#I would only ever use this music in pure self-defense

[antique-symbolism]

The ask party stops when we stop! What 10 songs would YOU compile to survive an orca attack?

I'm woefully ignorant on the thrash metal genre so instead I've compiled a list of my own loudest, most chaotic favs in the hopes that orcas also dislike other sorts of metal, ska, punk, midwest emo, math rock, and so forth.

[Spotify]

Blood Plethora by Taphos

We Need a Gimmick by Nekrogoblikon

I am S / H(Im)E[R] as You Am S / H(Im)E[R] as You Are Me and We Am I and I Are All Our Together: Our Collective Consciousness' Psychogenic Fugue by Giraffes? Giraffes!

Big Bang by Cursive

Day In, Day Out by Streetlight Manifesto

Moon Zooz Pt. 2 by Moon Hooch + Too Many Zooz

Disco Descent Shopkeeper by Danny Baranowsky (from "Crypt of the Necrodancer")

We Are Sex Bob-Omb by Sex Bob-Omb (from "Scott Pilgrim vs. The World")

Acid Mountain by Moon Hooch

Ain't No One Gonna Honour Kill My Sister But Me by Lady Parts (from "We Are Lady Parts")

[anxious-witch]

Inspired by this post by @purgatory606 because after seeing that, I wanted to talk about DBDA weapons/fighting styles of characters. Well Charles and partially Edwin here, I might also analyze Crystal and Esther in another post.

I'd like to start from the scene from the first episode where Charles is trying to teach Edwin self defense and he chooses boxing. Which is quite interesting, if a bit odd choice.

He gives Edwin boxing gloves, and then required him to his his palms, albeit protected, but still. Such an odd choice? Without anger or adrenaline from the fight, most people find it quite difficult to hit something-or someone particularly hard. Doubly so when a person holding a target you should be hitting is someone you care for. It's difficult to override your naturally instinct to pull your punch back, which is what I think happens to Edwin. Especially because he generally isn't someone who leans into violence, even in situations where it would be warranted.

I think we can presume Charles was either teaching Edwin how to fight in case he finds himself weaponless, given he doesn't have an infinite backpack, or he was judging by his own instict, not seeing how Edwin wouldn't want to use brutal force. If anything, Edwin would likely do better with a more precise, long range weapon. Like a sword, or a bow.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let's look at Charles' weapons of choice and how he utilizes them. Throughout the s1, we see him use a cricket bat, a music box(?), a molotov cocktail and a sword.

Cricket bat is his preferred weapon of choice and as the og post said, bats are for pure, raw pain. Traditionally there is not much elegance or finesse with it. You use a bat when you want to inflict the most amount of hurt in the shortest and most brutal way possible. What I find interesting is the way Charles wields it, which he does in a way that is almost elegant.

We see him twirl it on several ocassions and while he does hold it in a way that one would expect would inflict most damage, I am not sure we ever see him use it that way? Esther knocks him down with her cane before he can, he doesn't actually get to use in on the Cat King, he beats up the Night Nurse with a music box, not his bat, he breaks David's mirrors in a way that he actually sends the bat flying, not actively smashing mirrors with brute force like one would expect. And when he faces Esther's snake, his bat breaks.

What does that tell us about Charles? I think his bat actually reflects him quite a bit. Both how he sees himself, and how people who don'tknow him well do. So many people make a mistake of writing his off as just the brawn, of someone only there to deliver lethal sort of damage. Even Charles himself seems to sometimes think of himself that way. Of someone capable of great violence. Because he thinks that's simoly what he is. A bat cannot be used for anything else but direct damage.

Except....Charles finds a way. His attacks may be brutal, but they are very precise as we saw in David scene. And even when we consider other insance when he used different weapons, thr only time his blow didn't land as expected was against Esther in episode one.

The attack against the Night Nurse was brutal amd seemingly uncontrolled, but he got the job done precisely the way he intended? He didn't kick her around mindlessly, he kicked her off the cliff to get rid of her and the sea monster they were trying to lull to sleep. It was violent yes, but he was still very aware of what he was doing.

Throwing the molotov cocktail at the Dollheaded Spider? Also very calculated to allow him and Edwin time to run. Hiss fight against the snake? Once he concluded brutal force of his bat wasn't working, he choose a very precise and deadly weapon instead. And used it perfectly, in quite an elegant move, too!

In conclusion, I think Charles' weapon of choice has more to do with his perception of self rather than his actual realities or abilities. Which I think is why we get a scene of the bat breaking in the last episode and have it replaced with a sword! His perception of self changed from a weapon more used for it's brutal force to a weapon more commonly associated with knights and heroes. I'd be very curious to see if the bat returns to s2 and how it'll be utilized

[pynkhues]

I’m so beyond excited for your new fic! Do you by any chance maybe have a tiny sneak peek that you could share to tide us over until you post? 🥺❤️

Thank you, anon! I think it's getting pretty close, just trying to re-write a part of the end as we speak, so have a little excerpt:

-

“How was tonight’s interview?”

Daniel gives him a knowing look, not quite smug, but there’s a self-satisfied sort of edge to it that were Louis in a less amenable mood following the events of the night so far, he might have balked at. As it is though, it’s felt safer these last few days to talk about the interview with Daniel than it has been to broach it with Lestat, like it allows Louis a degree of insight without making him a part of it. After all, he and Daniel are friends now, and it is normal, he knows, for friends to ask one another about their work. Besides, Daniel’s Daniel, and while he scratches and provokes and condescends, Louis has found himself oddly relieved to know his professional integrity has remained intact in his immortality, and that he would never speak to anything Lestat wouldn’t tell him himself.

Suddenly, a body. Two, three, four, the band tumbling off the stage, sweaty and backslapping, and Louis and Daniel both look over as Daniel calls out a: “Great set, guys,” to a few thumbs ups and thank you’s. A handful of instruments are passed between people – artist to stagehand – as cheers bleed from the audience into a dulcet hum of chatter as they settle in to await the headlining act.

“Not bad,” Daniel says finally, still watching as the support band stumbles down to the dressing rooms. “We’ve finally left the French countryside for Paris, so it feels like we’re getting somewhere.”

Suddenly, he turns back to face Louis.

“Hey, did he tell you he played Lelio or Harlequin at Renaud’s Theatre?”

And whatever Louis had expected Daniel to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. Louis folds his arms over his chest, shifting his weight as the other man takes him in, casting his mind back to when he and Lestat last spoke of this, and finally says:

“He did a few roles there, but Lelio was the one he was known for.”

Daniel does something odd with his mouth, and he squints a little, in that inquisitive way that he does.  

“You believe him?”

It’s enough to make Louis blink, surprised.

“Yes, why?”

The question seems to briefly annoy Daniel, who exhales a breath, reaches for his sunglasses on the stool beside his laptop, and he moves to put them on again, but not without first using them to gesture. Hand curling out, rolled at the wrist.

“I’m a journalist, Louis, and one now with two versions of the same story – in Lestat’s, he’s the romantic hero, in Armand’s, he’s the clown.”

Which - - okay. Louis huffs, shakes his head, gives Daniel a pointed look.

“Armand has his own issues with Lestat.”

Daniel pays that at least, tilting his head from side-to-side, sunglasses back on and looking vaguely ridiculous given it’s not exactly well-lit back here. A defensive mechanism, perhaps? Or a small, human comfort – Daniel’s vision is better than it ever was in his mortality, but he hasn’t quite been able to part with his glasses.

“Sure, but Lestat’s basically Narcissus at the river – a vain, puerile blowhard with a penchant for casting himself as the main character.”

“He’s not that vain,” Louis says, and it’s then, of course it’s then, when the music starts to hop and smoke filters in heady plumes around their ankles, leaving Louis and Daniel both redirecting their attention to the stage as the band starts to play and the coffin Louis just fucked him over rises upright on the stage. Heat pools low in him, despite himself, as the coffin lid hinges open with a creaking yawn and out Lestat seems to ease, hands spidery at his chest just like Nosferatu, head lolling as the crowd ascends into pure, beatific sound.

Louis wets his lips, glances back only to be met with a flat look from Daniel, and Louis huffs, turning pointedly back to watch as Lestat edges across the stage, in character as the creature of the silent era until he grabs the microphone and his low voice oozes out the opening oos for Long Face, body transforming into something slinky and feline, already gyrating against the microphone for a titillated crowd. Louis swallows a grin, even as he tries to stimmy the heat in himself.

“In all seriousness, should I be preparing myself for tomorrow night?”

There’s a low, honest edge to Daniel’s voice that gives Louis pause, unused to hearing him without his sardonic sort of sound, and Louis tears his attention away from Lestat to look back at the other man. His eyes dart over his face, searching for meaning or intent, but when he finds no clear answers, he’s left just to ask:

“For what?”

In the moment of it, Daniel seems a little - - not bashful, exactly, but perhaps a little contrite suddenly. He swallows, and Louis feels something in him tighten.  

“We’re pretty much done with his mortal life, he told me as much tonight,” Daniel says, glancing past Louis to the sliver of stage they can see from here. “And he’s not exactly stable. Half the time I’m not sure whether to duck for cover or get him some tissues.”

At that, Louis offers an amused look, leaning into the potential meanings just to hear Daniel snort.

“For the waterworks,” he clarifies. “He’s practically a hallway Lichtenstein.”

“He wears his emotions close to the surface.”

“He lobs them like fucking grenades,” Daniel says, and Louis feels his own face contort into something between a grin and a grimace, resisting the urge to glance back at Lestat on stage. “I just want to know what I need to prepare for. What’s he like when you talk about his turning?”

There’s something to the way Daniel says it that feels like having his fur stroked the wrong way, touches something in him that he’d rather not have touched, leaves him almost prickly and he feels it before he thinks it – that the annoyance is at the suggestion that how Lestat is with Louis would ever be how he was with Daniel, but then, isn’t that at the crux of all of this? Hasn’t that been there since Lestat told him about the interview in the first place? That he wanted to do what Louis had done, tell his story in all it’s ugly, bright, terrible, brilliant malignance? Louis knew the feelings of intimacy it had stirred in him with Daniel, the connection it formed, and it’s too much, Louis thinks, having to share Lestat with not just the sycophants and the ‘stans’, but here, in this too.

But then, this is what this is about, isn’t it? This new version of them? Honest and accommodating and something that might allow others to weather the storm of them and survive. Louis glances back at Daniel’s patient, earnest face, and concedes.

“Vague, mostly,” he offers, swallowing any reluctance to share at all. “It doesn’t come up often, and when it does, I usually follow his lead on it.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t really work for me,” Daniel says, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m trying to get him on the record, not on his back.”

It’s enough to make Louis snort, easing some of the tension in him, glancing back to where Lestat’s now crawling around on the stage, easing up to his knees at his guitarist’s leg, hooking a finger in his belt loop as he sings huskily into the mic, lewdly close to the other man’s crotch. Something in Louis twists enough to cauterize even the sudden bleed of possessiveness, something truer and more affected all at once. He turns back to Daniel, asks:

“Would you like me to be there?”  

 “Because the joint interview worked out so well with your last boyfriend,” Daniel says, deadpan, gesturing to his neck, and Louis rolls his eyes. Like he hasn’t taken to the dark gift like a boy to a motorized car on Christmas morning. “No, I’ll be fine, I just need to figure out my way in.”

For a moment, they just watch the band from their little alcove side-stage as the technicians race around preparing for the upcoming spectacles, but Louis’ mind is lingering, and before he can help himself, he finds himself asking:

“Have you heard from him?”

He’s curious more than anything. Last he’d heard, Armand had been somewhere in Greece, word coming not via Daniel or Lestat or even Armand himself, but, surprisingly, via a gallery curator there that had set aside a new work that Armand had thought Louis might be interested in. A gesture that had surprised Louis in both it’s gall and it’s pitifulness.

Now, Daniel just scoffs.

“What do you think?” Then, his forehead furrowed, attention still fixed on where Lestat is slinking around on stage: “Jesus, what’s with his voice? He sounds like he’s got strep, which is impossible so - - oh, fuck you.”

And Louis just laughs.

[mattdillon]

⭐ Throw the commentary of the jacket exchange manifesto.

so! i've been thinking about it all week actually. mostly because i had an original plan that i'm not sure i should stick to.

first is that i started writing it out of Pure Unfiltered Spite towards a good chunk of people in fandom and because i was reminded of how fandoms used to do this with much more regularity. i've talked before about how frustrating it is that people overly rely on askbox and tumblr culture to communicate ideas and how quickly things can well, decay on here. making a ship manifesto and putting it on ao3 is a good idea for almost every fandom.

on top of that, after i researched it only one ship manifesto was ever made for this fandom: a cherry/ponyboy one back on livejournal. it was pretty amatureish, not very well thought out. still, i sympathized with how that writer too felt like fandom was hostile to their shipping choices. so i set out to emulate some of the really good manifestos i've read and to gather my thoughts entirely about dalpony in a good space. i talked previously about the jacket exchange and while i had three different versions nothing was thorough.

a manifesto has more structure to it and i was able to follow the template. getting my thoughts and canon in order was important to me and because so many people in this fandom throw temper tantrums the moment you open your mouth and say you ship dalpony. so.

being able to lay out point by point how canon is, how i interpreted it, how i think things would work was cathartic and a good exercise for me. it's something i tend to work on when i can't work on other things and i really enjoy it. i've been thinking about it this past week mostly for three things:

my original jacket exchange posts contained a "defense" of it as a ship, trying to justify it's existence and defend it against people who hate it. and i've been thinking... why? no other ship manifesto i've read does that and it's a symptom of this fandom's inherent hostility that i ever considered adding it in. i don't think i will anymore; i don't want to kowtow to people who don't want to listen to me anyway nor do i want to put in a defense when there's nothing to defend. it's a good ship, it's a fun ship, and it's my fucking manifesto. if you're coming along to scream and shout, that's your problem.

which leads me to what i want to replace it with. i have finally seen that wretched musical and ive anything i do want to talk about it — mostly how it fails but how it did glean one good thing for ponyboy and dallas' relationship. that's pretty much what i'm teetering on.

last but not least is i feel a little self conscious about the fanworks part. i don't admittedly have a lot of works to pull from that aren't mine, and i know some people have left the fandom and i'm not sure if they want the attention. so i'm struggling with that one pretty hard. i also don't want people to show up and yell at me cause i didn't include a fic they liked either.

[mythvoiced]

-. patrick-core bc i had another one lmao (pt. 2)

is a Corrector, if he doesn't bother correcting you, he truly does not give a SHIT about you, one way or another

thank you, that's very considerate = you just got demoted to forgettable acquaintance

oh, really, you shouldn't have (polite) = i am begging you to forget i exist

oh, really, you shouldn't have (sarcastic) = i will use this favour to humiliate you, jokingly or genuinely

oh, really, you shouldn't have (genuine) = your kindness and my affectionate response can be equaled to psychological warfare enacted on my being right now

hmm, i wouldn't mind brainstorming some more, cover our bases and all = that was the stupidest plan i've ever heard do not make me tell you

are you sure [question] = genuine question, i do care to check specifically how certain you are about this, do not hurt yourself

hmm... and you're sure [question] = literally please just scrap this idea

really not a... doesn't really listen to a lot of music unless it's classical which, okay, wow, elitist--

does love norse-inspired folkmusic but he'll fight the devil before he'll tell you

could still effectively communicate with aesir in old norse

casual intimacy is actual psychological warfare on him, it gets worse the closer you grow; it's pretty bad if you're strangers but there won't be other baggage to help make him want to quite literally flee the scene

could be worse = i do not trust this endeavour will work out so i will pull some other strings in the background to guarantee its success

if he attempts to talk about his feelings or his concerns or his fears he will literally?? come up blank, he'll start a sentence and then just open and close his mouth and make a few awkward hand movements and then just deflate and give up

he's (outwardly) relatively calm and doesn't let other people's provocations get to him, but he does abhor insistence and he can be very cruel if you get him to snap at you

has this weird superiority complex where he doesn't think he's better than most, but... more than most, he's yknow the Fenriswolf, he's above humans in a purely factual food chain way

but he's actually? a relatively good team-player and doesn't assume himself to be the only one capable of things or to be a leader, he's? a good strategist in that aspect?

he also kind of hates himself but also not really, it's more of a... he abhors existing and who can he blame for that but himself in lieu of... being the one... who exists-- hey, wait, don't stand up, listen, it makes sense--

sure = i'm sarcastically ending this conversation/i would believe you only if you paid me/do not keep talking to me

of course (no expression) = small talk filler answer/i'm listening

of course (polite smile) = literally die

of course (soft smile) = i would kill the sun for you

understood = understood

got it = if you tell me one more time-

if you must touch him, don't, throw something at him

doesn't have a driver's license, just kind of walks everywhere

you never want to see his teeth when he smiles, if you see his teeth when he smiles, he's thinking about killing you ♥

does he kill people? no, not really. he actually genuinely avoids circumstances under which he'd have to kill someone, but only because of how messy it makes everything, both in a literal and consequences-way, not because he's... against it, per se

like, he's a passionate advocate of self-defense and vigilante work

you can always ask him to find you something, information or actual objects like a book or anything at all, it's not a conditional favour, just be sure you're not on his bad side because you'll get more than you asked for lmao

he dOESN'T LIKE DOGS--

he is a fancy supernatural creature that i made up when i was 13 lmao so he does have cool shit directly related to his being fenris, like... ashy grey hair that falls apart if you touch it like ash would, smoke coming out of his mouth when he exhales very deeply, the ability to growl like a wolf, BUT only... in very small, limited doses because gleipnir is a limiter and i put it up for myself to not engage in goofy shenanigans

will straight up not tell you things; that's it, no information, nothing; he overheard something? that's his to overhear; he fucked around and found out? that's his to find out; he just... knows shit and doesn't share unless he likes you or you ask very specifically

not even exaggerating the 'specifically' part, if you're both aware he's withholding information that you could use, you will have to be very specific because he somehow always manages to figure out ways to answer without actually answering

patrick warming up to a man is SO FUNNY to watch you can literally watch him go through the five stages of grief about it (and then a few more while he's at it), it's hilarious

doesn't cuss, not really in the habit to, but he COULD--!!!!

do not misunderstand his unwillingness (trapped by social conventions bc he doesn't want to be perceived) to choose violence (ruin your whole career) as the inability to do so

[faelapis]

some of you guys might assume this is a very "me" property. it deals with a lot of moral ambiguity and misunderstood women, classics here at the faelapis hot take industrial complex.

...eh. i dunno. something about wicked's always rubbed me the wrong way, intellectually.

i like it a lot emotionally. the situationship between glinda and elphaba has always been the true heart of wicked.

i love their characterization - elphaba as self-righteous for pretty good reason, but also condescending and haughty as a defense mechanism. glinda portraying herself as the perfect good witch, but without ever sharing her true feelings because she values popularity over sincerity. i love that their friendship is a tragedy. "for good" always gets me.

that's all well and good. i think my issue with wicked, on a more intellectual level, is that it strikes me as quite... preachy. not to mention conspiratorial.

like. okay. you've taken a bunch of characters and put your own spin on them, the core twist being that the villain was misunderstood.

that's not a bad concept inherently. i think people acting like that's always bad because of a few bad disney live action properties are missing the forest for the trees. there are thoughtful, interesting ways to subvert a narrative. margaret hamilton, who played the original wicked witch, even sympathized with her on some level, spending the whole movie not getting what she wants.

anyway. wicked. the musical really, really wants you to know how clever it is, to the point where its almost cringey. the wizard having a whole song about how uncomfortable people are with moral ambiguities is just... way too on the nose. if you want to be "nuanced," i would appreciate some subtlety about the nuance.

if it went full dark comedy, that would be one thing. but its just stuck in this awkward place between seriousness and satire, and the interplay between the drama and saying obvious shit like "is one a crusader or ruthless invader? / its all in which label is able to persist!" is so, so over-the-top and bordering on tasteless.

the way it frames the masses as big, dumb idiots also is not my favorite. you can do that; i think beauty & the beast actually does that in a more intelligent way. there, the tone is consistent and its not SO preachy about it, even if its blunt.

wicked is very smug. just... unbearably fucking smug about everything. it really thinks you're a dumb baby normie if you believed anything that happened in the original wizard of oz, and it treats every character who believes that story as "the idiot masses."

it's ultimately a social justice story about the oppression of the talking animals, so i get why the author is frustrated with "the masses." propaganda against those who disrupt the status quo is certainly true for our time. we all know that. many of us have personally experienced it, especially lately.

but it doesn't really present a good reason why. like. the things that happen in wicked are so unlikely to have been happening in the background of the wizard of oz that it might as well be fully original. the only character who remains more or less consistent across both properties is the wizard, as a powerless charlatan.

take the thing about how "water will melt her." that's treated, in wicked, like obvious nonsense only an idiot would take at face value. a clear indication that people will believe anything bad about someone labelled an enemy.

but... why? this is a world with actual magic. there is no reason "pure water can melt the wicked" would be any more outlandish than talking animals or witches on broomsticks.

also... it's a fairytale? people don't watch fairytales with the false belief that real life is equally simple.

so wicked ends up in the awkward position of saying you're dumb for taking anything at face value... except what you're told in wicked. while the original wizard of oz is treated like a simple story for babies, what the narrative in wicked tells you goes unquestioned. there is no point wherein this new narrative is ever scrutinized, despite being equally outlandish at many points. you're just supposed to assume this new framing is the "correct" one. "now you know the real story."

idk. there's something in there about female friendship and how powerful women are treated with more suspicion, but that's not really a problem in the wizard of oz. there are "good" powerful women in that movie. i also believe in the books, which i have not read, all the major power players are women? glinda is certainly powerful in the movie.

so to strengthen its narrative, wicked becomes based on this massive, somewhat ridiculous conspiracy against the witch rather than any of the more subtle ways double standards against women work in the real world.

but does it ultimately "work?" kiiiiind of. at least emotionally. like i said, i like the characters and relationships. i like that elphaba isn't a perfect protagonist - she's still haughty, judgmental and defensive. she questions herself and whether she's really even doing anything for good. she still caused a lot of the trouble attributed to her, even if she was disrupting a bad status quo/occasionally doing an oopsie because she couldn't control her magic.

glinda is just a great fucking character overall. that's the one character who is just Superior to her wizard of oz counterpart. because she's everything that glinda was, but more. she's superficial yet compassionate. she's ditzy and intelligent. she's selfish yet deeply troubled by her own selfishness.

what i like about it, more than anything, is that this relationship is a bittersweet tragedy. it's a doomed yuri friendship between powerful women, making opposing choices.

more than anything, of course, because of glinda's choice. i really, really hope they keep that in the movie. i hope they don't reunite. i hope glinda never finds out elphaba survived.

that kind of cruel consequence for one self-serving choice haunting glinda's entire life is very compelling. it's harsh, but it really, really works. it is the price paid for complacency.

this poster is great, btw. specifically because their hands don't meet. that's what the musical is - when elphaba reaches out, glinda wants to reach back... but ultimately, doesn't take her hand. they can't be together. glinda values her image in society too much. and that choice is made forever.

i have so many thoughts on wicked the musical.

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun. 

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up… 

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration… 

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed… 

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan 

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth. 

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes… 

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it. 

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?" 

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus 

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to  apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub 

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else. 

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor 

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

[erodedlight]

"Ma'am, this place is your dream, isn't it?" he was no stranger to the way people looked when they were happy. he had seen it time and time again, during his time as a knight, as a guard, as a swordsman. as a protector. as a once-somebody. he had seen it on people's faces from afar when he forgot his own Heart, and tried to feel an echo of that joy if even for a second, chasing a high that never came & believing that he was simply no long fit for such a feeling, after all the blood he had doused himself in over the years.

he had to wonder, he supposes ( if the madame were to find out that he was a murderer at the young age of EIGHTEEN, if she knew how many lives he had taken - in self defense and in anger, if she knew, if she knew, when she inevitably would know: would her look of kindness shift into that hatred he'd grown ever used to? ) even as his eyes do not betray such thoughts and his smile never wavers. he is far from the one to determine when or where someone would hate him; he only knows that they would. THEY ALWAYS DO.

from a distant vantage point, from his perch low 'pon the ground where most would overlook someone like him, his smile is constant, and to some it would be unnerving. he glances around at all the glittering and fantastic lights and scans over the crowd of people, young and old, curious and well known. it reminded him of an old dream he once had, where everyone was happy and no one had to kill to survive. it reminded him of an old soul that he met for the first time again. it reminded him of home, back when that still existed for him.

"I can see it in the way this place is decorated. They catch the eye when you walk in, but they're not in the way. All the outfits match, but everyone wears them differently and you haven't told them to be entirely uniform. The band sounds happy, and everyone is acting as if they've known each other for years beyond these doors. That's because of you, isn't it, miss? Because your dreams, the one you built here... it bleeds through the seams of your little piece of paradise."

he goes silent for a moment, looking at the dry storage doors for a moment before turning slightly towards tiana again. her heart, he could not hear it all that well in the cacophonies of the music and the merriment. it was like she was a part of every breath and every laugh and every noise. she could disappear if she wanted, but she stayed by his side. she reminded him a lot of arthur.

"Ahh. Sorry, that must have sounded odd... you just remind me of my best friend. He's kind, like you. Knows exactly what to say to keep me calm." he stares off into the crowd. "He does anything to keep me happy, and I the same for him. We bicker and we fight, but at the end of the day, I'd do anything for him - and he for I." he pauses, and shakes his head with a softer kind of smile. "Snow drop... hm. Something that pure," he holds out a hand as if to expect it be removed. "does not fit me."

the  ebb  and  flow  of  understanding  carried  in  her  eyes  as  she watched  him  with  a  soft  ,  understanding  gaze.  her  own  hand  grips  his  tightly.  the  silk  of  her  green  gloves  covering  the  young  man's  palms  just  so.  softly  does  the  princess  have  her  thumb  rub  the  back  of  his  hand  ever  so  as  she  starts  lead  a  bit  away  from  the  main  dining  room.  the  ebb  and  flow  of  understanding  everything  the  young  man  did  not  say  with  words  was  tearing  its  layers  away  (  as  an  onion  /  as  a  head  of  lettuce  ):  even  tiana  could  admit  that  the  middle  of  service  wasn't  the  best  place  to  discuss  anything  proper  (  with  a  jazz  band  in  full  swing  and  people  dancing  about  just  so  ,  wasn't  the  most  appropriate  of  places  to  have  a  discussion  ):  even  so  ,  so  many  things  ran  through  tiana's  mind  as  she  weaved  through  people  (  speaking  when  spoken  but  keeping  on  her  way  ):  until  she  came  to  a  stop.  tiana's  palace  was  as  massive  as  her  dreams  had  been  ,  truly  fit  for  a  princess  both  in  title  and  name.  but  ,  it  also  meant  that  one  had  to  walk  a  fair  bit  to  get  from  one  side  of  the  restaurant  to  another  ---  another  remnant  of  that  this  facility  used  to  be  before  its  now  (  her  and  her  daddy  would  go  on  and  on  about  that  old  sugar  mill  and  now  ,  everyone  talked  about  its  revival  ):  the  way  her  and  naveen  had  given  this  place  a  new  lease  on  life  ,  all  because  of  a  star  ,  all  because of  evangeline.

❝  no  bother  at  all  ,  snow  drop.  tryna  recomposin'  yourself  out  in  all  this  noise  don't  due  them  any  good  nerves  one  bit.  ❞  granted  ,  her  restaurant  was  moreso  a  lounge  than  simple  eatery  during  this  festive  time  (  a  gathering  spot  for  her  local  community  and  to  any  travelers  at  large  ):  the  city's  overall  vibrant  humming  energy  seemed  to  swirl  around  them  ---  cutting  between  the  moments  of  silence  of  the  band.  it  was  as  an  invisible  tide  that  accentuated  the  contrast  between  their  worlds  (  tiana's  now  was  one  of  a  colorful  whimsy  birthed  from  lots  of  hard  work  ):  and  by  appearances  alone  ,  he  was  no  stranger  to  a  world  that  treated  others  cruelty.  her  voice  tinged  with  a  warmth  that  belied  her  wisdom  and  carried  a  soothing  cadence  as  she  responded  (  her  accent  coloring  the  words  with  a  lilting  melody  ):  ❝  it’s  not  easy  ,  adjusting  to  everything  in  this  here  city.  ❞  all  of  the  food  and  the  bad.  dr.  facilier  and  heartless  may  be  gone  but  hoodoo  ,  voodoo  ,  and  all  manners  of  wicked  individuals  lurked  on  the  streets  of  new  orleans  (  all  matters  of  magics  even  tiana  couldn't  comprehend  ):  ❝  see  you’ve  been  through  quite  a  lot.  ❞

even  aphrodite  would  marvel  at  the  princess  of  maldonia's  beauty  ,  even  eleos  would  weep  from  so  much  compassion  and  care  contained  in  mere  human  skin.  the  pair  arrive  a  few feet  from  the  kitchen  ,  in  sight  of  the  hand  carved  traffic  doors.  the  only  view  into  the  kitchen's  galley  was  distorted  by  the  glass  one  way  mirror  on  each  door.  it  is  here  that  tiana  turns  ,  the  excess  fabric  at  the  end  of  her  dress  flowing  as  water  with  her  (  ruffle  like  detail  twists  opposite  of  the  pleats  ):removing  her  gloves  does  she  give  the  young  man  a  full  view  of  her  front  ,  placing  them  gently  on  the  floor  beside  her  ,  she  takes  both  his  hands  into  her  own  and  she  gives  his  scarred  hands  a  hard  look  this  time.  the  sensation  of  unobstructed  skin  against  skin  allows  tiana  to  feel  every  bit  of  healed  scar  tissue  on  his  palms  ---  some  even  seem  to  go  further  up  his  arms  but  she  isn't  fully  sure.  still  ,  she  had  scars  of  her  own:  her  own  hands  weren't  not  dainty  nor  princesslike:  like  he  ,  her  hands  told  a  story  of  resilience  and  trails  overcame;  calloused  from  long  nights  spent  in  kitchens  ,  owned  by  others  and  the  one  of  her  own  making.

her  head  turns  slightly  ,  showing  him  the  way  to  a  bit  of  reprise.  the  night  was  still  young  and  this  city  was  not  going  to  sleep  anytime  soon.  ❝  youon  have  to  answer  anything  you  aren't  comfortable  with  ,  honey.  but  ,  it  is  no  bother  to aid  those  whom  need  it  most.  ❞  she  wasn't  always  this  fortunate.  like  so  many  of  her  people  she  grew  up  with  few  resources  and  simply  made  due  with  what  she  could  ,  it  was  how  things  simply  where.  however  ,  tiana  didn't  have  to  play  by  a  repressive  systems  rules  any  longer.  she  had  married  into  money  and  love  that  was  longer  than  perhaps  she  could  ever  count:  it  fit  within  this  city  of  impossibilities  made  possible.  clearcut  futures  being  rewritten  by  the  miracles  of  hoodoo  and  wishing  on  an  evening  star.  so  where  tiana  princess  of  maldonia  could  give  aid  she  would  ,  she  couldn't  fix  the  world  but  even  one  person  was  enough.  just  as  her  life  getting  its  happily  ever  after  was  the  beginning  for  her  ---  she  would  not  let  it  be  the  end  for  another.  ❝  past  them  here  doors  is  the  kitchen  but  couldn't  think  of  any  otha  place  to  take  ya  than  the  dry  storage  --  massive  pantry  and  pretty  quiet.  ❞  picking  her  glows  up  ,  tiana  smooths  out  her  dress  ,  always  needing  to  look  her  best  for  patrons  and  those  whom  she  employed.  ❝  a  moment's  peace  is  all  it  takes  to  find  your  footing.  i'll  be  here  if  you  need  anything  ,  though  i  won’t  make  a  fuss  where  it  isn't  needed.  go  or  stay  ,  you'll  be  welcomed  at  tiana's  palace  any  which  way.  ❞

she  would  never  force  her  hand  but  that  didn't  mean  she  wouldn't  try  to  give  a  strong  incentive.  her  gaze  remained  steady  ,  looking  off  into  the  distance  towards  the  stage  (  she knew  naveen  would  want  to  see  her  once  the  band  stopped for  a  breather  ):  even  so  ,  she  wanted  to  give  him  a  reassuring  presence  without  pressuring  him  one  way  or  the  other.  ❝  i've  found  solace  in  dancing  ,  even  if  ya  ain't  got  the  time.  helps  when  ya  can't  seem  to  gather  your  thoughts.  ❞  it  had  been  like  that  for  tiana  but  she  had  all  the  time  for  dancing  and  other  passion  projects  too.  she  gives  the  young  man  a  gentle  nod  ,  her  expression  sincere  as  the  plague  ,  before  turning  her  body  slightly  (  to  give  him the  space  he  needed  ): yet  remaining  close  enough  to  offer  support  if  he  chose  to  accept  it.

[twistedtummies2]

Good & Evil - Misunderstood Heroes

Welcome to Good & Evil: A Study of Heroes & Villains. I’m discussing different forms of heroic and villainous characters, different types of protagonists and antagonists, and providing examples of them each from various sources. Today I’ll be looking at one of the more popular trends in protagonists of recent years, the Misunderstood Hero. The Misunderstood Hero is the ultimate underdog of a protagonist, which is a big part of what makes them so appealing. The way the character works is simple: the Misunderstood Hero is a heroic protagonist who seeks to do good in the world, and while they use means and methods that are somewhat unorthodox, they are ultimately on the side of the angels. HOWEVER, aside from a select few people, many in their universe do not realize the Misunderstood Hero IS a hero, mistaking them for a villain. It’s unclear where this concept first began, but I would argue it started with the legend of Robin Hood: while to the people of Nottingham he was a hero, to those in power, he was a villain. Some old sitcom characters like The Addams Family and The Munsters can be seen in the same vein: the rest of their community sees them as odd and creepy, but they are ultimately good people simply trying to do what they think is best for their world and for each other. Some early superhero and pulp fiction characters, such as the Green Hornet, can also be seen in the same way: good people who only SEEM to be evil to those who don’t know any better.

Wherever the trend started, I think it’s fair to say the source of its popularity in recent years began with the musical version of “Wicked,” with its main character: Elphaba Thropp, a.k.a. The Wicked Witch of the West. In Gregory Maguire’s original book, on which the play is very loosely based, Elphaba is NOT a misunderstood hero: rather, she is a Sympathetic Villain Protagonist. She’s not pure evil, but she is decidedly not the hero of her own story. This is different in the musical: in the stage version, Elphaba only truly becomes “wicked” near the end of the show, and even when she does, the play does little to make us truly hate her. The play focuses less on how the Wicked Witch became the Wicked Witch (despite its claims) and much more on the relationship between Elphaba and her best-friend-slash-rival, Glinda the Good. In the musical, Elphaba spends most of the show earnestly and honestly trying to do good things for everyone she cares about, and sincerely wants to try and make Oz a better place. However, she’s ultimately overcome by a corrupt society that paints her as evil simply because she opposes the current regime. Elphaba is a tragic example of this archetype, as well as a definitive one, as she not only eventually turns to the dark side (however briefly), but ultimately is beaten by the world she tried to fight, and her name is never cleared.

Not all Misunderstood Heroes face such a saddening defeat, however. Case in point, another musical reimagining of a classic piece of fantasy, which - like Wicked - originally starred Idina Menzel: Disney’s (infamous) blockbuster, “Frozen,” inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen. In the first film, Elsa - one of the two lead protagonists - is the poster child for this archetype: Elsa wants to do what’s best for her kingdom and her family, but her emotions get the better of her, leading her to be seen as a monster by her own people. Elsa does little that is truly evil in the story: most of the things that get her branded as a monster are total accidents, or simply her acting in self-defense. The most questionable thing she does is kick her sister (and her entourage) out of her castle, and that she does out of fear of causing them more harm. Thankfully, in the end, Elsa’s name is cleared, and she and her family are able to live happily ever after, unlike with Elphaba.

I spoke of the Netflix reboot of Carmen Sandiego in an earlier entry, and I’m going to bring it up again. In the earlier renditions of the Carmen Sandiego franchise, Carmen was the villain, plain and simple. In some versions she could be more or less sympathetic, depending on the writing and direction, but she was always the antagonist and always firmly in the wrong. In the Netflix animated series, Carmen is changed to the protagonist, and reimagined as a Robin-Hood-esque hero: her whole game is trying to stop the true villains of the story, VILE, and while her methods bend and sometimes break the rules of legality, she is never unethical nor immoral. Nothing she steals stays stolen, and no harm she does lasts forever. The only reason she gets seen as a bad guy by ACME is, much like Elsa, due to a series of misunderstandings. Indeed, by the end of the series, Carmen has essentially become the Batman to ACME’s collective GCPD, if you will allow me a comic book analogy: she is recognized as the hero she is, despite her unusual behavior.

A similar situation is found in the Super Sentai series “Patranger vs. Lupinranger.” Probably one of my favorite Super Sentai shows, this whole series focuses on the endless rivalry between two groups of Rangers, both fighting for the same cause from different directions. One side is the Patrangers, who are essentially a suped-up elite police force, trying to stop the villainous shenanigans of a gang of monsters. The other side are the Lupinrangers: much like Carmen, the Lupinrangers are master thieves, and a whole team of Misunderstood Heroes. The Lupinrangers use methods that make them seem like villains in the eyes of the police, but they actually want to stop the monsters too, as well as try to save loved ones they lost from a terrible fate. While at times they take risks and are tempted to do more villainous deeds, they always prove themselves to be much more moral and much less sinister than they at first appear. The audience is aware of this at all times, but the Patrangers are not.

Not all Misunderstood Heroes HAVE to be squeaky-clean pure Heroes. They just have to be…well…misunderstood. Misunderstood Anti-Heroes are somewhat rarer than you think, though, mostly because…well…anti-heroes, by default, already toe the line between evil and good by their sheer creation. So, generally speaking, they aren’t REALLY misunderstood. To those who see them as villains, you can hardly blame them. (I refer you to Moriarty the Patriot: I personally do NOT think he counts as “Misunderstood,” given the lines he crosses and the ways he functions.) There are ways of doing it, however, if you’re smart: case in point, the title character in the supernatural crime series “Lucifer.” Played by Tom Ellis, Lucifer is literally the Devil himself, and he is an anti-hero for at least the majority of the show. He works with the police to take down criminals, but his methods and his motives are not always pure of heart. The misunderstanding comes from his sheer nature: the fact that…well…he’s the freaking Devil. The Devil, of course, is usually seen as evil incarnate; a figure of fear and deceit, who tempts men to sin and revels in destruction and villainy. As both the series and Lucifer himself make clear, however, that is NOT who he actually is: Lucifer is a flawed person, make no mistake, but he’s not an evil man. He is, at heart, a good man, whose job is to PUNISH evil, not to create it or spread it. Inevitably, when people find out Lucifer is the Devil (not that he even ATTEMPTS to hide it, which is honestly where much of the humor in the show comes from), they freak out as they instinctively believe him to be the arch-villain of Biblical lore. Lucifer isn’t at all a villain, but given both his anti-heroic behavior and his unsavory occupation in Hell, people don’t automatically realize that.

The one thing that makes the Misunderstood Hero worth noting, in all cases, is they represent a sort of irony: the audience is always aware that these characters are not evil beings, but most characters in the world they inhabit are unaware of this fact. As a result, we root for the Misunderstood Hero all the more, not only because we want them to win, because we want the rest of the world to see them for the good person they truly are. (Which, by the way, is why I said Moriarty does not count: that one works rather differently…but I digress.) There is a sort of shared mindset between the protagonist and the audience in these kinds of stories that you don’t honestly find in other forms of fiction: much like the audience being the only ones who know the secret identity of characters like Superman and Batman, the audience being the ones who know the supposed villain is actually the hero almost makes us feel like we’re part of the story. The fact these characters are persecuted by the rest of the world also endears us to them, and I hardly need to say why that is. Sometimes the Villain is the Hero of Their Own Story…and sometimes, they were never the villain to begin with.

[imagineyourworld]

Shang-Chi dating someone who doesn’t like working out Headcanons

Warnings: Slight spoilers for the movie 

You have always known that Shang-Chi, who you have known as Shaun for the past couple of years, was fit, but only when your group of friends went swimming one day and he took his shirt off before jumping in the cool water did you realize just how built he actually was 

It wasn’t until the first time you slept over at his place that you learned how he maintained his physique.  A creaking sound, which you soon identified as one of the old floor boards in Shang-Chi’s apartment, woke you up. When you turned around to greet the man who you were now lucky enough to call your boyfriend you found his side of the bed empty and cold. It took you a moment to put two and two together and realize that he must have gotten up and by the cause of the creaking floorboard. Slowly you sat up and upon looking around the room were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend doing sit ups at the food of the bed.  “Shaun, it’s seven in the morning on a Saturday, what on earth are you doing?”, you asked, a loud yawn soon following your question. Not that you minded the sight, but you would much rather have him still in bed next to you.  “Sorry, did I wake you? I meant to go to the living room, but you know how loud the door is so I thought just doing a quick workout here would be more quiet”, he was quick to explain, though he didn’t stop his sit ups while talking to you. “Would you like to join me?”  A low laugh escaped your lips. Nothing, not even your loving boyfriend, could make you leave the comfy bed to do a workout at seven in the morning.  “I’m good, let me just enjoy the view.” 

You soon learned to sleep through Shang-Chi’s morning workouts, though you never stopped wishing that he’d turn them into midday workouts so you could wake up next to him for once. One day you finally voiced that wish.  “I’m so sorry, baby, I had no idea you felt that way”, Shang-Chi apologized while pressing soft kisses along your jawline. “How about tomorrow I’ll sleep in with you and then you join me for a workout before breakfast.”  The smile quickly fell from your lips. That had not been your plan, not at all. You weren’t exactly out of shape, but not really in shape either and you knew there was no way you could keep up with him.  “Shaun, I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be better if you did a workout while I make your favourite breakfast?”  Shang-Chi took your hands and looked you deep in the eyes, a pleading expression in them you had never seen before. “Please, it would mean the world to me.”  How could you say no to that? 

After that day Shang-Chi tried to make you join him for at least part of his workout more often, though nine times out of then you declined. Sure, you liked the feeling of knowing you did something for your health, but somehow you didn’t seem to get the same endorphins from working out as your boyfriend did, it just wasn’t fun to you.  Shang-Chi soon noticed this and tried a new approach: self defence. Though he hoped that you’d never need it, he knew that he’d sleep better knowing you could defend yourself it need be. 

He was a patient teacher, but also a tough one. When your boyfriend had first suggested him teaching you self defense you had anticipated a lot of flirting and physical contact, and though the latter was true, it wasn’t what you had hoped it’d be. During your sessions Shang-Chi was all business, but afterwards he kept showering you in compliments and kisses, telling you that you were improving and that he was proud of you for doing this even though you weren’t fond of the idea to begin with. 

It wasn’t until after everything that happened with his father and him telling you about his upbringing that you realized why Shang-Chi worked out so much, and why he was so adamant about you at least trying to run faster and punch harder, it was his way of making sure you were protected if he wasn’t around. 

One day, just as your lives were getting back to normal, you were laying on the couch, your head in your boyfriend’s lap while watching TV an idea came to you.  “Hey, Shang-Chi”, you started, the new name still unfamiliar on your tongue after years of calling him Shaun.  His eyes immediately turned away from the TV to focus on you. “Hey, (Y/N)”, he echoed.  You tried your best to fight the grin that was making its way onto your lips at his silly reply, this was supposed to be a serious conversation.  “I understand why you want me to work out, why you want me to be able to defend myself or run away if I can’t, but working out is like... like two night shifts in a row without caffeine and only really smelly coworkers for company”, tried to explain, though judging by Shang-Chi’s low laughter it wasn’t going all that well, so you turned your back on the rest of your carefully laid out simile and jumped straight to the point.  “How about every Saturday I join you for a torturous morning workout and in return you sleep in with me on Sundays.”  Shang-Chi pretended to think about your proposal, but truth be told, ever since the two of you have started sharing a bed and he woke up next to you every morning it was becoming harder and harder to get up early and leave you laying in bed all by yourself instead of pulling you closer and cuddling until you woke up as well. And now that his father and the Ten Rings were no longer an issue, maybe he no longer needed to force you to keep working out.  “Deal”, he said with a big smile, sealing the deal by pressing a kiss to your lips.  You smiled up at him, glad to have finally found an agreement both of you could work with.  “Oh, and I get to choose the music”, you added before turning back to the show you were watching.  You felt Shang-Chi chuckling rather than hearing it. Maybe, with the right person by your side, working out wasn’t so bad. 

-------

This is purely self indulgent because my workout today killed me and the only thing keeping me going was imagining Shang-Chi being there with me. 

PS. I was really uncertain how to spell his name for this, since I’ve seen it spelled multiple ways here on Tumblr, but I ended up deciding on the official spelling used by Marvel. But if any of you speak Chinese/Mandarin, feel free to correct me. 

[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn���t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 7

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - This Venerable One Likes Wontons

The scorching sun was blazing.

The veranda of Life-Death Peak stretched for mile.

As a rising star among immortal cultivators, it was quite different from the other famous clans of the immortal world.

Take the most prosperous Rufeng Sect of Linyi. The main hall of the sect was called the "Six Virtues Hall", which intended to encourage disciples to be "wise, faithful, holy, righteous, benevolent, and loyal" in accordance with the six virtues. The area where the disciples live was called the "Six Behaviours Gate", which warns the disciples to practice "filial piety, friendship, harmony, marriage, responsibility, and compassion." The place where classes were taught was called "Six Arts Platform", which meant that disciples needed to be proficient in the six skills of "ritual, music, archery, riding, calligraphy, and mathematics".

All in all, its elegance was endless.

On the other hand, Life-Death Peak came from a poor background. Its names were hard to explain. "Danxin Hall" and "Platform of Righteousness and Evil" were alright. Perhaps it was because Mo Ran's father and his uncle weren't scholars and couldn't determine any better names. After a while, the names started to get more nonsensical, naming things "Xue Ya" -sounding names left and right.

Therefore, there are many plagiarised names from the underworld on Life-Death Peak. For example, the room where disciples practiced self-reflection was called Yanluo Hall.

The jade bridge connecting the resting area and the teaching area was called Naihe Bridge. The dining hall was called Mengpo Hall, the martial arts field was called Mountain of Daggers and Sea of Flames. The forbidden area of ​​the back of the mountain is called the Ghost Room, and so on.

These weren't too bad, but there were other places simply called "This is a mountain", "This is water", "This is a pit", as well as the famous "Ahhhhh" and "Wahhhhhh" cliffs.

The elders’ dormitories naturally did not escape, and each has their own nickname.

Chu Wanning was naturally no exception. He liked peace and didn't want to live near others. His residence was built on the South Peak of Life-Death Peak, hidden in a sea of ​​bamboo. There was a pool in front of the main hall, and the pool was red from lotus petals blocking the sunlight from reflecting off it. Because of its abundance of spiritual power, the lotus flowers were in full bloom all year round in the pool, like red clouds.

The disciples secretly called this beautiful place--

Red Lotus Hell.

When Mo Ran thought of this, he couldn't help but laugh.

Chu Wanning wore a terrifying face every single day, and the disciples who saw him thought he was the devil himself. Therefore, shouldn't the place where the devil stays be called hell?

Xue Meng interrupted his daydream: "You laugh even though you were scolded! Hurry up and eat breakfast. After eating, follow me to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil. Shizun will punish you in public today!"

Mo Ran sighed, and touched the whip mark on his face: "Hss. . . ow."

"You deserved it!"

"Hah, I wonder if Tianwen has been repaired. I hope he doesn't try it out on me again before it's fixed. Who knows what nonsense I might say."

In the face of Mo Ran's sincere concerns, Xue Meng's face flushed, and he angrily said: "If you dare to speak out indecently in public against Shizun, I'll rip your tongue out!"

Mo Ran covered his face and waved his hand faintly: "No need, no need, if Shizun ties me with willow vine again, I will end myself on the spot to prove my innocence."

When the hour came, Mo Ran was brought to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil according to customs. He looked around, and there was a deep blue sea of ​​people below. The disciples of Life-Death Peak all wore the sect uniform; blue so dark it was almost black armour, the lion's head belt, wrist guards and the silver threads gleaming on the hems of robes.

The rising sun, below the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, the sea of armour shone.

Mo Ran kneeled on the raised platform, listening to a chief elder list off a long list of the crimes he'd committed.

"Mo Weiyu, disciple of Elder Yuheng, arrogantly disregarded teachings, disobeyed the rules of the sect, and abandoned morality. You have violated the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth mandates of this sect. As punishment, you will receive 80 strikes, copy the sect rules a hundred times and reflect in solitude for a full month. Mo Weiyu, is there anything you have to say in your defense?"

Mo Ran glanced at the white figure in the distance.

That elder was the only member of Life-Death Peak who wasn't required to wear the standard blue and silver rim robe.

Chu Wanning's robe was made of snow-white satin, an outer robe made of cloud-patterned silver silk, like he was dressed in a heavenly frost, but the person wearing it seemed far more frigid than either snow or frost. He sat quietly, far enough away that Mo Ran couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew that this person was probably completely unphased.

Mo Ran let out a deep sigh: "I have nothing to argue."

According to customary practice, the chief elder asked the disciples below: "If anyone is dissatisfied with the verdict, or has something else to say, this is the time to make such a statement."

All the disciples began to hesitate and averted their gaze.

None of them expected that the Yuheng Elder Chu Wanning would actually send his disciple to be punished publicly on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil.

To put it nicely, this person was impartial, but to word it differently, was also called a cold-blooded demon.

The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning faintly propped his chin and sat in the position. Suddenly someone shouted with amplifying technique: "Elder Yuheng, this disciple is willing to plead for leniency on behalf of Young Master Mo."

". . . Plead?"

This disciple obviously felt that since Mo Ran was the nephew of Life-Death Peak's lord, even if he had screwed up this time, his future prospects would still be bright, so he decided to take the opportunity to win Mo Ran's favour. He began to talk nonsense: "Although Junior Brother Mo is at fault, he loves his fellow students and helps the weak. Please treat consider being lenient for the sake of his kind nature!"

Obviously, he was not the only one hoping to please Junior Brother Mo.

Gradually, more and more people spoke up for Mo Ran. They threw out all sorts of arguments, it made even Mo Ran embarrassed to hear; when had he ever had "an innocent heart, pure and open-minded"? This was a disciplinary meeting, not a commendation meeting, right?

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me exterminate demons and killed deadly beasts. I would like to beg on Junior Brother Mo's behalf. His merits will offset his demerits, and I hope that Elder will lighten his punishment!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dispel my demons when I experience qi deviation. I believe Junior Brother Mo made a mistake this time and was only momentarily confused. I also ask Elder to please be lenient on Junior Brother!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once gave me an elixir to save my mother. He is a benevolent person. Please, Elder, punish him lightly!"

The last person’s remarks were based on the previous disciples', and he was at a loss for words. Seeing Chu Wanning's frozen eyes sweep over, the anxious disciple didn't hesitate to say: “Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dual cultivate--”

"Pff." Someone couldn't help laughing.

The disciple immediately blushed and retreated.

"Yuheng, calm your anger, calm your anger..." Seeing that the chief elder was not happy, he went to his side and hurriedly persuaded him.

Chu Wanning said coldly: "I have never seen such a shameless person. What is his name? Whose disciple?"

The chief elder hesitated a little, then bit the bullet and said softly, "My disciple, Yao Lian."

Chu Wanning raised his eyebrows: "Your disciple? Save face*?"

(Pronounced the same as Yao Lian's name)

The chief elder couldn't help but feel embarrassed, and his old face tried to change the subject with a red face: "He's talented at singing, and he can be useful when he receives the offerings."

Chu Wanning scoffed and turned away, not wanting to waste time talking nonsense with this shameless chief elder.

There were thousands of people on Life-Death Peak. A couple flatterers were nothing surprising.

Seeing the conviction in the faces of his sect brothers, Mo Ran himself almost trusted their words. Very impressive indeed. It turns out he wasn't the only person in this sect that knew how to concoct wild stories in broad daylight. There were many talented people here.

Chu Wanning, who had heard "Elder Yuheng, please be merciful" countless times, finally spoke to the disciples.

"Pleading for Mo Weiyu?" He paused and said, "Yes, all of you may come up."

Those people didn't know what would happen and went up tremblingly.

A golden light flashed in Chu Wanning's palm. Tianwen appeared as commanded, and wrapped around the dozens of people together with a whistle, and tied them firmly in place.

Not again!!

Mo Ran was beginning to get desperate. Just the sight of Tianwen made his legs weak. He really didn’t know where Chu Wanning got such a perverted weapon. It was a good thing he had never taken a wife in his previous life. The poor girl who would marry him, if she didn't get whipped to death, she would be questioned to death.

Chu Wanning's eyes were quite mocking. He asked one of them: "Mo Ran helped you ward off evil spirits?"

How could the disciple resist the torture of TIanwen? He immediately howled: "No! No!"

He asked another one: "Mo Ran helped you overcome your qi deviation?"

"Ah! Never! Never!"

"Mo Ran gave you an elixir?"

"Ah—! Help! No, no! I made it up! I made it up!"

Chu Wanning loosened the hold, but then raised his hand and waved the weapon fiercely, it crackling and blazing, Tianwen suddenly lashed out and hit the backs of the lying disciples.

There were screams instantly, blood splashing.

Chu Wanning's eyebrows furrowed, and he scolded: "What are you calling? Kneel down! Disciple attendant!"

"Here."

"Deliver the punishment!"

"Understood!"

As a result, instead of reaping the benefits of defending Mo Ran, each of them was beaten with ten strikes each for violating the mandate of deception, plus a bonus willow vine lash gifted by Elder Yuheng.

After nightfall, Mo Ran lay on his bed. Although he had been given medicine, his back was covered with staggered scars. He couldn't even turn himself over without almost crying from the pain. He sniffled.

He had been born, so whimpering like this made him look like a fluffy, abandoned kitten. But it was a pity that his thoughts didn't match that cute kitten image.

He gripped the bedding and bit into the sheets, imagining that this was that bastard Chu Wanning. He bit! Kicked! Stomped! Tore!

The only comfort is that Shi Mei came to visit him with a bowl of wontons. He stared at him with those gentle and pitiful eyes, and Mo Ran's tears fell even more fiercely.

He didn't care whether men were supposed to hold in their tears or not, he loved to act spoiled in front of the person he liked.

"Does it still hurt a lot? Can you sit up?" Shi Mei sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Shizun, he. . . he was too cruel. Look at your back. . . there are several wounds. Some are still bleeding."

Mo Ran's heart softened, a warmth gradually rose in his chest. His teary eyes lifted from the bedding and he blinked.

"Since Shi Mei cares about me so much, I, I'm not in too much pain anymore."

"Oh, how can it not hurt if you look like this? You know what Shizun's temperament is like, will you dare do something like this in the future?"

In the candlelight, Shi Mei looked at him a little helplessly and a little distressedly. The amorous eyes were gleaming, like warm spring water.

Mo Ran's heart moved slightly, and he cleverly said: "Never again. I swear.

"Does anyone believe your promises anymore?" Even though he said that, Shi Mei also smiled, "The wontons are getting cold, can you sit up? If you can't get up, just lie on your stomach and I will feed you."

Mo Ran had already climbed up halfway, but immediately collapsed back down when he heard this.

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Whether it was this life or his previous one, Mo Ran's favourite food was Shi Mei's handmade wontons. The dough was as thin as a cloud of smoke, and the filling was tender and moist, melting in his mouth after every bite.

Especially the soup, the milky consistency, sprinkled with green onions, tender yellow egg wisps, and topped with a spoonful of spicy chilli peppers fried with garlic. It made whoever ate it feel so warm that they would never be cold again.

Shi Mei carefully spoonfed him. While feeding him, he said: "I didn't put any chilli oil today. You're badly hurt. Spice isn't good for recovery. Just drink the broth instead."

Mo Ran stared at him and he couldn't look away. He smiled: "Spicy or not, as long as you made it, it's delicious."

"Smooth talker." Shi Mei also smiled, picking up a poached egg lying in the soup, "Here's your reward, I know you like them."

Mo Ran laughed, a small tuft of hair curling on his forehead, like a flower blooming: "Shi Mei."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name."

". . ."

The hair tuft swayed back and forth.

"Shi Mei."

Shi Mei held back a smile: "Just felt like it again?"

"Hmm, just saying your name makes me happy."

Shi Mei sat silently for a moment then gently touched his forehead: "Silly boy, do you have a fever?"

Mo Ran let out a laugh. He rolled over, looking at him sideways, his eyes bright, as if full of fine stars.

"It would be a dream if I could eat Shi Mei's wontons every day"

He truly meant it.

After Shi Mei died, Mo Ran had always wanted to try the wontons he made again, but it is what it is, and he wasn't coming back.

At that time, Chu Wanning hadn't completely broken off all relations with him. Whether it was out of guilt or something else, he didn't know, but when he saw Mo Ran knelt in front of Shi Mei's coffin in a daze, Chu Wanning went quietly to the kitchen, kneaded dough and minced the fillings, carefully folded a couple wontons. But Mo Ran saw what he was doing before he had finished. With the loss of the love of his life, Mo Ran just couldn't bear it. He felt like Chu Wanning was doing it to mock him, a botched attempt at imitating them, a deliberate insult to injury.

Shi Mei was dead. Chu Wanning could have saved him, but he refused to help. Afterwards, he wanted to replace Shi Mei and make wontons for Mo Ran instead? Did he think that this would make him happy?

He rushed into the kitchen and knocked over all the utensils. The round wontons fell out of his hands and all over the floor.

He screamed at Chu Wanning: "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of replacing him? Of making the food he used to? Shi Mei is dead, are you satisfied? Or do you have to torture your disciples until they go mad or die before you're happy? Chu Wanning! No one in this world can make those wontons anymore. You can try but you'll never be him!"

Now he was eating this bowl with such deep joy. He slowly ate them, savouring them. Although he was still smiling, his eyes were a little moist. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim, and Shi Mei couldn't see his subtle expression clearly.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shi Mei froze for a moment, and then smiled gently: "Isn't it just a bowl of wontons? No need to be so formal about it. If you like them, I will always make them for you in the future."

Mo Ran wanted to say, the thanks wasn't just for the wontons.

Thank you also, whether in the last life or in this life, for being the only one to look out for me, not caring about my origins, didn't care about the fourteen years I spent scavenging around.

Thank you, because if it weren't for the sudden thought of you, after being reborn, I'm afraid I would not be able to stop myself from killing Rong Jiu. I would've made a big mistake, and walked the same path I had before.

Fortunately, in this life, I was reborn before you die. I will definitely take good care of you. If you are sick, and that cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning is unwilling to save you, I will.

But how could he have said these words aloud?

In the end, Mo Ran just drank the soup, leaving not even a single green onion behind. He licked his lips unconsciously, his dimples prominent, and he was as cute as a very fluffy little cat.

"Will there be more tomorrow?"

Shi Mei couldn't help but shake his head: "You don't want something else? Won't you get sick of them?"

"I'll never get tired of your wontons, as long as you don't get tired of making them."

Shi Mei shook his head and smiled: "I don't know if there's enough flour left. If there's not enough, I'm afraid I can't make it. If I can't, do you think the eggs in sweet soup are alright instead? They are also one of your favourites."

"Okay, okay. As long as you make it, anything is okay."

Mo Ran's heart surged. He was so happy he could roll around in the blankets.

Look at caring Shi Mei is, Chu Wanning, you go screw yourself! I get to lie in bed with a beauty taking care of me, hehe!

Thinking of Shizun, a rush of anger mixed with the tenderness he had been feeling.

Mo Ran started to dig the bottom of the headboard with resentment again. He cursed, what Yuheng of the Night Sky, what the Beidou Immortal, it's all fucking bullshit!

Chu Wanning, just wait and see!!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[a-wanderin-whirlybird]

This is gonna be purely self indulgent and that's that!

Invader Zim/Warframe crossover

(Please note I do not want any Warframe Spoilers! I've seen a few but I'm starting The Sacrifice quest soon as my Mirage Frame is back to max. Beware! If you are around Chains of Harrow or before there may be spoilers below!)

The Void is a weird thing right? You can get Void Fissures in the Void! This leads me to believe that the Void itself is a place between not just the worlds in the warframe universe, but other realities and dimensions, even other versions of the Void itself!

So what if during a mission during the Old War, a Couple Tenno ended up on irk? They land to the south in a tropical land near a much smaller Hive. Let's say, Volt, Mirage, and Octavia are the frames that land along with their tenno piloting them. (If it made sense I would have included Nidus too but the Infestation is not something I'm gonna touch on till later. Nidus was my first Prime!)

The hive: Simply called Home by the small community to reside there, they have a sickly Tallest

1. The Hive is heavily isolated in the center of a massive and highly dangerous jungle. If the predators don't get you, the plants or weather will. Many drones joke they only survived due to their green Thumbs.

2. The Hive's most common genetic mutations and appearances are muddy brown and green patterned skin and dull flower colored eyes. Their antenna are barely longer than a few inches in length, and long antena are seen as exotic. Bright leaf green skin with white vine and root like markings is very uncommon, but seen as incredibly beautiful.

3. Their Tallest at the time, during the early years of the second Era, was very sickly. Tallest Pop had contracted an immune system degenerative disease from an insect bite as a child. Many were surprised he survived to his current age. Pop is technology focused and desperately wishes to leave his hive with something positive to remember him by.

The Tenno: None of the tenno, when they first arrive, have the Post War Within Abilities as they arrive and get stranded during the midst of the Old War.

Volt: Volt's tenno is a mother Hen of a young man. He is always nagging his partners to take better care of themselves but never listens to his own advice. Tye often overworks himself and, to the surprise of the Orokin, has run his frame into a low power state. Tye loves his Kubrow Icarus or Icky for short. His name is Tye and he specializes in offensive guerrilla tactics. Tye is Wren's twin.

Mirage: Mira is Mirage's Tenno, She is blind outside her frame, and severely near sighted in Mirage. Mira often jokes about her eyesight and her frame ever has a device simular to glasses. She is the joking type and often jolly and positive in any situation. Loves plushies. Mira specializes in Stealth missions and Crowd control.

Octavia: Wren, Octavia's Tenno, is impulsive and reckless. They adore music and make a new song on their Mandachord every chance they get. A Punk rocker at heart, Wren does not like being ordered to do things, but listens to Tye more often than anyone else. Wren is Tye's twin and specializes in defense and distractions.

The full idea:

Sometime in the middle of Pop's reign in this tiny Hive Pop began a personal project with his favorite drones. All friends from his smeethood, the group of 4 sought to find away to safely and reliably through the jungle to initiate trade.

Their experiments discovered a strange space between space. Curious and thrilled they could possibly move untouched through this Void, Pop and his friends dove into research and testing.

Before long they believed they had a path for their carts to traverse. But before the first drones could go the systems they were using to hold the portal steady instead glitches.

Someone, the Man in the Wall, had seen them and decided to send 3 tenno who were currently working in the Void to the Irkens. To see what happened. It threw Tye, Mira, and Wren through the portal, armed to the teeth, then shut the way behind them.

Wren, being the Defense expert, quickly realizes they are not under attack, and that these people are as confused and scared as them.

Once informed of this Tye and Mira disarm with Wren and Tye initiates contact

It takes time to get over the language barrier but they manage to do so

Pop explains what his goal had been

In turn Tye, Mira and Wren explain a little about the Void.

"Look, it sounds nice to use the Void to travel but... ah. Personal experience states otherwise. Don't." Is all Tye has to say in regards to Void travel.

Pop doesn't want to give up though, and the Void has been the only option the tiny Hive has had to travel for a Loooong time.

I want to be clear they do not know the Tenno are not their Warframes, the Hive assumes the tenno are a race of Biomechanical individuals with strange powers

Through a series of events I haven't fully figured out the Hive gets drones, suits and animal companions simular to what the Tenno had

The Hive finally makes a track through their jungle of terror, reaching the outside world and establishes a trade route and relations with others

Many Hives are astounded by Hive Tenno (When asked the name of their Hive a Warrior panicked and called themselves Hive Tenno) their tech was beyond any other Hive at the time

Collapsible weapons, Power armor suits with built in illusions, pet monsters no other would even try to tame!

Many Hives near the jungle fought to either ally with Hive Tenno, or steal their tech, they all failed to muscle their ways in

And to top it off, Tallests of all genders vied for Pop's hand to merge armies. Pop refused them all, dedicated solely to building his Hive to a level of comfort they didn't have before

All the while the Tenno remained hidden

The three remained with Hive Tenno (Wren thought the name was hilarious) but they never joined any battlefield nor any talks. All tech gained from their help was kept under tight guard

And the existence of the Tenno themselves kept themselves a secret from all but Hive members.

Pop lived an unexpectedly long life for how sickly he was. Before he died the last law he set, one that no tallest of the Hive would over turn, was for the Tenno to have Veto rights and be included in all major Hive decisions. But more so, that they were Citizens of the Hive, to be treated not as outsiders or weapons, but fellow Irkens

Becoming citizens the Tennongot to pick up careers and hobbies while maintaining their duties to the Hive

Tye chose to work with smeets and the Animals the Hive had tamed. Teaching the youngest and ensuring they lived healthy, happy lives, and ensuring all who wanted one had a loyal animal companion like his Kubrow. It was a job made for Tye.

Wren took to the kitchens, cooking and creating in a way they hadn't ever been able to. While they adored their music, it was all they were allowed to do for so long, they took to cooking and baking like fish to water.

Mira bounced about between jobs and hobbies often. A jack of all trades, Master of None, she happily filled what ever job she was needed for.

The Hive flourished and expanded throughout the second Era. But as the Final world War came Hive Tenno feared

By then the three were beloved members of their community, but with impending destruction on the horizon, the three tenno were reluctantly and without anyone asking, preparing to wage war against the world for their new home.

The Hive closed their borders, helping pull the jungle back into a wall of carnivorous plants and furious predators they hand raised. But it wasn't enough

The war still came, and while their tech was still ahead of the crowd's own, they had to fight hard to remain and the Tenno were going to show themselves as the weapons the Orokin had told then they were. The Hive mourned their friends and family as they prepared

Then a scientist had an idea

The Hive took to the stars. Separating the jungle and the entirety of their subterranean Hive from the ground of Irk, Hive Tenno flew off in a bubble to find a new home far far away from irk

Centuries down the line the long hidden Hive would be found, settled neatly in a mountain valley on a distant planet by the Resisty.

Hive Tenno changed in the time between their departure from Irk and Modern time

The Vine and root patterns once uncommon was now a constant, each one glowed a blinding white. The antenna were far more varied, some resembling Jester hats, Others Horns, and others still had multiple antenna sprouting from the same base.

The tech of modern Hive Tenno is still ahead of the rest of their race. The Suits they first built were more intense, much closer to the Warframes The Tenno inhabited

The animals they raised were so loyal now, many left their smeets in the care of their family unit's pet.

And the Tenno themselves had gotten some upgrades.

The Hive found a way for the Tenno to use their transference to inhabit special tube born Irken bodies. Empty bodies with a small special Pak for the Tenno. They could, eat, live, breath and leave the Second Dream at will. Wren was in their Irken body the most, with Mira preferring her warframe mostly.

Hey! Sorry it's long! If yall like it I'll expand more in another post!

[imbellarosa]

Let’s Talk Calm-ly about Two Loves

OR: When you’re a grown man who writes stories for a living, you definitely wrote your own weird bedtime story, too. 

The TLDR here is that H has taken one specific listener around the globe, notably to Tokyo and Jamaica. He quotes an old Victorian Poet who was an awful human but who’s lasting legacy is the phrase “a love that dare not speak its name” which is - you guessed it - a reference to queer love. He also is super excited to spend what seems like the foreseeable future with this listener and has bought a little house with a garden of daisies with them and it’s very sweet and domestic. Anyways this is a wild time and it’s all under a cut because it’s...really a lot. 

Anyways I think the people I owe thank yous this times around to are @queenlokibeth​ who had to listen to me scream about this for a while, Astrid, who screamed with me when this came out, and “M” who convinced me to finally get to work in this fandom. And, of course, all of the lovely people tagged below who’s work I used to build my argument. 

1.) Who Wrote “Dream With Me”? 

Well, not H, or so the story goes. Two other people (Steve Cleverly and Sanj Sen) did! I mean, right, okay, for a while I was like...that seems like an odd choice for a man who didn’t want to hand Two Ghosts over to his own band because it seemed too personal. He wrote on every song in both albums’ he’s released thus far, because he seems to be passionate about telling the stories he wants to tell (even if he won’t tell you explicitly what they’re about). But for a while, I was totally going with the flow there, and the rest of this analysis would still stand: the writer of this story definitely referenced a poem by Lord Alfred Douglas and Harry’s own songs. 

However, I then read this fun quote from the Co-founder and CEO of Calm: 

“Well,” he said, “The the Harry Styles one is interesting because that came purely from Harry Styles himself...we took the approach of creating a sort of musical epic poem – he doesn’t sing, it’s spoken with poetry, but there’s a sort of musical sound bed to it and it’s pulling on things and themes that Harry’s fans really adore about him and associate with him. So his story was driven really by him – we really created a concept around him.” 

-  Chris Advansun, July 7th, 2020 via @hlupdate​

And I thought, hmmm. This does not sound like a project that he was not involved in creating. From this point on (July, 7th 2020), I began to think of it as a three way co-collaboration between him and the other two authors. But this confused me a bit, because there was largely a nonreaction from the fandom. I was waiting for an actual transcript, because I always fall asleep to these meditation stories, but it was being referenced to as some sort of Y/N fic, which was...honestly not what I expected, but also not implausible, thanks to the ~lovely~ image this man has had since the age of sixteen. But also, twitter seemed to be concerned by other things at the moment, and no one was analyzing the story. . 

In fact, I messaged a friend the day that this story dropped, because it had been kind of a shit show day on Twitter. Rumors were sort of flying about everyone and everything: had Liam shaved his head? Was he engaged? Had he and Maya broken up? Were Zayn and Gigi engaged? Had they broken up? Did Niall have a girlfriend? (this one was true lol). Were Elounor engaged? Were they pregnant? Had they broken up??? My personal fav was the bald Liam rumor, which he promptly put to rest in LP Act 1 by...having a huge mane of hair. 

So then I thought - huh. Why has today looked like this? I’m not saying that there aren’t days that twitter goes wild because of boredom, because there definitely is - the articles about secret meetings in Italy that are coming out this week (8/12/2020) are proof positive. So that definitely does happen, but it doesn’t usually happen on the days that there’s a lot of content. And maybe I’ve just been starved for content in this fandom, but I would consider a 40 minute video quite a bit of content. 

Then the transcript dropped. I’m using two as references - this one on Wattpad and also @carl-and-pearl ‘s version here (thank you so much for the transcript!!). We’re going to get into a more detailed description of what’s going on in the story, but the first thing I recognized immediately is that it was first person POV. I knew that going in, based on the number of Y/N jokes going around on twitter. Then I read it aloud, and I realized that it read like a letter. Like an experience specific to the writer and the reader. And while that’s not super uncommon to write about an experience from the author’s POV - I listen to a podcast called Nothing Much Happens: bedtime stories for adults which has a similar concept - I thought it was odd that they were trying to include both the author and the listener. I completely understood why the y/n jokes were pertinent. But at the same time, it felt like something had snagged in my mind - like a particularly annoying splinter. 

The conversations I was having around this story - completely based on the content, concept, and my own instinct - was that this story contained specific references to one person. I thought that it did read like a love letter, and that most identifying features would have been taken out, but the essence remained. Which, once I thought about it, was something that H excelled at doing. Think about Sunflower Vol 6 and Adore You and Canyon Moon and even Watermelon Sugar and Golden.  Ask yourself, What do I know about the person they are about? They have skin that browns, they have a secret, they have mesmerizing eyes, they’re willing to dance in the kitchen with him (to dancehall), they have a belly, they’ve been through hard times, they’re witty, they have an accent, and they have lips. I know - super specific right?

So the splinter grew into a thorn - what was I missing? And then - when I was looking for something completely different - I stumbled upon this old interview Harry did with Zach Sang and the Gang Show back in 2017.  For context, he was being asked about Sweet Creature. As you can imagine, it’s hard for people to believe he wrote such a beautiful love song when he hadn’t ever really had a long term relationship (two hearts in one home?? Who did you move in with, you can imagine them asking. When did you have time?). So what did he have to say about this?

"In my opinion,” he explained, “I think most songs are written for one listener. Maybe there's one thing in there that only they'll notice about them.... It's so much easier to say something in a song than it is to say it to someone and I think it's really amazing to be able to communicate through that and be able to wrap up everything that you want to say in three and a half minutes and say it in a song."

- HS, May 3 2017

By this time, please believe that I was screeching. Seeing this felt like he put into words the exact feeling I had about “Dream With Me”. It felt like a nod to someone that I didn’t know, which made the story hard to listen to, tbh. Although, I will say that when I did finally listen to it, it knocked me out and gave me odd dreams so. Once was enough for me haha! 

So my new operating theory is exactly what Advansun said: I think that H was the primary writer/the driving force behind the story. Because of the references I’m about to run through, because it feels like the way he tells stories, and because they admitted to him being more involved than they originally claimed. That’s going to be how I write the rest of the analysis - under the impression that H had a direct hand in the story that was being put forth. However, I think that the analysis itself would stand whether or not he wrote any of it. It would just be a more tenuous reflection of him than I believe it to be. 

2.) How Do I Love Thee? In Two Ways. 

Before I jump into the story, let’s talk a little about the poem that I want to compare it to: Two Loves, by Lord Alfred Douglas.  Let’s be clear this is not at all a defense of who Bosie was - he was a terrible person, particularly in his later years, when he’d converted to Catholicism and turned his back on his younger self, and his partner, Oscar Wilde. He was violently anti-Semitic, and turned his back on his own community. I want to get this out of the way because I very much believe that we should examine artists for who they are. That is, after all, what I am trying to do here. 

But his poem Two Loves has often been used - much to his disappointment, I’m sure - as an exploration of queer love in Victorian times. A line that I will be exploring more deeply in a second was in fact used against Oscar Wilde in his trail for indecency . He attempted - unsuccessfully - to explain it away, but it was too blatantly about their relationship for even the British Victorian society to ignore. I really, really recommend a read of this poem, because it is - despite it’s author - a good piece of work, which explores the themes of shame and love and longing between two men in that time. 

I’m going to start with my own background, as someone who’s analyzed fandoms before. I first came across this poem in the Sherlock fandom, with this analysis by @the-7-percent-solution​, when I was running in that fandom, and she explains the poem brilliantly in just a few lines. I’m going to take a little longer to run through it, but if you want a concise explanation and a brilliant meta, I encourage you to run to their blog and check it out. That fandom taught me most everything I know about catching symbols and recurring themes and “clueing for looks” and I love it desperately, still. 

But we’re here to talk about this fandom, so on with the poem! Essentially, the poem outlines a dream the speaker had: In his dream, he’s standing in a field with flowers - beautiful ones of all kind - and he meets this young man with clear blue eyes and bright red lips and they kiss a bit and have a picnic, and it’s all lovely. If you think I’m kidding, I’m really not. Please, read it for yourself. 

Anyways, after they did they did the whole picnic thing, the speaker and his date go on a walk in this field, where they come across two figures. The first is described as, 

“...fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids And joyous love of comely girl and boy, His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; And in his hand he held an ivory lute With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, And round his neck three chains of roses were.” 

- Two Loves, 1894

The speaker, however, was drawn to the second figure: 

“He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, And yet again unclenched, and his head Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was fiery flame..”

- Two Loves, 1984

Of course, the speaker immediately asks the second man who he is. The second man says, “My name is Love”. The first man corrects him quickly: 

“ He lieth, for his name is Shame, But I am Love, and I was wont to be Alone in this fair garden, till he came Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.”

-Two Loves, 1984

The second man sighs and acquiesces, “Have thy will. I am the love that dare not speak its name.” 

It was, of course, this last line that really gave the meaning of the poem away. It was the line that was put to Oscar Wilde as proof of a romantic relationship, it was the line that went down in history as a way to refer to queer love, and it was the line that first stuck out to me when I was reading “Dream With Me”. 

The reading here is clearly that “Love” is the love that is acceptable to society - easy, sweet, and cherished. “Shame” is the love that happens in secret - beautiful, alluring to the speaker, passionate, anxious ( as can be seen in the clenching and unclenching of his hands), and proud. He refuses to call himself as anything but what he is. The first man may call him Shame, but he refuses the name, and instead, offers a qualifier to his own descriptor. He is still love, he is just the love that can’t be spoken about. 

3.) Walking in Golden Fields of Sunflowers

Now let’s talk about “Dream With Me”. I’m ignoring the first few stanzas (from the line “Have you ever wondered” to “What the two of us can find”.) because those are pretty standard introductory paragraphs to a guided meditation. So we start with the line “Let’s travel now to moonlit valleys...”. 

I’m going to do the same thing I did with “Two Loves” first. I am going to describe literally, in general terms, what happens in the story. Warning, I change pronouns from “they” to “you” because the whole thing confuses me, but note that I’m always talking about the speaker and the listener: 

So after doing the standard intro, the speaker and the listener take a walk through the woods enjoying nature, particularly the grass, the trees, and the blue sky above. You’re already clearly in love. Then you’re magically on a raft, with cherry blossoms all around you. If you want a good visual for that, here’s a site that has pictures from a boat rental in Tokyo where you can snuggle on a raft in the  Chidorigafuchi moat. And then suddenly it starts raining, and they (you) watch the rain for a hot second, and then the scene magically shifts again, and you’re under a porch (although I guess it could be the boat rental’s porch. They do usually have covered areas). 

Kind of furthering that theory, they then lounge by the shoreline, skipping stones and hanging out, looking at the snow capped mountains. In case you’re curious, because at this point I sure was, you can see mountains from certain areas in the city of Tokyo. 

Anyways, then it’s snowing, and you’re magically in a cabin, just chilling by the fire, and you fall asleep again. You wake up somewhere else.

Where are you now? Well, you’re on a tropical island filled with palm trees. As an American, my mind immediately jumps to the Caribbean, but I suppose it could absolutely be in the Mediterranean as well. The island has white beaches, mangroves, a turquoise ocean, and a gorgeous, peaceful atmosphere. 

If you’re curious as to what a mangrove looks like - and I certainly was - they are a group of trees and shrubs that live in the coastal intertidal zone and Jamaica is doing a massive restoration project involving primary school children to regrow this vital part of their ecosystem. More interestingly, there currently exist no mangrove forests in the Mediterranean, so my initial feeling that this scene would take place in the Caribbean was correct. On that note - again, because I was curious - Jamaica has gorgeous white sand beaches with turquoise oceans. 

But I’ve gone off topic again! After you’re minds are “in tune” once more (trying to find a heartbeat, anyone?), you reappear in a meadow, with beautiful flowers of all kind, where you are now walking hand in hand through a field of sunflowers, which give the feeling a “warm and golden hue”. Then you come across a little farmhouse with daisies poking out (clearly I have no way of locating this anywhere in the world, but I assume that the UK has both sunflowers and daisies). It’s an empty house which was loved and left because of the passage of time, which inspires my favorite line in the poem: “ The thought of passing time inspires/A feeling that grows stronger”. It’s just...really sweet to me. 

So, of course, they do what anyone would do when they come across an empty farmhouse, they go inside. And there, they begin to fall asleep, reflecting on all they have just seen, referencing other scenes of the poem: “ Moonlit valleys, Burdened forests, Gazing at the ocean. Summer meadows, Tranquil sunsets steeped in emotion”. 

The next few stanzas are just going to be copy-pasted, and then I’ll go into them a bit, but this is the end of the poem, so they’re the final reflections;

“The tenderness we feel When we are close Two minds as one Surrounds us and connects us But we’ve only just begun.

For now we dream together Of all there is to follow. And know that sleep will keep us safe From now until tomorrow.

Maybe all the memories That we’ve gathered here tonight Are all dreams now remembered Or wishes in plain sight.

No matter what They’re with us now. For this night and forever. And every time we close our eyes They’re yours and mine to treasure.” 

- HS, Dream With Me, via @carl-and-pearl​

And that’s it! The literal story, in short, is that you started in a forest, then went to Tokyo (maybe) and then Jamaica (perhaps) and then back to a field of sunflowers and daisies in the UK (which is also a guess, it could be Italy or France or Idaho for all I know, but let’s call it an educated guess). 

4.) My Dream Journal

So now that we know what happens in the story, how do we interpret this? Well, There are a few lines in the poem that I want to draw your attention to: the first takes place in the first part of this story, when you’re still in the forest. This is, I must say, the most direct reference to Two Loves in the whole poem/song/story. Both works are describing a walk in the woods with your loved one, and, in a fun reference in the middle of the story, Dream With Me says

The shimmering reflection Shows us smiling from above. But what we think But dare not speak is L-O-V-E love.

-Dream With Me, 2020

Remember that line I mentioned before? I am the love that dare not speak its name. Right, so that’s almost a direct quote. It also has a really fun nod to “I Would” (Would he say he’s in L-O-V-E?/Well if it was me then I would), but I digress. 

This first part of the narrative, I feel, really sets up what the rest of it will look and feel like, in the same way that “Golden” sets the tone for Fine Line. (You didn’t think I was going to make a post about Harry and NOT mention Golden, did you?? If you did, I’m disappointed!!). So  let’s take a look at what’s happening, and the language he’s using to describe it. 

One of the best things about this poem is how vivid it feels. Of course, I’m about to argue that it’s vivid because it was based in reality, but let’s talk about the sheer amount of detail he uses to describe the place he’s walking through. The valley (canyon lmao) is moonlit, the grass and the leaves make mosaics of green, you’re walking by the heather (the symbolism of heather is good luck, admiration, and protection), the sepia sunlight breaks through the trees. 

You know what it kind of sounds like? Sweet Creature. You’re about to roll your eyes at me! I can feel it! But listen, okay?  

“Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough”

Which, to be honest, sounds like what they’re doing. They’re walking through the garden in the sun, not daring to speak about the Love that he (they both) feel, and instead refering to it in veiled Victorian terms. 

And then we head to Tokyo! I know that you’re about to ask me why I think it’s Tokyo versus...idk, anywhere else? Well, for one, he went to Tokyo (to let it go) publicly in 2019. He was there for a few months, and there are some great pictures of that time: 

Look! Here he is with his club owner friend and his dog, and a fun red bandanna! But let’s be honest, the dog really steals the show here. But wait! there’s more! More dog content, too!

This was on Jan 31st, 2019, and he’s taking the dog for a walk! Very cute! If nothing else, he spent a lot of time with dogs in Tokyo! And the city fits the description of the story. So I feel rather comfortable with my interpretation that this first date is a memory of this trip - or another - to Tokyo. 

So what did “you both”do in Tokyo? Well, chill on a raft while the cherry blossoms flutter around you, clearly. You also refocused your purpose. What did he do in Tokyo in 2019? Well, he took time to think about and write songs for the album he was about to go record. Kind of like refocusing on what’s next, right? And then, in the story when “you both” had time to think amongst the lake and the water and the rain and the moon, and you’d come to the conclusions you needed to, you left. What did he do when he did the things he needed to? Well, he left, too. 

And where did he go? Well, in real life, I suppose he went to do his job. But, in the story, you’re meant to be falling deeper and deeper into sleep, so it’s sort of like traveling backwards, you see? Like counting down to one. So you end up on this island with turquoise ocean and mangrove forests. I’m calling this Jamaica. Why? Well, the description fits, for one, down to the four types of mangroves that exists within its ecosystem. 

And - probably the biggest reason - I can place him there, too. Here’s him in 2017:

I added this picture because the water around him....looks rather turquoise, doesn’t it? Kind of like he’s enjoying his time on a tropical island by the beach?? Oh, and here’s another one!: 

The red bandanna makes a comeback! 

So what are you doing in Jamaica, according to the story? Well, you’re hanging out, basically. Enjoying the beach and each other, of course!  What else? To be exact, “[Your] thoughts dovetail and unify/ In tune two minds together”. I’m so glad that you’re tuned like an old guitar now! Congrats! Really happy for you! 

What was he doing in Jamaica three years ago? Why, he was recording his first album, or so the story goes. I’ll tell you something: finding press for that album was literally the most difficult part of this whole analysis. I got a fair bit of the tattoo roulette with Kendall Jenner, and some things about Carolina, but the interview with Zach Sang took me like an hour and a half to find again to link. The fact that a lot of it has been buried is...not great, for posterity purposes. He’s going to want that one day. 

But I’ve gotten off track again! We gotta go back and finish our story, right? What happens now? Well, this does: 

hahahaha okay, I’m really sorry, but I had to. I’m not, actually, making it up though! According to the story: 

“ As minutes turn to hours We drift off somewhere new. And visualize a stairway To a door we now walk through”

- Dream With Me, 2020

So maybe Louis was just...demonstrating for you. 

Anyways! Where do you walk out to? A golden field full of sunflowers. You walk for a minute, then come across an old house with daisies popping up out of the garden. And that’s where the story ends. I guess you’ve made that farmhouse feel like home. 

Now to the little reflection he does on the outro. The lines I want to bring your attention are: “The tenderness we feel when we are close two minds as one surrounds us and connects us but we’ve only just begun” and “Maybe all the memories that we’ve gathered here tonight are all dreams now remembered or wishes in plain sight.”

Let’s talk about the first sentence first. In the context of finding a home that could be a shared home, and a future, this is very much an “end of the story, beginning of our lives” sort of thing. You’re back from all over, and it’s time to settle down, and see what’s next. 

And now the second sentence. I think this is the one that really drives my point about this story being a collection of memories he has - that’s what he calls it. The story is “gathered memories” that might also be called “remembered dreams” (think of how people say of vacations, “oh it was a dream!”) or you might call it “wishes in plain sight”. This feels in line with the rest of the story. In this stanza, he’s sort of letting you in a bit. If I’ve read this right - and I really think that I have - he’s giving the larger context for the story. It’s a collection of memories he’s had with someone he loves. 

5.) Cool! Can you prove it? 

I mean, I’d argue that if you read this far, I have proved it, but let’s make some more links, shall we? This was called a “muscial epic” that was “driven by him”. I’d argue that if I know my Victorian literature (thank you, Sherlock!), then he definitely does. Then there’s the fact that he quoted it, so. That did happen. And he knows what it means. And even if he didn’t, there were two other people on the story. Someone��was more than capable of catching that one, and the fact that they didn’t speaks to intent. They want you to think of that phrase when you read this poem. They want you to think of that walk in the woods while you’re going on this one. 

And, as for my assumption that this is for and about one person, well. Think about it. He said that he writes his songs for a single listener. I’m not saying it’s the same listener each time, let’s get that right, but it is always just for one person. With that, and with the assumption that he’s been involved in the writing of this story, I’d say that the same rule applies. He went with someone to Japan and Jamaica (J^2 haha). And, if I had to guess, it was the same person. 

Why, you ask? Well, for one, if that weren’t the case, then this poem would no longer be for one listener, it would be for multiple. And, for another, imagine how awkward it would be to listen to it with his current partner and have to explain “oh, yeah that was the super romantic vacation I took with someone else” . And, I suppose that because I think that attitude of “refocusing” and “dovetailing” and “tuning” and getting excited about imagining all of the tomorrows with your partner speaks to a long term relationship breathing easily, you know? 

I’m also going to argue that describing the aura around the house as “golden” was intentional, especially when paired with the location - in the middle of a field of sunflowers. Those are both direct references to his songs. And those two songs are particularly linked by the number 28. The third song that features 28 is Fine Line the song, but that’s a different story. Anywho! “Golden”’s bridge just repeats the word ‘golden’ twenty eight times (if you go here , you can count the bridge) and “Sunflower Vol. 6″ ends the song with 28 “boops” (believe me, I wish I was making this up. I’m not.). So then, once again, you’ve linked a story to two already linked songs. 

And, even if you don’t buy the intentional repetition, they’re linked another way, aren’t they? The color scheme and the sun symbol. Sunflowers were named because of their sun-like appearance. They turn to face it. They symbolize loyalty and adoration. And then, of course, the sun is - say it with me - golden. And it - like the person in golden - waits in the sky, beautiful and dangerous and constant. And here that symbol is, in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. At home. 

This whole story feels like you’re taking the time to find that heartbeat that you think you might have lost, and sort of coming back to a space where you understand that this is what you want, now and forever. It feels like finding a home that could be yours forever, and it feels like walking through some of the moments that remind him of that. 

It really is rather lovely, if you think about it, especially since he has a tendency to attribute “home” to people rather than place, in his songs. So it’s like. Going all around the world and always being at home. 

[kerosene-insomniac]

To Be So Lonely

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Midoriya Izuku

Warnings: Strong language, sexually explicit smut, violence, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, cancer sub-plot, major character death {not bakudeku}

Word Count for Chapter: 2,791

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has always wanted to be a musician. Something about the lyric working with a melody to convey his feeling just made his heart race. After his father died when he was three, Izuku has always relied on his mother. She worked two jobs to care for him and always supported his dreams. But when his mother is diagnosed with breast cancer just after he graduated high school, Izuku has to shift his focus. Now he’s working two jobs and takes care of his mother with the help of his gay neighbors. 

In an attempt to learn self-defense, Izuku takes a few classes at a local gym. It’s there that he meets Toshinori Yagi, an older beta who used to be a professional heavyweight boxer. Yagi notices Izuku’s potential and encourages the small omega to eventually go pro. So, in order to make more money, Izuku eventually agrees.

Bakugou Katsuki has only ever wanted to fight. Orphaned as the young age of four, Katsuki has been fighting to live for his entire life. Fighting is all he’s ever known. After fighting underground for a couple years, Katsuki is noticed by Todoroki Enji. The older alpha takes him in at 19 and names him the official successor of his legacy (especially since all of his actual kids hate him). 

Now, Katsuki is 25-years-old and the professional heavyweight champion.In a whirlwind of events, Katsuki meets Izuku in the unlikeliest of places. He watches the small omega perform and can’t help it feel extremely protective and absolutely enamored with him. The older alpha gets to meet him and say goodbye without even learning the omega’s name. Katsuki isn’t sure that they’ll ever meet again.

 That is, until Katsuki officially meets Izuku at a professional lunch with his manager’s rival.

{OR}

The one where Katsuki is a professional alpha boxer with arrogance issues and Izuku is a stubborn omega that’s way little too reckless with his well-being. With a wacky cast of characters (including three idiots, a manly best friend, a traumatized bastard with daddy-issues, and many more) absolutely hell-bent on getting them together, neither men can seem to catch a break

***

———- Continue Reading ————-

{0.1} Sweet Like Honey

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton

K A T S U K I

“C’mon, Bakubro! Smile a little!”

Katsuki scowled even more as Kirishima dragged him towards the run-down bar. On some level, he wants to be here and have fun with his friends. On another, however, he knows that he’ll have to deal with a hangover tomorrow.

And fuck that.

The shitty bar smells vaguely of coffee and beer, as well as a mix of pheromones. It has a decent amount of people inside, but not enough to feel overwhelming.

“How did Pikachu find this shitty place?”

Kirishima gave him a look, as if he was a scolding parent. “His boyfriend actually did. It has live music and decent alcohol.”

Katsuki huffed, pulling his hood over his hair. “Who the fuck would want to court Pikachu? He’s annoyingly dumb.”

“Well, not everyone thinks that.”

Before Katsuki can argue, sweet-smelling arms wrapped around his neck.

“Blasty!! You made it!” Mina screeched, already smelling of red wine.

Katsuki growled, immediately pushing the omega off of him and towards her alpha. Kirishima caught her easily. “Don’t touch me, Raccoon Eyes! Ever hear of personal space?!”

Mina giggled, whispering loudly into Kirishima’s ear. “He’s so grumpy already.”

“I know. It’s pretty funny.”

Katsuki bristled, baring his teeth. “Fuck off, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima chuckled, ignoring Katsuki directing them further inside. Closer to the bar was Kaminari and a purple-haired beta who obviously didn’t get enough sleep the night before.

The audacity.

Kaminari glanced their way, his face lighting up. “Bakugou! It’s nice to see that Kirishima-“

“Shut it, Dunce Face.” Katsuki grumbled lowly. “I’m just here to babysit you idiots.”

Denki shrugged, taking a shot of something that smelled suspiciously like Fireball. “Whatever you say, Bakugou. Hitoshi is already our babysitter for the night.”

The purple-haired beta blinked in Katsuki’s direction, taking a sip of his water bottle. He looked like he was silently analyzing and judging Katsuki, which immediately made the older alpha bristle.

“Calm down, Blasty.” Mina snickered, leaning against Kirishima. “You scowl too much.”

Katsuki scowled even more, watching as everyone ordered drinks.

Kirishima glanced at him, offering a sympathetic smile. “Just chill, Bakubro. Shinsou says the live music is really good!”

That’s unlikely.

“I know the performer.” Shinsou murmured, still studying Katsuki. “He’s a childhood friend.”

Katsuki ignored the insomniac troll doll and took a seat next to Kirishima. “This better be good, Shitty Hair. You know how I feel about music.”

Kirishima nodded, accepting his drink from the bartender. “Well, Jiro also speaks highly of the dude. She’s as serious about music as you are, so I’m sure he’s pretty great.”

That’s a little reassuring.

Before Katsuki could speak again, a small voice came from the stage.

And god, Katsuki’s interest immediately heightened.

A small man climbed onto a stool with a guitar in his hands. He had dazzling green eyes and a head of green curls that made him look soft. He was wearing a grey hoodie with ripped skinny jeans, making him look even cuter.

And the freckles.

Katsuki took a deep breath, immediately freezing as omegan pheromones washed over the small bar.

Chocolate and cherries.

He’s so screwed.

“Our first request of the night is called ‘Save Yourself’.” The omega murmured, his voice sweet as honey.

The small omega started strumming a dingy guitar, making it look effortless. But Katsuki knew better than to assume.

It weighs heavier on one's heart

I could tell right from the start that sweet ones are hard to come across

Well there is more than meets the eye

A heart like yours is rare to find

Someone else's gain will be my loss

“Holy shit…”

For once, Katsuki could agree with Pikachu.

Shinsou chuckled lowly, earning glances from everyone else. “I’m glad that you think he’s good. I’ve tried telling him that, but he never wants to hear it.”

“He’s adorable!” Mina squealed, almost a little too loudly.

Katsuki gave her glare, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kirishima. In fact, the red-haired alpha grinned and followed Katsuki’s gaze.

Woah, woah, oh oh

Oh woah, woah

Woah woah oh

Hey hey

Well little things that make you smile

Dancing barefoot in the dark

If only I had strength to change your mind

Oh for what you need

You will not see

Choose your words before you speak

Can you see that all you've got is time?

Katsuki couldn’t fucking breathe.

The small omega sounded soft and sure, obviously confident and lost in the song. A stray curl rested on his forehead, moving as he strummed the guitar.

Whatever it was about him, Katsuki couldn’t look away.

Woah now

Save yourself

Oh you save yourself

Oh darling save yourself for someone else

Yeah, save yourself

Oh darling save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself from someone else

Woah

Don't give in to their feelings

Don't give in darkness and faith

You should be safe, yeah, with someone else

Tell your secrets to the night

You do yours and I do mine

So we won't have to keep them all inside

Oh, for one so pure

Count these off

Let your feelings take control

Hold on to the world that he's begging for

“What’s his name?”

Shinsou looked at Kirishima, almost as if he was bored. “He’s not comfortable with me telling people. He’s a very private person.”

Mina pouted, whining slightly. “But he’s so good! Wouldn’t he want people to know his name?”

“He’s going through a lot right now.”

Katsuki glanced at Shinsou, immediately meeting the beta’s gaze. “For once, I agree with Raccoon Eyes. Private or not, he’s obviously good enough to go somewhere with a voice like that.”

The beta raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you complimented people, Bakugou. Not everyone is a cocky boxer with arrogance issues.”

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

“At least I know how to fight, you knock-off troll doll!”

Shinsou blinked, obviously unaffected by Katsuki’s words. “Just because you’re a professional boxer doesn’t mean shit, Bakugou. If I remember correctly, you were underground once.”

Katsuki glared, scowling harshly. “Underground?”

“He’s an underground boxer, Bakubro,” Kirishima murmured, looking amused with the whole interaction. “He’s pretty good.”

Whatever.

Katsuki focused on the musician again, obviously pouting.

Woah now

Save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself

Go on and save yourself for someone else

Yes darling save yourself

Oh won't you save yourself

Go on and save yourself for someone else

Woah are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Woah aren't you going to take me?

Yeah are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Woah what's it going to take?

Yeah, are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

Are you going to break?

The small omega strummed the last few notes, his voice cracking slightly as the last lyrics finished. He shyly smiled at the crowd, using his bandaged hand to brush his curls out of his face.

Wait.

Bandages?

Katsuki watched with narrowed eyes as the small omega talked with the crowd, obviously trying to take more requests. Something about him was off and it made the alpha slightly suspicious.

Why does he look like that?

I Z U K U

“-and thank you for coming out! Goodnight!”

Izuku waved at the crowd as he exited the stage, his heart in his throat at the small amount of applause. His guitar felt heavy in his small hands, matching his equally heavy shoulders.

Music doesn’t have the same relief it used to.

The small omega chewed on his bottom lip anxiously as he placed his ratty guitar in it’s case. Izuku had saved up two summers worth of money to buy it, so he definitely felt more attached to it than most.

“Here’s your tips, Midoriya.”

Izuku snapped out of his daze as the female omega handed him the money, his pretty green eyes looking a bit grey. “Thanks, Jiro. I really appreciate this.”

Jiro smiled warmly, her dark eyes completely gentle as she watched him place the cash in his case. “It’s no problem, Midoriya. Tell your mom and the dads that I said hi!”

“I will!”

Izuku waved goodbye and made his way towards the exit. Hitoshi normally waited backstage to take him home, but he’s currently on a date with someone. It wasn’t like Izuku was afraid, but walking alone at night did give him some anxiety.

After all, Izuku is an omega.

In their current society, it was extremely easy for omegas to be victimized. They were completely at the mercy of outside forces, which caused a lot of weaknesses. Dominant pheromones from an alpha could completely shut them down and make them vulnerable to orders.

Alphas didn’t lack in strength like many omegas did, so they could easily overpower anyone slightly weaker than them.

While alphas experienced ruts or periods of extreme arousal, that was nothing on omegas. Omegas experience heats every month, which was a mess of fevers and the need to be knotted.

Ruts could easily be controlled and ignored.

Heats were the opposite.

If an omega was to go into heat while in public, that left them at the mercy of any alpha nearby. An alpha could take what they want, regardless of consent, and not be held liable.

So, yes.

Walking alone made Izuku slightly nervous.

As Izuku walked down the dimly-lit street, he was aware of the different smells. He could smell cigarettes and cheap perfume, all containing a mix of omega pheromones. It was slightly fruity and stale, making his stomach churn.

Don’t focus on -

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Fucking fuck.

Izuku’s blood ran cold as someone yanked him backward, grabbing at the soft skin of his cheeks. “I’m just walking home. I-I have people waiting on me, so-“

Bright blue eyes locked with his.

Dabi.

Shit.

“I almost don’t recognize you without the mask, bunny.”

Izuku’s soft green eyes immediately hardened as he shoved the drunk alpha off of him. “Don’t touch me, Dabi. We both know that I can kick your ass in or out of the ring.”

Dabi growled, grabbing Izuku by the hoodie again. “It’s a shame you got such a smart mouth, bunny. I might’ve considered marking you.”

So fucking gross…

“Get fucked, Dabi.” Izuku snapped, pushing him back again.

The blue-eyed alpha huffed, causing the intense smell of alcohol to waft over the omega. “Why are you being such a frigid bitch, bunny? Sounds like someone needs a nice kn-“

Izuku pulled his arm back and punched the alpha square in the jaw.

Dabi released him and shot back, muffling a bunch of curses as he rubbed his jaw. Judging from his pheromones, he was obviously pissed off.

But then again, so was Izuku.

“You little bitch.” Dabi growled, standing at his full height.

Izuku scoffed, widening his stance and shifting into an all too familiar position. In the street light, the bandages on the omega’s fingers were much more visible than before.

The small omega clenched his jaw. “I’d stop it with the insults, Dabi. I’d hate to kick your ass again.”

Dabi lunged, but Izuku quickly ducked.

In a quick move, the small omega landed a harsh kick to the alpha’s stomach. It was a cheap move, but Izuku didn’t care.

He’s always hated pigs, anyway.

Before the small omega could move, though, Dabi growled and grabbed him by the hair. He yanked Izuku upright and shoved him towards the wall of the alley.

Shit.

Dabi chuckled lowly, placing his knee between Izuku’s legs and wrapping his hands around his throat. “You look pretty with my hands around your throat. Maybe I should-“

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The scarred alpha froze, his blue eyes flickering to the entrance. After a few seconds, Dabi immediately scowled. “Mind your business, golden boy.”

Golden boy?

Izuku struggled under Dabi’s grip, feeling slightly light-headed as the seconds continued to pass. “Le-let me-“

“Fuck off, staple-face.”

And just like that, the pressure on Izuku’s throat was gone.

Izuku coughed and gasped as his world adjusted, his green eyes landing on the mess of fighting alpha’s in front of him. The smell of cigarette ash was now accompanied by caramel and cinnamon, which shouldn’t have made his heart race.

Alphas.

Izuku inwardly scoffed, rubbing his throat as he slowly made his way towards the exit. The sooner he got home, the better.

He really doesn’t want to be yelled at by Aizawa.

“I’m sure your dad would hate to watch me kick your ass, stitches. He probably wants to do it himself!”

Izuku snickered softly, glancing back to look at the fighting match.

Dabi was completely unconscious on the ground, nearly overshadowed by the mysterious alpha. This same alpha was dressed in a black hoodie and baseball cap, which hid his face pretty well.

The small omega made a mental note to remember this when he fights Dabi next week. These nicknames were top-notch.

The alpha fixed his jacket, spinning to face Izuku.

Shit. Shit. Abort.

Izuku squeaked and turned to bolt. At this point, plenty of people were exiting the club. Plenty of people would probably help him if he screamed.

“Not so fast, freckles.”

The small omega was pulled back yet again.

Izuku spun around, his green eyes sharp as he bared his teeth in an obvious snarl. “Don’t touch me! I’m not sucking your dick just because you felt the need to play hero.”

Red eyes locked with his.

And for a second, that split second, Izuku felt like the world stood still. Instead of some ugly alpha with questionable intentions, this alpha simply looked annoyed and frustrated.

Not the usual type to defend Izuku in an alleyway.

“What the fuck are you doing out so late by yourself?”

Izuku blinked, pulling himself out of his daze as sweet caramel greeted his nose. “Does it matter?”

The alpha’s eyes twitched. “I think it does. Any omega with a bit of common sense would know not to be by themselves at this time of night.”

“I’m not most omegas.”

Izuku’s words caused the tiniest smirk to dawn on the alpha’s face.

This mysterious alpha was much taller than Izuku and definitely stronger. The hood of his jacket covered ash-blond hair, but no amount of darkness could hide those eyes. And even more so, it was obvious that he had a resting bitch face.

“Hah?! A resting what?”

Ah, fuck.

Izuku blushed bright red, chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. “I-ignore that. I tend to mumble a lot.”

The alpha narrowed his eyes. “I can see that, freckles. But what the fuck were you doing out here by yourself?”

I’m not helpless…

“I can handle myself. I don’t need your help.”

The alpha scoffed loudly, his scowl becoming more prominent on his face. “Don’t be fucking reckless. If I wasn’t here, Stitches would’ve done worse than choke you.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. “I had it handled.”

“Stop lying to yourself, freckles.”

The small omega clenched his jaw and pulled himself free of the alpha’s grip. His skin felt hot with fury and annoyance, especially since this alpha seemed so arrogant.

Izuku walked out of the alley, adjusting the strap of his guitar case and glancing around. The sidewalk was still full of people, so he was probably safe to finish walking home.

Before he could do so, however, a warm hand grasped his arm.

“Hold on, freckles. Let me walk you home.”

Izuku froze, glaring suspiciously at the alpha next to him. “I’m not helpless, you know. I don’t need a big, strong alpha to walk me home.”

Thank god for sarcasm.

The alpha shrugged, releasing Izuku’s arm and waited to follow him. “I’d feel much better knowing that you got home okay. I don’t want to see your fucking face on the news, freckles.”

Freckles? That’s the best you got?

“Fine.”

The small omega looked away from the alpha and started walking home, his heart fluttering in his chest as the smell of caramel enveloped him. Izuku’s never been good with attractive people, though.

Especially alphas with red eyes, which is his favorite color.

“What’s your name, nerd?”

Izuku blinkled, adjusting his hoodie. “I have enough survival instincts not to tell you. Stick to the shitty nicknames.”

The alpha huffed. “They’re not shitty!”

“I’m not convinced.”

Blondie {which Izuku decided to call him} growled in obvious annoyance, easily keeping up with the short omega. “Don’t you want to know my name? I’m sure you’re curious, shitty nerd.”

Izuku shrugged, glancing both ways before crossing a dimly-lit street. “Not really. It’s not like I’ll ever see you again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because it’s obvious that you’ve never been here before.”

Blondie gave him a sideways glance, his red eyes glinting in the street light. “I’m that obvious? What gave it away, freckles?”

Izuku chewed on his bottom lip, slowing down as his apartment complex came into view. “If you were, then you would’ve known that I can handle Dabi. This won’t be the last time he tries to kick my ass.”

Silence.

Hehe.

“So he does that often?”

Izuku stopped in front of his complex, turning to glance at the red-eyed alpha. “More than you’d think.”

The alpha nodded, looking up at the apartment complex. “Well, I’m glad that you let me walk you home. Should I follow you inside?”

“I’m not too comfortable with that, Blondie.’

Blondie froze, shooting Izuku a scowl. “Don’t call me that, shitty nerd.”

Izuku snickered, punching a code into the door and opening it. “Thanks for the entertainment, Blondie. I’m sure that you’ll get better with the nicknames.”

He went inside, leaving alpha outside.

Thank god that’s over.

*****

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’ve caved and decided to cross-post here! I’m loving the community on here and definitely enjoy the responses I’ve received!

All the love love love,

Ash <3

[scvrllet]

In My Arms / F.H

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: After weeks of sleepless nights due to work, you and Five finally allow yourselves to rest. Even if it wasn’t a choice you both made.

Warning(s): mentions of death, fluff. that’s about it i think?

Word Count: 1119

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The Commission had taught you quite a lot of things that you didn’t ever expect to become useful until now. For one, they trained all agents multiple self defense and fighting techniques that were a mix of modern and older styles combined. Secondly, agents were taught how to survive on minimal sleep, food, and water. At the time you would have complained about having to endure such training but now that you were in 1963 with Five, running away from the Commission, you were never more thankful for it. 

The last few days for you and Five were absolutely exhausting. It had been two weeks to be exact for the two of you but it could’ve been years for his siblings. For some reason, despite travelling at the same time, everyone seemed to arrive at a separate time. Always the same time, at the same spot, on the same date, only years apart. Regardless of that, this didn’t mean that you both had it easier. No it was far from that. Your mornings were spent hunting down the remaining Hargreeves siblings and trying to convince them to actually help save the world again. This often failed since they had already created a new life in the timeline thinking that they were the only Hargreeves left. 

You and Five both knew that all they needed was a little push for them to agree. Even if it may take multiple tries before they finally agree, you knew they’d come around sooner or later.

After mornings of arguments and failed attempts, you and Five, along with Elliot, would stay up all night researching. The Swedes were on your trails like crazy, the Handler has a new offer and on top of that, her crazy daughter seems to be after one of you. 

By the time you were all successful in finally gathering all Hargreeves siblings together, it felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. Took them long enough.

“We did it.” You said as the Hargreeves started to return back to their new life. You and Five were left with planning what to do, mainly because you both worked for the Commission and probably knew a bit more than they did. 

“Well yes and no,” Five started. You frowned at his negativity. “We got my siblings to finally get their head out of their asses yes, but the world still ends in four days and I still don’t know how to stop it.” 

From the expression on his face to the way he stood, you knew he was stressed and clearly overwhelmed. Standing up from the chair, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. You felt his body go stiff at your touch but you smiled as he quickly relaxed into your embrace, his arms wrapping your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“How about I help you look through those papers you said were important, then we can continue where we left off tomorrow. You’ve barely been getting any sleep anyways.” You suggested as you pulled away. His hands rested on your hips as you brushed a few stray strands away from his face. 

“I’d like that.” He replied with a small smile. 

Walking over towards the couch, you grabbed the pile of documents from the nearby coffee table before sitting down between his legs. One hand was wrapped securely around your waist while the other flipped through the pages. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Music from the record player Elliot had left on played softly in the background as the sound of pages being flipped filled the room. This had to have been the most peace and quiet he’s gotten since you’ve both arrived in 1963. At times, Five would selfishly wonder whether it was even possible to save them again. Sure he was able to do so the first time but it felt purely out of luck. What if he couldn’t save you and family again and he was just wasting possible time to spend with you. 

With the debate going on in his head, he didn’t notice that you had fallen asleep. The papers you were previously reading rested on your lap as your head rested against his chest. Five almost forgot how much he loved seeing you like this; calm, relaxed and willingly allowing yourself to be vulnerable. Being a trained assassin and all, it was rare for either of you to let your guards down so moments like this truly made his heart melt. 

Pressing a kiss to your temple, he made sure to not make so many sudden movements that could wake you while he continued flipping through the documents. If he finished sorting them he could possibly allow himself to rest as well. 

An hour later and Five had looked through all the remaining files but only a few were useful. Sighing, he put the papers into their respective piles but froze when you started to stir in your sleep. Despite the very uncomfortable and unnatural position he was currently sitting in, he didn’t dare move. Instead, he remained like that until he was certain you were fast asleep again before slowly leaning back against the couch. He forced himself to stay up for a little longer just to make sure you’d be alright. 

As he started to drift off sleep, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he finally allowed himself to rest. It’s been a while since either of you were actually able to sleep and both for separate reasons. 

You struggled with nightmares, much like Five. Before you were recruited by the Commission, your parents had passed and left you in your aunt's care. She was kinder before their death but after, she was rarely ever sober and even when she was, it didn’t mean that her fiance was. You were still haunted by the look of fear on both your face the night you had accidentally stabbed the knife into her chest. As her body fell to the ground, the Handler stepped out from seemingly nowhere. To this day you still couldn’t decide whether accepting her offer was the wise idea or not.

Whenever Five closed his eyes he saw it all over again. His siblings, laying dead beneath the rubble the first time he travelled into the future. He remembers the guilt and pain he felt as he uncovered each of siblings one by one before falling to knees. It haunted him for years and even after he met you at the Commission, the nightmares didn’t go away but for the first time tonight, he slept peacefully and so did you.