to sleep. It was safe and warm, something quite the contrast to the life he’d led. He wished many times both before his journey and since its onset that he could stay asleep forever. It’d be a blessing, to exist in such a state of peaceful serenity outside of a world defined by its wars. And yet, morning after morning, he’d awake to soft sunlight or be shoved out of his bed. Hylia did not wait on him. So waking up to fingers carding softly through his hair as a lullaby —one his memories could just barely grasp at— was a sharp contrast. He felt no pain in his stomach nor the jolt of adrenaline he was used to. Turning around sleepily, he saw you, the very deity he seeked refuge under. He scrambled to apologize, your sharp eyes looking down upon him as he lay strewn across your body.

“I’m- Oh- I-“ He could not, for whatever reason, speak. Much a common theme in his life that whenever he needed his words, they’d fly away faster than a loftwing. Strong arms tightened around him, shushes and soothes whispered to his pointed ears.

“Be at ease. Your goddess cannot find you here” The fingers resumed carding through his hair, twirling the uneven cuts. “You are safe, little hero” Your words bled with a care and endearment he had not been given in so long. His mind latched to you, to your care and your soft treatment of him. He let himself rest limply, telling himself that it would pass soon. Nothing ever stays this good for this long. And yet, there were no monsters to kick in the door or someone waiting on him. There was just you and him. And no other God watching. “She’s put you through so much.” Your statement hangs in the air as Link can’t find the words that dignify a response. “To wander in here bleeding as badly as you were.” His eyes widen and he does his best to pat his tunic, feeling for the blood. And yet there was none. Aside from the rip in the forest fabric, there was no signs of him ever being injured.

“What?” His brows furrowed and he found himself looking up to you. Your skin held an inhuman glint, a glow to it that needed no sun nor fire to illuminate. Your hunter’s eyes had no iris, a scalara of pure white looking back at him. Your lips here pulled to something of a mischievous smirk as you looked upon him.

“I fixed you.” Your tone was a little uncanny, voice unused to conversing. “I used to do it frequently for the before people” He felt his eyes widen marginally. He’d never heard of the ‘before people’ only if what came after them. He knew naught of their societies, nor their deities. You giggled at his curiosity, pressing lightly on his shoulders so he’d lay back down. “It’s been so long since i’ve had such lovely visitors” Your voice was a far off cry in his mind as he buried his face in the nape of your neck. There was no rushing of blood to lull his own rushing mind, and yet you soothed him all the same. “Rest now, little Hero. I will watch the world in your stead.

There were many times afterwards that he visited you. He’d put a beacon near the clearing where your quiet temple sat. Gone was the comfort of absence that came with sleep, that nullifying expanse of nothingness. Instead, he’d seek out you, the glow of your grace soothing the rage he now brought upon the world. At your Altar he’d leave gifts, anything you’d mentioned in passing or anything he knew must’ve been good. You’d offhandedly speak of how much you missed the ancient cistern, and he’d bring you its water. He’d gather the fruit of the Faron woods, making into pies and jam and alcohol for you to feed off of. It wasn’t often, but he’d occasionally get you blood or meat. Not common, he didn’t want to raise concerns, but he knew the spirits would strengthen you. You may have only had a one man clergy, but he was loyal to a fault. He cleared the surface of monsters so you could roam freely, basking in the moonlight as your fingers brushed the grass. His favorite gift to you came in the form of a plume of crimson feathers. You were quite oblivious to the meaning behind the exchange, instead cooing over the bright colors and imagining the majesty of the bird it came from. But he knew that maybe then the other half of his spirit —as the people said— would mingle with your own to care for you as much as you did him. Bound to you perhaps by fate and now with the matrimony of his gift to you, no longer would you lay forgotten to the world. He’d build an empire in your honor if it would be your wish. He’d kill the goddess who subdued you if it were your ruling. Afterall, he was prophesied to kill a deity.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #15 - attention to detail

kai parker x reader

summary: kai admires the way you watch tv

tags: tv watching, fangirl behavior, neurodivergent behavior (?)

word count: 1k

a/n: neurodivergent and/or fangirl reader; idk, this is something i do, idk if i'm crazy for it, or if people relate to it. lmk if i'm crazy. i just want my weird habits validated by kai, mmkay! 😅

Your finger hovers over the exit button on your screen as someone enters the room. Anxiety grows in your chest, but you try to not let it show. They circle around you, likely to join you on the couch, but hopefully not.

“Hey,” the person greets. You relax at the voice of Kai. Despite his reputation, you quite like the guy. He has his own demons, and is learning his way about the world, and while you have nothing in common otherwise, you kind of relate to him in that way. 

“Hi.”

You don’t see it, but he smiles at your response. Just the acknowledgement of his presence is nice to hear. Especially in the gentle, non-accusatory tone you use with him. “Whatcha watching?” He saw a glimpse when he passed behind the couch, but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by lingering. 

“Oh, just this show I’ve been into for the last couple weeks,” you say, not wanting to reveal the title and give him an opportunity to poke fun. 

“Ah, the one you were watching yesterday? With the- with that actor you like?”

A small blush rises to your cheeks as you squeak out a “yes”, and Kai finds it absolutely adorable. 

“What season are you on?” He asks, no judgment about the show, nor the actor you like. A wave of confidence splashes over you. 

“Six, technically, but I’m rewatching season four before I watch anymore of six, because I’m not ready to process new information.” You chide yourself immediately. What a strange thing to say. And you were doing so well until then. 

Kai narrows his eyes, but then shrugs. “Okay.”

“Like, something big just happened in season six. They’ve already introduced the Big Bad, but the Big Bad in season five was so detrimental to the team - it killed a bunch of folks, and mentally scarred a whole bunch of others - that I’m not really ready to deal with another, so I’m rewatching a season where I know what happens, so that I already know who gets hurt, so it’s less painful to watch. Plus, rewatching episodes always helps me see things I miss the first time, which gives me a better understanding of the plot and the characters.”

Kai tries to not study you like a bug, but he’s fascinated by your explanation. The empathy you have for fictional characters is something he can’t help but admire, as is your desire to soak up every detail like a sponge. He wonders what it would be like to care so much that watching any further would genuinely hurt him. For the first time, he wishes he could love, so he could love like you do.

“Sorry,” you say after a moment of silence, “I just… infodumped on you. That was probably really confusing and weird.”

“No, not weird. It’s nice.” Kai tries to reassure you, but can’t find the words he needs you to hear. 

“I should probably just watch the season and have one big cry at the end like a normal person.”

“No, I think your way is better.”

“Wait, really? Most people tell me it’s just a tv show and to get over it.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a show, but it’s something you love, so who gives a fuck how you like to watch it? They’re not watching it with you; they’re not even in the room. I like the way you say you take the time to learn the characters and understand the plot. Y’know, someone put a lot of effort into that show you’re watching, and you’re enjoying it the way they’d want it to be enjoyed. Like it’s a piece of art in a museum, and you’re pointing out all the brush strokes and reading the plaque to understand the medium.” When you give him a confused glance, he smiles sheepishly. “I know a little about a lot of things. Went to a couple museums when I was stuck in 1994.” 

“Ah.”

“But my point is, coming from a sociopath, the empathy you have for the characters in your show is really cool. And I can understand the rewatching bit, too. I haven’t rewatched anything with the intensity that you have, but obviously, I could only watch anything made pre-1994, and to hell if I’m watching anything black and white, so I’ve seen some of the same movies once or twice, or more. Sometimes I get tired of rewatching the same stuff, but sometimes, I’ll also pick out a funny line I missed the first time, or a hand gesture that reveals a character knew something all along.”

You smile at him, grateful for his words and engagement in the conversation. You feel a little less childish about your own habits, especially knowing Kai’s not one to lie or hold back his true feelings about anything. For him to go as far to say he recognizes your empathy is a lot, and nothing you’d expect from the newly-reformed serial killer. 

“Thank you,” you blurt out, not wanting to leave him hanging.

“For what?”

“For not making me feel stupid about my interests.”

His eyes narrow. “Who makes you feel stupid?”

“A lot of people. Family… Damon.”

“Well Damon tries to make everyone feel stupid, and family sucks.”

You snort. “True.”

“If he says anything again, he can go through me.” Kai sends you a wink. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response. 

“Good.”

The man watches you for a minute longer. You press your spacebar to make the show play, and he takes note of the smile that spreads across your face as the characters fill the screen once more. He wants to ask to watch it with you, but doesn’t want to push just yet, so he doesn’t. He’s making progress, though, and gaining your trust. Hopefully soon, you’ll be less shy around him. 

And you think the same, feeling his eyes on you. Your trust isn’t something that’s easily given, but this isn’t the first time Kai’s made you feel comfortable, and you have a feeling it won’t be the last. He stays on the other end of the couch, but sticks to himself, and within a couple minutes, laughs quietly at something on his phone. The air between you is pleasant. His words run through your head once more, as the same scene plays for maybe the tenth time, but this time, you aren’t as worried about the people in the room as you watch.

[somenerdfromwhatever]

I haven’t seen The Owl House but can we just talk about how Disney did this show dirty?

Let me preface this by saying that, as of the time of me writing this, I have NOT seen The Owl House in its entirety l yet. I could be in the progress of it after posting, but honestly as an outsider looking in given the entire Season 3 fiasco, Disney did this show dirty.

Like three specials only? Nothing more nothing less? With that happening due to outcry because originally it was going to get canned after the release of Season 2?

I don’t think it was a fair deal to end with three specials. Season 3 should’ve gotten the fanfare it deserved even with the outcry. Like, it is the weakest compromise possible even with mass support.

I’m going to paraphrase some bits of what I addressed to people on discord and additional information I learnt.

I’m surprised there wasn’t more of an active effort to fight back against the cancellation since it first blew up upon announcement. Like “doesn’t fit the branding?” Didn’t Gravity Falls face something similar? By that logic, this doesn’t make sense at all. I feel like Disney’s “brand theming” excuse is really dodgy, and it seems like there was some foul play involved. But I didn’t see the fandom actively pushing back, even the creator, who did speak out about it. (Note: I haven’t been on Twitter for over a year and a half, so I might not be fully aware of everything.) If I watch it and it’s as amazing as people say… given how I am passionate about things in this world, I won’t let Disney live this down. It’s like treating art as a joke just to fill their pockets and the corruption the industry has over artists. We saw this last year with the strikes and given the current state with the companies running the industry nowadays (the streaming bubble, and that the whole cartoon mass purge thanks to Max)... artists are now having their creativity die out because of industry folk like Disney.

If there was pushback, I’m glad there was at least some effort to score these three specials. But if this is how far it went, it feels like an unfair compromise. Three specials aren’t enough, honestly. Even if they’re good, it doesn’t negotiate anything at all as it still feels like Disney did this show dirty. Let me be clear here as well: I am NOT beating down anyone who has taken the effort to get this. Why the hell would I do that? I'm happy you guys managed to get your voice out there and left and impact. Those three specials were hard fought, I just wish there was more because honestly, it isn't enough. And if the resentment I'm seeing is anything to go by a year later, I say keep fighting. I am also not beating down Dana, the showrunner. Dana is an amazing creator, and the fact that she stood her ground at all with her cast and crew is incredible. My problem is with the corporation, with Disney, and how they put her in a position where that fight couldn’t be won in the way it should have been. I understand the fight it takes to get your foot in the door of the industry. If I were to turn around and beat down someone like Dana, who fought for her vision just like I’m fighting for mine? I would never live that down. It would stain me for life. Considering the industry itself is small and how I am going into it in post-production, sometime down the line, I will be faced with working with her. The last thing I want is burning a bridge inadvertently. I can understand why she acted the way that she did with her crew, it's just with a lot more vocality and support, things might've been different.

Like I don’t get Disney’s thought process here. You have a big, popular show, and then you “old yeller” it, giving it this slow death and then dragging it out with this… in my honest opinion; weak compromise. That is scummy and why us artists and creatives need a reform to the entertainment industry where we drive the vision and what Disney and others do come second.

At best, it did what it was supposed to do. At worst… it’s not enough.

With everything that the fanbase done including the cast, crew, and even Dana, while I'm happy they managed to end it, I feel like there should have been more active effort. I do notice there is still a lot of resentment and I mean A LOT OF RESENTMENT. I noticed a lot of the fandom got a hashtag trending, some fanart mailed into Disney itself, but I'm surprised there isn't like a full on physical protest. Online can only do so much. Like imagine a D23 but everyone is in their cosplay of the show with signs having references to whatever the show has going on. I mean, sure, it is unheard of, but consider the compromise, how it was censored in other countries, maybe even how mistreated it got during the making of Season 3. Go to the heart of where decisions are made. If you feel strongly about the compromise, take that energy and turn it into real action. As an outsider who is about to come on, I feel you so much. I hope the show is really good when I watch it, but in case if I don't, you guys really deserve better. Honest. I could be wrong in all this there's more to the story then I realize, so please go easy with this. Thank you.

[psychotrenny]

Now I've received a few comments about the mass migration of Mizrahi Jews to Israel during the mid 20th century, specifically about Israel's lack of culpability towards it. And there's a few things I've said in response to this that I'd like to reiterate

For one, a number of commenters have attributed the time period of these migrations to the "30s and 40s" which I don't understand. Even Zionists usually consider the "Mizrahi Exodus" to date from the 50s onwards; a big part of how the process is portrayed by pro-Zionist sources is the framing as Israel as this land of opportunity and safety for Jews fleeing the violence and intolerance of the Arab world, something that couldn't exactly happen until Israel was actually established as a state in 1948.

Secondly as I've already stated multiple times the displacement, marginalisation and violent attack on Palestinians by Zionist European Settlers was already underway in Mandatory Palestine by the 1920s, as embodied by the existence of groups like Haganah and Irgun. So like even if we for whatever reason backdate the supposed mass exile of the Mizrahi to the "30s and 40s" it's still very easy to see the correlation between violence perpetrated by European settlers in the name of "Jewishness" and the development of conflict between previously peacefully co-existing communities of Jews and Gentiles in North Africa and West Asia.

And finally, the idea that the mass migration of Mizrahi Jews to Palestine was the result of intolerance from Muslim neighbors is essentially a Zionist distortion of a much more complicated situation. Soon after the establishment of Israel, the new government actively encouraged Jews from the surrounding region to migrate and worked with many of the surrounding governments (usually the European colonial governments that still controlled extensive tracts of the region) to facilitate this. Some Jews (such as those of Yemen or Morocco) were even essentially deported against their will by the wishes of the Israeli government. While there was an increase in inter-communal conflict between Jewish and Gentile populations in the region, this was both due to the general aftermath of Israeli's brutal establishment and in response to specific actions such as the Mossad terrorist attacks in Egypt in 1954 with some actions even being specifically undertaken in order to cause conflict (or even just the appearance of conflict) and induce migration such as Mossad's activities in Iraq through the 1950s. And while there was certainly a significant level of violence and maltreatment (both legal and extra-legal) directed towards Jewish people in various West Asian and North African countries in response to Israeli's invasion, the sheer degree that direct violence and persecution played in such migrations has also been greatly exaggerated by Zionists in order to justify their continued aggression against the people of Palestine and their Allies. The idea that you can draw any real equivalence between the population movements of the Mizrahi Aliyah and that of the Palestinian Nakba is a ghoulish distortion of history that only serves to justify Zionist atrocities both past and present. One was a more or less voluntary* migration that was only partially induced by fears (both hypothetical and actually realised) of conflict while the other was an incidence of direct and unambiguous ethnic cleansing. The factors that led to the Mizrahi migration has plenty of "pull" in addition to "push" and a great deal of said "push" was deliberately engineered by the Israeli government rather than being purely the result of some natural Islamic cruelty or antagonism

*while not an entirely fair thing to say, and its accuracy will vary a lot on a case by case basis, the Mizrahi migrants on the whole had a lot more freedom than the Palestinians in both the decision to leave and their choice of destination (as several of those linked articles mentioned, some Mizrahi migrated to Europe or the Americas rather than Israel)

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

Finished Felvidek and had a grand time!

Thought I'd do a lil list of things/moments/details I loved off the top of my head:

gave cursed coffee bean to a chicken and it mutated. Did it for science

game's got some twin peaks vibes, some monty python, a tad of hylics, along it a bunch of other ingredients, but it feels very much its own thing with its own identity

pear man and his daughters deserve the world, wish we hung out more

there's a fight with an invisible enemy, all your attacks miss because your guys can't see shit and I was laughing just imagining Pavol and Matej swinging their swords at nothing hoping to slay the forest fiend. Very Don Quixote, I love it.

the PS1 style cutscenes are sooooo beautiful I love them to pieces, they drip with style and charm. I knew I needed to give this game a go the moment I watched the trailer and was greeted by the cinematics. God I love them so much. And not just the syle but the directing itself, the way shots are framed, god...

I love the character portraits for everyone. There's so much detail and everyone feels unique/like an actual person with distinct features. From the Priest's very punchable face, to Pavol's grin to Josef's sexy ass... From main characters to NPCs to enemy sprites, I love everyone's design and colour coding (don't know if it was intentional but the purple for the cultists was neat, seemed to subtly imply early on that they were being funded by rich folk, since pruple is associated with nobility, power and wealth)

speaking of character design, shout-out to this lil guy, look at him please

Numnut the drunkard my beloved, I recruited him and less than a minute later he fell on flat ground into a nearby river (and drowns???). I reloaded a previous save to see if I could have him in my party a lil longer. I took a different path, got into a fight. "yay I get to see him in action!"- I thought. I used his one special move, called: 'good idea', and Numnut proceeds to punch his own face, dealing 90 damage (not even in the endgame did I deal such high numbers!). THE Character of all time, he drowned again after that and I'll never forget him.

BALLOON IN THE MIDDLE AGES! (possible Andrei Rublev reference? I can dream...)

just, the way things are worded:

cutting people's ears after killing them as spoils (and giving the ears to a maiden, as you do)

there's a quest where you have to cut a man's tattooed buttock to give to another guy, and it's all for nothing, you ruined a man's ass for nothing. I love it. The dialogue during this whole section had me dying.

I love that there's just this guy who lives in the castle's well. And our boy Pavol thinks it's a great idea to throw a bomb in there to make him come out.

this:

there's these lil inisghtful and mournfoul comments on the dead bodies you leave behind. Like, expressing regret at all the senseless violence and death or how cheap life is here. And I'm not sure if it's Pavol or Matej making them. It makes more sense for it to be Matej but I kinda like the idea of it being Pavol's comments, these small moments of introspection and realization in the midst of a drunken adventure. You've been engaging in all the violence while pissed drunk but then after you kill your opponents and look at their corpses... and it's like this sobering moment, before you're back at it with all the merry-making (I also like that a lot of these bodies don't disappear and just remain on screen, and you can see the carnage your guys leave behind in their quest)

the whole adventure felt to me like, this series of odd little events in a knight's life before it's passed down, told by and retold by different people, and after many generations it's been touched up and made more coherent and noble than the clusterfuck it actually was. Before it became a narrative I guess is what I mean

it can get a bit wordy and hard to follow but I really like the old timey way the dialogue is written and its dry sense of humour

there's these little subversions of gaming tropes that I found really fun too! Like as soon as Pavol's wife and your falling out with her is introduced you may expect a reconciliation between the two, or a moment where you have to save her and prove your worth and love to her to win her heart. As you would expect from a story with a knight and a damsel. But no she hates his guts lmao tries to murder him too! (tho I do think Pavol took her in that balloon ride at the end). There's also the fact that I am not allowed to play minigames! Josef wants to play tabletop games but your character always replies no. No minigames for you son! And like, this feels especially catered to me as someone who, more often than not, will dread whenever a game will introduce some sort of card game or the like. I was so happy that wasn't forced on me for once! Couldn't believe it. Kinda felt bad for Josef tho, I'm sorry Pavol doesn't wanna play Pexeso wth you.

the battle animations! I'm particularly fond of the eating porridge one, or the chugging down a bucket of sour cream, and the petard

the little *slaps face* animation

Pavol and Matej as a duo and the whole tavern scene with the two exchanging clothes

the lil moments of humanity where Pavol talks about his broken life and sense of self

the rare moments when Pavol stops grinning

it goes without saying but the art is absolutely gorgeous. Its nostalgic monochrome melancholy speaks to me on a deep spiritual level. Inject it directly into my bone marrow please. Shout-out also to the ost, it fucks and has tons of bangers. The Hrad track, the one that plays on Josef's castle... god... love at first listen, and have been listening nonstop for the last few days now while going on walks.

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 35

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 5,280

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: BOILING POINT

The room's relatively quiet, which has pretty much been the case ever since your latest fiasco of a mission. It isn't exactly a 'peaceful' silence, but you're willing to take what you can get while dealing with this annoying throbbing throughout your entire body and the stinging pain that’s focused around your center.

"At least I can cross breaking a rib off the bucket list."

"Not a fun feeling, huh?"

"God no," You groan, leaning back only to instantly regret doing so as shown through a sharp flinch. Sam's smile shows a mix of sympathy and amusement before he passes you a couple of pain pills as well as a glass of water. You're quick to set down your ice pack in exchange for these items, gratefully swallowing the pills in hopes that they’ll offer some relief…Unfortunately, there's no immediate effect.

You’re left with no other choice than to miserably do your best getting comfy against the stiff pillows of Zemo’s incredibly uncomfortable couch, your only other option for a distraction being to simply let your thoughts roam to topics unrelated to your searing injuries. There’s lots to review regarding the last hour anyway.

Talking to Karli was a total bust thanks to Captain Cosplay who couldn’t even help prevent her escape afterwards. By now, she’s undoubtedly gone to regroup with her terrorist buddies, bringing along even more reason for them to hate Avengers and even less reason to spare any of you an ear again.

To top off such a failure of a mission, while that section of your plans was going to shit, Zemo apparently took it upon himself to destroy the super soldier serum Karli had been carrying on her person. You suppose that might as well be a good thing considering no more stray vials means no more unwarranted superhumans running amok, however it doesn't quite sit right with you knowing how easily your rent-a-felon had slipped away from watch. He could've made a run for it, and or caused greater harm to the mission as a whole by taking matters further into his own hands which wouldn't have been too out of character given his track record with super soldiers so far.

That's precisely why you told Bucky to keep an eye on him! You were already going after John, and someone needed to stay with Zemo, so it should’ve been him. If he had just listened, you guys would've been able to maintain control of at least that variable - one less idiot to check over your shoulder for. Instead, he insisted on following you then concerned himself with your wellbeing, worried for your sake as if you're a glass doll who took a tumble off a shelf.

…Granted, in the eyes of a superhuman, that’s probably a fitting comparison for what actually happened. Karli succeeded in really knocking the air from your lungs (and most of the sense right out of your head). By the time you finally came to again, the world was spinning in muddled colors orchestrated by constant ringing in your ears, yet you were still somehow aware enough to recall Bucky scooping you up into his arms.

Between those long blinks where your eyes struggled to remain open, you could see the stunned fear woven into his expression. It’s not quite like anything you’ve seen on him before - similar, but not exactly a match even to his troubled stare during the war or his distressed cries in Romania.

You wish you could say he’s relaxed since reaching the safehouse, however his head continues to hang low. Muscles tense and breath jagged, he stands at the bar counter with a glass of vodka in hand - an empty one, since he had just chugged his third round as if a mere shot of pure H2O…He’s still having a hard time snapping out of whatever trance your injury inflicted upon him, failing to steady his nerves no matter how much alcohol he tries to drown himself in; you aren’t the only one to notice.

“Why not try some peppermint tea? It’s an excellent choice for calming anxi -”

“- Fuck off…” Bucky growls in swift response to Zemo’s suggestion, his metal grip constricting against the glass resulting in a sharp ‘squeak’. Any tighter and it’ll shatter into starry shards.

“It’s only a couple of broken ribs and some bruising. Nothing that won’t heal -” That’s the third time Sam has said this. Once when he first assessed you, a second as you finally became coherent again…although both evaluations were less for your sake and more for Bucky’s.

Your little injury seems to have really bothered him, that much is obvious. Strange, for someone who sure hasn’t wanted to address your existence lately - who has taken almost every possible chance to push you away and make you feel unwanted - but hey, maybe it should be taken as a good sign since it must mean he still cares about you to at least some extent.

So - the question remains - why keep playing these stupid games then? What motivation could Bucky possibly have? Is he trying to be angry with you? Have you upset him to the point that he’d rather force himself to hate you than forgive you? …Hopefully that isn’t the case.

‘This whole situation is a mess…’ You think, sighing as you throw your arm over your eyes to block out the light and echo out the hostile energy practically flooding this room.

Something about Steve’s shield; an ongoing source of tension between all involved, yet you have no interest in picking sides right now. Instead, you’d much rather try sleeping, the exhaustion of today weighing heavy on your bones (not to mention your patience wearing extremely thin). You might’ve actually been able to drift off, too, if not for the loud ‘SLAM’ that startles nearly all of you.

The heavy doors are thrown open, leaving way for your least favorite cosplayer to march into the room while on a clear mission to make matters even worse than he already has, "Alright, let's go! I'm ordering you to hand him over!”

"...Fantastic..." You can't help rolling your eyes. There goes your chance at recovering in peace and quiet. What has it been? An hour since you've gotten back here? Probably less. Your medicine was just beginning to kick in, too! Now, you’re forced to bear through the numb ache of both your broken rib and incoming headache as you lazily watch Sam stand to 'greet' John Walker's presence.

"Hey slow your roll. Let's be clear: shield or no shield, the only thing you're running around here is your mouth," Clearly losing his own patience with the current situation, Sam packs some bite to his words, not caring if they don't sit right with John who fails to suppress a scowl, "I had Karli - She was willing to listen until you overstepped. As for Zemo, he's actually proven himself useful today and we're going to need all hands on deck for what's coming next -"

"- How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, Sam? Huh?" John wears a cocky smirk, apparently mistaking Sam's silence as being stunned astonishment, not dumbstruck bemusement, "Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?"

He's doing his best to appear big and strong behind his threat, but he's the only one to take it seriously. Even Sam - who's usually the better of your group when it comes to maintaining peace by deescalating high tensions - scoffs at John's ridiculous assessment of himself being a 'challenge' for anyone.

Oh, what you'd give for Steve to be here so that he could show this guy how a real captain throws a punch, even if just to put the truth into perspective. If only John would realize how different he is from the real thing. Steve knew he didn't have to prove himself to anyone, he simply had to stand up for what's right. Even before he was a super soldier, that kid from Brooklyn knew the real meaning behind the shield, something you doubt John will ever understand, at least not at this rate, which is exactly why he shouldn't be carrying it.

Honestly, you had no real intentions of getting involved in this either. You weren't even going to roll yourself off the couch. You would've been perfectly content watching Sam kick Fraud's ass while casually draped across it like a professional cat, but almost the second that shield gets set down, a spear is wedged into the pillar mere inches away from John's face, causing all eyes to dart over to the dora milaje warrior standing at the other end of the room where she had previously gone unnoticed.

Before anyone can address her properly, two more dora milaje warriors march into the room from the hall. They speak in Wakandian, the content of their conversation being unknown to you, however you can assume it's nothing pleasant based on their stoney expressions and fierce tones, both fixated on Zemo and Bucky who appear less than thrilled. If anything, they look scared.

"Release him to us now," confirms the obvious regarding what this is all about.

"Hi,John Walker, Captain America,” Blind to the atmosphere around him, John all too casually approaches the women who meet his introduction with some pretty bombastic side eyes in return, “Tell you what, let’s go ahead and put down the pointy sticks and talk this through, huh? We're kinda in the middle of -"

"- John," Sam interjects, at first with an amused smile, except it’s quick to turn serious, probably after he realizes where this crossroad is likely to head, “Listen, you might want to fight Bucky before you test your luck with the dora milaje.”

John simply turns his back on Sam’s advice, giving a smug sneer towards the women in question, “The dora milaje don’t have jurisdiction here -”

“- The dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever the dora milaje find. themselves. to be…” One warrior bites back almost instantly, drawing out those last few words with venomous intent, although her expression hardly changes as she skillfully keeps her cool better than any of you would if John ever dared to step so close.

For a moment there - however short - it seems that a threat has actually put him in check for once, forcing him to shut his mouth as he appears to do some sort of double-take. A quick, almost embarrassed glance back at the rest of you, followed by an equally awkward laugh, divides that temporary silence with John’s next response which he pairs with an outstretched hand that lands on the dora milaje’s shoulder, “...Look, I think we got off on the wrong -”

Showing much less patience towards John’s audacity than the rest of you, the women attack in an instant, knocking him off his feet face first onto the floor. The three dora milaje then surrounded him and Lemar, the latter of whom’s only mistake was taking a step towards the fight which sealed his fate of being choked back with a spear.

“We should do something,” You hear Sam say, forever the kind and considerate spirit. That’s much more than you can say about yourself. Rather than stand up to at least mock concern over the situation happening mere feet in front of you, you simply rest your head lazily against the back of the couch while watching everything unfold with no more interest shown than you would towards a lackluster movie.

“They’ll figure it out…” You decide stubbornly, nonchalantly shifting your legs to avoid any contact with Lemar when he’s thrown into the seat just adjacent to you.

“Looking strong, John!” Even Bucky seems to indirectly agree with you that this situation isn’t yours to fix up, that is initially, at least, until Sam gives you both looks of disapproval.

While it’s nothing that fazes yourself - after all Sam must realize you’d be little help in a battle of physical strength - it’s apparently enough to convince Bucky to join the chaos, too, probably less so to ‘help’ the other boys and more so to prevent this show from turning into an actual blood bath.

Unfortunately for them, they don’t fare much better than the other gentleman involved. If anything, they merely split the dora milaje’s wrath, each taking a half for themselves in the form of swung spears and stinging blows which makes you all the more sure of your decision to sit this one out.

Could you have simply sat here watching things unfold with an imaginary bag of popcorn? Of course, but a grumbled roll of your eyes just happened to land your attention on the opposite side of the room and, more importantly, on Zemo. For a moment, you were so entertained by watching John Walker be slammed against a table that you nearly forgot about your other nuisance. Such a shame.

Zemo takes full advantage of the unplanned distraction tearing apart his fancy parlor, slipping past the fight through the shadows with an unbothered stride that gains no urgency even when you show your notice of him:

“HEY!” Sitting up all too quickly, you wince at the sharp pain that stabs throughout your body, yet do your best to power through it while rushing to your feet and chasing Zemo’s direction.

Eitherhe doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough to give you any concern - you’re willing to bet it’s the latter as he steps into the bathroom and pulls the twins doors shut behind himself, far nicer than when you toss them back open again.

Empty. The bathroom is empty by the time you step fully inside, furiously looking around for the escapee who vanished like some kind of annoying magician. There’s no way he got so lucky as to find his golden ticket and cash it that quickly. That bastard was planning his getaway for god knows how long. All he needed was a moment like this when his guards were distracted.

“Damn it!” You curse aloud, wanting to use much more vulgar words, however they’re caught upon your tongue when you turn just in time to see one of the dora milaje warriors approaching.

Flinching, you’ll admit you half expect to experience her anger for yourself. One glance behind her leads way to your defeated comrades - Sam against the floor and couch rubbing his face while Bucky stands dumbfounded with his metal arm dropped from its socket - yet the Wakandan only passes you by calmly, peering into the bathroom to see the bad news for herself.

“He’s gone,” Although she refrains from losing her tongue, the venom in her tone shows she’s about as impressed as you are with Zemo’s absences. Marching past with no regard to you nor the way you back away, she casually leaves the room as if she and her friends hadn’t just kicked the sense out of almost everyone inside, her only word of departure being directed towards one of her fellow warriors who holds John’s shield in triumph, “Leave it.”

The other woman looks disappointed, but voices no argument as they leave together.

As soon as they're gone, you make your way over to the result of their fury, your first stop being to help Sam up off the floor which he gives a quick ‘thanks’ for, however your attention is hardly on him. Instead, your eyes remain concerned with Bucky across the way.

“What happened?” You ask, not dismissing the way his hand trembles slightly while reaching to pick up his metal arm from the ground. How it became detached so cleanly in battle…Well, it must’ve taken some skill. You’ve only ever seen him remove it once or twice for cleaning, something he struggled with both times. Then again, you suppose it would make sense for the Wakandans to know the work-arounds of their own creation.

Clearly, there’s a storm of thoughts brewing in Bucky’s mind, that much being certain based on his distant stare as he reconnects his arm back into its socket. Nevertheless, he fails to answer your question, leaving that task to Sam who apparently misses the implied context.

“We got our asses handed to us, that’s what,” He grumbles bitterly, still sourly rubbing the mark upon his cheek. It probably stings and is likely to bruise.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of further bad news, but Zemo got away.”

He scoffs, “I heard. Of course he did…”

“‘Can’t imagine he’ll get far with the dora milaje on his tail. Either way, I doubt we’ll be seeing him again anytime soon - not that I’ll lose sleep over that tonight…Are you both okay at least? In a ‘recoverable’ sense, that is?” Once again, your eyes give away who you’re truly worried about and, once again, you receive no answer from who you wish to hear it from most.

“I think you should probably ask that to John,” Sam sighs. Initially, you aren’t too sure if he’s joking or serious. Going off his words, it’s a joke. Expression? He might really mean it. …And John’s expression?

The defeated soldier looks to be in a similar boat to Bucky in terms of internal dilemma. Even as Lemar offers a hand, John continues to kneel against the ground in dazed silence only interrupted by a quashed mumble, “They weren’t even super soldiers…”

He stalls for a moment before finally snapping out of it enough to take Lemar’s hand, lifting himself off the ground then swiftly masking his shock with a glare aimed towards the rest of you. No more words are said on his end - nothing verbal, that is. His eyes say everything they need to, expressing all that they need to about his embarrassment and anger…Maybe that battle wasn’t the reality check you thought he needed after all. Maybe just the opposite…

Running a hand through your hair, you glance around the room in total loss. Wakanda’s pissed. Zemo’s gone. John’s unstable. And to think your day couldn’t have gotten any worse…If you were on your own, this would be about the point where you’d be screaming into a pillow to release all your pent up anger, but now isn’t the time to lose your cool. You have to keep it together.

Sam mentions something else about the Zemo part of this situation, yet you fail to hear out his thought process. Your focus is solely stuck to Bucky who doesn’t stick around himself, having turned his back almost as soon as he could probably sense you were about to address him again.

Dragging a hand over his face, he marches off to destination you originally assumed would be the bathroom Zemo disappeared in, perhaps to begin tracing the baron’s path to recapture him - which might’ve been what Sam was trying to suggest you all do next - however Bucky walks directly past the bathroom and down the hall instead.

Carelessly smacking open the guest room door, he wanders inside where his limited belongings await mostly untouched upon the bed, never unpacked from his duffle bag. Taking a deep, labored breath, he tries to cease any thoughts about today as a whole, desperately pushing them back behind the dam that’s barely holding his sanity together…but the pressure is building.

First he let you get injured and now Ayo hates him? Is he just destined to keep hurting everyone around him, no matter what he does to avoid it? Even without the Winter Soldier to haunt his mind, his life is still cursed with conflict and danger. HYDRA, Thanos, the Flag Smashers…Will it never stop? Will he ever be able to rest without worry or blame?

“- James…?” The door was already practically open, yet you still peek out from around it, ever so gently pushing it outwards as you step into the room with a frown upon your face, "...What about you? Are you okay?"

"...Fine..."

Despite that being his answer, you still hesitate there in the doorway. You can’t just walk away - doing so wouldn’t feel right. Sure, he’s been an asshole lately and you’d have every right to disregard him, but…Well, today’s been rough for everyone, especially him. You’ve already seen how your injury bothered him on a level he refuses to admit, then for the dora milaje to show up - more importantly, for Ayo, someone he admires and considers himself to be in great debt to…

“It’s only natural for Wakanda to be upset with what we’re doing here. Zemo killed their King, after all,” You speak up against the silence, trying to sound neutral as if you’re simply stating a fact and not trying to offer any comfort, “Of course they’re not going to like that we’re working with him for any reason, much less that we broke him out of prison to do so, but it’s not like you -”

“- What part of ‘fine’ don’t you get?”

You’re left gaping at his snapped tone, frozen for a split second or two after he turns over his shoulder to glare at you…Then your own anger starts to swell faster than you can bite it back, “Maybe the part where you still look pissy as all hell. Seriously, what’s your problem? I’m only trying to make sure you’re okay. You -”

- You take a deep breath, even closing your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts. This isn’t the time to lose patience. You must keep it together. Distance - If you have any hope in your relationship getting better, you need to give him distance, and you will, but you also can’t just turn a blind eye to him while he’s struggling. Dancing around the issue isn’t helping anyone at this rate. You want to talk things out first - You need to address the problem then go from there, wherever it may lead.

Letting go of your breath, you don’t mask your concern this time, “...You’re clearly not okay, James. These last few months have been a shit-show, I get that. Thanos, losing Steve, this whole mess with the Flag Smashers…Me…”

He flinches and swiftly looks away.

“It’s been too much. I’m starting to realize that. We’re all stressed and angry and - …Listen, James. I - …I was wrong to keep secrets from you, especially one as big as me being Hollie. I’ll admit that, but you have to try to understand where I was coming from. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I knew it was going to be a lot and hard to believe so I wanted to wait for a good time…It’s not like it’s exactly easy telling people I used to be someone else a half-century ago…”

You run a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh, “I realize I put it off for far too long, and I really can’t say sorry enough for that, but as wrong as it was for me to keep the truth from you, I still don’t understand why such a secret would warrant you treating me like this. We…We used to be so close. We were close, and then you cut me out just likethat…Why?”

Bucky clenches his fist, forcing himself not to so much as glance back at you. He’d be in trouble if he did that. It’s much easy to keep his back turned while willing himself to remain calm despite the bite that presents itself in his words, “I don’t want to talk about it right n -”

“- No!” You quite literally put your foot down, narrowing your eyes at him, “We need to talk about it now. You can’t keep shutting down on me, Bucky. We’ve been avoiding this conversation for too long already. I thought everything would sort itself out if I gave you some time to think, but clearly that’s only making matters worse for both of us. I…I need to know. I need you to know.

“Bucky, I have loved you ever since I could remember who I used to be. Every second we’ve spent together - Everything I’ve done and said - It was never an act, it’s always been me. I need you to understand that. I feel no different for you now than I did when I was named Hollie. I’ve only ever wanted to see you be happy and doing well - that’s my ultimate goal. While I’d like you to be that way with me - while I’d like to be happy together, if you don’t -...If you don’t see me as her then…”

You look down, uncomfortably fiddling with your hands as you fight to keep your voice steady. Still, you can’t ignore the sting of tears in your eyes, “...It’s fine, it’s whatever. We don’t have to be anything special - Hell, we don’t even have to maintain contact ever again if that’s what you truly want, but at the very least, can’t you still treat me like an actual human being whenever the world forces us to interact? Can’t we be civil? I mean, you’ve been nicer to Zemo than you have been to me lately. It’s like you hate me all of the sudden…Is that it?”

“No -” For once, an answer is delivered without any initial hesitation. It must have been impulsive - a powerful reaction caused by hearing that slight peak to your voice. It causes Bucky to finally spin around and face you, yet that single word is quickly followed by regret once he shies away with a heavy sigh, “...No, I don’t hate you…”

“Then why? Please just tell me so that I can fix things.”

This conversation is dragging on for a dangerous length of time. Even with how little he’s engaged, there’s a voice inside Bucky’s head warning him that it’s been too much. The further this extends, the faster his heart races and the heavier his thoughts weigh…The damage your words do against his shield are deadly, yet he stubbornly refuses to give in. He already made his decision long ago. He can’t become weak against it now.

“There’s nothing to fix -” Attempting to put an end to this discussion, he tries to distract himself with his belongings. It’s a hopeless game of pretend as he shifts through his bag with no real motivation beyond acting busy - an act that doesn’t fool you.

“- Clearly there is,” You huff, taking a step further, arms now crossed, “You wouldn’t be acting like this if everything was just fine and dandy.”

“Just -!” He catches himself, suffocating his growing frustration through a quick inhale, “…Drop it, alright? I already said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it!” You accuse, a hand now falling to your hip, “Why are you acting like my presence is suddenly killing you?”

Slamming his hands against his bag, he spins towards you with a flare temper of his own…So much for keeping it managed, “Why? Because I never asked you to come here! I never wanted you to get involved!”

“In what?”

Shaking his head, he blatantly ignores you aside from a scoff. Tugging at his hair, he finds himself cursing your stubbornness. As bad as it had made him feel, at least you stormed off in Madripoor by this point. You gave up before he had to risk saying anything too close to the truth, however you’re more determined than ever to push for it now. Why can’t you just see that he’s trying to do what’s best for you here?

Instead of even considering something as silly as that, you use your built up anger as fuel for pursuing an answer. No longer are you willing to accept silence or gruff remarks. No longer do you care if you can see Bucky getting visibly distraught with every poke and prod. You deserve an answer this time.

“Involved in WHAT, James!? With this mission? Because believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m here because I consider myself responsible for the super soldier serum -”

“- IN EVERYTHING! I NEVER ASKED YOU TO BE INVOLVED IN ANYTHING!” Bucky suddenly shouts over you, his voice cracking in a way neither of you have heard before. Even through the tears, he swears all he can see when looking at your stunned silence is a reflection of Hollie frowning back at him. You don’t even look alike anymore, yet there’s something about your expression - maybe the bitten frown or heartbroken shine of your eyes - that makes you look so much like her. Too much like her…

Why did you have to come back, dammit it?! Hasn’t he been tortured with his past enough? Why be tempted with you now? You didn’t have to come find him the way you did. You could have gone on with your new life, enjoying all the wonders it has to offer for someone so bright and gifted - all the wonders he stole away from you in the past. Now he’s constantly keeping track of the seconds until he dooms you again - until the nightmare becomes another reality once you’re no longer lucky enough to push yourself back up with only a few broken ribs. He’s already killed Holiday Stark. How long until he gets (Y/n) (L/n) killed, too?

Tearfully, you shake your head. You wish you could do more than that. You want to be angrier or at the very least unfazed so that you can at least pretend none of this bothers you the way it does, but you don't have the spirit; it's been successfully crushed under the weight of Bucky's words and your own heartache.

"...Then I won't be…" You know your whispered voice cracks all the same, and you know your hand is trembling when you reach for its opposite, struggling more than it probably should to wiggle the silver ring off your finger which you then let fall to the floor as if it would've been too hot to hold. From there, you barely even wait to hear the 'clink' that it makes against the tile, already having your back turned as you practically throw the door open without any regard to how it slams against the adjacent dresser.

In a blind hurry, you brush past Sam who looks like a stunned deer caught on a highway. You echo out his fumbled attempts at calming you down because if you could give him words right now, you’d tell him that you're far past the point of 'calming down'. You're officially on autopilot mode as you hastily gather your belongings from your own room.

Tossing everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder, you retrace half of your last steps, this time finding both Sam and Bucky together in the hall. One looks annoyed like a parent who just wanted a nice night out, the other guilty like a kicked dog; both wary as you pass on by. Any other day, it might've fed your ego to see their fear. If you had some heart left, you'd aim a joke towards it, but not today.

"Wait - Where are you going?" Sam calls, and you think it overshadows Bucky's weak attempt at calling your name.

"Home. I'm done with this shit!”

Sam's attention is immediately whipped to Bucky with a hiss, “What did you do?!”

The question has little to no effect, not because it doesn’t matter, but because it’s already being considered, stirring the sour emotions bubbling in Bucky’s mind. The guilt was always expected, however its exact force was miscalculated. This is what he wanted, isn't it? He wanted to push you away - to keep you as far from him as possible where you’ll be safest…and yet he doesn’t feel accomplished in the slightest.

Glancing back through the open door of his room, Bucky’s eyes become watery once they land on the abandoned wedding ring that sinfully glows in the light of the window.

…He’s really done it now…

NEXT CHAPTER {coming soon}

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Taglist:

@arunabrak

@lovemesomevesey

[wildpeachfarm]

This whole topic makes me think about how CCs communicate to each other, even outside of dteam. At least with the twitch crowd.

My theory is that people that come into this thinking there's a pre-established script on how a cc should be, and that everyone else already knows it? Coupled with how most of these newer CCs are in their teens, they would be self-conscious about not standing out "the wrong way", so they just act how they think they should act. Which makes them see any form of communication as confrontation or a attack, as it makes them feel like "well, it's either IM doing something wrong or YOUR doing something wrong if we have to talk about it."

They forget or never thought about that being a CCs is no different than being any other job or community, and forget to just be a human and communicate?

Not going to lie, that's how a LOT of people communicate especially on the internet. There is this unspoken assumption amongst people that everyone needs to act the same way and speak the same way, and that any diversion from that is "wrong" or "weird" because it either requires more communication, more boundary establishing, or more curation of your own personal experiences online (and people don't want to do that work). When in the real world, these are very simple things you encounter and are not a big deal at all.

Unfortunately, it is typically a lot of teen-age people who are like this because they haven't had the life experience that teaches you to "respect that everyone does not and will not want to act the same as you and you need to respect that, communicate, and move on healthily because that's part of being a functioning human in society". So unfortunately we do tend to find young adult and teenage CCs in this crowd too.

Which is why I always appreciate mature communication over senseless demands to act a certain way because that's just...not how the world works lmao- and I wish younger CCs didn't feel so much pressure to follow a certain type of "behavior" that is demanded of people that really have far less communication skills and maturity than they think.

Dteam are such a wonderfully unique case of boys who were raised basically on the internet and yet STILL have super healthy ways of communicating and expressing their thoughts and I think all these other CCs should take the hint and start working on their own flaws in behavior and communication because there is already a very jarring difference between how dteam handle sensitive situations vs how everyone else does.

[rainbow-femme]

So I was thinking about this the other day but I feel like the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell is the only piece of magic media I’ve read or watched where I felt we were given a genuine sense of what different magical strength levels look like

So often if I read or watch something with people that do magic there are always conversations about how powerful someone is but when it’s people shooting fireballs at each other or just making something happen, I can’t tell if that’s a big deal or not because all of the characters just do that

People mention it a lot with the Vampire Diaries show where they constantly had The Strongest Witch Ever and then No Wait Actually This Is The Strongest Witch Ever No Wait Actually It’s This One but they all just seemed to yell and fling magic power at stuff and it all comes off as being the same as anything else, I have no gauge for what is normal when everyone is like that

I read part of the ACOTAR series and that was something that bugged me. I know for the books themselves they’re meant to be sexy wish fulfillment but from a world building perspective you can’t introduce everyone as the strongest magical person ever, except for this person who is even stronger, except for this person who is even stronger, without ever actually saying what normal magic does. Like cool most people have one power gem thing and these guys have 10, I don’t know what that means because I don’t know what the other people do. Awesome that this guy can do all those crazy magic things but he’s just standing there and effortlessly making it happen, I have no idea how cool that’s supposed to be because I don’t know what a regular person does

Harry Potter at the beginning did it a bit but it was more in a “the more you say the spell right the better your thing floats” in the first book but from there again it was just sort of stuff was as strong as the plot needed it to be. Hell the entire last book had a macguffin that was the strongest wand ever and I never really could tell what it did better than a normal wand. Like we find out in the third book that a guy blew up an entire neighborhood with magic and he was just a guy, what exactly does the super special ultra wand do that’s so much better?

But with Carry On I felt like it went out of its way to consistently show what different power levels did and looked like. Simon uses a spell to make a crashed car disappear and accidentally makes the whole road disappear, we see what the effect of Baz using his magic on the dragon is and then how it changes when Simon powers him up, we get specific descriptive differences. And again certain characters being stronger than others is important like the other stories but we see people of different levels doing the same thing so when you are told Simon is crazy powerful you understand what they mean because you see what a normal powerful person can do, a normal person, and a less powerful person so you can actually compare and get a sense of what being powerful actually means

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 18

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

---

“Are you still mad at me?”

Jason sighed. “I’m not mad.”

She didn’t like his answer, but contained herself. Like she did all the thousand times in the last hour.

“I promise I’m not mad.”

Her eyes were deep turquoise pools without end. He usually didn’t feel analyzed when she looked at him, she was very firm on never using her skills on him despite joking about not being a good doctor; but now he could almost feel her poke around in his head. He didn’t like it.

“I was mad, but I‘m not anymore. Promise.”

She liked that answer even less than the other one. “I’m sorry.”

She was being honest. Like she had been the first thousand times she apologized.

It wasn’t about being sorry or being mad with her. It was just—

“I shouldn’t have said yes without asking.”

He stopped walking, took a deep breath and turned to look at his girlfriend. She was twisting the hem of her blouse, her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyebrows furrowed. He had no doubt that Jazz was sorry about making that deal with Bruce the previous day, but it didn’t mean that her actions didn’t hurt.

He ignored the pinch in his chest.

Jazz was not like his family, he tried to remind himself once more. She didn’t act because she thought she knew what he wanted better than him, or because she was so sure she was in the right that she wouldn’t waste time asking him if he agreed.

The moment Bruce was out of that window she looked at him with wide eyes. “I fucked up,” she had said without hesitation, throwing him off the spiraling thoughts of betrayal.

How he was feeling was probably written in his face, he had no doubt. Sure, the Pit wasn’t clouding his thoughts — and it hasn’t done so in a while, not even when he thought that Jazz had used him as a guinea pig with the Lazarus Waters — but even with a clear head he was still not okay.

They had talked. For hours.

Figures that his first real argument with his girlfriend would be Bruce’s fault — he was not counting the whole drama of that week as a “couple’s argument".

Jazz's usual ramblings, which in any other situation would be endearing, was then grating to his ears. Excuse after excuse, she kept explaining, or trying to, that she thought he needed to go to that dinner. That his problems with Bruce, while valid, shouldn’t deny him a relationship with the others. That she would be there and could act as a shield—

He had to stop her right there.

It was an awful lot of assumptions, he told her. She didn’t even know about his past, he growled.

That made her stop. “You are right, I don’t. I wish to know, when you want to tell me. I want to know everything about you.” She finally looked him in the eyes properly. “But I still think that deep inside you want to go to the dinner.”

He wanted to go. He wanted to see Alfred and see his second childhood home (the nicer one) and meet the new people in the family.

She knew he wanted to go, because she was one of the few people in the world that could see past his tough guy exterior and actually made an effort to see what was inside.

Still, he would like it if next time, his girlfriend didn’t make a decision for him. He told her so and the argument ended in a better tone, with a hug and soft kiss goodnight.

Why was Jazz insisting again, you ask?

“You shouldn’t have, no. But you apologized and I think I’ve told you to not apologize if nobody was hurt. I’m fine. Shall we go to that damn dinner?” He gestured towards the elevator, and of course Jazz didn’t move.

She stopped biting her lip, but her hands kept torturing the hem of her blouse.

“You don’t look fine.”

Okay. Not only were they going to that stupid dinner because of her, but they were going to be late because of her as well.

He sighed, rubbing his face.

“Well I’m perfectly okay. Can we please get moving?”

Jazz frowned, like he just kicked a puppy or something.

“Danny always—”

“Well I’m not Danny!”

The silence was only broken by the echo of his shout in the empty hallway. It was only then that he noticed he was breathing heavily.

Jason stopped, straightened his back and took a deep breath. Only then he looked back at Jazz, finding those hurt eyes that he had only seen back at his other safehouse, when he accused her of so many horrible things.

The image of a bruised wrist passed behind his eyes.

He was not his father. Either of them.

“Listen—”

“I’m—”

Both stopped talking, looking at each other in a tense silence.

When she didn’t say anything else, he continued. “I’m not your brother, Jazz. I understand that you feel sorry and I understand why you jumped like that. Yes, I’m upset, but I just— I don’t need a talk about feelings right now, ok?”

She processed his words for a moment.

“You need time.” It wasn’t a question.

“I— Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Time away from ‘us’?”

“What? No!” What the actual fuck? “No, I just got you back, why would I want to be apart from you?”

Jazz’s cheeks tinted a bit red just as she looked down at her hands, finally letting go of the piece of clothing.

“Just wanted to check,” she said with a small shrug, still looking down. “Didn’t want to assume things.”

This made him chuckle.

“You are silly.”

At least she was smiling when she looked up at him. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of an answer, Jason walked towards her and pulled her into his chest, easily circling his arms around her body. It was comfortable and it felt right, having her so close. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo.

“We cool?” She asked against his chest.

He nodded, even if she wouldn’t be able to see it. “We cool.”

By the time they got to the bike, all the bad feelings had been replaced with tender kisses. Jazz offered to bail on the dinner and blame it on her if necessary, but at that point Jason was so fed up with the stupid dinner he wanted to go out of spite.

The ride was uneventful, Jazz’s long dress pants and heeled sandals weren’t a problem to ride a motorbike.

They made the trip to the Manor in silence, Jason’s mind disconnected from the motions as familiar landscape passed by them at high speed. It has been a while since he climbed the hills towards Bristol, but he couldn’t remember if the last time was when he brought that first edition to Alfred so he knew he was alive, or if there was a more recent instance.

In any case, the familiar shape of Wayne Manor was impossible to miss, nor were the empty roads that were far from civilization and the common people living in the rest of the city.

Jason expected to feel rage, to feel dread, to feel the painful anticipation before facing something that you really don’t want to experience — but as troubling thoughts started to plague his mind, he felt strong but gentle arms tighten around his waist, not giving the thoughts enough time to settle in his mind.

That’s right, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to face things alone. Not anymore.

The silence was broken as he parked close to the door and both got out of the vehicle.

“It’s… big.”

He snorted at her comment. “Don’t let the opulence get to you.”

Jazz hummed in thought. “Oh it doesn’t. Is not my first time in a mansion this big.” She turned to look at him with a little smile. “I haven’t told you about the time we lived in a mansion?”

He chuckled as he stored the helmets away. “Sounds like a fun story. Wanna share with the class?”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and he knew she was considering if she needed to lie to him. It didn’t hurt that much, especially not now that he knew why she needed to measure her words.

“The GIW paid my parents an absurd amount of money in exchange of our house and all the ghost hunting technology. Danny was thrilled, of course, since he always wanted to be rich. We had our own butler and everything.” She sighed dramatically. “It ended quickly when Danny found out that what the GIW truly wanted was access to the portal to nuke the Ghost Zone. He barely stopped them in time and the day was saved once again.”

“Nuke the Ghost Zone?” He asked as they started walking towards the Manor. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Very. The Ghost Zone, or the Infinite Realms, are like… what was the word?” Jazz thought about it for a moment, one finger on her lips with smudged pale pink lipstick. Which reminded him to check that he didn’t have lipstick stains on his face. He would never live that down. “It is like… a mirror dimension of this one! Yes, that was the thing. Anyway, if that one is destroyed, this one goes as well.”

He lifted an eyebrow, stopping right at the front door. “You guys have dealt with crazy stuff, haven't you?”

Her smile was tired. “You have no idea.”

There was more she wanted to say, but both knew it wasn’t the moment or the place. There was so much pain, so many secrets, in her teal eyes that he wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. Had she been hiding all of that from him? Of course she had, she was good and hiding and lying. Jazz was burdened by secrets that weren’t her own and a past she couldn’t share.

Once again she reminded him so much of Dick, and how his brother was all smiles and circus tricks to distract you from the pain Jason could see in his eyes when Dick thought nobody was looking. He knew there were things his brother wasn’t telling him, and he never pressed. Everybody had their secrets. Even him. Even his girlfriend.

But, unlike with his brother, Jason wanted to know those secrets — not to make sure she was not a supervillain, but because he wanted to carry that burden with her. It hurt to see her in pain. He wanted to take away her sorrows so she didn’t have to look like this.

Jason cupped her face with one hand, for once not worrying about his calloused palm being rough on her soft skin. She leaned into the touch.

He put his other hand on her waist, leaning in for a last kiss. She eagerly placed her hands on his chest, responding to the kiss with a little smile against his lips. He felt her sigh and melt into his arms, all worrying thoughts escaping her mind this time.

He may not be able to take away all her sorrows, but he was happy to distract her from them for the moment.

When they parted, he saw a curtain quickly be closed in a nearby window.

He sighed, knowing that it was showtime.

“Ready?”

At her nod, he rang the bell.

Of course, the door was opened immediately. Alfred had been waiting behind the closed door, with half the family standing there, trying to not make it obvious they've been eavesdropping.

“Welcome,” the butler said with a smile. Jason answered with one of his own, happy to see the old man. “May I take your coats?”

Jazz hid her nervousness as she gave her denim jacket to the butler, softly introducing herself to him.

“Jason.”

He looked up, finding Bruce standing there with a stupid turtleneck and sensible jeans, selling the whole “dad” thing. He kept an open and non-aggressive stance, with a small smile. He even wore stupid superhero slippers.

“Bruce.”

Jazz came back to the tense silence, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Your jacket, dear?”

He looked away from Bruce and took off his jacket, deciding to not give it to the man to ruin this night for him and his girlfriend. Jazz deserved to have a good time, and he would not be the one that fucks this up for her.

“Jasmine—”

“Jazz is fine,” her smile was polite, although not as warm as the ones she gave him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

It was a charged sentence, of course, since Bruce never intended to actually personally invite anyone — he always sent Dick to mediate between them. And they only accepted to come after he fucked up so bad he had to make a deal to even start apologizing.

He knew. They knew. The others knew.

Jason snorted.

He loved his girlfriend to bits.

“So…”

Everyone turned to look at Dick, who was smiling in that specific way. The one where he was trying hard to become a distraction.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“She knows who you are.”

“Well, maybe she wants to have a more formal introduction, given the circumstances.”

“She is right here.”

Now everyone looked at Jazz, who didn’t seem amused at being talked over like she wasn’t there.

“Right. Okay.” Jason sighed dramatically and got ready for grating night. “Jazz, these are Dickolas, Timbit, and Bruce, who you have already met.” He vaguely made a gesture towards them. Tim was biting his lips, trying not to laugh. “This is Alfred,” he put a hand on his shoulder, smiling when the older man placed one of his gloved hands over his, “he taught me how to cook.”

Jazz’s eyes widened when she made the connection — right, he had scarcely talked about his childhood that dinner when they kissed for the first time.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Alfred said with a slight bow.

She answered with one of her own. “The pleasure is all mine. Jason has talked a lot about you.”

He hadn’t, right? Now he couldn’t remember exactly how much he had told her.

To hide his blush, he continued. “And this is Cass.” He pointed at the silent and observant figure of Cassandra next to Bruce. “She is—”

“Black Bat.”

Cass smiled broadly at Jazz’s words, nodding and approaching her to sneak her arms around her before anybody could stop her. She pet Jazz’s long red hair a few times before letting her go.

“Welcome.” She said.

Jazz blinked in confusion for a moment before smiling back.

“Thanks!”

Both smiled at each other for a few moments, his girlfriend’s shoulders finally relaxing. She was nervous, he knew, and she was hiding it well. Did Cass notice that as well?

She was some of the few he interacted less with, and he didn’t know her as much as the others. From his investigation he knew who she was and where she came from, what she was capable of and why she didn’t kill; but he had never seen her without her suit, or from this close. Black Bat was a shadow, barely seen but always there.

But Cassandra was all smiles when she took Jazz’s hand in hers and pulled her further into the house with a skip in her step, visibly excited to meet the new person.

“The others are in the living room.” Alfred answered Jason’s unasked question. “Dinner will be served in an hour.”

With that, he disappeared through a door and went probably to the kitchen to finish preparing everything.

Right.

Dinner.

“Everything alright?” Tim’s question brought him back to the group already walking away from him. He rushed to Jazz’s side.

“Uh?” Jazz’s attention snapped back to Tim, her eyes had been fixed on a corner in the ceiling. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Tim glanced at Jason with a slight frown, silently asking if he knew what’s up. “You seem distracted.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence and Jazz was already looking away, this time up the giant stairs that went to the east and west wings of the Manor. Her eyes on the door toward the East Wing, the Family Wing.

“Darling?” Jason gently touched her side.

“I’m…” Her eyes moved with intention, like they were following something running down the stairways and towards the hallway to the left. “Is just…”

When her eyes started to water, Jason pulled on her arm and made her stop. Something was up, he was sure of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I…” with her free hand she wiped the tears away. “It’s— This house has belonged to the family for generations, right?”

Everyone looked at Bruce, who tilted his head. “Yes. Why is that important?”

Ah, Bruce. Always demanding.

“Well, huh.” She sighed, wiping away more tears, careful to not smudge her eyeliner too much. “There’s no easy way to say this but… The place is haunted.”

As she said it, she glanced behind Bruce, narrowing her eyes. There was nothing there, of course. Nothing except—

“Ghosts?”

“Yeah, that’s what haunted means.”

Dick rolled his eyes at the answer. “I mean, are there ghosts here?”

Jason didn’t miss Tim’s nervous look at Bruce, or how the man looked around, wary.

“There are ghosts everywhere in this damn city.” She chuckled. “But this place feels like… You know when a cursed place feels wrong? Like you don’t need to know the backstory to know something bad happened there?”

Everyone tensed. Jazz wiped more tears.

“Well, this place is like that, but the opposite. So many lives, so many—” More tears flowed down her face, but she didn’t seem sad. She frowned like she was getting pretty annoyed. “Damn it!” She turned on her heels and glared at the empty stairs. “Yes, I can see you! And hear you! Stop making a show!”

Jason felt it. He didn’t know how, but he felt like something that was there had fled away at the woman’s words.

“Thank you!” She huffed, straightening her back and wiping her wet hands on the hem of her blouse. “So rude!” She shook her head in disbelief, finally turning back to them. “I’m sorry, what was I saying?”

Jason was the one that recovered first. Yes. His girlfriend could see ghosts. That was normal. Just one more thing to the list.

“What did you see?”

Did she see Bruce’s parents? They didn’t die in the Manor, but…

“I couldn’t say… Not every ghost maintains their form when they are created, and these didn’t.” She smiled, apologetic. “They were very chatty, though. I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence, broken when Tim clicked his tongue.

“Well, that’s surely something that happened.”

“Uh…”

“So my house is haunted?”

Jazz blinked. “You’ve never noticed? Have you never felt the protection magic around the house? Even mortals are capable of detecting ghost magic, especially as strong as this one is.”

Dick mouthed “ghost magic”, flabbergasted.

“No. I can’t say that I have.” Bruce answered slowly. “If I show you photos, could you identify the ghosts?”

Cass pulled the hand she was still holding and hugged Jazz close to her chest and away from Bruce. “No work talk.”

“Right, um,” he cleared his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable, “sorry about that. Tonight is supposed to be a normal family dinner.”

Jason wondered how many lectures he had gotten before they arrived. He still found it funny that his apology had been coached via comms — sad, but funny. It wasn’t surprising that the old man was incapable of offering an honest apology on his own.

They continued walking, Jazz now more present than before, offering casual explanations about what she was used to with ghosts, why she was crying — she laughed, saying that it was her body’s way of reacting to ghostly presence — and that she had been planning on setting up a protection spell but this was stronger than whatever she could do anyway.

Soon they were in the main living area, the voices of the others bouncing out of the door. Jason recognized the place — that’s where the gaming console was when he was little, and where Bruce usually sat to read with him after school and before patrol.

The memories weren’t as painful as he thought they would be. Sad, of course, given that those moments were from a life he couldn’t get back no matter how much he wished for it.

But the room wasn’t the same quiet haven he remembered. Someone was arguing loudly while someone else was laughing, and sounds coming from the TV, probably a video game, were blasting from speakers.

It was the same place, but at the same time it wasn’t.

Jazz didn’t draw attention to him when he picked her free hand and interlaced their fingers, she kept talking with Dick about something regarding her gymnastics class.

“Oh, hey!” Bernard, Tim’s boyfriend, was the first one that noticed them arrive. He stood up and walked towards Tim, extending his hand to shake Jazz’s. “Hello, I’m Bernard.”

She shook it, confused. “You are…?”

“Tim’s boyfriend.”

She finally made the connection, smiling. “Ah, I remember reading about you.”

“I hope not in those stupid tabloids.”

“That and when I looked up the Dyonysus cult.”

Bernard blushed deep red, quickly withdrawing his hand. “Listen—”

“Hey I’m not judging you. I wasn’t even looking for you,” she laughed. “I just did a research of all the occult stuff happening in Gotham before I moved here.”

“You must have been researching for weeks.” Blondie number two jumped over the sofa she was lounging on and shouldered Bernard out of the way. “Stephanie Brown.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jazz shook the offered hand. “Spoiler?” She asked for confirmation.

“Yup!” The woman beamed. “It’s so nice to have another girl around. Jason should have gotten braver and asked you out before.”

“Hey.”

Jazz looked uncomfortable for a second. “Things happen when they need to happen.” She looked at him, her eyes full of worry. “I— I haven’t told you yet, but I may have found out about you that night?”

This made him stop. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still said yes?”

She blushed, looking away. “Yeah.”

He remembered her flirting back, how she blushed easier than usual, how she looked at him when he finally said the words. His speech had been pathetic and yet she had looked like he hung the moon and stars.

Had she known he was Red Hood then? And she said yes?

“You are weird.”

She chuckled, getting on the tip of her toes to kiss him on the cheek, the hand entwined with his squeezing for a second.

Someone clicked their tongue, the sound clearly displeased. Jazz jumped back to put a bit of space between them, suddenly very aware of their audience.

“Dami, be nice.” Dick said in a tired tone.

“I just don’t see what’s so interesting about her. Is a civilian who just happens to be involved in the supernatural.”

“She can see ghosts!”

“No way!” The last person to introduce themselves, Duke, stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor, leaving his controller aside. “You can see them too?”

“Ah, metahuman, right?” Jazz’s smile was wide. “Signal.”

“Yeah!”

“And you can see ghosts?”

“I can see… well, I call it ‘ghost vision’ but maybe it is not the same thing as you do,” he chuckled, quickly shaking her hand. “I can see auras and a bit on how they move in the past and in the future.”

“You can see the future???”

Aaaaand they lost her. Jazz’s eyes glowed with excitement, ditching Jason to follow Duke to the sofa and sit down to ask him a myriad of questions. She tried not to be too invasive, but he knew she would start asking about his childhood soon.

He sat down next to her, not acknowledging the others as they stood around either on the other sofas, the loveseat or on the floor. They were very obviously looking at him like he was an animal in a zoo, waiting, comparing.

This was exactly what sickened about coming to the Manor — they weren’t looking at him when he was there. Each had a mental image of “Jason Todd” and struggled to match it with the person he actually was. Or, in the case of Bruce, he was still trying to find the little boy that died.

The walls started to feel too narrow, the room too small for him, when he felt a soft touch on the back of his hand. He looked up, finding the smiling face of Jazz, his vision clearing around her.

“Right, Jay?”

He tried to mask his confusion. “About what.”

He saw the worry flash behind her eyes, but she quickly moved on. “About when I told you I saw your suit and I had to pretend I didn’t see anything.”

Oh right. When she drilled onto him about how to properly hide his stuff and how obvious he was.

“It’s not my fault you broke into a poor guy’s apartment late at night. You pervert.”

Her face went red immediately. “I— I didn’t—” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not the scoundrel that likes to break in through the window, like other people.”

“And whose fault is it? You refuse to get that damn lock.”

“I will do it when I do it!”

It was adorable how frustrated she got with the teasing. He couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips.

He didn’t care who was watching anymore, or if the others were trying to walk on eggshells around him. Jazz reminded him that it was okay to just be and he knew she would be in his corner if it came to it.

---

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[argentsunshine]

have you posted about your characterization of Joker? i really like your takes about him and would love if it were explained, but understand if not

i don't think i've posted about it explicitly beyond writing fics and comics, but i do think about it a lot

i acknowledge that everyone picks different options for their akira(/ren, i'll be calling him akira here in case i have to differentiate between his real world and metaverse personas), but imo there are way more basic facts about akira that are the same regardless of what dialogue options you pick than people act like there are

he's quiet

he's not really a silent protagonist unless you're incredibly broad with the term, but he still isn't exactly the most talkative guy. you may be saying mr argent sunshine, this is obvious, why are you bothering to state this. well you see i often joke that i have a test where i back out of a fanfic if anyone describes akira as "loud", "talkative", or anything else to that effect. i have seen this so often and it drives me insane. especially when people portray him as like, a quirky hyperactive ditz constantly saying stupid shit...? people can be funny while saying very few words, guys. (sometimes it's even funnier to say less. wild concept.)

also, while the doylist purpose of his quietness is obvious - making the player pick a line every other sentence would get annoying and would force them to write and record way more dialogue to account for all the responses - i think it's interesting to examine from a watsonian perspective. was he always quiet, or is it a mask in the same way as the glasses are? i personally imagine him always being on the quiet side, but it's a space you could play in.

2. caring so deeply about everyone and everything all the time

this to me is the real core of akira's character. the defining moment of his whole deal to me is the one-two punch of him saving a woman he didn't know and losing everything for it, and, when arsene asks, him saying doing that was not a mistake, i'd do it again if i had to, even though the woman he was trying to save turned around and lied to the police, resulting in his arrest. he comforts ann when they barely know each other, he awakens to arsene in the first place while trying to protect ryuji, who he's known for all of ten minutes. yes, he loves his friends and found family dearly (and i'm sure when i started talking about things that are true no matter what option you pick someone went "oh like how akechi will still be akira's wish in maruki's reality no matter what you do", yeah, that too) but he's also ready to throw himself into harm's way for the sake of people he's never met.

(if someone wants my full rant on this point ask me about sojiro akira parallels but a side point to this is that he's deeply unselfish, to a level that may not be healthy in the long run. he just so happens to have gotten the exact magic powers to make his heroics feasible. i'm just saying, without getting persona powers he still would have managed to draw kamoshida's anger, and he would have been expelled and probably gone to juvie! but he still would have done it because he can't just look away.)

3. oh god i don't want this to turn into a whole full rant so now i have to pick one last point then shut up. oh god oh fuck. i could talk about akira forever but nobody wants to sit through that. let's talk about masks.

i don't think of joker as The Real Akira as much as his metaverse appearance is another facet of him. looking at him from another angle. i think his flair for the dramatic is fun and i love him, but i also think the concept of theatrics and illusion and trickery (ha) being built so deep into him is very important. even though it's always for the greater good, he does tell people what they want to hear a lot (off the top of my head, maybe 1/3 to 1/2 of his non-PT confidants are at least somewhat based on false pretenses right from the start, even if they make him come clean in the end, and a lot of the rest involve akira being exactly who the person needs him to be.) you could argue that akira's always pretending to literally everyone fully all the time (I don't think this is true; i think he obscures parts of himself to make himself more useful or palatable to others, but i think arguing his connections are inauthentic is a) edgelord bullshit or, more commonly, shipper brain if they're arguing only one connection is authentic b) just not consistent with the way people work. i'm personally of the opinion that we're all always presenting tailored versions of ourselves to everyone around us - i'm ruder around my friends but kinder around my parents; openly ramble about my interests to my online friends but tend to keep a lid on them irl - these don't make some of my connections fake, it's just a difference in the facets people see. i don't think akira's tendecy to present different masks around different people is neccasarily the best way to go about life (in that i think it Will lead to an identity crisis inevitably) but it's definitely A Thing!

i lost track of what i was saying at the end there so i'll stop talking

[kaija-rayne-author]

Hugest of sighs.

I really hate it when I can feel a special interest dying.

It's like watching something you've loved and put your everything into for however long get smaller and smaller in the distance. Until it disappears in a puff of smoke.

I can feel it happening with Dragon Age.

It's actually managed to hang on for a long time, so I guess I should just... wish it a fond farewell and let it go.

I was going to write a less acid filled version of my editorial critique/review about the gameplay preview to send to the devs, but why?

I don't get the kind of interaction I need on posts like my Dragon Age posts to help me keep the special interest alive.

The devs aren't going to listen to some internet rando like me if I did waste my time writing it. Not even if I'm actually a professional editor and this is in fact my job that I'm pretty good at.

They don't even toss me a heart on responses to their posts. And they probably wouldn't read it even if it did happen to make it through all the stuff they probably get on their feeds, anyway. Valuable professional editorial critique or not.

Before I stepped way back from social media I could easily get thousands of @ in a day. I know what they must be dealing with.

I have other things I should really be spending my time on.

Sadly, my special interest in Dragon Age has been on life-support since I saw the gameplay preview.

My DA gaming group has gone from a couple hundred people, most of whom weren't active, to waaaaay more people than I'm comfortable being social with. (I have since muted most of it and withdrawn from anything I'm just... not interested in anymore.)

I honestly feel the new look for Solas killed Solas for me. (Given I'm solavellan that's saying one hell of a lot.) For a bit there, I was hoping he'd grow on me. But apparently, I haven't been inoculated with that particular style of virulent mould yet. So it hasn't happened. Every time I saw a picture I just... cared a little less.

Where once I had the fires of a volcano inside my heart for this franchise, nothing but ash in a breeze remains.

It's always possible that something could happen to reignite my passion for it. It's happened a few times before for faded special interests. It could also be my depression talking and I'll feel completely different tomorrow. That's happened too. (So far hasn't happened in the threeish days since I wrote this. It's probably not the depression.)

But... After seeing that gameplay preview, and listening to the Q&A, and reading the Game Informer post... it may just be time to call Time of Death. As someone who loved the first three, and who absolutely marinated myself in the lore, I frankly feel betrayed. (I mean... Varric with a beard? Really? There were story significant reasons he did not, in fact, wear a beard, did they forget that? Like they forgot his bloody hair colour?)

So long, Dragon Age. It was fun while it lasted.

I truly do hope people enjoy the blathering posts I did about it when passion filled me.

I hope people truly do enjoy the new game. There's too little joy in this world and I hope with all my heart it gives you as much joy as you can handle. I'm just a little sad it won't for me. I'll always have the first three, which I do legitimately love to pieces.

I'm not even crying or upset. I just... don't care anymore.

From a professional standpoint, that's always a danger when you change a piece of media too much. There has to be a certain amount of continuity to it so it feels the same. Without that?

You lose obsessed people like me.

You lose the older gamers who loved what Dragon Age was.

And absolutely, yes, fiction does need to change. It's an integral part of the whole thing. If it doesn't change, if it doesn't adapt, it dies just as quickly as if it changes too much. I like to see change in media. It's needed in so many ways. Change can be hard to adapt to, of course. Or in some cases impossible. Shrugs.

There's a professional balance to these things. It wouldn't surprise me if I have a bit of savantism when it comes to editing and writing. I just seem to deeply understand how it all works in ways others rarely see. Looking at a novel or a game or a show from an editorial perspective is very much like looking at a 4d puzzle for me. I can instinctively see what works and what doesn't.

It's just that, in my honest professional opinion, they tried to change way too much to appeal to a different set of gamers than those of us who are a little older and have loved the feel of the first three games.

It's not the change itself I object to. I'm definitely not one of those people who thinks that DAO was the best DA ever. I've loved them all for different reasons. But they all still felt like Dragon Age. Even DA2, which a lot of people hate, still felt like a fantasy RPGish adventure. (I enjoyed it for what it was. I'd've liked to see what it could've been with more time, but for what it was, they did a great job and it was an enjoyable game).

DA4? From what we've seen so far, it doesn't even remotely feel like a fantasy RPGish adventure game. It feels like a cheap star wars/FFXIV/Fortnite knockoff designed for a much different type of gamer. (Which was actually confirmed by Epler in the Q&A. They did, in fact, design it more for younger players than those of us who have been waiting for it for however long.) Professionally, I believe that was a mistake that may cost them.

The darkspawn alone are a bloody travesty. WTAF are those things? And yes, I've seen the 'lore excuse' that it's the red lyrium making them look like bad halloween deco. I'd buy it if they were kinda spiky and had red lyrium growths and stuff like the red lyrium infected creatures in DAI. But it's like they forgot their own canon.

I dunno. It really just doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure that no matter how beautiful the backgrounds and some of the art they've just... lost me.

I guess I write these kinds of posts so others in the same boat as me know they aren't alone.

You aren't imagining it. While change is in fact good and necessary to a certain extent, they've changed it so much trying to appeal to a different market that it really doesn't feel even remotely like Dragon Age anymore.

[lostacelonnie]

as per Some demand: on polish romantic literature, the depiction of russians, and world serpent of honkai impact 3rd fame. apologies if this is very unorganized but its all just things i was thinking about while distracted in class and not TERRIBLY serious analysis

so before i begin. im very sorry if i get Some details wrong because the main piece i’m using for comparison, dziady (część III) by adam mickiewicz, is something ive read a While ago and in all honesty did not feel like rereading just for this as its just general thoughts. i przy okazji przepraszam że postuję o mickiewiczu ale jest on najlepszym kontekstem do sytuacji mam nadzieję że mi wybaczycie.

anyway. to give non-polish people a bit of context: dziady (część III) was written by mickiewicz during his time in russia, after being exiled from his home country (poland, lithuania, or belarus, depending on who you ask). most of the work is centered around what is means to “fight for independence” (as this was a time when poland was under russian occupation, and didnt technically. Exist. mickiewicz’s nationality is a topic of discussion even today, but thats a whole another topic so i wont get into it), why the nation has to suffer, if this was god’s plan, a fighter vs a poet vs a "traitor" during a country's fall etc etc but that’s not what i’m going to focus on here.

the main thing i want to touch on, as you might’ve guessed by the first paragraph, is the depiction of the russian General Populace- specifically, petersburg’s. there’s a couple of relatively well-known scenes from this work but the one most relevant here is ustęp. i could not find an english translation available online for free and, seeing as even its relevant fragments are Quite Long, did not feel like translating them myself (sorry). but there’s two main ones to look at: petersburg and do przyjaciół moskali.

petersburg shows the vision of russians as very… individualistic. walking among the street are different social classes: the tsar and tsaritsa, a military general showing off his battle-earned awards despite the cold, low ranked soldiers, women in expensive fur coats and colorful hats, wealthy people getting into their carriages; and the poor, freezing and hungry, but still talking about how honored they are to see their “superiors”. they arent bad at heart, but theyre passive, uncaring of how both other nations and even other russians suffer under the tsar’s tyrannical rule, as long as they, themselves, aren’t inconvenienced.

do przyjaciół moskali (to [my] friends muscovites) is less of a narrative part as it is the musings of mickiewicz himself, remembering the cold and unfeeling faces of russians that exiled him, killed and imprisoned his friends and other people, all for the purpose of not having to deal with any problems themselves- no matter if they ruined someone else’s life. however, as he talks with hate about the powers over them, it’s not the people himself he curses out- rather, he wishes that they were free, and brave enough to do something instead of becoming co-perpetrators.

so, tldr: in this work (and many, many others; this sentiment is present throughout a lot of polish literature from romanticism onwards) the russian people are depicted as not inherently evil by themselves, but rather unwilling to fight back against the oppressor that is their own government, oftentimes even reveling in it (the so-called “heroism of captivity”); that, or being just entirely ignorant of their homeland's crimes.

another theme that is integral to this work is messianism of the polish nation- supposedly, the reason why Everything Just Keeps Going Wrong For Us is because god has a plan in which the polish have to suffer, so that nobody else has to, directly paralleling jesus. 

BUT. to get into the part in which i actually start talking about honkai. what i’ve been thinking about is that the way world serpent agents are depicted in the game is actually quite similar?

taking raven herself as an example- first of all, she is Actually Literally Russian but that doesn’t matter here. so before mei joins world serpent, raven is this Mysterious Evil person, working for a Mysterious Evil organisation. she’s cold and ruthless and doesn’t hesitate to carry out her mission if it means getting a paycheck. and then lament of the fallen happens, and mei is in world serpent, and natasha is this. still not a Warm person, yeah? but she’s passionate about being a bartender, and takes care of the roost. simple woman just trying to survive. she’s not a perfect example, of course- she did leave world serpent at a point, only coming back when she realized her other paychecks just simply aren’t enough to sustain both her and the kids- but she’s still a mercenary. she kills people for money. not a bad person, just forced into a terrible situation due to something out of her control- but nowhere near a morally pure one, either. (which i’m very happy about, because that would be boring).

but, if you want to dig deeper, there’s the gray serpents themselves, as well- cold in both the metaphorical AND the literal sense, being machines and all. this one speaks for itself, i think? emotionless and unwilling to compromise, only caring to serve their purpose while continuing the flame chasers', namely mobius’s, legacy. but even the serpents themselves are individuals- they have their own personalities, and interests, even while being mass produced drones. but, like the russians in dziady, theyre mostly focused on themselves- pretty well seen with the serpent present in the beginning of salt snow holy city arc (disconnected from the thing keeping him alive, just because the majority would be better off on their own, with no regard of what would happen to the less fortunate ones).

but, to touch on the previously mentioned messianism- in honkai, that could be attributed to anyone not belonging to ws, especially in arc city and during project stigma- bearing the burden of being, in a smaller or larger degree, sacrificed for some twisted definition of the “greater good”.

additionally, one of the characters who cooperate with world serpent while not being its part is cocolia, who is russian; the person who (albeit accidentally) gets kevin out of the sea of quanta is seele, raised in russia; and misteln, an important part of carrying out project stigma, was not only “created” in siberia, but also approached by the serpents, and recruited, exactly there.

i don’t think i have a good conclusion for this one? as i said, just general thoughts on a topic i found interesting. i’m sure there’s more that could be said here but that’s what comes to mind ^-^