#a) why the fuck even feature it then like what story purpose does it serve

[khaire-traveler]

please go off about the Zeus hate in the wider community some time because I would love to have this conversation

Oh gods, I'm not sure if you know what you're asking for lol. I could go on for a long time about it, for a variety of reasons.

(I can't add a cut because this is so far down in my drafts that I don't think I'll be able to find it again, even if I tried, so for those uninterested, I just recommend scrolling past this. I'm sorry. 💀)

***TW: MENTIONS OF SA, R*PE, AB*SE, AND OTHER SENSITIVE TOPICS***

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Where to even begin? There are so many faults and flaws within the argument that Zeus is just generally a "bad person". That's the argument I see most often, anyway.

I guess to start, I'll just get right into the controversial stuff: Zeus and sexual assault/rape. I'll start with me personal experience, as an assault and sexual abuse survivor. I can guarantee you that if I felt Zeus was a r*pist or an assaulter, I would not be worshipping him, personally. It would make me wildly uncomfortable, and I feel like it would seriously taint my view of him. So, when people claim that Zeus is a r*pist, or otherwise, I think it's important to acknowledge that you are talking about mythology. Just as the Christian Bible has been heavily influenced by the opinions and thoughts of its writers, Greek mythology works similarly. The surviving stories that was have were written by people who lived in a VERY different society than our modern one. Not only is mythos not meant to be taken literally (unlike Christianity, which is very mythos literal, most of the time), but Greek myths were often very metaphorical or served the main purpose of explaining an natural phenomena. It was also heavily influenced by the culture, at the time, so to understand why so many Greek myths discuss sexual assault, r*pe, and the like, you really need to take a hardcore look at the culture behind the myths. In not doing so, you make yourself look like an uneducated fool, honestly.

And I don't know how many times this had to be fucking said, but the gods are not their myths. Instead of making all these assumptions about them, maybe just, I don't know, talk to them yourself? Maybe do your own research into the behind the scenes of the stories they were featured in? Maybe stop taking mythos so damn literally? Like, even at the time, there has been some talk of historians believing that the ancient Greeks themselves didn't take mythos literally and interpreted the stories more as lessons to be learned. It's kind of obvious that many of these very impossible stories are most likely not what literally happened and are more metaphorical or sometimes even entertaining. The idea of mythic literalism feels like something that is very Christian - although I could be wrong, so do not take my opinion at face value - and frankly, Hellenic religion is not Christianity, it came before Christianity. Taking these myths of Zeus and interpreting them so literally does nothing but harm you as a worshipper and hinder your growth as a Polytheist, in my opinion. Plus, it makes you look bad. Why shit on an entire pantheon of gods? It's just dumb and disrespectful, even outside of mythic literalism stuff.

Another thing: cancel culture is heavily influencing this Zeus debate, in my opinion. People feel the need to "cancel" thousand year old deities who stem from cultures that were vastly different from ours - like, do they not realize how they sound? First of all, that shit was from thousands of years ago; do you not think that the gods have changed since then? Do you not think that they adapt to human culture as it grows and changes? Like, what? Second of all, cancelling gods from a literal ancient civilization is just plain ridiculous and very ahistorical, in my opinion. For real, I cannot stress enough that ancient Greece has a vastly different culture from our own. Shit was genuinely VERY different back then, and topics we now recognize as fucked up we're not recognized as such, back then. And there is nothing you, or anyone else can do, to go back in time and magically change the ancient Greek culture as a whole, so what's even the point of "calling out" this supposed behavior of Zeus? What's the point if he is very different now and interacts very differently with humans? What's the point if you are pulling your "evidence" from stories meant to be largely fictional? Like??? What exactly do you hope to accomplish by shitting on the King of the Gods in modern times with a very different cultural viewpoint? Tell me what you're hoping to achieve. Tell me why you're projecting all of this hatred towards Zeus, a literal fucking GOD, about fictional stories. Go ahead, I'm curious.

Along with all that, it's SO important to consider how Zeus was viewed in ancient times. It's not as though people saw him as a playboy and were like, "Ew, don't worship that god, he's doing all these bad things, blah blah blah." No, Zeus was actually HIGHLY respected. He was considered the King of the Gods, King of Olympus. He was worshipped for SO many different aspects of his and was extremely popular. He represented all kings, in a way, and was on top of everyone, in regards to hierarchical status. He was literally even considered to be the most powerful of all the gods, even instilling fear into the other gods with how strong he was! Like, Zeus wasn't someone to fuck around with or to criticize. I cannot emphasize enough how wildly disrespectful it is to call him shit like a r*pist (again, based on fucking fictional stories, y'all) - this literal King of Kings and God of All. He is ZEUS. He's not some celebrity that got into a scandal and deserves to be called out for their shitty actions. He is fucking ZEUS, people.

Honestly, my anger is very muted, on this topic. I have a lot of just "I'm so done with this debate" energy. Like, personally, I don't know how Zeus can be so patient with these people, especially after such a long time of them bashing him publicly for no good reason, treating him as though he's some celebrity or something that needs to learn his lesson. Human morality cannot be applied to non-human gods. It just can't. That's simply not how it works. They are not human, and I feel like it's very easy for people to forget that, especially when it comes to debates like these. Zeus - not a human, Apollo - not a human, Hermes - not a human. They are gods. Literal gods. Maybe instead of shitting on gods due to their mythical stories people should be focusing on the humans in today's world that are chasing actual harm - current harm, even. Because frankly, there are more important things to focus on.

I literally love Zeus. He is a fantastic god who literally helped me escape from a wildly abusive person. He is the reason I got out of that situation unharmed spiritually. Zeus is not some cruel god who doesn't give a shit about how other people feel. He is a kind, considerate, and thoughtful leader who holds much wisdom and knowledge from his thousands upon thousands of years reigning as King of the Gods and Olympus. He is not indifferent or disrespectful. He is not cocky or rude. And even with the flaws he may have (since everyone makes mistakes), he is still a god who deserves worship, praise, and acknowledgement for his great deeds. There is SO much Zeus does for humanity, outside of just lightning bolts and weather, and I'm just so exhausted from people who refuse to acknowledge that. Zeus is a damn blessing. He is a fucking King. He deserves respect.

That's all I've got to say for now. I'm not much of an angry person, so it takes a lot of energy for me to be mad about something. Thank you for letting me rant. May Zeus be with you, if you so wish. 💜⚡

[bekandrew]

"Gather 'Round the Trashfires," a Deviant: the Renegades horror/comedy fiction podcast Mon, 16 Sep 2024 03:27:07 +0000

Robert has a new problematic hobby that threatens to bring law enforcement and Society attention to the cohort.

Also, the cohort explains to Madison about the conditioning project the Society uses, and that she's a victim of it.

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EPISODE TRANSCRIPT:

Get your snack and beverage of choice ready.

It’s time to “Gather ‘Round the Trashfires” for a tabletop roleplaying story! I’m your host, Bek Andrew Evans.

My current and main running story for this podcast is the misadventures of the cohort from the Deviant: the Renegades chronicle I’ve been playing in since early 2021. And I play Geri.

For those of you unfamiliar with Deviant, it’s a TTRPG about people who were formerly human but were irreparably changed in traumatic ways to the point their very Souls broke and they became something Other. They seek vengeance on those who made them, those who hunt them, those who seek to exploit them for what they are and will never leave them be.

As such, this podcast will feature heavy themes and content throughout. There’s an overall content warning for language, violence, criminality, homelessness, substance use, human experimentation, cults and religious extremism, mentioned torture, kidnapping, implied incest and incest-related comments, and abusive relationships. On episodes where there is a new content warning or a particularly notable instance of one of these, I’ll call it out.

I hope y’all enjoy hearing about my cohort’s antics and stumbling headfirst into the mysteries of the world as much as I have.

[Music Intro: "_violence" by Avantist]

GCC Episode 15: Madison's Conditioning

By the time the cohort gets home from the Air and Space museum, there's a video going viral on social media. It's a cell phone video from the museum of a stretched-looking, tall and pale Robert suddenly blurring in a bee-line for the back exit. He then stops in the parking lot. His skin and muscles shift like Hollywood-level special effects to Robert's normal form. The video captures Robert speed-walking deeper into the parking lot at a normal human rate.

The viral video isn't up for long, though. It suddenly gets taken down 12 hours later.

In the days since, Robert's been mysteriously disappearing at night. Surely just a coincidence, a lot more Snowdale Park Rangers patrol the area than previously after they discovered evidence of poaching. Alerts and fliers in the area say there's a $100 reward for any information that leads to the poacher's arrest. Thankfully, they haven't gotten close enough to the cabin to set off any of Grant's deadly traps.

Madison writes a notice in the information journal that they need to meet to catch up, and so they do.

One afternoon, Robert is carving bird bones into jewelry peices in the living room of the cabin. He's wearing a sleeveless tee shirt and shorts. Geri's busy cleaning something in the kitchen, wearing lounge clothes and barefoot.

Madison joins soon after from outside, wearing a pastel plaid pleated skirt, a long-sleeve tee shirt and tennis shoes. She wears her hair in a high ponytail and sips a sakura frappe. 

Geri and Robert greet her and she gets right to the point: she tells them they need to talk.

Geri sprawls on one couch and Madi takes a seat on the other next to Robert.

Madison asks where Robert's been going at night, uncomfortably watching him carve the bird bones.

The look Geri gives Robert then is not warm.

Robert admits to hunting, and casually says he really should get a permit now that he's left some traces.

Geri asks why the fuck he's hunting and what purpose does it serve. He could, after all, simply NOT.

Madison reminds Robert that they're all supposed to be in hiding, not even her parents know they're at the cabin. She says the government-lake people are gonna take them to hospital-prison if they find them.

Geri also brings up how Robert Could Have Simply Not been the Flash in front of a ton of witnesses.

Robert thinks the super speed thing wasn't too bad since he had his mask on so no one could recognize him. He also doesn't see why they're picking on him for hunting when Madison goes out to a ton of free-WiFi places.

Geri doesn't care that Robert was wearing a mask, and Robert weakly defends himself saying it wasn't a conscious decision. Geri doesn't believe him.

Madi says she's about to risk getting killed by a Phantom of Elm Street to get a botnet to hide the cohort's tracks, but all that risk and effort will be useless if Robert gets them caught by the department of fishing and wildlife.

She reiterates she's always disguised when she goes out, and switches up which cafes she goes to. She goes on to explain her data security protocol... she's taking great pains to make sure she isn't tracked.

Robert thanks Madison for her efforts and promises he won't hunt anymore until he can get a permit.

Madi asks what name and address he's using for the permit. He hasn't decided, and is considering maybe bribing a park ranger.

Geri suggests again he could simply not. Robert immediately dismisses that option.

He asks them to trust his judgment, because he trusts theirs when they come up with plans.

Geri says the rest of the cohort wasn't making boneheaded decisions, and Madi scolds her for being so aggro.

Robert claims hunting helps him control what he becomes, and claims sometimes he becomes someone else.

Madison says they can't stop him from hunting, but she demands he do so safer and discreetly - so he doesn't bring law enforcement or the evil lake people to them.

Robert promises he'll be discreet as possible, and still thinks getting a permit is a good idea.

It's real hard, but Geri keeps her mouth shut and doesn't snark at Robert.

Madi reminds him he needs a fake name and address, so Robert comes up with "William Thompson" on the fly. This placates Madi.

He then tries to convince the two that they need balaclavas, or other full-facial masks so if they get into superpower fights in public, they can keep their identities safe.

Madi gently points out that that's just gonna draw more attention, and they should disguise by trying to look like normal people. Madison's stuck on why they would want to use their powers in public, though.

Robert thinks it might be necessary sometimes, so a mask could help for those situations, but says the hiding in plain sight is good for everyday disguises.

Madi points out if they're not expecting a fight, it'll be too late to put on a mask once it starts. Robert thinks they should still keep masks around for emergencies, and Madi says she can pick some up soon.

She also says they might, she guesses, need them if they ever decide to rob a bank - but no one tell Zuse that idea!

Robert suggests they could keep the masks while contacting other supernatural things, which he isn't keen on doing.

Madi reminds Robert she's dating a lake spirit. So yeah, they're gonna end up talking to other supernaturals.

Robert's afraid other supernaturals are gonna be more powerful than the cohort, and Madi confirms Camille sure is. Besides, the cohort's still learning and they need to learn to work together better, too! But it doesn't matter if they're less powerful than Camille or other things, they just have to learn to work with the hand they've been dealt.

Geri runs a hand through her hair and admits she needs to work on keeping Society thoughts from leaking into the Mindcraft. Madison's alarmed it might mean the link's two-way, but Geri assures her it isn't - just the song they think... disorients some of the cohort.

Robert wants to make himself bigger and stronger, and maybe be able to control his clones.

Madi says she finds The Long Man Song calming, and says Dr. Werner used to play it for her during therapy - mindfulness meditation sorta thing.

Robert says they should be wary of anything the Society did that made them feel good.

Awkwardly, Geri explains that yeah it makes you feel calm... but it's a Society tool to condition powerful Remade. She admits they tried it on her, too but they probably didn't have enough time to make it take.

She's scared now. Madi asks what Geri means by "condition." Robert says it's like the dog with the bell.

Geri cautiously, slowly explains that if one of them panics, it's meant to calm them instantly and stop whatever they were doing. But it's not strong enough to make them do anything else.

Absolutely not asked for, Robert says if you're conditioned once, it'll be way easier to condition you to do more things. When poor Madison starts shaking with terror, Robert assures her conditioning is a long process.

Madison asks what else they can do with it. She figures AJ's probably fine because his uncle Gabe loves him. Geri promises he is, all of them actually, but the Society members in the know can still weaponize it when the cohort has revenge time.

Robert suggests Geri or Grant overpower the song by screaming in the Mindcraft. No one acknowledges to his suggestion.

Madison gets increasingly worried and claims making someone calm isn't what conditioning is.

Geri tries to explain it by referencing the bar fight scene with River in the movie Serenity. This doesn't help much because Madi's never seen it. Then she thinks she had but mixes it up with Inception.

Robert wanders off to train, leaving the job of reassuring the baby living nuke to Geri.

AJ joins the group, just barely missing Robert. Not that he would have noticed, since he's so exhausted and un-caffeinated he's shuffling in like the walking dead. He's sipping on an over-sized beer mug filled with iced coffee. He groans more than speaks his greeting, and then flops into one of the couches.

Geri moves the unkempt curls out of his face and tells him she's trying to get everyone on the same page. She turns to Madi and explains the scene from Serenity, how the girl with superpowers started a fight in a bar and her brother told her a secret word and it made her drop to the floor asleep.

This doesn't have the intended effect of reassuring Madi. Instead, she panics worse. She wonders if that's why she got extra therapy sessions.

AJ gets momentarily distracted by the Serenity discussion. He's wistful about how hot he thinks Simon was, but says Kaylee the mechanic was the character he related to the most. He then asks Madison how she felt when she heard the Long Man Song.

She doesn't know, and starts spiraling into a full electrified panic. She babbles about how it was used in therapy and worries that the Society will make her hurt people because they wanted to make her an "asset."

AJ takes his turn trying to reassure Madi. He gestures for her to retake her seat and explains the conditioning can only make you do very specific things you're conditioned to do instead of a full sort of mind control. He says he knows it's scary and enraging, but promises they'll all figure it out together.

Violated, Madi asks how they undo it, to keep the Society out of her head. She worries more that the specific purpose could be using her as a weapon. She doesn't want to be made to hurt more people.

Geri says she can check for her just like she checked for AJ, and besides, she's seen Madi space out at the song so it's probably just that effect like Zuse said.

Madi snaps back that Zuse also said Dr. Werner didn't torture anyone. AJ says that's why they're gonna verify it together and not rely on Zuse's opinion. But they need Madi to calm down. He says he can help her, but she needs to trust him. He offers his hand to the sparky girl. He says they're all in this together.

Madi drops her cup and spills frappe all over the floor. She says she's trying to be calm, even as she's sparking and visibly panicking more.

Geri fetches the mop to begin cleaning the mess and says it's alright, they're a found family. Madison begs Geri to rip the conditioning out of her head.

Geri gently explains that she doesn't know if she can even do that, but the first step is figuring out the extent of the conditioning, which she CAN do.

AJ goes off on a tangent in trying to comfort Madi, that it's not a death sentence, and even if it was it wouldn't be valid. Even Judge Judy would sideye it.

Madi's insistent they have to figure out more about her conditioning! She can't bear the idea of putting her new friends in danger. AJ promises she won't do that, and Geri promises she'll figure it out.

With a terrible realization, Madison starts panicked-rambling wondering if any of the therapy was real therapy or if it was all just experiments and torture. She slides against the wall to the floor.

AJ's momentarily upset at the mention of Gabe, but pulls it together almost immediately. He says parents, older generations make you believe they're powerful and infallible, but they're fuck ups like the rest of everyone. He sits with Madison.

Geri kneels down beside her and offers the girl a hug. She says to keep anything from therapy that may have helped and ditch the rest.

Reminded of her own parents, Madi laments her family never returned her calls. She only got her dad's secretary. At this, Geri goes in for a protective hug... and is a champ about pretending she isn't getting shocked.

AJ watches the painful hug and manages, barely, to not tip Madi off about it.

She's too distraught to realize the pain she's causing. AJ says Madison's parents screwed up BAD not realizing what an amazing, brave, and sweet daughter they have. Now the cohort has her.

Madi looks up with wide, teary eyes and asks if he really means that. Geri says since Madi's parents don't appreciate her, Geri and AJ are her new parents. AJ smiles and says she's stuck with them. They're a super dysfunctional family that drinks together and fights crime.

She says the two are the sweetest, but says Lucas'll probably kill AJ if he kisses her again. AJ says that would be a glorious death, and fake swoons.

Geri gives AJ a light kick to the shin and releases Madi from the shocky hug. She has some minor electric burn marks.

AJ joke-defensively says he has needs, but he's an explorer and doesn't visit the same port twice.

Madi laughs and says that's a new term for fuckboy, but after a moment, looks to Geri with worry etched on her face. She asks if Geri can check her head.

While the other two go back to silly banter, Geri connects to Madi. She finds out Madi thinks the therapy helped her, but she's unable to find information

Madi doesn't know herself. She can't figure out the extent of the conditioning this way, but is able to confirm that the lack of knowledge isn't from repressed memories. Unfortunately, Geri attunes to Madi so intensely that she's momentarily overwhelmed by all the layers of Madi's terror about conditioning.

Meanwhile, AJ and Madison are still bantering about AJ's fuckboy-ness and other silly euphemisms AJ can come up with. When she doesn't understand one of them, AJ says she'll understand when she's older.

Madison insists that she totally understands well, she went to Catholic school.

AJ's confused. He thought Catholic school was all about teaching abstinence. Madi gives an unconvincing affirmative, but it's enough to keep AJ confused.

Then, Geri's overwhelmed by Madi's fear. She pales, breaks into a cold sweat, and scarlet wisps of psychic energy form around her, singing the floor and some of Madi's clothes.

AJ stops trying to decipher how a catholic school student would possibly know about anything sex-related to check on Geri. Madi worriedly asks if Geri's okay.

Geri's still shakey, but she manages to compose herself and tries to play it off as nothing, just a little backlash, no biggie. She says she'll have to check another way since Madi has no knowledge what her conditioning might do beyond the calming.

Madi begs her to do it, whatever it is. Geri replies it's her dream power. Madi warns her to be careful and not look in on the experiment memories.

Geri says she'll try but it can't possibly be worse than dying.

AJ says he's really in the mood for raiding the food stash and making some trashy food like jalepeno and turkey bacon cheese quesadillas. Then he remembers Madi's vegetarian and suggests blue cheese poppers. He gives Geri puppy dog eyes.

She's very drained, but Geri agrees to help cook.

When AJ runs into the kitchen to gather stuff, Zuse pops out of the fridge and announces he wants whatever they're having, too... and then has to rush to find his clothes.

AJ yells at Zuse for popping out of the fridge (again) and streaking in the house... (again).

That night, Geri goes to sleep for an Astral Travel dream. She asks the universe for more insight about Madison's conditioning.

She has a brief dream about Madison. She sees Madison as she was in the ward, when she first got brought in. She sees some staff reviewing a report about the freak storm that slaughtered nearly an entire high school football team and cheerleading squad from a Tulsa private school. Then Geri hears the Long Man Song.

Later, after she wakes up, Geri decides to get more information about the Church of Charismatic Virtues. She goes to a cafe with a computer and checks the church's website. She also makes a sock account on social media, pretending to be a tech-illiterate middle aged church lady.

She learns Vacation Bible School is coming up in June, the week after local schools let out. The church calendar has a ton of VBS activities planned through June. More importantly, she learns of a summer kickoff event on Memorial Day, later this month. It'll have fire dancing and a youth BBQ.

Memorial Day is quickly coming up.

[Music Outro: "Time Will Fail Us" by Troigo]

Thanks for listening, This has been Gather ‘Round The Trashfires with Bek Andrew Evans. Please subscribe to this podcast for future updates and leave a review or comment, I’d love to hear what you think. You can follow me on a few different social platforms with the username "bekandrew." That's [spells username] on tumblr and bluesky, mainly.

If you'd like to support me, subscribe to my Patreon at Patreon.com/BekAndrewTTRPG and purchase my art prints and tabletop products, including my Deviant: the Renegades community content novella related to this chronicle via my linktree in the description.

AJ is played by Roen,

Geri is played by me,

Madison is played by Syn,

Robert is played by Pandito,

Grant is played by Jaxon,

And our Storyteller is Casey Grant.

The intro theme is "_violence by Avantist" from the Free Music Archive, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution International 4.0.

The end theme is "Time Will Fail Us" by Troigo from the Free Music Archive, licensed under Creative Commons Attribution International 4.0.

If you like the songs, I encourage you to check out more of their work. I've linked their Bandcamps in the description.

Until next time.

Follow my Patreon at Patreon.com/BekAndrewTTRPG Check out my other work at linktr.ee/bekandrew Check out the Intro and Outro artists' Bandcamps! https://theavantist.bandcamp.com/music https://troigo.bandcamp.com/ Remember to subscribe and see y'all next week! Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/gather-round-the-trashfires/donations Transcript:

[averrse]

Part 2 of my SoC reread notes. Pages 46-165 of my edition.

(Note: I am sometimes lightly critical of Bardugo, and I have some Issues with Matthias, so fair warning! I keep it to a minimum, but sometimes these things come up.)

Inej could never be sure which stories about Kaz were true and which were rumors he’d planted to serve his own ends. For all she knew, he’d conned some poor honest trader out of his life savings to make the Crow Club thrive.

Breaks my heart a little bit that Inej thinks this, but I understand why, and I'm also sure Kaz would like that she can't be sure.

“Brick by brick,” he muttered to himself. They were the only words that kept his rage in check, that prevented him from striding through the Emerald’s garish gold-and-green doors, demanding a private audience with Rollins, and slitting his throat. Brick by brick. It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.

God bless Kaz thinking of the colors of the Emerald Club being "garish" even in the middle of his revenge fantasy. He's such a snob in his weird way. But it's also interesting to me that he believes killing Pekka outright would not "keep Jordie's ghost at bay." I think in reality, it's more that having his revenge quest gives him purpose and keeps him from having to actually face his grief.

Kaz could see himself as he was then, walking the Stave with dazzled eyes, hand tucked into Jordie’s so he wouldn’t be swept away by the crowd. He hated the boys they’d been, two stupid pigeons waiting to be plucked.

One thing I've always liked about Kaz's characterization is that he's internalized this hatred of who he and Jordie were. While he feels the need for revenge against Pekka for taking advantage of them, he also feels that they deserved to be taken advantage of because they were naive. He has clearly taken the role of Pekka many times, taking advantage of 'pigeons'... yet he also hates Pekka for doing it.

“I’ve seen Suli tellers ply their trade in caravans and pleasure ships, Inej. They didn’t seem so very holy.” “They are pretenders. Making themselves clowns for you and your ilk.” “My ilk?” Kaz had laughed. She’d waved her hand in disgust. “Shevrati,” she’d said. “Know-nothings. They’re laughing at you behind those masks.” “Not at me, Inej. I’d never lay down good coin to be told my future by anyone—fraud or holy man.” “Fate has plans for us all, Kaz.” “Was it fate that took you from your family and stuck you in a pleasure house in Ketterdam? Or was it just very bad luck?” “I’m not sure yet,” she’d said coldly. In moments like that, he thought she might hate him.

God, this whole conversation. Holy microaggressions, Kaz. Like, yeah, bud, I'm sure you understand Inej's culture better than she does.

But there are some interesting character things here. Inej is lumping Kaz in with... basically what Kaz would call pigeons (which I think is why he got really fucking cruel about her family).

Also, Kaz doing shit that will obviously upset Inej, then thinking she probably hates him--which he doesn't seem to want but he does seem to want but not really. Therapy.

The peepholes were a feature of all the brothels. They were a way to keep employees safe and honest, and they offered a thrill to anyone who enjoyed watching others take their pleasure. Kaz had seen enough slum dwellers seeking satisfaction in dark corners and alleys that the allure was lost on him.

Hey, look, it's one of those passages that make me REALLY uncomfortable with Kaz being 17 in the book and this being marketed as young adult and I'm just going to stay in denial about it.

But, yeah. If I ignore that aspect, it is sorta telling about how he views physical contact outside of just the touch aversion.

“It’s just a question of leverage, Nina.” “You don’t know him.” “Don’t I? He’s a person like any other, driven by greed and pride and pain. You should understand that better than anyone.”

Greed and pride and pain. God bless Kaz for not knowing how any person could function differently than he does.

“And Kaz Brekker?” [Nina] “A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.” [Inej]

I love how Inej talks about Kaz. It almost strikes me as her describing him as he'd want to be described.

“You were early, Jesper,” Kaz said as he nudged Matthias toward the boat. “I was on time.” “For you, that’s early. Next time you plan to impress me give me some warning.” “The animals are out, and I found you a boat. This is when a thank-you would be in order.” “Thank you, Jesper,” said Nina. “You’re very welcome, gorgeous. See, Kaz? That’s how the civilized folk do.”

Love Kaz being mad at Jesper for being on time. Love Kaz assuming him being on time is to impress him. Love Nina, like, in general.

Although on a more seriously note, I do wish Kaz would be nicer to Jesper. He's SO negative toward him all the time at this point in the book.

Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark—he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light. Matthias could sense it around him. [...] He’d heard Brekker’s name in prison, and the words associated with him—criminal prodigy, ruthless, amoral. They called him Dirtyhands because there was no sin he would not commit for the right price. And now this demon was talking about breaking into the Ice Court, about getting Matthias to commit treason.

This is interesting to me, because Matthias is pretty much only this negative about Nina and Kaz. To me, it really reflects how Matthias basically thinks anybody who has experienced marginalization or poverty is evil~ Also, his interpretation of the Dirtyhands nickname being tied to "sin" is... telling.

“I worry about everything, merchling. That’s why I’m still alive. And you can keep an eye on Jesper, too.”

Maybe two people who follow me will understand when I say this but... Why is this line almost word-for-word a line John Sheppard has said?

ANYWAY. Kaz worrying about everything. Kaz having plans on plans on plans. Kaz catastrophizing about everything as a matter of survival.

He saw a shadow pass over Inej’s face. She wouldn’t like being without her knives any more than he liked being without his cane.

!!! EQUATING HIS CANE WITH HER KNIVES !!! Especially since this is near the section where Inej thinks about how her knives make her feel like she's safer and has more agency in her life.

The sensation of skin on skin set off a riot of revulsion in Kaz’s head, but because he’d been anticipating the attack, he managed to control the sickness that overcame him.

We love accurate representation of what touch aversion is like~

“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.” He’d turned his back on her then, giving each of his gloves a sharp tug. “And when I want a sermon on that, I know who to come to. If you want out, just say so.” Her spine had straightened, her own pride rising to her defense. “Matthias isn’t the only irreplaceable member of this crew, Kaz. You need me.” “I need your skills, Inej. That’s not the same thing. You may be the best spider crawling around the Barrel, but you’re not the only one. You’d do well to remember it if you want to keep your share of the haul.” She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t wanted to show just how angry he’d made her, but she’d left his office and hadn’t said a thing to him since.

This has happened a couple of times already; Inej will say something that low-key hurts his pride or his feelings, and then he'll snap back at her in some way he doesn't really mean. I think he is particularly harsh to her at times because she is generally harder to warn off his sensitivities than the others. (Absolutely not an excuse, just an observation. He's fully in the wrong here and most of the time, lol.)

It’s just a place, she told herself. Just another house. How would Kaz see it? Where are the entrances and exits? How do the locks work? Which windows are unbarred? How many guards are posted, and which ones look alert? Just a house full of locks to pick, safes to crack, pigeons to dupe. And she was the predator now, not Heleen in her peacock feathers, not any man who walked these streets.

as;dlkfj i love that inej tries to see things through kaz's eyes to try to feel in control. I think this is why she understands him better than most people; that is EXACTLY the reason he thinks that way too.

[dastardlydandelion]

good morning!

i was also really excited to go see D1 in theaters. i remember seeing the first AQP in theaters and yeah, all those scares got me! i obviously the suspense was paramount but i think AQP is one of the horror movies that used jump scares in an effective way without compromising that aforementioned suspense.

agreed! i mean it's really easy to poke holes in this franchise and raise questions about the ecology of the death angels, the logistics of anyone surviving when people make so many unintended sounds, but the science was never the point of the movie. it's meant to be believable enough that you can relate to what the characters are going through, see the steps made to make the world-building feel lived in despite the logistical errors, and speculate about all the things an enforced silence and/or the monsters themselves possibly represent. idk if you've seen Lupita Nyong'o's other horror feature Us, but the "science" makes no sense in that either and it doesn't matter at all! it's not the point!

we both same braincelled thinking of Luc when Frodo stole the show, lol. Sam being in hospice was a very interesting choice. it's unusual to see a main protagonist terminally ill, particularly in this setting where almost any other character's motivations are going to be survival. it does too, present some profound food for thought, exploring what the end of the world as we know it means to a woman who's already reached the end of the world as she knew it.

i was glad they brought Henri back! and we get to know his name that time, awesome! AQP2 did Djimon Hounsou so dirty. he didn't even get a name, his death was cheap and served no purpose. gross trope at full throttle in that movie, our mutual friend and i were talking about that when we watched AQP2 together. i know he was horrified to kill that guy, accidental though it was and particularly with his son there, but...it also felt very human and smth probable to happen at some point. that it was Henri talking action though was a good establishing character moment, while i wish he was in the movie a little more, with what we do have of him i totally understand how he was a natural leader for the island survivors.

Eric's entry! holy cannoli, how long was that guy underwater??? i was amused and endeared that Frodo was the very first thing he saw upon emerging and then, ofc, he followed him. i too would probably follow the cat in that situation.

...now, when Frodo leads him to Sam and a man following a cat around in a deserted city shifted into following a lone woman around a deserted, that is the moment i realized why Joseph Quinn specifically was cast in this role. Sam tries to shoo Eric away and he just keeps following her. there's no one around to uh, help if his intentions are bad. she's especially vulnerable bc she's already in a lot of pain...if this guy didn't have the face of everybody's beloved Eddie Munster, a much greater percentage of the audience would've been creeped the fuck out!!! albeit, he does keep a decent distance even when following her, it's not like he's right up on her heels.

BUT obviously context matters. once they get to talking, i was also endeared. Eric is so nakedly human in that moment. Sam is a very caring person. she gave those scared kids her expensive candy bar. she relents, doesn't try to dissuade this scared, soaking wet guy-- who isn't local and probably doesn't fully understand the directions she's trying to give him, anyway.

then, yes, agreed, that relationship really made the bulk of the movie and it was the most important part of the movie. some people thought there should be more action, i'm not really one of them. i appreciated the quieter, more emotive story being told about strangers bonding and caring for each other (and a cat) in the wake of devastation and destruction. the moments of levity they carve out together, the beauty in that, the small sacrifices and then the bigger ones.

i also knew Eric was going to make it...and than as much as i genuinely enjoyed this movie, here is where i do have some negative thoughts. i knew Eric was going to make it BECAUSE THEY SHOWED HIM MAKING IT IN THE FINAL TRAILER!!!!

WHY. that's--- don't do that! these days trailers feel the need to give away the whole movie! no! hold your cards!

also, i uh...i mean, you already know this because you read my fic (which I appreciate and i will reply to your comment soon, thank you, i'm gradually getting back intoe writing again and i am glad you enjoyed) but i, uh...yeah...sorry. if i had been in the writer's room on this project, Eric wouldn't have survived, either.

i understand that Sam's goal was never to get on the boat. she had already been facing her mortality as a terminally ill hospice patience and when the death angels forced devastation upon everyone, dying on her own terms in city she cared about became her driving force. buut i just...hmmm...with the sheer number of death angels that were there, Eric making it to the boat without a scratch felt a lot like plot-armor? albeit i'm totally biased bc i didn't feel right seeing them separated! i also think it could've been an interesting contrast to AQP2 of a failed sacrifice.

in AQP2, Emmett was fully willing to sacrifice himself for Regan, but she used her hearing aid to emit the frequency before it came to that, so neither of them died. if Sam still attempted the sacrifice play, but her making noise wasn't enough to prevent *one* of the death angels from getting Eric anyway, then uh, the opposite would've happened!

i don't hate the ending, given the contextual significance of Sam's character motivations, but still. they parted ways and it felt so wrong. 😭

if i have another negative, it would be that you can feel that some scenes were deleted? like, what happened to Eric's first pair of shoes? something definitely happened to those shoes and why cut that scene if you're going to keep the scene of Sam picking him out new shoes? and Denis O'Hare's character was cut entirely? WHY?

but again, mostly positive things to say. namely about the performances and themes, just downright incredible performances. including that of Nico & Schnitzel! extra praise for the suspense of the subway sequence! in that scene in the tunnel i was simultaneously aching for Eric mid-panic attack and jealous of Joseph Quinn bc i want Lupita Nyong'o to hold my face like that.

good evening, foxy! please tell me all your thoughts and feelings on AQP:D1! but only if you want, no pressure. 👾

Ahhh, thank you for this ask! I just loved it so much. 🧡 I was excited to watch it on the big screen; it was so worth it.

I know, I know, some things just don't make sense in the franchise, but I'm gonna just ignore that, because I'm in for the feels and cool monsters, not for science.

I love deep, emotional themes so Sam being in hospice really got the story off on the right foot for me. I instantly fell in love with Frodo, too, (and thought about how @lucdarling must love him, too). I could totally feel Sam when she risked both her and her "not friend's" life, too, to save him. I would do the same for my dog. The part where Henri accidentally killed the guy on the roof was a memorable scene, too, it stuck with me. Then off to the part where Eric entered. Gosh, the way my heart went !!! when he noticed Frodo, and Frodo adopted him and took him to Sam and went mom, can we keep him? and he was just standing there being so miserable and sweet. It was so endearing how he just followed the duo even though Sam tried to shoo him away. I got teary-eyed when they stopped in the rain and he was so scared to speak, and then just told Sam how he was really scared and didn't wanna die there. Aggghhh! And Sam just gave up and took him in. That was it for me. I was totally sold.

The part where Sam told Eric to kick in the door, and Eric just looked at her like really, do I look like an action hero? but then he did it made me laugh a little. The part where Eric shows up at the bookstore and just stands there again, too.

Then I was so freaking anxious when they were in the tunnels and Eric had a panic attack, but also felt so freaking soft for them. When Sam went over to try to ground him, to hold him, to save him. She was never gonna leave him behind. <3 gaaah

Then I cried when Eric gave Sam the pain patch thing and they agreed that Sam won't die until after they ate pizza. And cried when they held each other at the flaming hole in the ground. And when Sam gave him the sweater. And when he started crying when Sam gave him Frodo and sent him off to run. I was crying a lot.

I knew he was gonna make it, but my heart was still racing. My heart was breaking for the both of them, I wanted them to stay together longer, you know. (Your fic was perfectly soul-wrenching!)

I just loved the three of them so much! Sam and Eric felt so real, so human! The beauty was in the small things, I didn't need more action. I'm a sucker for found family themes, and with the sci-fi/horror backdrop, it was even more my cup of tee.

But the ending was badass with Sam exiting with that song in that way! I mean at the beginning she was just existing, waiting for death in that hospice being either angry or numb most of the time, probably mourning a lot of what could have been. And in the end she was at peace, she saved Eric and Frodo and she was ready to go.

I know I was all over the place, I'm sorry. ---- What did you think?

[podcastenthusiast]

A fic featuring: ace Geralt, some trauma, discussion of consent, and a whole lot of love.

---

Touch is difficult for Geralt. Desire, too; witchers are made to want nothing except to serve their purpose. He wants even less, yet somehow more than he should.

He's been known to spend months, even years, on the Path with only Roach for company. Never touching anyone beyond the brush of hands as coins are exchanged. He will go to brothels occasionally--let the whores trace his scars, cataloging each one like it's evidence of something, asking for the story behind it. He satisfies their curiosity and fucks them, too, because he knows how this transaction works, what is expected. He gives them whatever they want, and takes what pleasure he's supposed to. It's too much and it's over too soon.

Sometimes he leaves the brothel feeling lighter, almost like a person. Other times he is empty, bereft of that warmth, and unsure why he can't feel the way others do.

Geralt has theories. He keeps them to himself. Doesn't even tell Roach.

One theory goes like this: witchers are rendered sterile by the mutations, and Geralt was given an extra dose. Maybe that stripped away his sexual desire as well as his capacity to procreate. Or maybe it's still in there somewhere, buried deep along with a majority of his emotions and the kid he once was.

Maybe it has nothing to do with being a witcher at all. His brothers don't seem to share the same experience.

And Jaskier isn't at all like him; he loves fiercely and loudly. Jumps into bed with practically anyone who's willing. He will meet a barmaid and perform a ballad he wrote about her all in the same evening.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that Jaskier's soft heart has room in it for Geralt, too, but it is. It's also a surprise when the bard stays, like no one ever has before.

They share a bed now, as they have many times, but it's different as lovers. At first Geralt assumes Jaskier simply wants sex, and is fine with giving him what he needs.

But the bard loves to please others. Jaskier asks what he wants, and Geralt replies, "Nothing."

Truer than it's ever been, in this context.

"Everyone wants something. Even you."

"I..."

I just want you to stay. He can't say it. He is a creature defined by what he lacks--desires, fears, feelings, humanity. He has little to offer Jaskier or Yennefer or anyone else, just danger or a quick fuck. It isn't enough. He has no business asking for anything. He was made to be useful.

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"That's all right. We'll figure it out together. For now let's take things slow, yeah?"

"Been twenty years."

"And I wouldn't trade them for all the wine in Toussaint. But this--" He kisses Geralt's neck. "--is new."

"Hmm."

"I just want you to be comfortable, dear witcher."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

It's too quick. Defensive. Like parrying before your opponent even draws their sword.

"Well...I know you feel things differently." Fuck. Fuck! He knows. "Heightened senses and all that. I imagine it could make certain things...a bit intense."

He doesn't know. He can't.

"I'll be fine."

"And if we do have sex, I want it to be good for you. Because...honestly, Geralt, you deserve pleasant things, more than you know. You always say you don't want anything."

"I don't."

"And that scares me to death, darling." Jaskier's voice is low, suddenly breaking. "There's no shortage of awful people out there who will at best take that as an invitation not to care, or at worst to hurt you."

The wolf inside him snarls. He's not weak. Witchers might be harmed in battle, never in bed. But he takes a breath and tries to hear what Jaskier is really saying. He owes him an attempt at decent communication.

"Jaskier," he says. "You'd never hurt me."

"Not intentionally, no, which is why I need you to talk to me. Tell me if I ever do something you don't like, even if you've liked it in the past, and I'll stop."

Jaskier's calloused fingers idly trace a scar below his collarbone. He won't ask about its origin because he doesn't need to; he was there. Geralt's muscles grow tense even so.

"Stop," he snaps before he can think better of it. Jaskier stops immediately. His hands withdraw from the witcher's skin, and Geralt knows he just fucked up everything. He couldn't bear even that and now his bard is never going to touch him again and so few are unafraid, fewer still truly know him--

"Thank you," Jaskier says. He doesn't sound angry or upset. He sounds almost proud. "Can I ask-- Are you feeling overwhelmed emotionally, or was it the touching? And don't you dare give me that tired 'witchers don't have feelings' line right now."

"Touch," Geralt manages although, if he were honest, it's both.

There are times he can't stand to be touched at all, Jaskier has seen that-- after a hunt, when the lingering effects of his potions make the world feel impossibly sharp. But there are other times. There are safe people and places and Jaskier never looks at him like he's a curiosity, an inhuman thing, but Geralt's body doesn't always know that.

"You don't want to be touched right now?"

Geralt shakes his head. Then shrugs. Nods.

"I really need some words here, love."

"It's. The scars."

"Oh. Gods, I'm sorry. Do they hurt?"

Scars trouble him the least of his old wounds. They itch, sometimes, but they don't hurt in the way, for example, his knee aches when it's going to rain. Scars are an absence of pain. Of anything. Sometimes a reminder.

"No. Just numb." He takes a breath. Averts his eyes and counts the stitches on the blanket. "Most people I'm with... it's all they see. Like to touch the scars. I can't feel it. They ask questions; I tell them or I don't. Over either way."

They leave, he means. Or he leaves first. That fucking mountain. He's run out of words. His throat feels tight.

When he looks up again, Jaskier's eyes brim with tears.

"You are so much more than that to me, dear heart."

"I know," Geralt says, and finds that, quite unexpectedly, he believes it.

"Is-- Would a hug be okay? Honest answer only."

Geralt nods, and the bard pulls him in close.

"You know," says Jaskier after a while. He never could let silence remain unfilled. Geralt is grateful. "There are artists who mend pottery by carefully filling the cracks with gold. It's beautiful."

"Sounds excessive. Just make another bowl."

"It adds to the complexity, the beauty of the whole. I'm trying to say that's how I see you."

"As broken pottery to fix?"

"Gods, no. As someone who's survived so much, and is very dear to me. But your scars, your lovely eyes and your hair, all of it-- They're not everything you are, nor is witchering, despite what ignorant fools or careless bed partners may think."

But Jaskier has mended something. His reputation, for a start. His wounds on numerous occasions. And... more than that, besides, he thinks.

When Geralt finally does tell Jaskier the truth about his desires, or lack thereof, he'll think about that and form a new theory. Maybe he isn't a broken thing after all, and even if he is, maybe that can be okay.

[fatliberation]

I’m Abandoning Body Positivity and Here’s Why

In short: it’s fatphobic.

“A rallying cry for a shift in societal norms has now become the skinny girl’s reassurance that she isn’t really fat. Fatness, through this lens of ‘body positivity’, remains the worst thing a person can be.” (Kayleigh Donaldson)

•  •  •

I have always had a lot of conflicting opinions about the body positivity movement, but it’s much more widely known (and accepted, go figure) than the fat liberation movement, so I often used the two terms interchangeably in conversation about anti-fatness. But the longer I’ve been following the body positivity movement, the more I’ve realized how much it has strayed from its fat lib origins. It has been hijacked; deluded to center thin, able, white, socially acceptable bodies.

Bopo’s origins are undoubtedly grounded in fat liberation. The fat activists of the 1960s paved the way for the shred of size acceptance we see in media today, initially protesting the discrimination and lack of access to equal opportunities for fat people specifically. This early movement highlighted the abuse, mental health struggles, malpractice in the medical field, and called for equal pay, equal access, equal respect, an end to fatphobic structures and ideas. It saddens me that it hasn’t made much progress in those regards. 

Today, the #bopo movement encapsulates more the idea of loving your own body versus ensuring that individuals regardless of their weight and appearance are given equal opportunities in the workplace, schools, fashion and media. Somehow those demands never made it outside of the ‘taboo’ category, and privileged people would much more readily accept the warm and fuzzy, sugar-coated message of “love yourself!” But as @yrfatfriend once said, this idea reduces fat people’s struggles to a problem of mindset, rather than a product of external oppressors that need to be abolished in order for fat people to live freely.

That generalized statement, “love yourself,” is how a movement started by fat people for the rights of fat people was diluted so much, it now serves a thin model on Instagram posting about how she has a tummy roll and cellulite on her thighs - then getting praised for loving her body despite *gasp!* its minor resemblance to a fat body. 

Look. Pretty much everyone has insecurities about their bodies, especially those of us who belong to marginalized groups. If you don’t have body issues, you’re a privileged miracle, but our beauty-obsessed society has conditioned us to want to look a certain way, and if we have any features that the western beauty standard considers as “flaws,” yeah! We feel bad about it! So it’s not surprising that people who feel bad about themselves would want to hop on a movement that says ‘hey, you’re beautiful as you are!’ That’s a message everyone would like to hear. Any person who has once thought of themselves as less than beautiful now feels that this movement is theirs. And everyone has insecurities, so everyone feels entitled to the safe space. And when a space made for a minority includes the majority, the cycle happens again and the majority oppresses the minority. What I’m trying to explain here is that thin people now feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces. 

Regardless of how badly thin people feel about their bodies, they still experience thin privilege. They can sit down in a theater or an airplane without even thinking about it, they can eat in front of others without judgement, they can go the doctor with a problem and actually have it fixed right away, they can find cute clothes in their size with ease, they do not suffer from assumptions of laziness/failure based on stereotype, they see their body type represented everywhere in media, the list goes on and on. They do not face discrimination based off of the size of their body. 

Yet diet culture and fatphobia affects everyone, and of course thin people do still feel bad about the little fat they have on their bodies. But the failure to examine WHY they feel bad about it, is what perpetuates fatphobia within the bopo movement. They’re labeled “brave” for showing a pinch of chub, yet fail to address what makes it so acceptably daring, and how damaging it is to people who are shamed for living in fat bodies. Much like the rest of society, thin body positivity is still driven by the fear of fat, and does nothing to dismantle fatphobia within structures or within themselves.

Evette Dionne sums it up perfectly in her article, “The Fragility of Body Positivity: How a Radical Movement Lost Its Way.”

“The body-positive media economy centers these affirming, empowering, let-me-pinch-a-fat-roll-to-show-how-much-I-love-myself stories while failing to actually challenge institutions to stop discriminating against fat people. More importantly, most of those stories center thin, white, cisgender, heterosexual women who have co-opted the movement to build their brands. Rutter has labeled this erasure ‘Socially Acceptable Body Positivity.’

“On social media, it actually gets worse for fat bodies: We’re not just being erased from body positivity, fat women are being actively vilified. Health has become the stick with which to beat fat people with [sic], and the benchmark for whether body positivity should include someone” (Dionne).

Ah, yes. The medicalization of fat bodies, and the moralization of health. I’ve ranted about this before. Countless comments on posts of big women that say stuff like “I’m all for body positivity, but this is just unhealthy and it shouldn’t be celebrated.” I’ve heard writer/activist Aubrey Gordon once say that body positivity has become something like a shield for anti-fatness. It’s anti-fatness that has been repackaged as empowerment. It’s a striking double-standard. Fat people are told to be comfortable in their bodies (as if that’s what’s going to fix things) but in turn are punished when they’re okay with being fat. Make it make sense.

Since thin people feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces, and they get to hide behind “health” when they are picking and choosing who can and cannot be body positive, they base it off of who looks the most socially acceptable. And I’m sure they aren’t consciously picking and choosing, it comes from implicit bias. But the socially acceptable bodies they center are small to medium fat, with an hourglass shape. They have shaped a new beauty standard specifically FOR FAT PEOPLE. (Have you ever seen a plus sized model with neck fat?? I’m genuinely asking because I have yet to find one!) The bopo movement works to exclude and silence people who are on the largest end of the weight spectrum. 

Speaking of exclusion, let’s talk about fashion for a minute.

For some reason, (COUGH COUGH CAPITALISM) body positivity is largely centered around fashion. And surprise surprise, it’s still not inclusive to fat people. Fashion companies get a pat on the back for expanding their sizing two sizes up from what they previously offered, when they are still leaving out larger fat people completely. In general, clothing companies charge more for clothes with more fabric, so people who need the largest sizes are left high and dry. It’s next to impossible to find affordable clothes that also look nice. Fashion piggybacks on the bopo movement as a marketing tactic, and exploits the very bodies it claims to be serving. (Need I mention the time Urban Outfitters used a "curvy” model to sell a size it doesn’t even carry?)

The movement also works to exclude and silence fat Black activists.

In her article, “The Body Positivity Movement Both Takes From and Erases Fat Black Women” Donyae Coles explains how both white people and thin celebrities such as Jameela Jamil profit from the movement that Black women built.

“Since long before blogging was a thing, fat Black women have been vocal about body acceptance, with women like Sharon Quinn and Marie Denee, or the work of Sonya Renee Taylor with The Body Is Not An Apology. We’ve been out here, and we’re still here, but the overwhelming face of the movement is white and thin because the mainstream still craves it, and white and thin people have no problem with profiting off the work of fat, non-white bodies.”

“There is a persistent belief that when thin and/or white people enter the body positive realm and begin to repeat the messages that Black women have been saying for years in some cases, when they imitate the labor that Black women have already put in that we should be thankful that they are “boosting” our message. This completely ignores the fact that in doing so they are profiting off of that labor. They are gaining the notoriety, the mark of an expert in something they learned from an ignored Black woman” (Coles).

My next essay will go into detail about this and illuminate key figures who paved the way for body acceptance in communities of color. 

The true purpose of this movement has gotten completely lost. So where the fuck do we go from here? 

We break up with it, and run back to the faithful ex our parents disapproved of. We go back to the roots of the fat liberation movement, carved out for us by the fat feminists, the queer fat activists, the fat Black community, and the allies it began with. Everything they have preached since the 1960s and 70s is one hundred percent applicable today. We get educated. We examine diet culture through a capitalist lens. We tackle thin, white-supremacist systems and weight based discrimination, as well as internalized bias. We challenge our healthcare workers to unlearn their bias, treat, and support fat patients accordingly. We make our homes and spaces accessible and welcoming to people of any size, or any (dis)ability. “We must first protect and uplift people in marginalized bodies, only then can we mandate self-love” (Gordon).

Think about it. In the face of discrimination, mistreatment, and emotional abuse, we as a society are telling fat people to love their bodies, when we should be putting our energy toward removing those fatphobic ideas and structures so that fat people can live in a world that doesn’t require them to feel bad about their bodies. It’s like hitting someone with a rock and telling them not to bruise!

While learning to love and care for the body that you’re in is important, I think that body positivity also fails in teaching that because it puts even more emphasis on beauty. Instead of saying, “you don’t have to be ‘beautiful’ to be loved and appreciated,” its main lesson is that “all bodies are beautiful.” We live in a society obsessed with appearance, and it is irresponsible to ignore the hierarchy of beauty standards that exist in every space. Although it should be relative, “beautiful” has been given a meaning. And that meaning is thin, abled, symmetric, and eurocentric. 

Beauty and ugliness are irrelevant, made-up constructs. People will always be drawn to you no matter what, so you deserve to exist in your body without struggling to conform to an impossible and bigoted standard. Love and accept your body for YOURSELF AND NO ONE ELSE, because you do not exist to please the eyes of other people. That’s what I wish we were teaching instead. Radical self acceptance!

As of today, the ultimate message of the body positivity movement is: Love your body “despite its imperfections.” Or people with “perfect and imperfect bodies both deserve love.” As long as we are upholding the notion that there IS a perfect body that looks a certain way, and every body that falls outside of that category is imperfect, we are upholding white supremacy, eugenics, anti-fatness, and ableism.

[asavt]

Another cookie squad Headcanons

Featuring Sparkling, Vampire, cellphones and the Espresso and Madeleine Story of how they came together. Consider it an AU now baby!

-As a note, when I say the squad I'm mostly referring to the adults, so no worries about Walnut or Creampuff useless I mention them too

-Each one of the squad has been in Sparkling's bar at last once. There's no need to say who has been there the most. Sparkling has a time every time someone besides Roguefort comes, because to him it's mostly like "Oh I'll finally know the continuation to the burnt toast accident or maybe the cat catastrophe? Maybe a new POV of the--"

He practically knows a lot of what happens in between the squad.

-As another note, Sparkling's bar is called Milabo (You know, like the song from Zutomayo of the same name, which, btw, I relate a lot to Latte)

-*A great part of this “AU” is kind of inspired by the song. Part of its lyrics and vibe.

-Vampire is there most of the time when the squad visits the bar (it's almost as if he never leaves the bar and this is definitely not me low-key putting sparkvamp in this oh no--) Sometimes the fakes his sleep to listen to the things others say (Which is how he knows most of Rogue's pan-ic).

-Walnut has been in Sparkling's bar too, but at day and for case-solving purposes only. Sparkling will give her some alcohol-free drink for free sometimes (mostly because he gets along pretty well with the nut family and because Almond usually pays him whatever he serves her).

-If the squad had cellphones (and probably an app like discord because.), their group chat would initially be called "Coffee mage appreciation group" and then be changed to "Coffee bean appreciation group"

Coffee Bean: Can we please change the group name and mine?

Guided by the Devine: No <3

Coffee Bean: Fuck you.

-*And they all would dedicate half their time to make fun of Almond but with love.

-Espresso has been mistaken for a dark mage before by Almond. It was how they meet actually. Almond had pulled him to interrogate him and got a long lecture on the differences between black magic and coffee magic.

-Madeleine gets along rather well with Roguefort. Rogue seems impressed by Maddie’s acting skills.

-Madeleine is currently living with Espresso. Out of his armor most of the time. He usually takes care of keeping the house clean and preparing meals (He never really had to cook before but the first dish he made wasn’t bad at all). Sometimes he will tag along Almond in the detective’s work, or Almond will ask for his help.

-I’m still unsure if I want the Almond/Roguefort/Latte to be romantic or platonic. But honestly? Both are good. Latte is pretty close to Almond and Roguefort but not in the way she is with Espresso (that makes them look like siblings jkashduawhu). Perhaps I’ll keep it platonic.

-The Espresseleine/Madespresso story of how they came together, because I seem to not be able to write it down JSHALDHUIWADWA-

--It happens after the Puppet Show mini quest. Madeleine starts to ask for Espresso's "assistance" in different mission that are given to him. Angel is there too, of course.

--During these missions is that Essy clarifies that no, they are not friends, no, he does not like Madeleine. Bringing up the knight begin too prideful and self-centered if not all then most of the time.

--Is not until one of their missions goes wrong, were Angel is knocked out and Espresso (seeing and knowing that if Madeleine is knocked down too they might not be able to go back to the kingdom ever) pretty much receives a rather big attack for Madeleine is that he kind realizes the facts given by espresso true. All while he is carrying Essy and Angel back to the kingdom, running and exhausted too.

--Clover begin kind of a mediator between the two (I want to see more of my son--)

--"Devine, protect us" Should happen too after this. An scenario like, Madeleine coming to think something like "I'm the shield, the one who goes on the front line and receives the blows for those who can't, always looking straight ahead... but if I am doing that then who watches my back? Who do I rely on and trust to take care of most enemies so the damage received is not overwhelming...?"

Power of team work baby!!!

--As a note to this, Maddie getting his cape damaged as well as his hair. So, you get short hair Maddie~

(I've been drawing him with short hair in secret now I have an excuse to show)

-- "You...cut your hair..." *Madeleine touches the points of it with one of his hands, pensive* "...pft it'll grow back!"

--There's also this "Search for your own light" thing between Angel and Maddie. Angel encouraging Madeleine to do so. Maybe Madeleine giving his best wishes to them for their wish to fly before they decide to part ways.

--Madeleine trying other ways to befriend Essy. Which at first Espresso mistaken as the knight usual attempts to befriend anyone he sees out of habit and attention seeking, but once they realize the feeling is completely genuine, Espresso is rather perplexed.

--"You can't just befriend people by buying them gifts (although I do appreciate them)" "Then what?" "hmm..."

--Said gifts used to be rather expensive things, simple though. Eventually Madeleine settles to just pass by Espresso's place, give him any food he had bought that day (which usually is glazed donuts), ask if he needs any help with something (getting a vase, materials, moving things), and if not then he just says his good byes, best wishes and silently leaves. (A note on the "silently leaves": Madeleine is pretty much used to speak loudly and enter loudly anywhere, he still does this at this point, but when it's about Espresso he is a bit more quiet, a bit showy over his entrances still, but less loud, and he actually knocks the door)

--Madeleine eventually manages to go out with Espresso to other places that aren't some place in the forest full of enemies. Probably after some more visits to his place and more calm talks between the two, Madeleine brings up that Espresso tends to act a bit cold or distant towards a lot of people, and that, although he understands his discomfort at begin in public spaces or too long out of his work, he should try and open up a bit. This reminds Essy of a certain friend he hasn't seen in some time, and from whom he keeps getting letters.

--Shenanigans.

--There's still some bickering between the two, always with a playful undertone though.

--Espresso explains Madeleine, one time the knight has gotten Espresso wrapped in a blanket burrito again and got him to bed, that sometimes, no matter how tired he might feel, he is simply unable to sleep. Part of a headcanon of mine that coffee magic has this side effect on it's users, prolonged usage of this kind of magic will induce a high caffeine kind of state, which on the long run can fuck up the user's sleep schedule. Madeleine understands this, but remains stubborn about keeping Espresso in the bed so at last he can get some rest from his work and clear his mind a little, the idiot falls asleep in the process and Espresso doesn't try to wake him up.

--This happens several times after, neither of them thinking of the implications of not begin bothered by the sudden closeness they share until it's too late.

--Espresso realizes first that he has slowly, yet nicely, fallen for Madeleine. I think I talked about this before but I'll do it again: Is in one of the times Madeleine has gotten Espresso to bed to get some rest, Espresso not begin able to fall asleep and Madeleine doing again. Is while he thinks of how he has gotten to know Madeleine for real, not the Knight Commander from a noble family or the Chosen by the Devine, but as he is, that he comes to think that "Ah.... I love him" and he remains calm about it.

--Espresso doesn't overthink it, just thinks that, if Madeleine ever got an interest in him, he would surely show it. So he waits. Even if in the end his feelings aren't mutual he knows he'll do just fine remaining friends.

--Madeleine realizes not many days after. And the realization hits him like a truck. Alone in his place and probably in bed looking at the ceiling thinking about Espresso. Once he realizes and thinks about it a bit more his face gets all red and chooses to scream in the pillow.

--He would think about telling Espresso as soon as he can, after all, he doesn't want his feelings to make their friendship weird. He values it, a lot. Maybe because his friendship with Espresso it's the first one where he genuinely wanted to become friends with someone.

--Espresso takes the confession calmly, gets all flustered after they kiss for the first time.

--As a few extras of this: Madeleine goes back to the Republic, asked to be seen by his family and Espresso goes to Parfedia, where a few students have applied to his class to his surprise. When they see each other again is at Parfedia (Madeleine sending a message to Espresso beforehand about his arrival) -there was this one drawing I did once of Maddie running to hug Espresso, something like that happens-. Madeleine gets very clingy for some reason, which they speak later and comes out as “Home doesn’t quite feel like home…” “Why is that?” “I don’t know… maybe I’ve become used to be around you”

--Espresso lets ends up letting Madeleine stay with him until he either feels like returning to the Republic or is called back, whatever happens first (though none will happen for maybe a year or a little more).

--Ends with Madeleine meeting Latte and Almond.

[bunnyshideawayy]

genetics does seem to be be a weird topic in the universe of Asoiaf and nothing really works in any fixed way other than to further the plot: i.e. Joffrey Baratheon and Rhaenyra’s “Strong Boys”.

however the precedent set in the story is that the father’s features should dominate, unless they are of Valyrian decent- then it’s whatever! such as the case with Aemma Arryn, she inherited her mother, Daella Targaryen, features and apparently none of the typical Arryn features (however we do not know what those typical features might be).

with the case of Alicent’s children i believe the main purpose of them having only Targ features serves in the story to draw comparisons with Rhaenyra’s boys. Rhaenyra’s last two sons with Daemon will obviously share the same features as the rest of house Targaryen since well, Rhae and Daemon are related and look the typical Targ. thus drawing a further comparison. however, i personally adhere to the theory that house Hightower shares some Valyrian like features possibly silver hair. much like house Dayne shares purple eyes but is supposedly not of Valyrian descent. it would explain why Jaehaerys thought Alicent was Saera returned from Essos in his dying days. it’s a theory that connects to the “Ancient Empire of the Dawn” theory and many others. we have no book canon descriptions of many Hightowers or a record of the typical Hightower traits so it’s possible they do have blonder, even silverish, hair.

also i don’t think Ned even thought past telling Robert, he did not seem to consider the implications of outing the King’s son as a bastard. What would have happened to Sansa? Who was going to take the throne afterward? Clearly Stannis and Renly didn’t agree it should be the other. I’m sure other noble houses wanted their turn on the throne or could’ve saw this opportunity to lead rebellions. and as many have already mentioned, Robert would’ve killed Cersei, all the children, and probably Jamie, hell i’m sure he’d attempt to wipe the entire Lannister line out of existence. The ramifications of that alone would’ve threw the kingdom into strife.

IMO the show really fucked up by “confirming” Rhaenyra’s children as bastards instead of leaving it ambiguous like the books. Rhaenys having white Targaryen hair instead of her canon dark Baratheon hair also was done on purpose to draw comparisons and make Rhaenyra’s children’s bastardy obvious when her dark hair was actually essential to the story in the books and helped dispel the rumors even if they could be true.

i would like to add that the casting department deserves a rise because Rhaenyra and her children, Alicent’s children, the younger/older versions of all the actors look practically identical to each other.

a rumored bastard and a proven, disinherited, legally illegitimate recognized bastard are not the same.

Rhaenyra’s sons are rumored bastards, i know the show has a lot of team green stans feeling bold but just as in the books, they are never legally considered bastards in the show either. they are speculated to be via their physical features and Laenor’s apparent sexuality, but since Laenor and the KING (btw Westeros is a absolute monarchy, meaning the king IS law) both claim all three boys as legitimate heirs, unless someone demands a medieval dna test, those kids are legally Laenor’s true sons.

this is apparently a very hard concept to understand for some, hell even Alicent in the show says something like “we can all tell” which fair point, but that is not proof enough. looks, accusations, and rumor are not the same as actual proof of adultery or bastardy.

someone i was having a “discussion” with used Joffrey as an example to point out a flaw in my logic, but ultimately proved my point. Joffrey was a rumored bastard. Ned himself had no more proof than Alicent does, just hair color and a hunch, so Joffrey was never legally disinherited from the line of succession. I hate to defend either of these men but King Robert never publicly disowned him and called him bastard, which is why Joffrey ascended to the Iron Throne. now the rumors did hurt, and caused huge political issues leading to the War of 5 Kings, which is exactly why Alicent and Team Green is so insistent that Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate, they know they cannot legally or physically prove her children are bastards, especially when Laenor and the King are claiming them are true born, but they can spread the rumor and call into question Rhaenyra’s honesty and morality. think episode 8 when team green takes their chance with Vaemond to attempt a coup of sorts for the Driftmark Throne, why would the succession of Driftmark need to be settled if Rhaenyra’s sons are true born? why would Alicent / Otto need to make this decision in place of the sick king and mia lord of tides who both had already been stating Luke would inherit for years. it’s all apart of the scheme to tarnish Rhaenyra’s reputation as Vaemond has no other proof either, and promptly loses his head (both metaphorically and literally) by calling the recognized heir to the throne a whore and her children bastards with no proof in front of the whole court.

it is a political scheme on both sides, Alicent cannot prove anything, and Rhaenyra cannot disprove the rumors no matter how many times they are claimed as true born sons. Rhaenyra has to live in the comfort the law gives her, as legally her sons are seen as legitimate, and thus legally they are protected. and from an unbiased pov with both in universe and historical references, those kids might be bastards in actually but not legally.

Rhaenyra goes through hell to keep her children legally protected, not only for their sake but for hers because should the truth come out both her and Laenor would be seriously punished, i wouldn’t go as far as executed but that would depend on if Viserys was old and bed ridden or dead. which is why im making this incredibly long post repeating myself in every point. you can argue all day about Rhaenyra’s children and their parentage but i am making this to make it clear that her children are not *legally* bastards by Westeros law. in order for Jace, Luke, and Joffrey to be illegitimate bastards Laenor, Rhaenyra, Harwin, and/or Viserys would have to publicly acknowledge them as such and disinherit them. no, Laenor and Viserys dying do not magically make Rhaenyra’s children legal bastards either. they would, again, need to be claimed and proven as such and disinherited.

and at the end of it all, true or not true, the rumors made a lasting impact on the story. so much so this fandom is still debating this topic, and frankly i am dreading the season 2 release when all the bad takes and bad faith arguments start up again.

anyway other famous rumored bastards are in Targ history are:

Maegor

Daeron II

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day sixteen

osamu miya - hungry 

kinktober faq  kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: service top osamu, oral sex (reader receiving), fingerng, motivated by jealousy, he wants u bad, no aftercare other tags: osamu is very jealous, reader is a Player, their relationship is confusing and is never openly explained lol, months of osamu pining over u, mentions of reader using other men to make osamu jealous, potential ooc osamu but i dont care  fem reader

word count: 3377

p.s thank u @closetedweeb01 for beta reading the beginning and helping me get this story in the right direction it was so helpful<3! and thank u @natsuonii for helping me basically the entire time i was writing this fic up until like ten minutes ago LMAO ily thank u sm sophie muah thank u <33 and also to everyone else who reached out to help or gave advice :) much appreciate

-

“Look up.” 

Osamu did, and you grinned, laughed in disbelief as you stood over him. 

“What?” he asked, squinting eyes dark with intent to stay looking at yours until you asked otherwise. 

“You listened.” 

“I already told you,” he started, and even as your hand moved to hold his face, even as you squatted down to straddle his lap, he didn’t break that eye contact and his baritone voice didn’t falter, “I would do anything you told me to do.” 

“Anything?” 

Osamu knew that you were testing him, but this was a game he was always ready to play. “Anything.” 

“Why’s that?” you asked, only teasing - you already knew his answer. “You got so jealous at the bar earlier, watching me dancing with Hinata. You know… you don’t own me, Osamu.” 

His only response, “I’m better than him,” and all you could do was laugh. 

The look in his eyes was all too familiar - seeing it was almost comforting. That hunger he only had for you was burning hotter than ever, now mixed with competitive passion and a need to win. 

“Shoyo’s pretty fit,” you hummed, a playfulness laced through your voice in a way that Osamu didn’t like. “I think he’d be a good time… I’m still waiting for him to text back.” 

With his hands on your hips Osaumu pulled you closer, slotting right between your legs, the center of you perfectly aligned with the peak in his jeans. 

“I’m better,” he repeated, and still, his voice was strong. As if you couldn’t break him no matter how hard you tried. 

But this teasing would only be fun for so long, and although Osamu could take it for as long as you’d give it, you were growing tired. You hadn’t given him so much as a crumb and still he was waiting for you to hand him a full meal - somehow his interest in you had only grown despite your snide teasing and better-than attitude. 

You were sure he would have lost interest by now, and yet he still acts as if the two of you hadn’t been in this exact position dozens of times before. Your plans to make him jealous never fall through even though everything he’s jealous of isn’t his, but he never fails to remind you that he’s the one you run back to. 

And he does do everything you say. He listens and complies and obeys and yet he’s never seemed as submissive as moments ago when two words had him looking up at you like a begging dog. 

You thrived on it. 

“Kiss me.” 

At any moment he could turn this around on you. He could leave you wanting, needing, begging; he could deny what you were asking of him and make you feel how he’s felt. And yet, he doesn’t. You told him to kiss you and so he kissed you, and he wouldn’t stop until you pulled away and gave him more instruction. 

It wasn’t like him to be so behaved, to exist by someone else’s word, but, really, he was only doing what he wanted to do; the gratification he felt from doing as you told him was unmatched, and the look of pride in your eyes despite any taunting words you’d say was addictive. 

And he’d take any chance he would get to show you how much he thrived on it. 

He was being eager and you liked it. His hips were rocking up against you in minutes; both of his hands were holding your face and keeping you in place so he could kiss you as long as he wanted. 

Maybe you were letting him get away with too much, and maybe this was going to go much faster than you ever intended, but he was finally showing you just how deeply hungry for you he was - and maybe you couldn’t get enough of it. 

You matched his rocking with a thrust of your own and you felt him shiver, and you pulled out of the kiss to take this chance to tease. 

“Too much?” 

“Not enough,” he groaned, chasing your lips for more. You only gave him a short taste before pushing him back again, and he hit the back of the couch with a thud. 

“God, you’re so fucking desperate,” you taunted. “Already this hard from one kiss?” 

“All for you,” he admitted, throwing his head back as he wondered why the hell he let himself do this with you. How many times had he watched you dancing and flirting with another man all while your eyes were on him? How many nights had you left him with nothing to do but fuck his fist while trying to remember the way your lips tasted? How much longer before he’d finally have enough? 

What was it about you that he was so addicted to, anyway? What did you give him that everybody else lacked? Maybe it was just the chase of it all - maybe when he finally got a piece of you he’d be able to get past the wave of emotions you send over him any time you were around. 

But he knew he’d never get enough. Even if all of you was only his, he wouldn’t be satisfied. 

“What do you want, Osamu?” 

“Whatever you’ll give me,” he answered without looking up. 

You eyed the expanse of his neck before latching your lips onto his skin, pulling a reaction out of him that had you shivering this time. 

“That’s not a good enough answer,” you hummed. “Tell me what you want.” 

Like he’d come to the end of his rope and had no other option but to blurt out the truth, he said, “I want to fuck you,” and he had to swallow another moan before he could think of continuing. “Wanna stuff you with my cock and fuck my cum into you and show you how much fucking better I am than anyone else who’s ever tried to make you feel as good as I can - fuck, stop moving your hips like that, baby.” 

While he was mumbling descriptions of daydreams, sounding like he was making a wish to some god or star above, you were left wondering how far you would take this. You always knew you’d eventually come to this point, and yet the answer isn’t as clear as you once thought it would be. 

What happens when you give Osamu what he wants? Your fun with him would end, this cat and mouse game would be over. He’d get a taste of what he’s needed and maybe he would realize you weren’t all that. And he’d be off chasing someone else while you were left looking behind, waiting to see his needy eyes on you. 

Still - perfect moments like these don’t come often. And you were done toying with him, weren’t you? 

“You think you can make me feel good, ‘Samu?” 

“I know I could.” 

“Better than Shoyo could?” 

Every time you think you’re pushing just the right buttons, Osamu’s patience shows out. He should have thrown you onto the couch and had his way with you by now - you’d have no complaints if that’s how it panned out - but he held back. Even though his eyes said everything he was thinking, he stopped himself. He waited for your exact word before making any decision. 

He was avoiding your eyes and you didn’t like it. “Look at me, Osamu.” He did.

“You’re gonna stop saying anyone else’s name, sweetheart - it’s not as cute as you think it is.” 

Your next two words, “Make me,” were punctuated with a dramatic shift in your position - he pushed your body onto the couch and came towering over you, just like you’d been expecting him to do. 

“That’s all I needed to hear - I will.” 

You watched in awe as the man finally seemed to crack; he pulled his shirt off and the mask he seemed to be wearing all this time came off with it. His pristine control was thrown across the room, and all that was left was a hungry man tearing your clothes off like he was preparing his last meal. 

“Are you finally gonna have your way with me?” 

He grinned and said, “No,” and for a second you naively thought he was giving you a taste of your own medicine. He’d never dream of doing that, though. “I’m gonna take you how you deserve, baby - gonna show you how to feel good.” He kissed you without permission this time, too sweet to be so short, and followed it with the biting whisper, “I’m yours to use - tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Use me.” 

You’ve always had this much control over him, but it was never this apparent. And you had never used it for much benefit, because you really never knew how tight of a hold you had on him. You could tighten his collar until he couldn’t breathe and he’d let you; he would take any pain you inflicted as long as you kissed him better afterwards. 

And he was begging you to tell him what to do, waiting patiently and staying eager, and only now were you realizing how badly you needed to be served by no one but him. 

Maybe that realization is what had your act of confidence dissolving; maybe that’s why you could hardly wrap your tongue around your next words, “Your mouth, Osamu,” because just the thought of getting what you wanted had your stomach fluttering and your underwear soaked. You’d spent so long pushing him to the edge that you ended up right there with him, teasing yourself more than you ever teased him. 

He asked, “Where?” with a daring flirting edge posed to be a genuine question, like he was trying to see how commanding you would be. 

You pushed his shoulders down and said, “You know where,” and as he finally moved lower down your body, you stripped yourself of the clothes he’d left behind. 

He watched in desired awe as your pretty bra fell to the floor; seeing you bare underneath him for the first time felt like a bigger test of temptation than any time you had ever teased him on purpose. 

But he knew where you wanted him, even if you wouldn’t say it, even if it’s not where he wanted to be yet, even if he couldn’t take his eyes off of your neck or chest or stomach - there was no need for him to do anything you didn’t ask for. 

You’d already kicked your pants off and all Osamu had to do was take off your underwear, which he noted weren’t a match to your bra, and he’d add that to his list of endearing things about you. It was something so normal that nobody else would notice while he’d remember forever, something he’d tease you for later, something he’d stroke himself to the thought of. 

It’d go to the back of his mind for now, though, as he pulled your underwear down your shaking legs while you watched him. 

And he was convinced he was going to wake up any second now, so he rushed to make himself comfortable between your legs before his alarm clock woke him up - because there was no way this could actually, finally be happening. “God, you’re a dream.” 

“Hurry.” 

He could’ve listened, but he had to treat you right - this was only worth doing if he took his time. 

“Just relax,” he told you as he left kisses along your hip, “can’t rush these things.” 

“I would have came three times by now, if Sho - shit!” 

You were cut off with a rough spank to your thigh as well as Osamu’s tongue just barely tracing your clit, and it was enough to have your words stick to your throat. 

“What was that?” His voice sounded as dark as the look in his eyes, and it showed you that you’d finally found a button you shouldn’t press.  

“Go on - finish that sentence. I dare you to.” And he smacked your thigh again, just to prove his point. “You think anybody else would take their time with you? Would anyone else give this pretty pussy the attention it deserves, baby? Or do you know I’m the only one?” 

You had to swallow any excess pride just so you could voice a shaky reply, “I don’t know - show me.” 

Instead of voicing a response, he knew the only thing he had to do was what you asked. But he was sure if you pulled another stunt like that he’d end up leaving bruises with how brutally he’d show his ownership of you - that was one thing he wouldn’t let you get away with. 

But in that moment all he had to do was hook his arms around your thighs, hold you against his face, and devour you like he’d been dying to do for months now. So that’s what he did, and he watched as you threw your head back, listened as you moaned out for him, held you down as you rocked your hips against his face - and that was it. He felt like he’d just gotten a ticket into heaven. 

“That’s it,” he hummed, and you hardly noticed he’d pulled his mouth off of you because he didn’t break for long. He left with his teeth barely grazing your clit before he let himself speak again, and you had to reach down and grab his hand just to keep yourself grounded. “Just come undone for me, baby.” 

He groaned loud into you when you got a hold of his hair, and you felt those vibrations from his throat to your toes. 

And he needed you; he had his name on your lips and your legs around his head and his tongue inside you and still, still it wasn’t enough. He wanted more even though he had it all, and he wanted to push you further even though you were right where he needed you to be. 

But you kept pulling his hair and squeezing his hand and moaning his name - you were begging for him in every way you could and Osamu could hardly keep going without completely devouring you. 

You seemed to be getting close and he was filled to the brim with pride, but he had to stop to see just how much control you had slipped into his grasp. 

“Look down.” 

You did; for the first time, to Osamu’s recollection, you listened to him. 

You opened your eyes and saw him looking up at you, with the same look in his eyes as when you gave him that instruction, messy hair and flushed cheeks making him look as fucked out as you felt. 

Finally, suddenly, eagerly, he gave you more than just his mouth, his fingers exploring until he sunk two of them into you, and your head fell back. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, the sharpness of his voice matching the bite he left inside your thigh. “Don’t look away, or you’ll finish yourself off. And you’ll be moaning my name when you do, I’m sure.”

“Osamu, please.” 

“Just like that,” and he was laughing at you, grinning and happy to be the one teasing. “What is it, sweetheart? You wanna cum for me?” 

You pulled his hair and forced his mouth onto you, “Please, ‘Samu,” and he let you take the reins again because, despite how much he loved toying with you, all he really wanted to do was give you what you wanted.  “Fuck, just let me cum.” 

The curl of his fingers pumping into you and the warmth of his tongue lapping your clit and the obscene moans coming from his throat, with the look in his eyes and how tightly he was holding your hand and the way he was listening to your every command - it was all too much. It was all the realization of what you’d been missing, teasing, and leaving; it was something you didn’t know if you’d have again but you sure as hell couldn’t go without. 

He could see the way your body reacted to every single touch, and maybe that’s why he was giving it to you exactly how you liked. And he wanted to cause a scene; you were moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear and still not loud enough for Osamu - he was pleasuring you like he had an audience watching him and he’d be damned if he disappointed. 

He was made for this, you were sure - he was right where he belonged and both of you were loving it. 

“Come on, baby,” he taunted, “wanna see you cum for me, sweetheart, wanna feel this tight cunt cumming around my fingers - I know you’re holding back, just let it go.” 

He tried pulling his hand from yours but you only tightened your hold and pulled his mouth back down to your clit rather than giving him his free hand or a moment to breathe. So he squeezed your hand, endeared at the feeling of you holding on to him. 

Osamu felt it as you started to do as he told you and let go - he watched as your world started to amplify as you chased for more of him, begged to reach that peak, focused on getting there. Your eyes squeezed shut and Osamu just didn’t have it in him to punish you for it, especially when you looked so pretty being absolutely unraveled. 

Teasing words were caught in the back of his throat but he couldn’t stop tasting you long enough to say them. Your thighs were shaking and your moans were screams and he could hardly keep pumping his fingers with how tight your walls were pulsing around them and that was it - Osamu was close to cumming himself just at the sight of you cumming for him, and the ache in his pants was more apparent now than ever before. 

But he couldn’t care about his own pleasure, not while he was so absolutely focused on you and yours. You were the only thing on his mind and he could only hope you were thinking about solely him. 

“So fucking hot,” he said, not even thinking anymore as he kept you cumming with his fingers. “My good fucking girl - that was all for me, wasn���t it? Look at you, making a fucking mess, all for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

He couldn’t stop, he wanted to draw this out and take you there again, he wanted to push you farther. He didn’t want you to catch your breath or take a break, he only wanted you to keep moaning, begging, cumming for him. 

But, as he was ready to add a third finger inside of you, “Too much, ‘Samu.” 

“Not enough,” he reminded you. “You’ve got one more for me, sweetheart, try for me.” 

But you pulled on his hand you’d been holding, trying to pull him up to you, and he had to give in. After pulling his fingers out of you, careful and slow and too attentive to the way your body seemed to resist, he let you tug him up. 

You clinged to him, your legs coming to wrap around his waist and your hand holding his jaw to bring him down for a kiss. 

“You’re a mess,” you said with a laugh upon noticing his glossy lips and soaked chin, all caused by you. 

“It’s your fault,” he said. “I’ll go clean up - you need anything?” 

You shook your head, “Stay,” and hooked your legs together across his back, as if to lock him into place. 

“Look who the clingy one is now,” he remarked, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it. 

He didn’t know what all of it meant. He didn’t know how you had gone from dancing with another man mere hours ago to clinging onto Osamu like he was the only thing keeping you sane, but it didn’t matter. He had you and you were his, at least for the night, and he’d gotten a more than good enough taste of you. That was all he needed to know it’d never get better than you - and he’d keep waiting for more. 

[gohyuck]

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned​

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers! 

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes. 

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful. 

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze. 

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes. 

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying. 

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh. 

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from. 

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material. 

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl. 

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh. 

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?” 

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him. 

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity. 

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do. 

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week. 

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together. 

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess. 

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore. 

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to. 

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again. 

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time. 

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men. 

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?” 

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has. 

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny. 

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets. 

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes. 

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team. 

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill. 

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man. 

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink. 

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with. 

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!” 

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved. 

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is. 

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly. 

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck. 

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands. 

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.” 

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly. 

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s. 

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.”   Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can. 

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out. 

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right. 

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up. 

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes. 

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do. 

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak. 

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched. 

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly. 

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well. 

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about. 

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt. 

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them. 

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride. 

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted. 

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again. 

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.” 

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same. 

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone. 

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in. 

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now. 

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so. 

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark. 

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh. 

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?” 

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it. 

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true. 

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against. 

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day. 

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.” 

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind. 

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now. 

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be. 

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason. 

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ” 

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best. 

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess. 

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it. 

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again. 

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it. 

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss. 

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness. 

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture. 

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view. 

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his. 

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him. 

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale. 

 ♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth. 

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck. 

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go. 

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking. 

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain. 

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained. 

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

[areyoumiserableyet]

WIP TAG GAME

My dear pal @les-amis-dcd tagged me in this fun WIP game, which is hilarious because if there's anyone who knows I have an unending number of WIPs it's them <3 The purpose is to share the first few lines of 10 WIPs, and tag some friends to join. I actually only came up with 8 that I felt comfy sharing, but it was fun to look at these and remind myself that oh yeah, I'm a writer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Thanks for tagging me, friend!

WIP #1: Lover of the Light; Chapter 8

It had been Enjolras’s idea, in the end.

It didn’t take long for the internet to find him, less than two hours, in fact, and Enjolras had woken up to an influx of emails, direct messages, and follow requests. The blog’s traffic was four times the norm, and several of the other writers and editors had sent him messages asking what the hell was going on.

He’d never been so desperate for a cup of coffee, and he was already in the doorway of the kitchen, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, by the time he registered there were voices coming from inside.

(This is from the next chapter of my Rockstar!R AU, currently up on AO3. This is my Enjolras-POV monster, and I promise I have not given up on her 🙏🏻)

WIP #2: From Nobody; Chapter 4

They stay in touch after that.

Grantaire spends the next year and a half traveling around Southeast Asia with a guy who may or may not be an international arms dealer, and Enjolras spends it getting his undergrad in political science back in New York.

A week after running into Enjolras in D.C., Grantaire had decided he had enough money saved to ditch his serving gig and fuck off to Bangkok, which is exactly what he does. He’s not sure why he chose Thailand other than for the fact that it is very, very far away.

(This is from the next chapter of my Grantaire-POV monster, which is honestly one of my favorite projects. Chapters 1-3 now up on AO3!)

The rest are under the cut!

WIP #3: The Dad Joke

Enjolras checks the diaper bag sitting in the front seat one more time before turning off the ignition, glancing in his rearview mirror at the building behind him. It’s a library, so small and nondescript that Enjolras, a born-and-raised native, wasn’t even aware of its existence until Courfeyrac texted him the address that morning. Its obscurity isn’t terribly surprising, not with the city’s main branch and its collection of some four million works a mere few blocks away. Still, the tiny Rosewood Library seems to be stubbornly hanging on despite this, much like Enjolras himself these days.

(This fic will be my first foray into Enjolras/Combeferre/Grantaire and will see most of les amis as adorable parents - including the trio! I have a decent amount of this written and planned out, but I'm determined to wait until it's fully complete before posting anything)

WIP #4: Occupy Love; Unnumbered Work

“Eponine?”

Grantaire lifted his head from where he was doodling on a napkin at the same time Eponine replied, “Marius? Hi! How are you?” Grantaire watched, confused, as she got up from her chair and gave the man - Marius - a quick hug.

“A lot better than the last time we saw each other,” Marius said with a self-deprecating laugh. Grantaire squinted his eyes at the blush that rose on Marius’s cheeks. Who the hell is this? he thought to himself. It was strange for Eponine to have friends Grantaire didn’t know about. Especially a guy like this. Marius was tall and broad, a messy flop of brownish-red hair on his head. He appeared perpetually nervous, shuffling from foot to foot and wringing his hands together. Plus, he was wearing a navy polo shirt and khakis, for Christ's sake.”

(I'm not 100% positive where it will end up, but eventually, this will be a part of Occupy Love, my series that tells the story of les amis as the individuals responsible for Occupy Wall Street in 2011, currently on AO3. This story jumps back and forth in time and features POVs from many of les amis, with a focus (so far) on EXR (obviously), Eponine/Combeferre, Feuilly/Montparnasse, and Courfeyrac/Jehan.)

WIP #5: Graveyard Shift

October 31st, 1997

11:59PM

Halloween

“What are you supposed to be?” Feuilly asks as soon as Montparnasse walks in for his shift at The Diner, which is such a shithole it doesn’t even have a name. The place hasn’t been updated since the 50s, with cracked checkerboard floors and split leather barstools. The front is covered in windows that probably haven’t been cleaned in months and are lined with the same red neon lights adorning the lit-up sign on the roof that just says 24 HOURS in big, bright letters. Feuilly has taped up some of those cheesy cardboard decorations, images of a witch and a black cat and a haunted house depicted in typical Halloween colors. There’s also a plastic jack-o-lantern next to the register, filled to the brim with Fun Dip, and Montparnasse plucks one from the bucket before turning his attention back to his manager.

“Allen Iverson,” Montparnasse says, gesturing at the 76ers jersey he clearly has on, albeit begrudgingly. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be wearing it all but, alas, it’s been on the ‘employee notice board’ for weeks - HALLOWEEN SHIFT: COSTUME MANDATORY.

(This is the beginning of a WIP that I am MANIFESTING will be posted this fall. It's very close to being done and is really a huge step out of my comfort zone when it comes to style and POV. It's sort of a mix between third-person omniscient and limited, with the POV changing as the characters interact with one another. I've honestly written this as if the story is one long continuous take like in a film. Hard to explain but I'm excited for people to read it and tell me what they think! Plus, it's set in the 90s so LOTS more fun references where that Allen Iverson one comes from!)

WIP #6: Valley Uprising

The only sounds in Enjolras’s head are his slow, practiced breaths and his pounding heart. He focuses on the first to drown out the last as he pulls a piton from his gear. Blowing out another slow breath, he readjusts his footing, ignores his cramping fingers.

Enjolras hammers the piton into the granite wall he’s clinging to and connects his rope to the bolt using a carabiner. He lets out a long, shaky breath, emptying his lungs completely in a way that would’ve been reckless only moments before.

He looks up, squinting into the sunlight, calculating. He’s just finished the twelfth pitch which means at this moment, Enjolras is about nine hundred feet above the valley floor.

His stomach swoops uncomfortably at that, and although he closes his eyes against the sensation, he lets himself feel it. Enjolras learned a long time ago that the fear’s not going anywhere, so you might as well make friends.

(This WIP is just an idea I had after watching one of my favorite documentaries, Valley Uprising. It's about the evolution of rock climbing in Yosemite, and no I don't know anything about climbing, only that this documentary is so dope it's had my ADHD brain ENTHRALLED for years. I recently saw standalone posted a rock climbing AU that's currently in my Marked for Later folder and I'm very excited about it, so this bad boy may just stay in the ether forever 🤷🏻‍♀️)

WIP #7: Red Right Hand

“Inspector Javert will see you now,” the secretary informs Enjolras politely, and he stands immediately, taking a moment to adjust his tie and clear his throat before striding into the Inspector’s office.

“Good day, Inspector,” Enjolras says in greeting, smiling as his superior rises from his chair to shake Enjolras’s hand.

“Good day, son,” Javert replies. “It is a pleasure to formally meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, sir,” Enjolras says. “And I must say, Inspector, I am honored to work for you on this assignment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Enjolras. Please have a seat,” Javert replies, gesturing at the leather high-back chair stationed on the opposite side of the Inspector’s large oak desk. Enjolras does as he’s told, acutely aware of his posture in a way he isn’t under normal circumstances. “I trust you’ve read the briefing and understand well your assignment here in Birmingham.”

(This is a Peaky Blinders AU that I recently started, and by 'started' I mean I scribbled down some incoherent ramblings after binging Peaky over a few of days. This damn show is one of my current hyperfixations, and I couldn't unsee E as Grace and R as Tommy. I just couldn't. This may also never see the light of day, as I have so many other WIPs to work on.)

WIP #8: Ghosts That We Knew, prequel to Lover of the Light

Two Months

“Hello?”

“This is a call from the New York Police Department, Midtown South Precinct. To accept this call, please press one now.”

Grantaire does so, his pulse quickening. “Hello? E?”

“Taire? Can you pick me up? There’s $500 cash in an envelope in the bedside drawer. Bring that for bond.”

“Christ, E,” Grantaire breathes out, feeling much calmer after hearing Enjolras’s voice. “How often does this happen?”

“How about you stick around and find out?” Enjolras quips, and Grantaire thinks, not for the first time, that he is so fucked."

(This is sort of cheating, as it's not the first few lines of this fic, but those are currently nonexistent. This WIP will be a kind-of prequel to Lover of the Light. It will show Enjolras and Grantaire throughout their first year of dating, with a slice of life for each month.)

And there ya have it…my failures. Lol jk I just wish I had the time, energy, and inspiration to finish them all 😩oh and anyone who actually read all of this shall consider themselves tagged! ♥️

[im-just-a-random-fandom-girl]

trying to articulate my frustrations with Marvel’s treatment of female characters and characters of color

Hi, hello, hola, bonjour. I've been having a lot of thoughts about Marvel’s lack of diversity and of how they treat minority characters, so I'm taking a page out of Luisa’s (@its-tortle) book and just making a long, rambley post to get it all out.

Please bear with me while I try to encapsulate all of my frustration within the limitations of English language.

(ALSO, I'm white. I’m Spanish-American, but I do not have the ability to speak for fans of color and the other grievances they have. This post is just a combination of my own thoughts and what I've heard other people say on Tumblr, in YouTube videos, in articles etc.)

Now that we've had over week to collect ourselves after the WandaVision finale, because it was such a tearjerker and the end of a true masterpiece of a show, we really need to talk about how Marvel treats their their characters of color and female characters. I'll specifically be looking at Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Monica Rambeau.

Let's start with Sam.

Until Monica Rambeau became Photon just a few weeks ago in WandaVision, Sam was THE ONLY Black superhero in the MCU.

He first appeared in Captain America: The Winter Soldier 7 years ago in 2014, and he's been in 4 movies since then (not counting the post-credits of Ant-Man).

Let's see what we know about Sam in the MCU:

He was a pararescue airman in the U.S. Airforce

His wing-man, Riley, died in combat, prompting him to leave active duty

He works at the VA to help other veterans adjust to civilian life

That's it. This is all we know about his backstory, separate from Captain America. However, the MCU decided to include these parts of his backstory, (and exclude others) because they make him a better supporting character to Steve.

Sam's a vet - so is Steve. They have the same, early-morning run routine that alludes to strict military training. Steve is still new to the future and hardly knows or approaches anyone, but Sam is wearing his VA sweatshirt, so there's some sense of connection, one that is furthered when they talk about their beds being too soft. Sam is someone who can understand him, aside from being a super soldier.

Riley, Sam's wingman, died in combat - Hmm, haven't heard that one befo - oh, wait. *Bucky waves from the abyss of the Alps*. Yeah.

I'm not saying that these connections are bad, in fact, I think the opposite. In terms of storyline, these connections are incredibly important for their friendship. Steve is lost and alone in the future. No one he knows cares about him for any reason other than the fact that he's a super soldier, nor can he relate to any of those people on any level. Sam just fits. He's funny and kind and although they are 60 years apart in age, he can, to some extent, understand what Steve is going through in a way they no one else can.

But for the last 7 years in the MCU, all he's been is Steve's supportive friend.

Almost immediately after meeting Steve, Sam is dragged into an end-of-the-world battle. He readily agrees to put his life on the line to fight by Captain America's side. After SHIELD falls, Sam gives up his life for 2 years to help Steve find Bucky. When they find him, Sam, without a second thought, becomes an international fugitive to protect Bucky and Steve.

I mean, he practically says that he lives in Steve's shadow himself: 

"Don't look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Who does all this? Seriously? Sam is also a recovering vet. He, in theory, has a life, a family, a job, his own mental well-being to consider, but he immediately gives it all up to help Captain America, to follow in his shadow, to be his back-up and support in every battle. Marvel wrote him as a 2D character that lacks his own identity and agency.

Sam deserves his own storyline; he deserves to exist outside the orbit of Steve Rogers.

What Mackie has been able to do with the character is astounding. He took Sam off the page and truly brought him to life, turning him into a beloved character. I'm ecstatic that both Mackie and Sam finally (hopefully) get their time to shine in TFATWS, but it should have happened WAY sooner. Marvel has continuously overlooked Mackie, despite how much he brings to the movies and despite the significance of Sam as the only Black superhero. It's just so clear that they do not care about representation.

(And let's not start with the whole "Bucky should be Captain America" thing, thanks)

Next, let's talk about Natasha.

Nat has been in the MCU for 11 years, starting with Iron Man 2 in 2010. She was heavily featured in an additional 6 MCU movies (not including small cameos/post-credit sequences). She's one of the few female superheroes in the MCU, and the only one that's been there since the beginning. Nat was the only female superhero for 4 years until Gamora appeared in Guardians of the Galaxy.

Let's see what we know about Natasha's history:

She's a former KGB operative and assassin, trained in the Red Room project

When she was a part of the Red Room, she was sterilized

Clint Barton got her out of the Red Room and converted her to a SHIELD agent

THAT'S IT. The second point is actually nauseating because this is what she says to Banner when we learn about her infertility in Age of Ultron:

"They sterilize you. It’s efficient. One less thing to worry about, the one thing that might matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier — even killing. You still think you’re the only monster on the team?"

Like, actually, what the fuck? I remember watching this scene and having to rewind because I thought I mis-heard what she said. In truth, Natasha is probably referring to the terrible things she was forced to do as a KGB operative are what make her a "monster," but why in the world would they include this anecdote here?? It's just so distasteful and disgusting! It makes it seem like her infertility is what makes her a monster, perpetuating the misogynistic belief that the center of a woman's identity and purpose is to have children.

As Vox says in this article, the subject of Nat's infertility 

"rears its head sub-textually when Black Widow sacrifices herself for the Soul Stone. [...] It’s reasonable for Natasha to make the calculation that Clint’s kids deserve to have a dad when they come back to life after the Avengers complete their “time heist.” But because of that Ultron plot, there’s also an insidious implication that Natasha’s infertility renders Black Widow just a little bit more disposable than the rest of her teammates."

Furthermore, Nat's death in Endgame serves for nothing more than motivation for the other characters working in the time heist, WHICH ARE ALL MALE. Even then, the other characters talk about her death briefly (in a mostly unaffected manner), and by the end of the movie, she's been pretty much forgotten about,  completely overshadowed by Tony Stark.

I don't want to say that Nat shouldn't have died in Endgame. It caused me so much heartache and emotional pain, but I truly believe it was a great way to end her arc. CinemaWins on YouTube put it best:

"She needed to save her family, Clint included, finally wiping the red from her ledger. So much of her jouney in the MCU was trying to find her purpose, figure out which side she was on, and she finally feels like she's found it, just in time to die for it. 

"It's not wrong to feel cheated by her death, [but I think] she deserved this moment because of it's importance."

She says it in the movie: 

"I used to have nothing, and then I got this. This family. And I was better because of it."

Nat shouldn't have to die, but it's on her terms, and she is absolutely ready for it. Saving her chosen family... that is her purpose.

But altogether, over the course of the MCU, Natasha was cheated out of getting the storyline she deserved. Like Sam, she was relegated to the position of the supportive friend of Steve, but also of Bruce and Clint. For the audience, her identity is tied to this role that she plays. The identity and motivations she has independent from these other characters, her history, is skimmed over, and treated with immense disrespect.

It took 11 years, but it is thrilling that Scarlett Johansson finally gets to be the start of her own Marvel movie. There is no way that Black Widow will be able to completely make up for her and Natasha's mistreatment by the MCU, but I hope it will at least bring us some closure and allow us to have a better understanding of Nat's history and who she is away from the other Avengers.

Last, but certainly not least (despite what WandaVision may have you believe) is Monica Rambeau.

I spoke about this last week after posting about this review of the show, but it bears repeating.

Monica is a new character. You'd hope that, after 11 years of extremely limited diversity in the MCU, much to the dismay of fans worldwide, and after recognizing this and creating a movie with a cast like The Eternals, Marvel would try to get their shit together across the board.

Nope!

Monica was seriously the token diversity character of the show. It seemed like they would give her more depth after the episode during which they flashed back to the her during and after the snap, losing her mother, and seeing a little bit of what she's done as an adult since Captain Marvel, but that ended up being the most we got.

But why? Monica literally became a SUPERHERO. She became Photon! She deserved a much greater role in the show, especially in the finale, where she instead had maybe 5 lines and just stopped some bullets for about 30 seconds.

As the review I linked says, 

“There are so many black writers, fans, and critics noting how Monica got relegated to a complete lack relegated to meaningless best friend protector lacking in their own self agency and story except for making a shoehorned comparison of grief.”

Marvel made the same, bull-headed mistake that they made with Sam with Monica!

Let's do this again. Monica was snapped away for 5 years, and when she was snapped back, she learned that her mother had died. Losing someone you love and having the whole process of mourning and pain be complicated by the snap? What an interesti- oh wait. *Vision phases his head through the wall with a smile*

The only reason we got this backstory was because it made her a more sympathetic character towards Wanda. Her understanding of what Wanda is going through allows her to be the catalyst in the creation of the ideological fork in the road between herself, Darcy and Woo, who see Wanda as a victim of grief and loss, and Hayward and the rest of SHIELD, who see her as a dangerous threat.

How do you make the same, major mistake that you've been making for the past 7 years again? Guess what? You don't! Maybe it's not intentional, but Marvel, again, clearly doesn’t care enough about their characters of color to consider the roles they relegate them to in the MCU, realize what they've been doing is harmful, and then change it.

Hopefully, they will not continue to treat Monica this way and will remedy this in the next Captain Marvel.

In conclusion: MARVEL GAVE A FUCKING ROBOT AN ACTUAL ORIGIN STORY, A RELATIONSHIP AND MORE INDEPENDENCE THAN ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS.

But in all seriousness, Marvel needs to be help accountable for how they treat women and their characters of color in the MCU. I just looked at 3, but you could also make a similar argument about Rhodey, Hope van Dyne and Valkyrie, as well as Jane Foster, MJ, and Ned, although they are supporting characters and not superheroes. And I'm sure there are many others. Marvel (and Disney!!) has had an awful track-record, and change is long overdue.

[popculturebuffet]

Uncle Scrooge by Don Rosa:  The Isle at the Edge of Time (Thank You Comission For Rosie Isla)

Hello all you happy people! Today’s review is a bit special as it’s the result of another review. See I had trouble finding a translation of the subject of last weeks’ mother’s day special, Family Ties. 

No not that one. I have Paramount+. I can watch all the Family Ties I want and that’s a fact that i’m pleased as punch about. 

No it was the story 80 is Prachtig, called Family Ties in the copy used, Della’s first major comics appearance and one that explains what happened to her in the classic continuity, one that clearly served as the foundation for her far more fleshed out 2017 versions personality and backstory. It also had Pinocchio in it for some reason, and spent most of it’s large run time on a meta comedy plot that had nothing to do with the reason anyone wanted to read this story in the first place.

But despite being a vitally important story, it never got an english translation, something that baffled me till I read the story and found cameos of the racist indigenous stereotypes from Peter Pan. In 2014. You may commence booing. Even with how weird the story was I simply couldn’t find the story googling it and the Della tag is too vast and deep to go spelunking in.

So what’s all this have to do? Simple I put out a post last month when neither I nor Kev, who wanted to comission it as part of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my coverage of all three season 2 Ducktales story arcs, could find a copy and offered a review to whoever found it.  Weeks passed I got nothing.. then in the 11th hour I got a break as the lovely @rosieisla​ found a translation that was on this very site, one she seemed to have helped with. As a result I could do the review and as a man of my word, offered it up despite her clearly having not seen that part of the post and simply having done this to be nice. Still she gladly took up the offer and offered me my pick of two stories: The Carl Barks Story Back to Long Ago or this one. 

As for WHY I picked this one Back To Long Ago didn’t seem bad, i’m just not a fan of “The Cast is put in the past as their own ancestors” type deals. Or in some cases put the cast as people from that time period. It’s just not for me and is most often done in TV where it can get really goofy, Beverly Hills 90210 being a prime example of this, though Girl Meets World was no slouch in being embarassing... that being said I really need to finish that show and miss it. 

So yeah when put up against a story with two intresting hooks and FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD, even if i’ts not the version that’s my boy, it was no contest. So what are these hooks you ask? Well join me under the cut and find out. 

We open with a weird stylistic choice: This story has a narrator complete with caption boxes. Now for those of you familiar with comics or pastiches of comics in tv and film, this probably dosen’t seem like a big deal. It was a common thing in comics from their inception to 90′s to have caption boxes, big boxes of text narrating the action to help move things along faster. It did start to fade out by the 80′s and was gone by the end of the 90′s for the most part, replaced instead with first person narration. It’s the kind of thing you’d see most often in the Golden and Silver Ages, with stuff like tihs

It’s not a BAD device, it’s good old cheesy and bombastic fun and some writers did get clever with it.. like that time Chris Claremont used the narration to yell at a greiving cyclops after he lost a teammate early in his long and storied run on the uncanny x-men. 

This is a objectively weird scene that’s still somehow effective by the by. On the one hand it does come off as Chris Claremont essentally bullying Cyclops who already feels guilty for a death that was not in fact his fault as Thunderbird was told the plane he was attacking with fleeing villian Count Nefaria was about to explode and refused to listen.. and that they needed to get rid of either him or Wolverine as both served the same purpose and chose the non-white guy. 

On the other htough it comes off just as much as Scott beating himself up in his grief and anger over the event and his perceived failings as a leader. It’s good stuff and shows why this run caught on as this was only three issues in. Also the rest of the issue features the X-Men fighting a giant cyclopian demon that Cyclops accidently freed in his rage by destroying the stone thing keeping him imprisoned. No really here’s the cover

Huh so tha’ts what Nifty’s dad looks like. Neat. Also I REALLY hope we get the X-Men fighting aliens or demons in the MCU. Unlike the XCU the MCU isn’t alergic to getting batshit.. and for the record Deadpool and New Mutants are the exception, not the rule.

My point that I swear I do have is that this was common practice for most comics.. but never really for Disney Duck comics. It popped up ocasionally, like with Scrooge’s introduction, but Barks and those after him never really used them that much. Sure they’d have caption boxes for flasbacks and what not but Barks and Co geninely only used this sort of thing to set up a story. The most i’ve seen it in a duck comic is life and times and even then i’ts usually only used for gags or to set up the passage of time, as the story IS covering decades and thus often needed to have montages to show time passing, and in the case of chapter 11, had to cover decades in the span of a single chapter, so it’s not like they had many other options. So even Rosa as a personal quirk didn’t really use these often. 

Rosa used this specifically because he felt the plot was complicated by the use of the international date line. As for what it is, it’s essentially a line marking calender dates from one side of the hemisphere to the others. To use the offical defentition from the National Ocean Service I found via a quick google:

“The International Date Line, established in 1884, passes through the mid-Pacific Ocean and roughly follows a 180 degrees longitude north-south line on the Earth. It is located halfway round the world from the prime meridian—the zero degrees longitude established in Greenwich, England, in 1852.

The International Date Line functions as a “line of demarcation” separating two consecutive calendar dates. When you cross the date line, you become a time traveler of sorts! Cross to the west and it’s one day later; cross back and you’ve “gone back in time."

Despite its name, the International Date Line has no legal international status and countries are free to choose the dates that they observe. While the date line generally runs north to south from pole to pole, it zigzags around political borders such as eastern Russia and Alaska’s Aleutian Islands.”

Rosa felt this made the story complicated.... and that... really isn’t remotely true. The narration is mostly used for gagas and really dosen’t clarify anything. it’s mostly used well in the opening.. but the actual explinations for the date line are clear enough in the story that even if I hadn’t looked the thing up, I still would’ve got it and i’m sure a kid would’ve too. It just feels like a weird thing to ruminate on, especially because he’s got actual things to make up for: while to his credit the native american characters he cribbed from carl barks are sympathetic, their culture respected and treated decently and used for a green aseop, their dialouge is stitled and sterotypical something he dosen’t even comment on (And these trades ewren’t THAT long ago) 

And of course it dosen’t help that he dosen’t even comment on using a common device in american superhero boooks.. in the same volume where he ONCE again makes an unwanted and outdated diatribe about superhero comics. I’ll probably cover the Super Snooper Strikes again so I can throughly tear this apart but higlights include: Calling superhero comics “Unwanted” just because he dosen’t like them personally, when people like me would disagree and they’ve lasted through a LOT of highs and lows, outdately saying they took over the American market as the only suitable comics which while true for a TIME,but by 2015 when this book was printed is laughably out of date, as non superhero works like The Walking Dead, Saga, and Scott Pilgrim were massively popular, one of my faviorite comics that is entirely slice of life and would go on to bea huge hit, Giant Days, re-debuted that very year. He also has the fucking gal to insult The Uncanny X-Men by name and I swear to god I did not know this when I made those references earlier, but as you probably guessed REALLY god me livid. 

And this is just on his COMMENTS on the story I can’t imagine just how bad the content itself is and having read the first few pages which come off as Rosa using Donald to essentially do an “old man yells at cloud rant” about superhero comics, I really don’t want to. Might make htis a patreon exclusive or again would do it on comissoin. You all make the call.... the point is I don’t likes his elitist bullshit about superhero comics, and this is clearly something that gets my hackles up as I just spent a good two paragraphs of an entirely unrealted review yelling at the guy for it. I don’t like when he does this and this authors notes entirley felt like an excuse. I GET the dark age of comics were bad, they REALLY were that bad, but I will NEVER accept painting an enitre genre as bad just because one work in it is bad. And I wont accept it from someone who himself writes about an often throughly unlikeable anti-hero for a living.  Scrooge may not have a gun on his gun on his gun or get to stabbing or have pouches, but he DOES finacially abuse his nephew, scoff at people’s personal troubles, and often refuse to use his wealth to help others in general. So yeah in conclusion Rosa really needs to say less about this subject. 

Okay so where were we.. right the story hadn’t even started yet. Jesus. 

Okay so our story begins with the narrator. Whose going on about time and what not. The main point of this speech about time is that it’s night in Duckburg and Scrooge is going to bed as, even being the workhorse that he is, he can’t keep going 24 hours. While he’s snoozing though something major happens and it’s the hook that made me pick this story along with the international dateline one.. an island rises thanks to volcanic erruption.. and the lava is GOLD. That’s just pure unabashed classic Duck Stuff: a mysterious treasure or phenominon of gold bound to bring scrooge in. 

But Scrooge isn’t stupid: the sun comes up and the world still spins while he sleeps, so he set up a satalite to monitor for this sort of thing. The thing naturally goes nuts.. and even more naturally breaks down becasue Scrooge bought cheap parts. A nice gag and a fully in character way to bring our antagonist into the picture, as the Satellite of Loaded falls in the middle of South Africa... right on the property of my boy Flintheart Glomgold. 

This is something Rosa brought up in his commentary for the story i’d never thought about. It turns out Glomgold being a citzen of Duckburg WASN’T an invention of the original Ducktales but the comics: some overseas had understandably moved him from his home country of South Africa. Him bieing in the same town as Scrooge instead of half a world away allows for easier setups and more intresting ones.

Rosa however being obdient to Barks Version of things, ketp Glomgold in South Africa like barks did, which was an .. ifffy decision given Apartheid had JUST ended at the time of this story. Not so much in the reboot as not only had apartheid been long gone by the time of the reboot, but that’s more fair. Still we do get some gorgeous vistas as a result as Glomgold’s minon goes to look at it and finds it’s from McDuck Mining company... Glomgold’s reaction is obvious. 

So on that note we cut to Scrooge rushing to Donalds house and forcing him awake and not telling him anything at first. Look his Ducktales Counterpart straight up kidnapped his donald in my last review, I’d call this a win. He also tries to dress Donald while explaning both his panic to find the crashed satlitle and what it found: the golden island. The end result of him dressing donald is worth a chuckle

So after Donald puts his shirt and little hat on our heroes get rollin rollin rollin what keep rollin rollin rollin who to Manilla. On the plane we get the scene I mentioned: The boys make a quip about Scrooge having lost a day and the group go over the international date line. It’s a fun little scene especially Donald trying to get paid early at the end. Classic scrooge and donald stuff without the abusive undertones some of their classic stuff has. 

Meanwhile Glomgold works out the data and finds out about the gold island, and his excitement accidently wakes a giraffe outside.. welll it was nice knowing him, Giraffes are the deadliest species known to man.. here’s an educational video t back that up....

So at Manilla Airport, Scrooge finds out abotu the south african crash, figuring he’ll get a laugh out of glomgold being there ... only for Donald to spot the Jet. Scrooge figures this can’t be anything good... now come on man maybe he’s just promoting his energy drink. 

As super sayin god super sayian as my witness, I will never get tired of Ultra Instinct Glomgold here. 

Scrooge isn’t so nice about that though and figures he better find out if Glomgold knows about the island and bribes one of the fueling crew for his uniform. He sucesssfully eavesdrops on Glomgold talking to his pilot, finding out from him exactly WHERE the island is. He ends up hilariously botching the mission though: when getting ready to leave Glomgold complains abotu the price of gas and that naturally causes Scrooge, just as cheap, to join in... and Glomgold to find out it’s Scrooge. The two wrestle outside the plane but before this can progress to a game of Naked Robber an airport security guy comes up and Scrooge cleverly claims that Glomgold’s plane has an infestiation, requring it to be quanrantined and allowing Scrooge to jet on.. thoguh not with an actual jet. With Glomgold seemingly dispatched, he can afford to save some money and take his time with a seaplane and I know just the man for the job. 

Oh nope looks like he’s busy. So one time related rambles later we meet Keoki, their asian pilot from the tiny island of Wookawooka.. and no that’s not a real place i checked... and no Fozzy dosen’t own it his check bounced. That being said it is a very well done represntation of someone from a smaller country: he’s doing this job to try and bring money back home, but being a seaplane captain just isn’t enough and his island is dying. Scrooge naturally is about as sympathetic as you’d expect, having apparently never even heard of the idea of a bonus when Huey, Dewey or Louie suggests it. 

Even less suprising is that Glomgold streaks by in his Jet:turns out Manilla was already overun with the bugs Scrooge claimed and Donald rubs it in that had Scrooge got a JET this wouldn’t of been an issue. 

So Glomgold easily beats them there, and to add insult and actualy injury to a cash based one, our heroes get blasted by golden lava on the way in and crash. Should’ve gotten launchpad... got the crashing professional. Keoki is dispondent as this means his people are doomed. He also dosen’t know waht staking a claim is when Scrooge mentions it and the boys bring him up to speed with the poor guy saying he wish he could for WookaWooka. Donald also makes a valid point about how greedy and heartlress scrooge can be.. and really billiionares in general.

No no YOUR the Grouch who refuses to have one drop of emapthy. Donald’s just pissed at your general selfish and terrible behavior. 

Glomgold glomgloats and has seemingly won... but naturally that rant that seemed extranious at the time about the date line comes into play: turns out the Island is on it, and since glomgold put his marker int he west, Scrooge simply puts his in the east which is a whole day before. Now GRANTED there’s nor eal legal prescendice for the intetaoinal date line itself , as noted above... but there’s enough witnesses in Scrooge’s favor that it simply does not matter anyway. Scrooge SEEMINGLY wins.

But Huey, Dewey Or Louie instead backs another claim: Keoki’s from earlier. While it was made in gest, he and the others along with Donald back it as witnsses instad. WookaWooka is saved and SCrogoe ends the story yelling at the narrator.

Final Thoughts: Don Rosa.. did not like this story, feeling it wasn’t one of his best and apologizing for it. I however.. really loved it. It’s not PERFECT: the narration feels not entirely necessary and the gag isn’t as funny as he thinks, though the payoff of scrooge saying “it’s time for this story to end” is fucking hilarous. I also feel it’s a bit too compressed: the story is only 16 pages and was only THAT long because Rosa added a few for exposition, a worthy addition. This feels like one of his 30 page adventure stories but slightly crammed into half the length. I also feel the golden island bit was BADLY underused as it’s such a cool setting but barely shows up in the story. 

But despite that.. it’s still a fun story: as is standard for Rosa the art is gorgeous and the humor is great. And unlike some stories where Rosa casually ignores how terrible scrooge is, here it’s his own greed and hubris that do him in: had he actually agreed to help Keoki, the boys likey would’ve let him keep the island but his own cold refusual to be a human being does him in, just as his cheapness nearly did. Flintheart is also decent here.. not the deepest foe but frankly most classical duck antagonists really aren’t all that fleshed out, and we still get some good bits with him. The dateline bit, while telegraphing that it will be important, as I said REALLY isn’t that hard to understand. All in all while i’ll agree with Rosa this isn’t his BEST, it’s still a really damn good story and one he shoudln’t be ashamed of. 

Tommorow: Green Eggs and ham is back for some train shenanigans! Kay. 

Saturday: The Tom Retrospective returns for it’s last detour! Eclipsa and Moon team up to stop meteora but grapple with diffrent wants: One to save her daughter.. the other to stop waht she clearly sees as an out of control monster. The result.. will only lead to tragedy and a hell of a two parter. 

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon, patroen.com/popculturebuffet. At as low as 2 bucks a month you get accesss to my patreon discord, exclusive reviews, and to pick a short when I do one of my shortstragavanzas, a marthon of theatrical shorts honoring a characters birthday. And given Donald’s is next month, now’s the time to get on board. 

But if you go up to 5 you get a guaranteed review of whatever you want every month, and will get me to my next milestone, which will give everyone including yourself a monthly public darkwing duck review, reviews of the two Ducktales minis’ I haven’t covered (Time is Money and SuperDuckTales) and a reivew of the Danny Phantom film the Ultimate Enemy. So please join today and if you cannot, like this review, subscribe and give me your opinions on it bellow. Or even if you can feedback is always appricated and I will see you at the next rainbow. 

[thebluelemontree]

Hiya blue lemon it's me again. Do you have any criticism in the way GRRM wrote Sansa in book1/2? EX:.Sansa and Jeyne are BFF but we amolst never see the girls talking to eachother, and when JP is sex traffikced sansa just forget about her(we could have a scene where sansa try to find what happened to JP or at least grieve for her). Every time sansa appears as a non-POV in AGOT she's been mean and whe we have her POV she's mean for no good reason(SANSA III AGOT). >PART 1<

And the worst is why GRRM wrote sansa goin to Cercei to tell her the "Ned Plans", it's just bad writing, Cercei kill lady so Sansa going to her was OOC GRRM just wrote that to we hate Sansa And in the book it's not explained what "the Ned plans" was(And it was nothing imortant at all, and would make no difference at Ned's fate) so ordinary readers blame Sansa for Ned's death and GRRM does that too in book 2 Cercei put all the blame for Ned death in sansa nd "the Ned Plans" Your thoughts?PART 2

There’s a lot to unpack here. 

I get a sense that in the early books, George was not as comfortable writing female relationships as he was writing male relationships or even male-female ones. I mean, Catelyn has no female friends, no companions like Margaery Tyrell’s cousins, no fostering wards of her own, no correspondences with other ladies except that one letter from Lysa for plot reasons. This is just weird for the lady of two major houses. It is neglectful on George’s part to give most of the important social connections to men. This doesn’t mean he was totally inept at writing female relationships, though, and it does seem like he’s tried to improve upon highlighting the positive in later books.

By comparison, the positive side of the brotherly relationships are presented so strongly that it tends to smooth over the conflicts with many readers. Jon can feel envious and resentful of Robb, but the love and loyalty is always in the foreground. The conflict between Arya, Jeyne, and Sansa does have legitimate character arc and plot purposes, so this isn’t bad writing. It’s unfortunate that GRRM presses down so hard on the constant bickering and occasional nastiness, but he did write some positives (albeit they tended to be revealed in later books) and there are understandable reasons for the dynamics. It was not done in a totally unrealistic way. What’s depicted is a typical and relatable rocky period for that age group, and there was negative adult influence at play. It’s not a permanent feature of the sisterhood. It’s all there if you pay attention and you’re inclined to be charitable toward the mistakes of young girls.       

If a reader is already predisposed to see the bonds between male characters as more pure and more able to overcome the negative aspects, then they probably also view the bonds between female characters as inherently weaker and more fraught with conflict. Fandom misogyny is not GRRM’s fault. That sector of the fandom will always have contempt for girls for being girls, especially preteen girls. They will always hone in on their faults and belittle their virtues. 

I don’t think that is true that we hardly ever see Jeyne and Sansa talking. They are nearly always in each other’s company. There was real friendship between Sansa and Jeyne, because what George does do well with them, is realistically write the way girls cement their bonds. Young girls strengthen their relationship by communicating and confiding in each other. Sharing secrets, crushes, hopes, fears, and pieces of gossip builds trust and intimacy. Jeyne and Sansa do this all the time, even though they can have different opinions and disagree about a lot.  Yes, there is some one-sidedness in that Sansa socially outranks Jeyne and believes that makes her more mature and wiser than her friend. Jeyne is dependent on her closeness to Sansa as a highborn lady and future queen to rise successfully, so she’s not going to push back on Sansa’s dominance. This is also a reason Jeyne sometimes bullies Arya to supplant her as Sansa’s “sister.” When Sansa has something to share, she goes to Jeyne to talk about it. I think it’s hilarious that the girls have a debate over which castle Gregor Clegane’s head will get spiked. Sansa wants Jeyne at her side for these new and exciting events like the tourney. When things get serious and dangerous, they comfort each other. Again, this is not all George’s fault if some readers don’t recognize or value the way girls do friendships.  

It’s stated quite clearly why Sansa tries to not think about Jeyne or her deceased family members very often. It’s fucking traumatic and her survival while among her captors depends on mentally holding herself together. 

If only she had someone to tell her what to do. She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend. The septa had lost her head with the rest, for the crime of serving House Stark. Sansa did not know what had happened to Jeyne, who had disappeared from her rooms afterward, never to be mentioned again. She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell, dancing and sewing, playing with Bran and baby Rickon, even riding through the winter town if she liked. Sansa was allowed to go riding too, but only in the bailey, and it got boring going round in a circle all day. -- Sansa II, ACOK.

Following her father’s beheading, Sansa was in a suicidal depression for days. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t bathe, welcomed drug-induced sleep, and contemplated killing herself. If she thinks too much on those she lost, she falls to pieces. She can’t openly weep and mourn for “traitors” if her life depends on appearing to be loyal to Joffrey. Most of her grief is suppressed inside. This also includes asking too many questions she doesn’t feel psychologically prepared to hear the answer to. She was there when the decision was made to shuttle Jeyne off to Littlefinger; however, she has no idea this is going to result in Jeyne being sent to a brothel and worse. I would also keep in mind that even if she did ask, it’s not like Cersei or Littlefinger would ever tell her the truth. Why would they? Does she really want to hear lies and have to think about what the horrible truth might be when she can’t do anything about it?  When it comes to Arya, Sansa believes her sister escaped on the ship bound for home. She comforts herself with imagining that Arya is safe and free, and that’s enough to keep her going.  

And she prays and sings for Jeyne, wherever she is.

She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin... -- Sansa V, ACOK.

It’s only until later in the books that Sansa feels emotionally at peace enough to start remembering the good times with Arya and Jeyne without breaking down into tears. We can also see the conflicts weren’t always a thing, and the love was strong with all three.

Sansa began to make snowballs, shaping and smoothing them until they were round and white and perfect. She remembered a summer's snow in Winterfell when Arya and Bran had ambushed her as she emerged from the keep one morning. They'd each had a dozen snowballs to hand, and she'd had none. Bran had been perched on the roof of the covered bridge, out of reach, but Sansa had chased Arya through the stables and around the kitchen until both of them were breathless. She might even have caught her, but she'd slipped on some ice. Her sister came back to see if she was hurt. When she said she wasn't, Arya hit her in the face with another snowball, but Sansa grabbed her leg and pulled her down and was rubbing snow in her hair when Jory came along and pulled them apart, laughing. -- Sansa VII, ASOS.

It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up. -- Alayne I, TWOW.

So it’s not even that the girls only bond through confiding. They run, play, and roughhouse with each other. It’s interesting that AGOT!Sansa tried to be so mature and proper, but now that she’s older, she’s remembering how good and freeing it was just to be a kid. But let’s not act like this part of the story is over. Jeyne is still very much alive and seems likely to run into Arya in Braavos. We can almost be 100% certain that Sansa will find out the truth about what happened to Jeyne and what Littlefinger did to her (and her parents), then watch out. Sansa will turn all that buried pain into a righteous fury at Littlefinger.  

Now as for Sansa being mean for “no reason.” Um... yeah, LOL. Sometimes she’s just a total unwarranted bitch to her sister, and it’s not meant to be a good look. Sometimes she’s superficial, insufferably immature and annoying, judgmental and prejudiced AND THAT’S OKAY. I mean, she sounds no better or worse than your average middle-schooler if they were of the privileged nobility. Guess what? Sometimes preteens are really like that. Sometimes siblings have ugly, knockdown drag out fights where they say horrible things to each other. Most will grow past those phases and still wind up just as loving and close. It’s realistic and believable. Sansa has flaws, but they aren’t deep moral flaws. She does an amazing job at growing, learning, and overcoming those flaws over the course of the books. In TWOW, she’s warm and affectionate with people, easy-going, nonjudgmental, and genuinely more mature than ever. She took the stick out of her ass and became a happier person for it. What’s the problem? What did you want her to be? Perfect? Unfailingly kind and loved by everyone all the time? She’d be a saint, not a multifaceted human being. Even with her occasional ugly side, Sansa is still a strong, smart, compassionate badass. I don’t care if some people don’t like her as she is written or if they vilify her with their misinterpretations or ignore her strengths. What bearing does that have on GRRM’s vision for her character? He never set out to write any character that the whole fandom would either unanimously love or hate.    

This is not bad writing. This NOT bad writing. This is GOOD writing.

*Sigh* Listen... this whole nonsense about Sansa being to blame for Ned’s demise has been going on since ASOIAF was written on clay tablets. You don’t have to listen to every stupid thing the fandom says about anything. It’s just factually wrong. End of story. This misinterpretation and reader inattentiveness is not GRRM’s fault, because he lays out all the details of everything that went down between Arya, Ned, and Sansa’s POV as it was happening. It’s totally understandable why an upset and frustrated Sansa would go to Cersei, the mother figure she implicitly trusts and admires. She didn’t go to Cersei to betray her father’s plans. She went to the queen to intercede in what she thought had to be some big misunderstanding, having no idea what was really going on or at stake. 

This is not OOC for her to go to Cersei after Lady’s death. The hand that killed Lady was her own father’s, a undeniable breach of trust that wounded their relationship. Ned just doesn’t really do a lot to deal with the emotional aftermath either. Ned and Sansa are very similar in turning a blind eye when confronted with unpleasantness from someone they love. Ned is also at that moment disillusioned with Robert’s failure to do the right thing after the Trident incident. He begs Robert in the name of their brotherly love and the love he bore Lyanna, and Robert turns his back on Ned anyway. Yet Ned immediately goes right back to believing in the best of Robert’s nature, despite all evidence to the contrary. Every sign points to this being a one-sided friendship with Robert being lazy, irresponsible, and completely selfish. Like father, like daughter. Sansa has a very hard time accepting that Joffrey and Cersei are not the people she thought they were, even when she’s seen some cracks. And since she can’t understand her father’s actions and the communication has been shot to hell between them, of course she runs to Cersei with her problems. Cersei can flip a switch and pretend to be kind, loving, and understanding. 

This is so typical of a teenage thought process:  “Dad just doesn’t understand and he’s making a big mistake. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. He doesn’t get how important this is to me. This will all work out if a sympathetic adult steps in and fixes it. Everything will turn out great and we’ll all be happy.” While Sansa is pouring her heart out about how it isn’t fair she can’t say goodbye to Joffrey, Cersei pretends to be that sympathetic mother figure that really understands her. How hard would it be then to pump Sansa for information? Like “Oh my sweet little dove. I know how much you love my son. Don’t worry. I’ll help you straighten this out. You said your father wants to send you away? How? When? What’s the name of that ship again?”  

And that line from Cersei’s POV is horseshit. Cersei is a liar and regularly lies in her POV to absolve herself of responsibility and force the blame entirely on others. In this case, Cersei is acting like she didn’t totally manipulate a trusting child to betray her.  We also know this is a lie because Ned was the one that told her himself of his plans to reveal the invest and remove her as queen. Sansa had nothing to do with that. All Sansa did was give Cersei information that allowed Cersei the opportunity to take her hostage before the girls could leave by ship. Cersei’s plans against Ned were already well underway. Sansa never came to her with the intent of knowingly betraying anyone, but she did have selfish reasons for going to the queen to complain in the first place. GRRM said himself that Sansa wasn’t to blame for Ned’s capture or death, but she did play a role in the events that transpired. That’s fair. All that makes her is a kid who made a not entirely innocent mistake, but a mistake nonetheless, which she immediately learned from. Does she trust Cersei or Joffrey again? Hell no.  

Relax, anon. It’s fine for her to not be nice all the time. It’s fine for her to have some realistic, garden variety flaws. It’s one of the most universal human mistakes to fall too hard and fast for the wrong person, act the fool over them despite all the red flags, only to realize you only saw what you wanted to see in them. And Sansa learned this lesson at eleven when some adults haven’t learned it at all. Relax. She’s a great, well-written, relatable character who has overcome most of these issues successfully.  

[raeynbowboi]

My Thoughts on KIPO

This post serves two purposes: first to give my thoughts on the third and final season of KIPO, and second to also address the show as a whole. Be advised, because this is the final season and the story is now over, I will be getting into MASSIVE spoiler territory. THIS IS YOUR FINAL SPOILER WARNING.

The Good

I am so happy they kept Dr. Emilia unredeemable, and in a good way. With shows like Naruto or Steven Universe where the MC has a weird knack for befriending the worst monsters in the universe, Kipo helps subvert this by doing with Dr. Emilia what SU should have done with White Diamond. They made her an antagonist the talk no jutsu MC couldn’t just reason with, showing that even non-violence can only take you so far. I like that Kipo still tried to give Dr. Emilia a chance, and her ultimate fate is largely her own fault, not something done to her by Kipo.

I liked how for the most part, no two antagonists were won over the same way. Zayne was won over by a legitimate friendship with Label. Haugh was won over by seeing his daughter dance with the Korean pop band narwhals, Daugh was won over by meeting the Korean Narwhal leadsinger and seeing all of the prisoners in Dr. Emilia’s lab. Even Greta was won over by Wolf just asking her “what do YOU want?” and letting her do it. And the rest were won over through PRAHM.

The solution to curing Kipo’s mother was a stroke of brilliance. I didn’t see it coming until seconds before they did it, and I loved it. Getting to see Kipo and her mom hug was just so wholesome it melted my frozen tiny little black heart.

Speaking of Song and Leo, they remained relevant! Look at that. A young character hero’s journey story where her parents remain important supporting cast characters through the whole thing.

Between seasons 2 and 3, they confirmed that Asher was non-binary, and I liked that we saw that in their hairstyle change for this season. I appreciate that the cut didn’t seem overly masculine or feminine.

Dave... actually earned my respect. Kinda. At least, it explained why he’s such a self-centered asshole in season 1. He’s used to being the leader. So that gave me some new respect for him.

I LOVE that Hugo was forced to see the ruins of Aurum and the self-reflection he shares with Wolf is just icing. Speaking of Hugo, his redemption is handled really nicely. The trial and error, the old habits that are hard for him to break, Kipo easily keeping him in line, and his slow work toward being a better mandrill. He felt like he was growing a lot.

When Wolf is deciding what to do about Margot, Kipo aggressively supports her, waiting for Wolf to ask her for help, and then decreeing that only Wolf has a right to decide how she wants to handle this situation. You go Kipo. Getcha woke on. Speaking of Margot.

The Bad

Margot might as well have not shown up. We learn nothing new about her, nothing new about Wolf, and then she just gets cured by Emilia so there’s never really a resolution to this character tension. I get the reason why, I just praised it in the above section, but this was still poorly handled in my opinion. Their just isn’t enough story payoff to bother dragging this out of the backstory.

Dave created Skyscraper Ridge.... for a battery-powered hand-held fan? Which survived for 200 years of battles between humans and mutes. Over a hand-held fan? Dave and Benson met... by fighting over a hand-held fan? I’m sorry but what the fuck? If you wanted me to take this seriously, you should have made it about something important. Now, I will give this some credit: Maybe Dave has dementia and is misremembering the item he’s talking about. Cuz Benson doesn’t know what he’s talking about at first. So maybe he’s using a toy fan in the place of the actual thing they were fighting over. 

Speaking of Benson... You don’t make a backstory episode that raises more questions! Why is Benson the last of his kind? What happened to his parents? Did Dave kill them? Cuz if he did, that’s seriously fucked up that Benson’s best friend killed his parents.

Song just kinda stopped being important once she was human huh? She spoke dubstep to the bees and got the death ivy wall put up, and then said she was going to work on a vaccine to the Cure... and then never finished it. Five years later, and Yumyan and all the others are still Cured. I get why this is, it’s so that there’s lasting consequences, which YES. Good on Kipo for not wimping out and pulling its punches, gimme them lasting consequences baby! I feed off it. But again, this leaves Song kind of … irrelevant.

So Kipo turns into a Mega Jaguar and she runs on all-fours (well... sixes), Song has the anatomy of a Mega Monkey... but Dr. Emilia’s Walrus form... has arms and legs? Sorry, that just kind of breaks the immersion for me. Two megas follow a consistent world building mechanic: you adopt the features of your mega animal... and Dr. Emilia just... doesn’t. No sir, I don’t like that.

Kaiju battles are kind of lame. There I said it. Come get me, Internet. I’m not apologizing. I don’t care much for great big things beating up other great big things. Now with a show and world like that of Kipo, I fully expected there’d be a Kaiju battle at some point, and with Kipo being a mega jaguar, I get why they went this route, but even so, Kaiju battles just aren’t my cup of tea.

Why did Hugo have to die? It kind of smelled of Redemption Equals Death, a wholly loathsome trope. He went through the best arc of all the characters, so let’s axe him off in the end. Sure, we lost other characters we cared about. Yumyan, Collette, Brad, but this was deliberately a noble sacrifice, and one he didn’t really have to make. He could have just jumped out of the car before it ran into Dr. Emilia. I don’t approve of killing off Hugo. That was not the right way to end his story.

Who is Wolf wearing? It’s never explained to us who this wolf was to her. It’s just a wolf. But this wolf was a person. And now she’s wearing its skin.

The Meh

So Jamack is here. That’s pretty much it. He finished his character arc when he joined Puck’s minstrel show and now he’s all smiles and buddy buddy and there’s not much else to say about him. I’m glad he was part of the final battle against Dr. Emilia, but by season 3, Jamack is just another ally. There’s no more of that redemption arc, which makes it feel slightly flat. For what we got, his redemption arc was alright, but the vast majority of it happens off screen, so unlike Hugo, it just doesn’t have that satisfying crunch.

So, ever since Mullholland, I’ve been under the impression that Wolf likes Kipo. Then with Kipo at the PRAHM very verbally saying she wishes Wolf was there, I thought maybe they were a ship? In the end, they verbalize having a sister-like relationship, which I totally get. I’m fine with it. That’s why it’s in the Meh section, not the bad stuff. But if they wanted to hammer home the sisters angle, having a character at a dance wishing the other was there doesn’t exactly send sibling energy.

I kind of wish we got to see how the first burrows got formed following the appearance of mutes. That would have been a nice thing to learn.

Final Thoughts

This show is probably in my top 10 cartoons of all time. It’s funny, colorful, the music is amazing, the characters are great, the villains steal the show, and it’s a good story. Is racism solved a little easily? Maybe, but A. it’s a kid’s show, and B. it’s kind of the whole point of the show. Unlike say Star Vs where it was a show about a princess who doesn’t want to be queen ohandalsomonsteracismiguess, this show’s core focus was on prejudice and racism. That was the forefront topic of the show. So, I’d say it sends an important lesson. I’d even go so far as to say it may be this generation’s Avatar. Is it as good as Avatar: the Last Airbender? Mmm no. But it’s damn good. Even with it’s flaws. I’d probably rate it about an 8.5 out of 10. So about a B+. Which is still really good. Does it have a few problems? Yes. Most shows do. It’s not perfect. But at the end of the day, it’s still a good show, and it has a LOT of rewatch potential, which is good for any show.

[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts: Chapter Three

Author’s Note: Hello all! For those of you following this series this is part 3 in my Tony Stark Fan-fiction. Part one is here, and part two is there. So sorry for the late update by the way. Writer’s block is a bitch. But I refuse to post something I don't at least like a little bit. That being said, I loved writing this chapter. Honestly if I can get just one person to read this and say they like it, I’ll be so grateful. It’s full of “angst”. I still use that word lightly, because to me it’s a drama instead of a story that makes you feel dread or anxiousness. Anyway I really hope you guys enjoy it, because this one took me a while. 

Summary: Upon finding about you and Tony’s romance, Edward Stark loses it. Pepper Potts steps in to help mediate the situation. 

Warnings: Angst, Language. No smut this time, sorry. :(

Song: Cry by Cigarettes after Sex. 

Word Count: 8.8k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: Mother Knows Best

 The concept of silence was made by man. We know this, because the world around us is never truly silent. You could argue differently though, because in this moment it felt like time stood still. You couldn’t even hear the sound of the clock ticking, as it rang loudly throughout the quiet room. Even the sound of your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage, fell on deaf ears. The one thing that was apparent to you however, was the rage behind Edward’s cool facade. Though it didn’t make a physical sound, it screamed louder than any noise had ever made.

You stopped embracing Tony and stepped away from him.  “By all means, please don’t stop on my account.” Edward chuckled. 

“I thought you were asleep.” Tony admitted, as if his thoughts helped the situation. He didn’t say it in an apologetic or shameful way, more so just stating a preconceived notion.

“Would that have made a difference?” Edward questioned, furrowing his brows inquisitively. “You know believe it or not, I felt guilty for leaving my girlfriend all alone in an unfamiliar town.” He stated, turning towards you and putting emphasis on the word unfamiliar. “When I heard your taxi pull up, I decided to come down and make sure you arrived safely. Can’t say I wasn’t surprised to see such a beautiful declaration of love.” He relayed his thoughts and actions as if he was telling a close friend a funny story. 

“Edward, we—” You start to explain. 

“We?” He interrupts, smile dropping for a second. But as quickly as it disappeared, it was back again. He began shaking his head in disbelief as he repeated the word ‘we’. “So you guys are a ‘we’, now? This is too fucking rich.” He laughed.

His grin was so wide, it almost looked genuine, and had you not known the story behind this reaction, you would of thought his joy made him look even more handsome. Right now, however, all it did was scare you.

“You know. I always thought it was weird how close you guys were.” He confessed, waving his finger in a playful ‘you-got-me’ kind of manner. His voice was sickeningly sweet, and it made your stomach churn. “But I told myself, that it was a good thing my dad liked my girlfriend so much. You know some people can’t say the same. Man was I foolish!” He exclaimed, looking between the two of you. While you gnawed at the inside of your bottom lip and averted your gaze away from Edward in shame, Tony rolled his eyes and scoffed at the display in front of him. 

“Dad tell me” He started again, pausing for a second to meet Tony’s eyes. “This is why you needed me at my desk right? So you could fuck my slut of a girlfriend?” If the words themselves didn’t make you wince, the tone they were laced in certainly did.

“Watch your mouth, when you address her.” Tony snapped through gritted teeth. 

Edward quickly threw his hands up  in defense before saying, “I’m sorry dad, you’re absolutely right. I should have said your, slut of a girlfriend. Please forgive me.” He smiled, watching his father’s fists clench. When you grabbed one of Tony’s hands, and whispered a ‘calm down’, Edward lost it. He focused on the way your chin rested on his father’s shoulder as well your hand on his a little too long. 

“How long has this been going on?” He asked coldly, abandoning the amused act. It stayed silent for a moment, and since he didn’t address a specific person, you took it upon yourself to answer. You felt you at least owed him that.

“A little over—” you try to answer, but your attempt is short-lived. 

“I was talking to my dad” He snarled, raising his voice and a hand to silence you. Turning his attention back to Tony, he repeated his question. “How long has this been going on?”

“Does it matter?” Tony quickly retorted, growing tired of the way Edward had been talking to you. 

“You know what, I think it does.” Edward challenged, eyes turning into thin slits as he looked his father up and down. “I deserve to know when this all started.” He said as if it was a matter of fact

Tony scrutinized him for a second, contemplating on whether or not he wanted to be mature or petty. He chose petty. “Fine. Since you insist on knowing all the juicy details: I’ve wanted her since the first day we met.” He revealed, shocking both you and Edward. “Now you do the math.”

  Now really thinking about it, Edward gradually stood from his seated position on the stairs. He tried piecing everything together, but it was hard because when he was home, he really wasn’t present. The evidence was still there, however, and even a blind man could see it. How could he have missed those longing stares from across the room? The lingered touches that Tony would press against the small of your back. He somehow even managed to dismiss the way the room would go quiet whenever he walked in. The way Tony whispered to you secrets that would make your thighs clench. What innocent thing could he be saying that would make your body react like that? As you two watched anger consume him, Tony gently pushed you behind himself before Edward spoke again. 

His nails had a grip on his palms so tight, you were sure they left blood, or at the very least dents. His chest, was rapidly rising and falling, as if he was having trouble keeping air in his lungs. His jaw produced a slight bulge, that was a direct result from the way he fastened it shut. “Dad.” He growled, his carefree demeanor now long gone.“How could you? She was mine.”

“See that’s your problem Edward. She doesn’t fucking belong to you, or anyone else for that matter.” Tony corrected, matching his son’s hostile energy. “And if you really cared about her, maybe I would have never had the chance to fuck her.” Your brows furrowed at his choice of words, and you gave him a sideways glare. He was purposely trying to evoke a reaction.

He got what he wanted, because as soon as he said it, Edward moved like a blur as he crossed the room to connect his fist with Tony’s face. He caused him to fall to the ground before catching himself with his palms. You gasped, and dropped to the floor beside the fallen Tony, who was now licking a busted lip. 

“I hope she was worth every minute.” Edward spat, kneeling down to clutch his father’s collar.

“Every second.” Tony teased, finding a smirk under the sting he felt from his lips. Edward delivered another punch, this one landing on one of his eyes, then another that found its way under the side of his chin, leaving only a few seconds between each blow. Had you not pushed yourself between them he would have left his father’s face a bloody and swollen mess. 

“Stop!” You shriek, holding your arm up to shield any further blows. He did stop, but you two held each other’s glares. His hand was still fixed in an attack position, and thats when you began to soften your features. You realized that he was seriously considering whether or not he wanted to hit you as well. Before you just knew he wouldn’t harm you, but seeing the look on his face now you weren’t so sure. Was that how bad you had hurt him? 

Edward decided against striking you. Though his father had been taking his hits like a champ, that would quickly change as soon as Edward laid a finger on you. Fire burning in his eyes and a serious conflict within, he stood to collect himself. “You’re dead to me, Y/N.” He stated, lowly. You wanted so badly to say ‘I’ve been dead to you for a long time now’ but decided that now wasn’t the time. 

He began straightening the wrinkles from his shirt and running his long digits through his raven black hair. “I’ll send for my stuff.” Was all he said as he took a step over both you and Tony, walking away in search of his keys.

“Better send someone quick, before they have to sort through ashes!” Tony shouted, rolling to his side to pick himself up with your aid. Edward neither spared him a glance, nor another word. 

When you heard the door click, you helped Tony readjust. Once he was put back together, you pulled your hand back as far you could to deliver a solid smack to his arm.

“Ow” he wailed, grasping the area you hit. “Haven’t I been hit enough today?” 

“No. Why did you have to act so childish?” You asked, demanding an answer.

Still rubbing the sore spot on his arm, he looked down at you with a blank expression.  “He deserved it.” Was what he said in an indifferent tone.  

You rolled your eyes, before saying “Even if that’s the truth, he was upset and he had every right to be.”

“No Y/N, he didn’t.” He said slightly raising his voice, and talking with his hands. “How he could even call you his girlfriend after all of this time, is beyond me. He doesn’t get to be upset.”

“Tony we violated his trust.” You cried, searching his frustrated face in hopes of finding a sliver of empathy for his son. 

“Edward is a self-serving jackass, who relatively no one can trust. Do you really think he holds weight in this matter?” He countered, raising a brow. In realization that his face was now forming bruises, you asked these next questions.

“You have all of the answers don’t you? Was this all worth the black eye and busted lip?” You ask, gesturing towards his face.

“Absolutely.” He answered referring to both questions. “I’d do it again if it meant seeing the look on his face.” He stated proudly.

“You’re impossible.” You grumble, as you walk away to grab a dampened rag from the bathroom. 

“Edward’s the one who’s impossible!” Tony shouted from the other room.

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the tenth time tonight at his comment. “Why is he being so immature?” You mumbled to yourself, before walking back to the foyer washcloth in hand. You found him in the family room instead, studying a younger photo of Edward. He did feel guilty, he was just to proud to show it. You sighed alerting him of your presence. He instantly reacted by sitting the frame back down on its floating shelf, clearing his throat and pretending that you didn’t just capture him longing for the days when Edward was at the very beginning of his youth. You decided to play his game, choosing not to mention his shame, but still acknowledging that it existed. That was enough for you. To you it meant he was a good person. 

“Come here” you quietly say. He sauntered over to you slowly, reaching down to take the cloth from your hands. You playfully jerk it back from him, before giving him a fixed look. Pushing him down on the nearest couch to stand between his legs, he holds onto your waist to keep you steady. The cool washcloth dripped water down your arm, as you reached up to nurse his bruises. Apparently Edward had been wearing a ring, because a cut had formed just above Tony’s brow. He winced when you pressed the cloth over the mark to clean it. You couldn’t help but feel guilty, feeling to be the cause of this all.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Tony asked breaking the silence.

“What did I say earlier?” 

“You said you love me.” You could tell he felt insecure, and your prolonged answer only made it worse.

“Of course I did silly.” You say, pecking the tip of his nose, literally kissing his worries away. “And what about you, did you mean it when you said you’ve wanted me since the first day we met?”

“Every word of it.” He smirked. You grinned back, finding comfort in his words. It didn’t last longs though, as tonights events kept replaying in your mind. 

“So…where do we go from here?” You asked softly, voice just barely above a whisper. Had you not been standing right in front of him, he would have missed it.

The cloth covered one of his eyes completely, so he looked at you with the free one. But even with no eyes, he would be able to sense the worry in your voice, and imagine the worry on your face. He cupped the hand that was on his cheek, and kept his other hand on your hip. 

“We just wait, The hard part is over now.” He assured,  leaning in to plant a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before settling in on your lips, tugging your shirt to deepen it.

After you finished up his face you guys prepared to go to sleep. It was the first night since your being together where you weren’t afraid of being caught. You laid in bed, and thought of his words as you forced yourself to sleep. You wished you could believe them, but knowing the man that Edward was, you knew tonight was nothing compared to what was to come. 

__________________________________________________________________

“You slept with his girlfriend, and you have the nerve to tell me to calm down?” Was what you heard when you woke up. A few days had passed since Edward found out about you two. You were trying not to think about it too hard, but life had other plans. You wiped the crust from your eyes, and slowly sat up to yawn and stretch, focusing in on the conversation unfolding downstairs. 

“Tony, among all of the morally fucked up things you’ve done, this has got to be the worst! And Stark Industries used to cater to the advancements of industrialized weapons.” Pepper. That voice belongs to Pepper. You thought.

“Okay Pepper, you’re being a little dramatic. The weapons are obviously worse.” Tony said, in a fed-up tone. You carefully let your feet hit the floor to silently go eavesdrop from the top of the banister. 

“We both know that’s not the point.” She said bringing her voice down an octave. 

“Then exactly what point are you trying to make, Ms. Potts? Why are you here?” Tony retorted. He spoke in hushed tones, but the annoyance in his voice was clear.  

“I need to see Y/N, so—”

“No.” Tony quickly interrupted, but Pepper continued.

“—So we can figure this mess out.” She cried. 

“Hell no Pepper, I’m not letting you bother her with this bullshit.” Tony bit.

“Edward is really upset!”

“Unfortunately, I am all out of fucks to give about Edward’s feelings.” 

“Tony, look at what he’s threatening to put out.” You could tell she was showing him something, you just didn’t know what “If this reaches the public people are gonna start piecing these things together, and realize it has to do with you.”

“Pepper.”

“Let me speak to Y/N.”

“No.” At this point you began making your way downstairs, curious as to why she came all this way. You liked Pepper. You met her after meeting Tony. They had been separated for months. Despite Tony’s horror stories, she was always nice to you. Perhaps the divorce helped her find herself, because the Pepper you met was nothing like the one he described. 

“Y/N! Please come down!” You hear Pepper yell from the foyer. 

“Pepper, are you out of your mind? For crying out loud.” Tony cries upon seeing you descend. He was facing the staircase, hands on Pepper’s shoulders trying to urge her out of the door. Her back was turned, until she followed Tony’s line of sight, spinning to focus her smoky blue eyes on you instead. 

Her golden blonde hair was done up into her typical tight ponytail. Makeup light, consisting only of a simple peach colored lipstick and mascara. She wore a tan pencil skirt, white blouse and safe nude pumps. As per usual, Pepper was perfectly primped, not a gold lock out of place, save her bangs and a few intentional strands that cradled her face. If only her appearance could match her attitude.

She fully turned her body so that her attention was on you. “Y/N, please tell me this whole thing isn’t true.” Pepper pleaded.

“I’m afraid it is Ms. Potts.” You reply, sheepishly, suddenly feeling ashamed again. To have Pepper disappointed in you, felt worst than getting caught by Edward himself. 

“Jesus.” She sighed, closing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. “You two, have royally fucked yourselves.  Take a look at this.” She stepped closer to you with an iPad in hand, dragging a skinny finger across the screen to reach the content she wanted you to see. She came to a stop and handed it over to you once she reached a page that looked like an article, or at least the rough draft of one. It was clearly about you and Tony, as the entire thing talked about Edward dealing with the betrayal of two people closest to him: a person who gave him life, and a person whom he gave his love. He was the victim, and though he did not put a name to his betrayers, they were clearly the decorated villains. It was very well-written. He even added parts to the story that not even you knew happened. 

Tony watched you panic. He watched the worry lines etch themselves in your skin. He snatched the iPad from your wandering fingers, and then he watched confusion take the place of worry. “You have to get ready for class. Besides, Ms. Potts was just leaving.” He firmly stated.

“What? No Tony. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go to school today.” She suggested as Tony handed her the device back. “We have to figure out what we are going to do about this.” Was what she said as he gently pushed her out of the house, and closed the door in her face.

He was really upset with her for upsetting you. Maybe he was also upset about Edward, but he felt his son couldn’t do any real harm. However, he knew you felt otherwise.

“Don’t worry about him.” He assured. “Eddy is just throwing another tantrum.” 

“Another?” You questioned, both worry and confusion working hard to dominate your features. “What are you not telling me?”

“Stop worrying. That’s what I am telling you.” 

“How can I not? Tony you keep telling me not to be worried, but you and I have seen what he can do when he’s upset.”

“Yea well I taught him how to do it. His ‘power’ comes from me, and I can assure you that. Everything will be fine.” He assured once again.

You blow out hot air threw your nose, frustrated with his naivety. He was really acting like the problem didn’t exist. “I have to get ready for class.” You stated, flicking your hands in the air as if to brush off his words before stomping away. 

“Baby?” He yells from the foyer, as you retreat up the stairs.  

“What Tony?” You yell back, once you make the bathroom. 

“Are you mad at me?” He whines.

“Yes!” You scream.

“Well, I love you!” You can practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Fuck you Tony.” You yell, mocking fake agitation.

 “Sure, but we have to wait until after you get home from school.” Well at least he learned his lesson from last time. You think to yourself, smiling as you get ready for the day. 

_________________________________________________________________

It felt like days had passed as you watched Professor Maxwell drone on and on about quantum mechanics. In reality, it had only been about 4 hours since you left the house. This was your last class of the day, so of course he had to drag it on.

You sat alone in his huge lecture hall, half-heartedly scribbling down notes. Though you were easy to get along with, and many people thought you were cool and nice, you found it hard to make real friends with your peers. You attended a prestigious university and most of them came from different backgrounds. Of course, for the most part, there was nothing was wrong with that, but it did make it harder to find common interests from time to time. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends though, just not in this particular environment. This fact alone helped you excel in your studies and passions. You found with no social distractions you could get more done. Right now however, you were more distracted than you had ever been.

You kept thinking about Edward’s article. You kept thinking about Edward. You really hurt him. But Tony was right, Edward had been hurting you since the beginning. It still didn’t make it okay for you to cheat, let alone sleep with his Dad. Preoccupied with your self-guilt, you didn’t notice the dings that sounded off around the quiet auditorium. Gasps, and soft whispers, followed, as people looked at you, but you were far too focused on your own problems to pay attention to theirs. You weren’t too focused to not hear the professor signal the end of class though. 

Shoving your laptop in your bag, you sprung to your escape. Bursting through the grand oak doors of your university’s science hall, you rushed to be the first in line at the school’s popular little cafe. Grabbing their pastry of the day became your favorite ritual. 

You leaned down to take in all of your choices. The warm yellow light of the display case illuminating your face. You could hear a faint buzz coming from it over the humming of the espresso machines, the overplayed pop songs, and the chatter from your fellow students and locals that frequented it. Coming here was peaceful. It was much like the library would be to someone who needed to focus. You found the busyness of the world relaxing, because no matter how many problems you faced, everyone else just kept moving.  

You thought about how you were gonna treat yourself. Maybe you would have an apple strudel today. Or perhaps a blueberry cannoli? Peach scone? You decide on the strawberry shortcake, it was a classic and to die for. You pointed it out to the pastry clerk, and he was happy to go and prepare it for you. 

“What, your sugar daddy not giving you enough sugar at home?” You heard a voice ask from behind you. You mentally groaned and rolled your eyes at the sound of Amber. She was a girl from Edward’s past that had a personal vendetta against you for reasons unknown. They were long done before you entered the picture, but Amber must of felt otherwise. 

You turned around to greet her, and as always you were astonished by her appearance. She had these catlike hazel green eyes that could burn a hole through steel. A strawberry blonde curly mane cascaded down her shoulders. She also had a natural sun-kissed golden tan, and she stood at a tall 5’11. She was gorgeous. Why she was still hung up on Edward, you would never know.

She had with her, Cassie, a faithful fan of hers who couldn’t form her own standing opinion . She kissed Amber’s ass so much you were surprised to find out she didn’t live in her toilet. She also brung Jasmine one of her new recruits, a petite mousy-like sophomore. Jasmine was okay, but she was a try-hard in constant need to of approval, hence why she hung out with Amber. 

“Hi Amber.” You smile, mustering up your last bit of fucks to give. You were too tired to acknowledge the meaning behind her comment, but not too tired to throw her a bone. 

“Hi Amber.” She mocked, slurring your words. “You had everyone around you eating out of the palm of your hands, but I knew your goody-two-shoes act was just that: an act.” 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, heart dropping to your stomach. You hoped she wasn’t talking about what you thought she was. 

“So you can’t read now? Let me say this slowly so you can comprehend.” She cleared her throat for a comedic effect before she spoke again. “Edward finally let the rest of the world know what a gold digging slut you are!” She smirked, throwing out her hand to Jasmine who wasn’t paying her any attention. “Jasmine!” Amber shrieked, causing the poor girl to jump. She quickly recovered from her incompetence, and scrambled to pass Amber her phone. Amber passed it to you, careful not to take her eyes away from yours. She didn’t want to miss the face of a girl who’s life was about to fall apart.

On the phone, was the same article Pepper had shown to you earlier, only this time it had been updated with even more lies spread throughout. Edward played the part of an unsuspecting, loving, and caring son/boyfriend, who was blindsided by the treachery of his beloved father and girlfriend. 

Again no names, but if it wasn’t already obvious, people knew it was you now. You looked up to Amber, a smug look playing on her features. It didn’t unsettle you as much as she wanted it to. What unsettled you though, was when you looked around the cafe. All the noise and chatter had all but come to a cease. The humming from the coffee machines, the overplayed pop song, and the buzz from the display counter were all that could be heard. They were waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for your reaction. 

No. You thought. I am not gonna give this bitch or anyone else the satisfaction of my reaction. You tighten your jaw, and turn to pay for your pastry, now in a hurry to leave the shop. 

Amber was not having it. “So you have nothing to say?” She scoffed loudly. “I am clearly talking to you.” She harshly grabbed your shoulder to turn you around. 

You were ready to throw hands but before you could you were promptly cut-off by someone else.

“Leave her alone Amber, before I fuck you up.” They commanded. Everyone’s necks snap to investigate the source of noise. Eyes land on the pink-haired girl at the back of the cafe. She had chosen a cozy little corner booth, where she could kick her feet up to watch all of those around her. 

“Excuse me?” Amber sneered.

Nao, if you remembered her name correctly, swung her feet out of the booth to make her way through the crowd. She came to stand in front of Amber’s frame, before she addressed her again. “Let me say this slow enough so that you can comprehend” You smiled, as she borrowed Amber’s words from earlier. “I said: ‘Leave her alone Amber, before I fuck you up.’”

“What are you gonna do to me Nail?” Amber challenged, feeling quite good about herself for the joke she made. 

“It’s Nao, but you knew that already, and you don’t want to try me” She warned. 

“What could possibly be worse than sleeping with your boyfriend’s dad?” Amber asked a little too loudly for your liking, she earned an uncomfortable laugh from Jasmine, and a cackle from Cassie, who playfully tapped her shoulder in approval. There were also a few scattered snickers from other people in the cafe.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask all of those married men, who you slept with over the summer.” Nao suggested, eyes wide mocking innocence. “If they don’t know, their children and wives might.”

‘Ooo’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ erupted throughout the quiet space of the cafe. Someone whispered, “Did she say ‘men’, as in plural?”

Amber looked like she had seen a ghost as Nao looked her up and down, daring her to spill another word. Cassie took the dare.

“Nao, that’s not true! And even if it was it’s none of your business you nosy little cunt.”

“Don’t get me started on you Cassie. We all remember that time you sucked off Bryson Kidd, for a bag of hot Cheetos and a kiwi strawberry Arizona.” She said as she twisted her neck to look at Cassie’s mortified expression. Then her eyes traveled, landing on Jasmine,  who shook her head as if to say she didn’t want any part of this. 

Nao let her be, then turned to address the rest of the room, “Anyone else?”  She asked, gruff voice now coated in honey. She continued her scan around the shop, trying to bait people. This was fun for her, she knew they were scared. They knew she was a revered tech major, at the top of her class. Her know-how with computers wasn’t the reason she knew about Amber though. She wasn’t invasive like people thought she was. She was just quiet and observant. 

Nao continued her rant, “Are we all forgetting that Edward Stark has slept with at least half the women in this room alone? Mind you while he and Y/N were still in a relationship.” She looked around, disappointed in her peers. She caused some of the women in question to avert their judgy gazes away from you, mumbling profanities about Nao being a snoopy bitch. Nao turned back to Amber, who was still hot from embarrassment. “Where were your words of judgment then Amber?” She said leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Oops my bad. I shouldn’t expect you to say anything to him while his cock is stuffed down your throat.” 

The light pink that dusted Amber’s cheeks, deepened to a crimson that spread across her entire face and neck. She huffed, and turned on her feet to excuse herself from the cafe, Cassie and Jasmine both hot on her trail.

When they were gone, the conversations around you picked up again as people tried not to stare. 

Nao, finally turned her attention towards you. The smile you sported throughout her entire show dissipated as you realized she was about to tear into you now. She stepped closer, and closer to you, instantly making you shy away. When she was close enough to examine the pores on your face, she took out a crinkled 10 dollar bill, that she handed to the cashier. “I’ve got this one.” She declared, smiling in reference to your strawberry shortcake. The clerk handed her the bag, which she handed to you before taking a step back. You could tell she struggled with personal space.

“Thank you” You start. “But why did you do that?”  

She knew you were referring to Amber. “You never bother anyone Y/N. You’re always so nice. If you ever need me, just give me a call.” She motioned to your phone, “May I?”

“Oh yea, sure.” You say, before handing her your unlocked device so she could type in her number. While she input her contact information, you took advantage of the temporary distraction to really survey her features.

She was Japanese,  you remembered that from the icebreaker you had in a shared class a year ago. Brown freckles, that looked like constellations were sprinkled along her rosy cheeks. Long lashes, fluttered every time she opened her eyes to blink. And as mentioned before, she had pink hair, a wavy pixie cut to be exact, that sat on her head like a fluffy cloud. She was tall, but not as tall as Amber. Lanky, with long limbs. Bushy black eyebrows sat above her honey brown eyes. Her nose was so small, you wondered how she could breathe out of it. She, like Amber, was very pretty, only in a “non-traditional” way. 

You had a girl-crush. You were giddy by the fact that a strong woman came to your aid, batting for you like that. When she looked back up at you, you realized you were staring, so you ripped yourself out of your daze of admiration. “Thank you again. Also thank you for this!” You exclaimed, lifting up the brown goody bad. 

“Its no problem. Enjoy it. It’s almost as sweet as you.” She smiled at you widely before turning to leave.

What a great way to start off your Monday. 

__________________________________________________________________

“Tony I’m back!” You called throughout the house. Your echo was the only thing to greet you back. Must not be home. You thought to yourself.

You sit your keys in the dish next to the door, kicking your shoes off, deciding to worry about them later. Grabbing yourself a bottle of wine, and a glass to pour it in , you drift into the living room. You take your seat in your favorite chair, ready to kick your feet up and relax. 

“Hi.” Pepper says behind you, making you spill your grown-up juice on the seat beside you, as well as on Tony’s equally expensive rug. You knew that neat-freak was gonna lose his shit. 

“Pepper!” You squeal, “Why didn’t you say anything when I called out earlier?!”

“I didn’t want to startle you.” She explained rushing to grab some club soda and a dish rag from the kitchen. 

“How is this any better?!” You yell, as she reenters the room, falling to the rug to clean out the stains. She threw you a spare cloth and handed you the soda to tackle the spreading splotch on the couch. 

“I don’t know! Give me a break for at least trying.”

“How did you even get in here?” You ask, vigorously scrubbing into the fibers of the couch. 

“Y/N, I used to live here.” You abruptly stopped as she continued. At the mention of it, you cringed at how awkward this might have been for Pepper. You were Tony’s new plaything, while she was his old one. Not to mention the fact that you also had been with her son. 

“I forgot.” You sigh, before apologizing. “I’m sorry for all of this Pepper. This must be really strange for you.” The spot on the couch was now faint, so you abandoned your previous efforts. 

Satisfied with the removal of her designated stain as well, Pepper stood from her knees to occupy the seat opposite to you. “Nonsense dear.” She replied, giving you a tight smile. “Sit, please.”

“Where’s Tony?” You ask as you do as she says. She must have some idea, since she was here but he wasn’t. 

“On his way to get this article pulled. I can imagine he’ll want to confront Edward as well.” Pepper informed you, crossing her legs to get comfortable. You let out a huff of air, seeing as the last time they saw each other, it didn’t end quite well. “Speaking of Edward, he’s the reason I’ve come to see you. We have to talk about this.”

“Not to be blunt Pepper, but what else is there to talk about? Everyone already knows about it, how much worse could it get?”

“That’s the thing. It will only get worse if you two continue your affair. Edward is talking about filing an injunction against Tony. He could lose his position as CEO of Stark Industries.” You eyed her in disbelief. You knew Edward was capable of being vindictive, just not this much. 

“Can he really do that? Is what I have with Tony that serious?” You were genuinely concerned.

“Ordinarily CEO’s don’t get removed because of their personal relationships, but because you and Tony have something different, I believe Edward has a fighting chance.” She paused to exhale as she surveyed your features. “Tony’s face is plastered everywhere in the world. He is Stark Industries, and a lot of his success comes from his fame. To be associated with such a scandal could prove very harmful to the future of this company.” She finished. 

Just like Edward worked hard to prove himself to Tony, Tony worked harder to prove himself to Howard Stark. He risked everything, putting his all into Stark Industries. Erasing the blemish of  its past with weapons of mass destruction, he had successfully turned it into a clean, and sustainable energy industry that had proven just as, if not more, successful than its predecessor. He also dabbled in AI, robotics, and non-lethal ways to disarm enemies. You would not be the reason that all got thrown away. Still you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut.

“So I have to just stop seeing Tony?” You asked, internally pulling yourself together.

“I wish I could say it was that easy, Y/N. But we both know Tony won’t just stop seeing you.”

“So what do you suggest I do?” You asked her now slightly agitated. 

She sensed your irritation, but elected to ignore it, opting to continue her use of a soothing voice instead. “I understand you have an internship in France. I’m also sure that Tony, knows about it. Correct?”

“Yes. What about it?” You ignore the fact that she knows this despite not telling her. You had long given up on how Pepper acquired her information. Perhaps Edward had mentioned it, but you couldn’t see why it would be of interest to him. 

“Well Tony can’t know where you’re going. So how would you feel if I told you, I could pull some strings to get you an all-expense paid internship somewhere else?” 

“What’s the catch?” You ask sighing. This was all too much to process. 

“Instead of leaving in May, you’ll have to start preparing things now. You’ll need to leave as soon as possible so that you can get settled in by next week.” She quickly replied.

“Next week?” You gasp. “That doesn’t give me enough time to prepare. What about my course-load and credits? And my family, my friends? What would I tell them?”

“I already have everything handled.” She said raising her hands in a ‘calm-down’ kind of way. “Also, if you decide to leave you’ll need a place to stay for the time-being. I would offer my home, but Tony is too smart to not look there. You’ll need to stay somewhere he won’t find you until we can get you shipped out.” 

Is she for real? You thought to yourself. “Wait, you’re really serious about getting me to leave.” You say, through a pained chuckle.

“This is what’s best.” She simply replied, pursing her lips. 

“What do you get out of this Pepper?” You ask deciding now was the perfect moment to let your frustration boil over. “I mean, Tony is your ex, and I am the on who cheated on your son with said ex. You should be happy that Edward is about to ruin us. Why should I trust you?”

“Well first, let’s have the Tony conversation, it clearly makes you feel guilty.” She said drawing in a sharp breath. “His and my relationship was over before it even started. We were supposed to remain friends instead of lovers, but we ruined that with marriage. There are no hard feelings, so I don’t care who he’s with, even if it’s you. Now, on to Edward.”

She sat up in her chair to clasp her hands around her knee. “I am the reason he is the way he is. And for that, I apologize. In all honesty Y/N, I always liked you. I saw myself in you, and I still said nothing as I let him ruin you. I felt that you would be good for him. I ignored the fact that he wasn’t good for you. Guilt has consumed me, and the only way I see fit to redeem myself is to do my part in making sure he doesn’t ruin his father and you. I am trying to help.”

You wanted to believe her, but you still had your doubts. “How do I know this is all the truth? This whole injunction thing could be a ploy to get me out of the picture.”

Her patience was thinning. “If you want to risk it, then go right ahead. But don’t forget who you’re dealing with here. Edward has promised to stop if you leave. At least this way, everyone gets to keep what they worked so hard for. That article can do serious damage to your future career and Tony’s current one. And Edward will not stop until he’s satisfied.” 

At this point Pepper had said all that she came to say. So she stood to leave, but not before saying one last thing. “Tony doesn’t know I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Also, you don’t have much time to think about this one dear. The longer you stay, the more you risk. Contact me once you’ve made your decision”

You looked at her with your eyes full of sorrow. Pepper’s eyes could only offer you sympathy. You really wanted to believe she was telling the truth. But if she was, you had a lot to think about. You wished someone else could make the decision for you.

__________________________________________________________________

“Sweetheart!” Tony shouted, voice booming off of the walls. “Did you spill something on the rug?!Wait the fucking couch too!” 

How the hell did he see that, we scrubbed the shit out of those stains. You think to yourself, without answering him.

You could hear him as he stomped up the stairs, searching the rooms to find the one you were in. He found you in the laundry room, folding his and your clothes. “We have a housekeeper you know.” He reminded as he leaned against the doorway amused by the sight before him. 

“She’s a little weird, I saw her admiring my panties.” You answered weakly. 

He shook his head, as if you were the one being absurd. “That’s not weird, I do it all the time.  Anyway, did you spill wine downstairs?” 

“Yea sorry.” You reply. He could tell you were a bit off, since you didn’t laugh at his joke. You hadn’t even looked at him since he arrived. 

“Are you okay?” He asks stepping a bit closer. 

“I’m fine.” You responded, absentmindedly folding one of his shirts. 

“You’re lying.” He stated, pretty sure of himself. “If this is about the article, I got the publisher to pull it. It’s gonna be played off like a rumor.”

“It’s not about the article.” You sigh.

“So it is something. What is it?” He pressed, placing a hand over your folding ones to get them to stop

You knew he wasn’t going to give up, so you decided to just get it over with. “I had a talk with Pepper today.”

“Not this shit again.” He grumbled dropping his hands to exit the room. 

“Tony listen. She made a few good points.” You say following him as he strides away to his bedroom. 

“I don’t care about the points she’s made Y/N. I told you that you have nothing to worry about.” He countered, sounding exhausted. He had been exhausted since that night with Edward. 

“If that’s true then why did you go see Edward today?” 

“Who told you that?” He asked, spinning around to eye you suspiciously

“You just did.” You watched his face change from curiosity to awe. It was rare for you to outsmart him. “If you’re not worried, why were you there.”

He turned back around to loosen his tie, before saying “I don’t have to have this conversation right now.”

You exhaled loudly, frustrated with his stubbornness. “Either we have this conversation now, or we never have it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked in an amused tone. 

“It means, you should say all you want to say to me now, before I leave.” You answered. This got him to turn back around and face you. 

“Before you leave? What kind of bullshit has Pepper been spewing now?”

You pause and think before saying another word. You had already said too much. He wasn’t supposed to know you were leaving, let alone that Pepper was even here. If you were gonna do this though, you didn’t want any words left unsaid. That was your reasoning behind what you would say next. “She thinks it’s best if I leave.”

“Leave? For what?” He asked closing the distance between you. 

“Edward is calling for your removal as head of Stark Industries.

“Oh that? I'm not worried about that. Like I said, it’s another tantrum and it will blow over.” He stated, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Your son throws huge tantrums Tony. And this one doesn’t seem like its gonna just blow over. This is really serious, and Pepper feels like he has a fighting chance.” You state, ignoring his fingers that wandered along your skin. He always tried to use sex to take your mind off of things.

“A fighting chance? On the grounds of what? That I stole his little girlfriend.” He teased, grabbing your lower back to pepper kisses along your neckline. 

“Quit it, this is serious.” You whined, shoving him off of you. 

Sighing from both rejection and frustration, Tony lowly replies “It’s really not.” 

“You know what, maybe not to you, but I will not let you throw away your entire legacy. I’m leaving so you don’t mess your life up.” You bite, frustrated with his indifference. You began making your way to your old room to go and pack your things.

You were almost in the door until Tony harshly gripped your wrist, whipping you around to face him. “Who are you to make that decision for me? Huh? You don’t know a fucking a thing about this.” He barked, tone getting more aggressive the longer he spoke. “Who cares about Edward and his little temper-tantrums. Even if he takes the company, at the end of the day, I’m still filthy, fucking, rich. And if I wanna have you, I’m gonna have you. You’re mine. No one else is gonna tell me different.” He spat. 

“Let go,” you said, flinging your wrist free of his grip. Once free, you immediately began to back away. Tony’s glare weakened once he realized how badly he overreacted. He had began to succumb to all the stress that this was all causing him. He took it out on you, which he immediately regretted. You would be a damn liar though, if you said hearing him speak that way didn’t make you sexually frustrated. But you had a face to uphold in that moment. He needed to think you were mad at him. “What happened to me not belonging to anyone? You think because you’re ‘filthy, fucking’ rich’ you can just make me yours?”

Tony let his guilt show, “Kitten, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Goodnight Tony.” You say, as you slink in to your old room, the one you and Edward used to share.

“Wait, please.” He begged, taking a step forward. 

You slammed the door shut before he could reach inside, sliding down the cool wood until you reached the floor. He began knocking against the door, pleading with you to open it so that you could talk things out. Tony was not a man in need of much, so to hear desperation overtake his emotions left you wrecked. 

You immediately began sobbing into your shirt, doing your best to muffle your cries. You did not want to leave, but you could not be the reason his life’s work got flushed down the drain. 

He would be over you in no time. You would get over him as well. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself as you texted Pepper your decision to leave. 

__________________________________________________________________

Jerking awake after your fight, you realized that the sun had gone down. You checked your phone, and saw that it was almost time for you to leave. Pepper would be over to pick you up soon, so you quietly got up to pack, careful not to alert Tony if he was near. 

You packed light. Very light. Everything fit into a bag that you could carry over your shoulder. You were only taking the things you felt absolutely necessary, like your toothbrush, underwear, a few outfits, and anything else that you could fit into the small bag. Pepper insured that she would take care of the rest. You informed of her of your fight with Tony. She was disappointed that you let him know you were leaving but she expected it from you, which is why she never told you exactly where you were going. 

You had to stay with someone else until your departure, because it would be easier to keep the secret of your destination away from Tony among other things. Now the problem lied in where you would stay. He knew all of your friends. He had even met some of your closest family members through Edward. And as Pepper mentioned before, you couldn’t stay with her, because it would be one of the first places he checked. You thought of Samuel and Elise from your favorite restaurant, but decided against them because you didn’t know where they stayed, nor did you have any way of contacting them. 

Maybe Nao. You thought, before shaking the idea out of your head as quickly as it came. There is no way she would let me, we just met and she didn’t mean her offer literally. 

But if she didn’t mean it, she wouldn’t of given me her number. Plus, Tony doesn’t know her, so she’s perfect. You silently debated with yourself. You were desperate so you shot her a text pleading your case. You gnawed at the inside of your cheek. You weren’t one to really ask people big favors like this one, so you were nervous. 

Nao replied back not even two minutes later, offering you an invitation to bunk with her for as long as you needed. You immediately shot her a thank you and continued your packing. 

You had to move quickly before you changed your mind. Everything that Tony got for you would remain here. Not having much money to your name, you could have sold it and made yourself a pretty coin, but that wasn’t the type of woman you were. Besides all of it meant so much to you, everything had sentimental value, just because he had given it to you. You decided to display every single thing he ever got for you on the bed and floor. The shoes, the lace, the bags, clothes, etc. When you came across the jewelry that he got you, it proved to be a challenge. Every one he had purchased on very special occasions, like your birthday, Christmas…Valentine’s Day. You thought when you came across the destroyed remains of the Cartier bracelet he got for you that day. ‘My heart belongs to you, T.S.’  You wanted to take it. You desperately wanted to take it to have something that reminded you of him, but seeing as the small plaque itself probably cost him thousands you decided to leave it. Rubbing the cold metal between your fingers one last time, you set it down. 

You thought to leave your phone. Tony had it replaced it for you when you lost it in Italy  on one of your trips. You weren’t certain about whether or not he would trace it if he was really desperate. Okay now I’m being ridiculous. He doesn’t care about me that much, you thought, before placing the device back in your pocket now heading to the door. 

Even while touching the knob you were careful. Making the slightest sound could set him off to your presence. He was a pretty light sleeper unless he was blackout drunk, so you weren’t wrong for your caution. Turning it slowly, opening the door even slower, you slipped through it once it was wide enough.

“Y/N” you heard him murmur from behind you. At the sound of his voice you stifled a squeal of surprise. When you turned to confront him, determined to make your case for leaving, your eyes had to travel down to the floor where he resided. You saw him fast asleep, back against your doorway. Had he been there since your fight? Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw the flashing of lights outside, signaling that Pepper was there. You were starting to unravel. Tears did not threaten to leave your eyes, they promised. As they spilled down your cheeks you shook them away along with your weak thoughts. The sight of Tony at your doorstep almost made you drop your bags and forget all your previous worries. 

Almost.

  A/N: Please do not claim my work as your own. Please leave a comment, a like, and reblog, it honestly really means the world to me when I get comments.