#but i STILL think Something Better will end up more hopeful than a prequel show would be... because nobody would end up happy in a prequel!

[faelapis]

i feel like i'm in at a lonely table for one here... but i don't want any SU continuity to be a prequel. and i think some people who want a prequel, haven't really thought through what that would look like.

either a war prequel or a rose quartz prequel would end up as a huge downer. the steven/post-steven era is the only one that has any HOPE for the vast majority of the characters.

idk. i feel like if you really want flashbacks, there's nothing STOPPING a post-SU future series (whether an anthology series or a new main character) from having flashbacks. maybe pearl's the main character for an episode, and its mostly her telling old war stories. maybe bismuth and garnet finally have that beta raid flashback.

but if you set it in the past, definitively, then its going to be a bummer. because all the characters end up corrupted, shattered, deeply traumatized, or fleeing to homeworld. nobody feels like a winner right after the war. not a single character.

most gems are only beginning to heal from it now.

SU, thematically, has always focused on the possibility of hope and change. that's only possible in the future, not the past.

you want lore? you can have that in an anthology or post-future series. there is nothing stopping peridot or the diamonds from having a "explaining gem origins and religion" ep. you want action sequences? again, pearl can narrative war flashbacks, or we can even set an anthology episode in the past proper. or have a new conflict!

personally, i don't see a reason to set it only in the past. that's just an unnecessary limit on the stories you're able to tell.

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Fan Reactions)

Finally doing my first requested story!

Based on the following ask from @drunk-teens-doing-drugs and the comment from @luxiorchive

Summary: A serious of reactions from from fans and Media about Harry's new girlfriend as well as Mitch & Sarah's feelings of being left out of big moments. This story starts immediately after the end of chapter 10.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Mitch & Matilda

Wordcount: 2.1K

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“Can you do me a favor?” Harry says, breaking the morning silence.

“Uhm, yea, sure, what is it?” You ask. Unless Harry asked you for something crazy you’d do pretty much anything he said right now. Two days ago, he joined your relationship and you, Harry, Mitch, and Sarah had your first official date together. Yesterday you all spent the day out on the water enjoying the beautiful Italian views. The night ended back in your shared bed, you and Harry having sex for the first time while Mitch and Sarah reconnected right next to you.

So yea, you were pretty blissed out and content, happy to please your boyfriends and girlfriend however they want.

You’ve all been awake for a little while, hanging out in bed and switching cuddle partners every now and then. You’re currently in between Mitch and Sarah with Harry on Sarah’s other side. He’d picked up his phone a few minutes ago, seeing a screen full of notifications and he knew he had to peek at what was happening, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Which has led to him asking you a favor.

“Can you not go on social media today?” He asks you.

“Sure,” you answer quickly. That was an easy request. You aren’t even sure where your phone is to be honest. You’re more than happy to exist in your little happy bubble, but still, you’re curious about his request. “Can I ask why you want me offline today?”

“Yea the uh, the pap photos from yesterday have been posted.”

“Oh gosh, what, are they bad? Was it a terrible angle and I look awful? Did they like, photoshop someone else’s face on me or something?”

“No, love,” he answers with a laugh. “Nothing like that. It’s just that this is new and I’m not sure how people are going to respond yet. I want to make sure you don’t stumble across something nasty.”

“Do you think people are going to be negative?” Sarah asks, worried about the idea of you two receiving backlash.

“I never know what to think,” he replies while scrolling through his phone. “But I will say that everything seems positive so far. Media outlets are confused, wondering who this ‘mystery woman’ is. Fans are much better detectives. They’ve already posted some videos of you at my shows.”

“Can I see?” Mitch asks and takes the phone Harry hands him. After a moment he says, “Oh this is good. The people who were near you at the concerts are all saying how nice and chill you were. There’re a few comments saying you seem to follow Harry’s treat people with kindness motto, that’s like the best compliment his fans can give.”

You smile at that, remembering all the moments you got to share with Harry’s fans during his shows. You realize that you probably won’t be able to do that again in the future, now that you’re officially known as Harry’s new girl, but you hope you’ll still be able to interact with the fans in some way.

“Okay, phones away,” Sarah says, and Mitch immediately locks the phone and hands it back to Harry.

“What’s the plan for today?” Sarah then asks.

“Can we stay here and go swimming?” you ask. “I’ve been taking Ryan in the pool a lot but I don’t get to actually swim, you know?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry replies as the other two nod in agreement. “How is Ryan?” he asks, and you fill them in on the boy you nanny as you all get ready.

The four of you spend that day and the next relaxing at the private villa. It isn’t until dinner of the second evening that Harry decides it’s time to pop the bubble and see what people are saying online.

You’re all sitting at the table outside and he explains that no news is good news, that his publicist would have called if there was anything truly bad being said. He pulls out his phone and starts to scroll. When he doesn’t say anything for the first minute you start to get anxious but finally he begins to smile.

“It’s good?” Sarah asks.

“It’s- Yea. It’s really good. I mean, I hoped this would be the reaction, but I’m used to getting so much negativity that I didn’t think it would actually be like this. I mean there’s a couple of bad comments but for the most part it’s, God, it’s really good.” Harry says this with a smile so big his dimples are showing. Suddenly your insecurities and fears vanish, replaced by joy for your boyfriend.

His words and obvious relief make you remember all that he’s been through with the public. He’s suffered years of lies and abuse from fans and media alike, and he’s probably been more worried than anyone else the past few days even if he wasn’t showing it.

You move to sit in his lap, kissing him gently then asking, “Can you read us some comments?”

Harry complies happily, one arm wrapped around you as he tells you all what people are saying.

There are hundreds of comments saying how cute and happy you two look together. Some people have negative things to say about you, but even seeing them say that you’re not pretty, or too plain, or a total nobody can’t shake you. It doesn’t matter what they think, not really. It matters what Harry and Sarah and Mitch think. And since they respond with compliments to contradict every negative comment you’re feeling pretty good.

There’s a feeling of celebration in the air and you realize that you were all more worried about the feedback than you thought. But seeing so much positivity makes you feel really happy. You didn’t necessarily need the validation but having that rather than having people hate your relationship with Harry uncomplicates things a little bit. A four-person relationship is a lot to manage and needing to make the public happy would’ve added a strain that you all simply did not want to deal with.

Over the next few months people spot you and Harry together a few times both in England and in the US. Every time new pictures drop the fans get so excited and comment about how happy they are for you and Harry.

On a few occasions all four of you are spotted together. As always the fans have a number of theories about that and you’re all relieved to see the most common one is that you must be friends with Mitch and Sarah, and they introduced you and Harry.

You’re happy that they came to this conclusion naturally, since that’s what you always hoped the fans would think. The downside of course is that you have to distance yourself from Mitch and Sarah when you’re in public. You can somewhat get away with being close to Sarah since people seem to love that you two are “besties”. However, you and Mitch are extremely careful not to get too close, knowing that tabloids and gossip columns would jump on an opportunity to claim drama with Harry’s relationship.

For the most part, this secrecy is just a part of life. In fact, none of you really want any of your personal lives shared with the public if you can help it. But sometimes it does get difficult not being able to show each member of your relationship the same level of love and attention.

One of the biggest examples of that is the Grammy Awards in 2024. Harry’s up for an award and was asked to give a performance as well. The four of you get ready together and hype each other up throughout the day while making sure to not be too obvious in front of the stylists in the room.

When everyone is ready and about to get in the cars Harry turns to you and says, “You look absolutely beautiful my love.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. When you break apart you’re blushing, aware of Anthony taking pictures of the moment.

“Thank you,” you finally reply. “You look gorgeous as well.” You lean together for another kiss and after a moment you pull away laughing and swatting at Harry as he gently tickles your sides.

You glance over to Sarah and Mitch standing together in another part of the room. There’s a mixture of emotions on their faces and you know them well enough by this point to figure out what they’re feeling with just a look. First is a look of adoration since they simply adore and love both you and Harry. But under that is concern? No. Not concern. Jealousy.

They want to be a part of that moment. Not for any sort of external praise or fame, but because they want to share every part of life all together as a foursome.

These feelings continue throughout the entire day. They want to be by Harry’s side with you as you support him down the red carpet. When you meet them all backstage after the performance they wish that they could share a kiss with you like Harry does. And when Harry wins in his category they want to celebrate with him instead of cheering him on from a separate table in the back of the room.

For someone who has no prior relationship experience before this, you are very good at figuring out what your boyfriends and girlfriend need at any given moment. And that night Mitch and Sarah need to be reassured that they’re as much a part of the relationship as you and Harry.

After finally leaving the afterparty that management forced you and Harry to attend you rush home hoping Mitch and Sarah will still be up. You find them both cuddled on the couch in sweats and immediately realize how uncomfortable your dress is.

Without hesitation you remove your dress, drop it on the floor, and pick up Sarah’s oversized sweater from a nearby chair. You slide it on, and it reaches mid-thigh, so you decide you’re clothed enough. You snuggle in between Mitch and Sarah and Harry joins the cuddle session on the couch a moment later. Things stay innocent for the remainder of the movie that’s playing and then you decide to show the others just how much you love them.

You first focus on Mitch and Sarah, pleasing them and showering them with care and adoration. Then the three of you turn to Harry and congratulate him on another Grammy win in a way that only the three of you are allowed to do.

After that instance the four of you have a conversation about what everyone was feeling that night. From day one you all knew that open communication is key and so over breakfast you hash out all the emotions and come up with a solution to make sure no one is ever feeling left out.

Things aren’t always easy for you and Harry either. While the general public’s reaction to you and him dating is mostly positive, there are negative comments and sometimes things can spiral out of control.

One time your cousin Matt is visiting during a week when Harry happens to be away for work. Pictures of you and Matt start to surface and within hours the cheating rumors begin. At first it doesn’t bother you as it’s honestly kind of expected, but people started to get downright nasty. Finally, you post a story on Instagram, introducing Matt as your cousin in a borderline passive aggressive manner. Most people back off after that, but some don’t believe you. From that moment you know there’s a subsection of fans that will never like you, but you know it’s a small group, so you let it slide.

There are also people who don’t like you simply because you’re dating Harry Styles. They stayed in the background when those first pictures were posted, thinking you’d be gone pretty quickly. But when they realized you were sticking around they started to post nasty comments. It’s mostly just typical mean girl stuff, saying you’re too plain, or fat, or short, or any judgmental thing they can think of even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

You don’t mind these comments too much, knowing they’re made mostly out of jealousy. And nights when they surface tend to end in Sarah, Mitch, and Harry showering you in compliments and worshipping your body so really the internet trolls are doing you a favor.

You know you’re never going to win over everyone so having a majority of people happy for you and Harry makes you feel content. But at the end of the day, what they think doesn’t matter. Because you have the most wonderful boyfriends and girlfriend to share life with, and that makes you the luckiest person alive.

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Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Let me know if you have any requests!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305

[shinowadh]

Welcome once again star sailors,..............

First of all, with immense regret I apologise for not delving further into the following panels. This was going to be perhaps the most important post of the entire series (up till the end of Giyuu Gaiden). Sorry for the inconvenience, as I know myself the pain of not reading analysis series in order.

Now not leaving the task on to-do, let's move on, shall we?

I once again ask you to look at this panel:

(If you have not read the prequel part of this series, I strongly suggest doing that. Context will be needed in order to understand the further clues.)

As you remember, in the last episode of this series, I discussed Shinobu's intent with her quote on the top of the page. We discussed the sarcasm and the meaning behind it.

But now we are focusing on Giyuu. First of all, I would like to make the following statements.

This novella is set after the kamado massacre.

Giyuu is feeling guilt about letting Nezuko live (for reference, check the the second part of the Giyuu Gaiden novel)

Giyuu downplays himself, considering himself to be lower than anyone else.

Shinobu directly just made statement to her judgement on demons

Now.......I wonder how this all adds up.

Giyuu is feeling guilt for what he did. Or I would much rather say, what he chose to do. He most likely feels that another hashira would have made a better decision.

And now Shinobu directly states her reaction. This isn't a simple coincidence. The author is deliberately trying to show us that Giyuu's decision was something that Shinobu- and maybe any other hashira- would not have chosen.

Giyuu's reaction tells us about how he feels this guilt. When he realises what Shinobu would have done if she was in his place, he immediately starts thinking about his decsion.

It shows the most important part of the manga: What sets Giyuu apart from the other Hashiras. While I admit I analyse this as the 'Giyuu and Shinobu analysis series', this is the Giyuu Gaiden. This about Giyuu.

But this single page tells us more about Shinobu's reason to be here. Why wasn't someone like Sanemi placed in here? Yes, I know I am elaborating a single page, but the treasure it holds is far too vast to even be covered in this post.

So if you are a keen Shinobu fan like me, you might want to read my next blog post (yet too be released).

And so, this was it ladies and gentlemen and any other readers. I hope to venture deeper into Shinobu's position in this manga in the next post with you in the next post. Till then, don't forget to give up. Stay strong. We don't fight demons, but let's still commit to our responsibilities.

Let's make their sacrifices worth.

Yours Truly,

Shinowadh

[cocogum]

how long have you been watching wakfu

Hey moth ✨✨

I’ve actually been watching Wakfu since 2012.

The first time I heard about it was when I used to have Netflix and even then, that was back when the streaming platform didn’t have Season 2 yet lol

What drew me into watching it was mainly cuz of the cover. This one specifically 👇

It used to only show Yugo opening a portal and because of the style, it made me wonder what the story could be about (at the time I used to think Yugo looked pretty cute so that was also another reason lol).

I remember how my first instinct was switch the language to English when I first watched it. THAT WAS THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. The reason why I switched it for english tho was because netflix was primarily English so I thought that the French language of Wakfu wasn’t the main one (and I thought it sucked without even taking a second to listen to it 💀 ) Thankfully, as soon as I heard Alibert and Ruel talking, I IMMEDIATELY went back to the settings cuz I knew I fucked up. I ain’t listening to this trash again lol

So I switched it to French and i realized it was a thousand times BETTER than the English version. That’s when I realized Wakfu was french.

I loved the places and the people. It was something I’ve never seen before. The French dubbing was so smooth and funny I loved it so much. The “fillers”, which let’s be honest weren’t actual fillers, were also so fun to see with the whole gang.

Even at the time, I used to believe there would eventually be something between Amalia and Yugo lol cuz ain’t no way you guys constantly hug like this for the dumbest reasons.

When Season 1 ended, I really hoped they weren’t gonna do us like that because I really wanted a season season. At the time I didn’t think ankama already did Season 2 (since 2011 💀) cuz I thought Netflix was always on time so it took me some time to wait for it but a year passed by and it finally got here!! I was so happy that day you had no idea. I had to wait for a whole year before it dropped so my ass was pretty much traumatized after seeing Dally die for the first time I legit thought that he was gonna come back cuz of Nox’s machine but nope 💀 I remember being so sad when I first saw that ending. I really didn’t want it to end, I got too attached to these guys (Amalia was still my favorite back then cuz she was too relatable)

So i watched Season 2 in 2013 AND I LOVED IT. Again, they couldn’t disappoint me. It just got better from that day on.

That’s when I slowly started to dig deeper into Wakfu because there were so many references to things that Yugo and the others were saying that I didn’t even understand. I then learned that Wakfu was based on an MMORPG with the same name,Wakfu, and that there was a prequel to it, Dofus. I also saw how they even had a side story called “Mini Wakfu” which were just shorts from Season 1. I watched that mini series on youtube back then.

Because of Season 2, I was now sure that there will be more to it because so much has been said and yet so little has been explored. So I waited, bought myself some time by watching other shows.

That’s when the ovas happened.

And oh my god I was not ready for it.

The ovas released in 2016 on Netflix but had already been a thing since 2014. Blame Netflix.

And again, there were so much more references that made me feel so confused like who Otomaï was, Ogrest (who was only a giant mention in Season 1 to me), Maskemane, Echo, Sipho, Harebourg, etc.

I was confused but so intrigued because it made me learn that the Krosmoz was A LOT BIGGER than what I thought it would be. And that’s what I like. I love how a story has multiple timelines, has complex strange plot holes in certain places that makes you want to become a theorizer, has so many diverse characters and relationships. Things like those are why I fell in love with the legend of Zelda and fnaf franchises.

That’s how I learned about the mangas, comics, different games (Dofus, Wakfu, Krosmaga, Dofus touch, minor Dofus games on the App Store, etc.) as well as cancelled games (Islands of Wakfu, Wakfu: Les Gardiens, etc). I even started learning more about the Dofus era by going through Dofus shows like “Dofus : Kerub’s Bazaar”.

Right after the ovas, I watched Goultard’s special episode, Ogrest’s special episode, and Nox’s special episode. Then, I saw the Dofus movie featuring Joris and his mom before watching the show. After, I read the wakfu manga that was supposed to situate itself between Season 2 and the ovas. At the time, there were only four volumes so I binge read them all on a google drive that someone was kind enough to share publicly (that google drive doesn’t exist anymore). All of this happened in 2016 btw.

After that, I waited for more news of Wakfu but my dumbass got sidetracked because of binge watching other shows while waiting. I was joining multiplie fandoms while unconsciously waiting for more of Ankama. And that’s how I missed Season 3 that came out in 2017 💀💀 I’m so dumb my god all I had to do was wait another year but noooo youtube had to show me the new season trailer in 2018 instead!

I went back to Netflix, freaking the hell out, binge watched the whole season, got emotional, loved Oropo for kissing Amalia cuz I knew there’d be drama, absolutely adored the whole percedal family being a family, trying not to laugh at Adamaï’s look for the first time, expecting Ruel to get hard over money, and LOVED the drama between Yugo and Amalia. I WAS A FAN OF THEIR SHIP SINCE SEASON 1 FOR CRYING OUT LOUD which is why I was so happy that we finally got to see so much more of their problems being addressed.

After that, I knew I needed more so I went back to reading comics. I bought the actual volumes 1 to 4 of the wakfu manga (because I wanted to have a physical copy of them even though I already read the story) and then waited for the fifth one. As soon as volume 5 released in 2019 (July 4), I TOOK IT FROM AMAZON’S HANDS CUZ VOLUME 4 WAS KILLING ME WITH IT’S ENDING- (I’ve been waiting since 2016, I wasn’t gonna wait any longer).

In 2020, I joined the best wakfu amino on the amino app, and then mainly went looking for Ankama related things like their anime Radiant (I started reading the manga first and ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT FOR ITS ORIGINALITY. But I still can’t believe that it got released back in 2013 tho…) and then watched the anime that came out for it (the opening song was good but I hate how the anime changed some things to the story. The manga is better but the anime gets its fair share of popularity so I guess that’s good).

In 2021-2022 I think that’s where I heard about the kickstarter for Wakfu Season 4 and I was mind blown when I saw the trailer for it.

In 2023, I bought Ogrest’s volumes 1 to 4 because I’ve been waiting to read and know more about Ogrest and what was the deal with the Sadida dolls since I heard about those from some people. My god the manga was so good!! I’m still waiting for that volume 5 but I’m extremely certain that it will come very soon now since Mig, the illustrator for the Ogrest manga, has been giving small sneak peeks here and there lately. It was also in the same year that I learned about the One More Gate game and watched Oropo’s special episode.

Then came 2024. And that’s where I went ape shit. Now you know everything ✨

The latest thing I bought from Ankama shop in 2024 now was the standard version of the Amalia figurine, the vinyl disc pack containing Krosmoz osts, and the Wakfu S3 artbook (tho the artbook was actually not something that you can find in the Ankama shop. I had to dig deep on Amazon and find a seller willing to give it away).

So yeah my history with Wakfu is a pretty messy one and has always been all over the place mainly because I was so slow back then to realize when the releases were happening and how the lore was actually constructed lol

Like it took me so much time to understand that Wakfu was only one piece of a bigger puzzle set and being unaware of so many things back then is still something I tend to regret. I understand that it was because I was still a snotty kid back then who didn’t know much about the internet but I can’t help myself to think how easy it was to keep up the pace 💀

At least I won’t have to think I’m late anymore because I’ve got a better idea of how it all works now.

Wakfu has been playing a huge part in my life because it’s always been at the back of my mind no matter what fandom I was in at the time. Sure, it was at the back burner but I never had the intention of forgetting about it. It holds way too many memories of the simpler times and has a lot of great ideas I think I’ve never seen other shows have.

[cayenne-twilight]

Luke design mini-analysis

I’m a little late to the party so people have been talking a lot about this already, but I wanted to look into Luke’s new design.

First of all, he’s significantly taller! Luke had already grown between 10 and 13, but not this much. And he’s switched from his classic shorts to long pants and from his weird Mary Jane shoes to normal ones. He’s lost his cheek blushes of childhood innocence, which many people are complaining about.

Whether or not they’re retconning the events of the anime, it looks like Luke’s 15 y/o and young adult designs are canon. His eyebrows appear to be slightly thicker than before, but not nearly as thick as they will be. Plus, he has three bangs in his hair instead of one, also consistent with his older design. Not to mention the reddish vest and shoes which are similar to the ones we see on adult Luke.

The first thing you notice in this new design is the bright red bow tie. The first association is that this is in reference to Emmy’s design during the prequels. The red color looks the same as the ribbon on Layton’s hat and could serve to tie their designs together visually. Red ribbon bows are also associated with Flora’s design as she has one in her ponytail and one as a belt. All in all, the bow tie might be an amalgamation of references symbolic of past adventures which Luke wears to remind himself of his life back in England.

Back when the anime came out, people were surprised by how different Luke’s design was, and theorized that he changed his appearance to disassociate himself from Clive after the end of Lost Future. It made sense at the time, and we noticed that he slowly started looking more and more like Clark instead of a bigger version of his past self. But now, interestingly, he looks even more like Clive than he did last year. His hair is in a similar style, he still has his old hat, and that thinking pose is reminiscent of Clive’s puzzle animations. The blazer and vest combo is very similar.

It’s possible that Luke still has respect for Clive, or something happened after LS that made him forgive him. Conversely, it’s also possible that he wants to be better than him. This is kind of stupid, but little Luke has one bang in his hair, Clive has two, and from this point forward Luke has three. It’s also possible that Luke has just been continuing on with his old style, but something happens during or after NWOS that makes Luke want to emulate Clark more.

Either way, the connections Luke built over the last two trilogies shaped him into who he is in his new life in America, and his design reflects that. I do hope we get more explicit reference to this, preferably the characters actually showing up. I expect to see his parents for sure, and hopefully Marina, but surely they have to reference what’s going on back in London after a year and have someone make an appearance. Right?

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where the rules are broken, and maybe better than before.

Or the twentieth installment of the SKZ!pack prequel series, from the other side of the story.

Tags: Skz, stray kids, stay, ot8, skz!pack, skz!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, pack!prequel, skz!pack prequel, prequel series, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, skz drabble, angst

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Comfort

Title: The Other Things (From Changbin's POV)

I fucked up. 

I know that. 

But as I stare at the screen of my phone, watching the call go immediately to voicemail-again-I can feel the anger bubbling up to fill the cracks between the pools of guilt and fear sitting in my gut. 

What the hell was she thinking?

“Fuck!” I swear vehemently and toss the phone across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor. I’ll worry about that later. 

Leaning forward, elbows on my knees, I rake my fingers through my hair, over and over, the movements short and repetitive and furious, as I try to think of what to do. 

I couldn’t tell Chan. Hell, I couldn’t even tell Jisung or Felix or Seungmin. They’d never forgive me. 

So I stand up slowly, taking in a deep breath, and retrieve my phone, dialing the number of the only person I know who won’t immediately blow this out of proportion. 

I watch it ring, and then the line connects.

“What?” Minho’s voice snaps through the speaker, annoyed and aloof and altogether entirely Minho. 

I immediately feel the band around my chest loosen just a bit. 

“Hyung.” 

I swallow, suddenly not able to get the words out, and I hear him sigh through the other end of the phone. 

“What?” He repeats again, but doesn’t ask anything else, and that’s what I’ve always liked about Minho, why I called him over anyone else. 

He doesn’t care about other peoples’ business enough to pry. 

But he always shows up when you ask him to. 

And right now, I needed him to. 

I clear my throat and try again, trying not to think of the dozens of unanswered calls and messages weighing down the phone in my hand. 

“I messed up.” 

Minho snorts, and I hear the clatter of cookware in the background, he must be cooking. 

“Is this supposed to be news to me?” 

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take in another calming breath. My chest feels tight once more as I think back to the argument, and I wince, glad no one can see. 

“No, like, I royally fucked up this time. Like enough that I don’t know if I-or hell, anyone-can fix it.” 

There is a brief silence, and then Minho says, “Okay. Well what do you want me to do about it?” 

I know he’s not trying to be smart, or cold, or anything other than straight forward, but it still hurts a little, hearing him ask so bluntly. 

“I can’t get a hold of (Y/N). She’s ignoring my calls.” 

Another beat of silence, and then I hear Minho click his tongue, as if he’s understanding something he hadn’t before. The sound of a pot clangs into the sink. 

“Christopher’s gonna fucking kill you.” 

I roll my eyes, but he’s right, and that’s exactly why I’m coming crawling to him for help instead of my best friend. 

“I know. Why do you think you’re here?” 

Minho scoffs audibly, but I hear the jangle of keys as if he’s grabbing things off the counter in preparation to leave. 

I hope it’s to help me. 

“I can’t save you from him. And I wouldn’t want to.” 

I run my tongue over my teeth, feeling agitated suddenly. 

The longer we spend talking, the longer she could be getting herself into trouble, or worse. 

I wouldn’t put it past her to do something stupid right now, not with how furious she was with me when I last saw her. 

“Hyung, I’m not asking you to protect me, just please, can you-” I stopped. 

It wasn’t like me to ask for help, but I needed his in this moment, and I’d just have to deal with it. 

She wasn’t going to answer me, she’d made that more than clear. 

I take in a stuttered breath and try again. 

“I know I fucked up, I know that, believe me, but I she’s not going to talk to me, and I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

A sigh, and then Minho says, “Well c’mon then, dumbass. I’m outside the dorm with the car.” 

Relief pools in my stomach, and I open my mouth to thank him, my eyes burning slightly, but he beats me to the punch. 

“And don’t even try to get sappy or sentimental on me, because I will retract my help and leave you on your own, so help me god. Now get downstairs.” 

I clamp my mouth shut and end the call. 

********

“Wait, wait, wait!” I grab Minho’s shoulder, and he grumbles as he shakes me off, navigating the car down the cramped roads of the campus. 

I point toward the lit up bus stop, and the figure walking toward it. 

“That’s her! Pull over!” 

“I have eyes, thank you.” Minho mutters with annoyance, but he swerves the car over to the curb without another word and I’m out the door before we’ve even come to a complete stop, my feet slapping down hard on the pavement. 

The panic in my gut is making it hard for me to think straight.

She turns at the noise, expression on guard, and I lunge toward her before I’ve even had time to think. 

I come to a stop in front of her, chest heaving, and she stares at me, expression unreadable, face hard. 

She doesn’t say a word.

Suddenly, all the fear coagulating in my stomach starts to bitter into something angry, something dark, and I glare at her, the next words from my mouth are ones I instantly wish I could take back. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

Her eyes darken, and her lips press into a thin line. 

“Out.” Is all she says, and I feel a manic laugh starting to bubble in my chest at the response. 

Really? That’s all she’s going to give me? I’ve been trying to reach her for hours, worried out of my goddamn mind, and the only explanation to where she’s been is fucking ‘out’?

She’s still holding my gaze with her own, fierce and defensive, not backing down an inch, and I feel the rage bubble heatedly into my throat. 

I clench my fists. 

 “That’s all you have to say for yourself? We’ve been trying to reach you all goddamn night, (Y/N), we were fucking worried.” 

I see the corners of her lips turn up at that, as if she wants to laugh in my face, and I wouldn’t blame her. 

Not after what I’d said earlier. 

How could she think I’d be worried? When all I did was push her away?

She turns her head stubbornly to the side, and that’s when I see it, the drying blood in the corner of her lip, the fresh, red mark across her jaw, already starting to fade to purple around the edges. 

Everything inside of me devolves into hot, fiery rage, and this time, it’s not directed at her.

I feel out of control as I pinch her chin forcefully between my fingers and yank her gaze back to mine, ignoring the way she winces slightly under the rough touch. 

“You’re fucking bleeding.” I growl out, my entire body hot and electrified, like I just touched a red hot poker. My eyes dart once more to the bruising marking her pretty skin, and I can feel myself spiraling. “What the hell happened?”

 She yanks from my grip and turns on her heel, stalking toward the bus stop, not giving me another glance. 

“I handled it.” 

I don’t think, I lunge forward and grab her wrist, stopping her forward movement as she turns to glare at me with undisguised hatred over her shoulder. 

Good, I deserve it, and hate is still an emotion, and I’d rather her look at me right now with any emotion rather than with nothing at all. 

Nothing is when you know you’ve lost them. 

“Where the hell are you going?” 

She grits her teeth, I see it in the clamp of her jaw, and then she spits out, “I’m getting on the bus and I’m going home.” 

It’s there again, the manic urge to laugh bubbling up in my chest, the insane urge to yell and kick and hit and do anything, anything at all, rather than feel like this for one more fucking torturous minute. 

But instead, I meet her head on, I can’t seem to back down, and snap right back, “You’re not getting on the fucking bus, (Y/N).” 

She stares me down, eyes cold. 

“Like hell I’m not.” 

God, why do we both have to be so goddamn stubborn? 

She tugs from my grasp once more, and I let her, before turns away again. 

I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper, and take another step after her, catching her once more. 

She doesn’t even bother turning around this time. 

And when she speaks, her voice is deadly. 

“Let me go, Changbin.” 

No. I don’t think I will. 

I drag her backward easily, toward Minho, toward the waiting car, and she digs in her heels, fighting me, but it’s no use. 

I’m a madman, fueled by rage and adrenaline, and I’m fucking sick of this cat and mouse game. 

I reach the curb and shove her none too gently toward the car. 

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N).” 

I see the resolve still in her eyes, see the fire in the depths of her irises, and she crosses her arms stubbornly over her chest, staring me down. 

“No.” 

Damn it all, I love her fight, I always have, but could she just fucking not for once and fucking listen to me?

I’m caught in a glare down with her, neither of us willing to give up, and then the sound of the car door opening draws my attention. 

Minho appears, annoyed resignation on his face, his eyes dark, as he leans against the open driver’s door and pins her down with his gaze. 

“(Y/N).” 

The way he says her name has her instantly turning her head. 

His expression brooks no arguments as he says in a low, cool voice, “Get in the car.” 

I think she’s going to resist, ignore him, the same way she’s ignored me all day, but instead, she huffs an angry breath, and opens the door to the backseat, sliding in without another word, before she slams the door so hard the windows shake. 

Minho gives me a pointed stare across the top of the car, and returns to the driver’s seat. 

I’m so angry, I can feel my pulse in every goddamn inch of my body, but I clench my hands and get into the passenger seat, slamming my own door for good measure. 

Minho sighs, long and heavy, but I simply smirk and slouch back in the seat, crossing my arms over my chest and staring straight ahead. 

Oh, baby girl, two can play at this game. 

Minho pulls away from the curb, and I force myself to stare out the window, ignoring the building scents of smoke and frost coming to a head in the space of the small car, tense and uncertain and at odds. 

Finally, Minho glances into the rearview mirror at her and asks, “What happened to your lip?” 

I huff a humorless scoff beneath my breath, but don’t take my eyes off the road ahead. 

She’s not gonna tell him. She’s too goddamn stubborn. 

“Just some stupid frat boys.” I hear her say sullenly from the darkness of the back seat, shifting slightly, my ears over attuned to her and her every movement. 

My alpha growls at her words, dangerous and on edge, and I have to force myself from immediately demanding an explanation from her once more, maybe some names, some descriptions. 

God, I really need to fight someone right now. 

Frat boys will do just fine.

Especially if they touched what’s mine. 

I can’t help it, I open my big, dumb mouth, and poke the bear a little bit more. 

Everything smart inside of me is telling me to shut up, but I can’t. 

I want her to suffer, to be scared, to feel stupid, to feel guilty, like I had all day since the fight. 

I turn in my seat and fix her with a glare. 

“See, this is why you never should’ve went to that stupid party on your own in the first place-”

She immediately straightens, the fire reignited in her eyes, and her volume rises in anger, her voice shaking. 

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?” She narrows her eyes at me, and I have to stop myself from letting my gaze drift to the blood by her lips. “I’m an alpha, Changbin. An alpha! Just like you, just like Minho, but just because I’m a girl-” 

Stop, something whispers, stop now, before you cross another line. 

But I can’t. 

“And would they have attacked you if you hadn’t been a girl?!” I bellow out, all the anger and fear and exhaustion finally coming to a head, misdirected at her, the twisted messed up source of it all. 

I see the tears pool in her eyes as I stare at her, chest heaving with rage, but she doesn’t bite back, instead she sits back in the seat and stares doggedly out the window, lips clamped, until I finally break eye contact and turn back to the front. 

Minho shoots me a sidelong, accusatory look, but I ignore him, staring out the windshield as I unlock my fingers slowly, one by one. 

My palms have red, angry crescent moons dug into them, a tribute to the anger I’ve been trying to keep inside. 

The rest of the ride home is silent, and the only thing filling the car is the overwhelming, choking smell of smoke. 

******

When Minho parks the car, she gets out of the back seat without a word and heads toward the elevator without a single backward glance. 

I let her go, because what the hell am I supposed to say? 

I get out, and Minho follows, but he doesn’t fall in line with me as I walk toward the elevator, and when I turn back, he’s leaning against the car, staring me down with an unreadable expression, swinging the keys between his fingers. 

I sigh, and rake a hand through my hair. 

“Let me have it.” 

Minho stays silent, his gaze never leaving mine, and then he finally says, “I’m not going to ask what happened. It’s not my business. But you better fucking fix that-” He motions to the elevator where she disappeared, his expression hardening minutely, and I can tell he’s angry, can tell he’s fucking furious in this moment. “-before I take care of it myself.” 

I stand rooted in place, as he pushes off the car and walks past me toward the elevator now, not giving me another glance, but saying in a low, cold voice as he passes, “No one will ever find your body.” 

A chill runs down my spine at his words, because I know he means it, and more importantly, I know he’s right. 

No one would find my body if Minho had anything to say about it, and I knew better than anyone that I’d better fix this fuck up, and quickly, if I didn’t want him, or her, to hate me forever. 

I stand there, considering, and when I hear the ding of the elevator being called, I turn, holding out my hand toward him.

He eyes me with a blank expression. 

I motion toward the keys. 

“Think Chan-hyung will mind me borrowing his car for another few hours?” 

Minho stares at me, then tosses me the keys, which I catch easily in the palm of my hand. 

 “Fix it.” He reiterates slowly, and then steps into the elevator and disappears as well. 

I clench the keys in my hand and breathe out hard through my nose. 

That’s entirely what I intended on doing. 

One way or another. 

I unlock the car once more and slide into the driver’s seat this time, and as it roars to life beneath me, and I speed out of the parking garage, I can’t help but think back to that morning, when it had all gone to shit, and only because I was a fucking coward. 

I had fucked up, and hurt her in the process, and all for what? Because I was too caught up in my head with the logistics, with the rules, with the fear. 

I’d ruined it all, self sabotaged, because I didn’t want her to feel obligated. 

But she’d said it all on her own-I hadn’t forced her into anything, deep down, I knew that, I did-but then I’d let the fear take over, the what ifs, and I hadn’t said it back. 

Fuck. 

I wanted to-god had I wanted to-but something had held me back, something that haunted me, in everything I did, no matter what it was. 

The terrifying realization that if I crossed that line, any line, all my hard work to be different, to be better, would go to waste, that I’d be no better than any other alpha who took what they wanted, just took and took and took, consequences be damned. 

I wouldn’t do that to her, not if I could help it. 

But I also couldn’t explain that, so instead, I’d shut down, and I’d pushed her away.

And now I’d fucked it all up, and I didn’t know how to fix it. 

“I love you.” She had said, breathless and beautiful and entirely too goddamn perfect for this world. 

I stared at her, still breathing hard, still a little foggy from the high, feeling myself still inside her, slick and warm and beating, and instead of saying anything-because holy shit, had she really just said that?-I stayed silent, trying to compute. 

The words were there, on the tip of my tongue, pulsing like a hot brand, needing to escape, and then, I had stopped myself. 

Because she was staring down at me like I put the stars in the sky, her eyes large and dark, and suddenly, in that moment, I didn’t know how much of this was her, and how much was me, the smell of smoke burning my nostrils and my throat with every inhale I took. 

I watched a slight blush replace the flush on her cheeks, and then she ducked her head, and I saw it in that moment, the shame, the embarrassment, and everything inside of me ached, cried out, begging me to say it back. 

And I wanted to, fuck, I’d wanted nothing more, because I’d dreamed about her saying those words to me, every night since I met her, since I knew I wanted to say it to her, but I held myself back, and she slid off me, and darted for the safety of the bathroom without another word. 

I could taste the regret instantly, like acid, on the back of my tongue. 

Fuck. 

I took my time getting up, focusing on slowing my breathing, on steadying my heartbeat, on pushing the three little words back-down, down, down-so they wouldn’t escape, and by the time I entered the bathroom, she was no longer blushing, but she kept her eyes downturned from me, cleaning herself up without raising her gaze, cool, detached, focused. 

I leaned against the doorway for support, and when she looked up to meet my gaze in the mirror, I forced the words out. 

“Listen-” 

Listen to what? My poor attempt at excuses? My lame ideology that makes me sound like nothing short of a selfish asshole? 

She huffed a laugh under her breath, and I saw it, the hurt in her gaze that she was so desperately trying to hide. 

My stomach dropped at the slight betrayal on her face before she schooled her expression. 

I’d hurt her, and I knew it. 

“It’s fine. Don’t say anything. Just forget it.” 

She forces a smile onto her lips, twisting them upward, and I feel a dagger twisting with them, straight into the depths of my chest. 

How the hell do I explain something like this to her? 

I love you, but I can’t say it back, and it’s only because I don’t want to hurt you. Ironic, right? Because I’ve already clearly fucking done that. 

I nod and move past her to wash my hands. Her faint floral scent sticks in my nose, and I suddenly feel like I’m choking. 

She turns to leave, and that’s when I say, “I can’t tell you what you want to hear.” 

She freezes, hand on the doorknob, and I instantly wince. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Fucking stupid. 

That hadn’t come out how I wanted it to in the slightest. It sounded like rejection, and that was so far from the actual truth that it was laughable. 

She doesn’t turn around, but when she speaks, her voice is wavering, like she’s on the verge of tears, and my chest completely caves in. 

“What?” 

I turn, leaning against the counter, and stare so hard at her back that I feel I could burn holes through her skin-her perfect, warm skin, rising and falling with her breaths. 

“You know what I mean.” 

She doesn’t reply, and I see her fingers tremble on the knob. 

Why am I still talking? Why? 

I don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop. 

“Why’d you say it?” 

Did I do this? Did HE do this? Did we force you into something you weren’t ready for? How can I be sure?

She turns now, brow furrowed in open confusion, like she can’t believe why I’d even ask something like that in the first place, and then asks right back, voice hurt, “Why wouldn’t I say it?” 

I blow out the breath I’ve been holding, harsh and irritated, more so with myself than her, and her gaze hardens, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares me down. I see the stubborn flickers of anger in her eyes and her alpha start to raise its head. 

“Why didn’t you say it?” 

Because I’m a coward. Because I’m not positive you really meant it. Because I’m not even sure you want this. Because I’m so terrified of forcing someone into something against their will that I run the opposite direction as soon as someone opens up to me. Because the deep feelings I have for you scare the absolute shit out of me, and if this all turns out to be fake, then I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold myself back from falling to pieces. 

But instead of voicing any of the thoughts in my head, I pinch my nose and say, frustration washing into my words, “Don’t make this emotional.” 

Stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid. 

I see the flash of a fight return to her eyes, and god, I’ve always loved that about her. 

“Excuse me?” She grits out between her teeth, anger flaring. “Don’t make this ‘emotional’?” 

I physically have to stop myself from grimacing as she throws my callous words back in my face. 

“You know what I mean.” 

I step around her to leave the bathroom, because that’s one thing I’m good at, running away from anything that even remotely appears emotional, how fucking lucky. 

“Pretty sure I don’t. Why don’t you explain it to me?” Her voice rings with barely contained rage, her words shaking.

She follows me, standing in the doorway, eyes flashing defiantly as I try not to look at her and pull on my discarded shorts. 

The room is starting to smell like a crisp winter morning, and I’m honestly expecting to see my breath frosting when I next speak. 

I’m getting angry now, my chest tight, my skin hot, and when I whirl to face her this time, I can’t stop the words from leaving my lips in a stinging targeted rebuke. 

She didn’t get it. And that’s my fault, because I didn’t even try to explain it to her, but still, could she fucking give me some room to breathe for just one goddamn minute? 

“Sometimes it’s not that fucking deep, okay, (Y/N)? Sometimes it just is what it is!” I grate out, hands clenching at my sides, my vision swimming with hot, molten rage. 

I wanted to hurt her with my words, and by the look on her face, I’d gotten my wish. 

She stands there like a statue, staring at me in angry disbelief. 

“Me telling you I love you isn’t ‘that fucking deep’?” 

I stare at the ceiling. I’m a fucking prick, an asshole of the worst kind. 

Finally I meet her glare and say tiredly, “Don’t (Y/N).” 

Because I know this isn’t on her, but I’m backed into a corner, and I need a fucking minute, or a night, or something to get my head back on straight. 

I can’t do this right now, not with her expression telling me I’ve ruined everything. 

“Don’t what?” She retorts, shoving past me to grab her clothes, and I watch helplessly as she tugs on her pants and throws out over her shoulder, “Oh, right, don’t make this emotional because it’s not that fucking deep and I’m just a stupid girl who said a stupid thing and has stupid feelings that you don’t reciprocate.” 

She’s wrong, so wrong, but I can’t tell her that. 

“(Y/N)-” I try again, and she whirls on me so fast I almost take a step back. 

“Don’t.” She seethes, eyes narrowing, lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child you’re disappointed with.” 

The only one here I’m disappointed with is me, but I don’t say that, instead, I keep my mouth shut and school my expression. 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” She spits back in my face, stalking past me and out of the bedroom. 

I follow her, and against my better judgement, I catch her wrist before she can walk out the door. 

She glares at me, daggers in her eyes, and I don’t blame her one bit. 

“Let me go.” 

I shake my head, panic suddenly settling into the cavity of my chest as I stare at her. 

I can’t let her go, not like this. 

I need to explain, I need to just-

“No.” 

Her gaze darkens, and the air spikes with frost. 

“Changbin. Let. Me. Go.” 

She’s not backing down, but neither will I. 

I shake my head, harder this time, and match her glare, toe to toe. 

“Not until we talk about this like adults.” 

She scoffs, her lips pulling into a snarl, and I admit, it sounds stupid, especially coming from me. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that incredibly clear.” 

Had I? That’s not what I had meant, not in the slightest, but things were twisted in the anger of the moment, and it’s not that I didn’t want to talk about it, just that I didn’t know how to talk about it. 

“No, I said I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear-” 

The phrase hurts falling from my lips again, and I see her visibly wince before she rolls her eyes violently. 

“Oh my god.” She huffs a humorless laugh, sharp and stuck in her throat. “Can you please not repeat your obvious rejection over and over? Kinda sucks.” 

That’s what I’d been afraid of. That’s not what I was doing. None of this was a rejection of her or her feelings, just a reflection on me, a coward, a gutless fake. 

Anger boiled in the pit of my stomach-at her misunderstanding, at my stupidity, at this whole fucking situation. 

I feel my expression harden, and my voice is sharp, as I start to say, “I’m not-” 

She cuts me off before I can get another word out. 

“Oh you’re not? Then what are you doing, Changbin? Hm? Please, enlighten me.” 

Her tone is stinging, patronizing, but I can feel her shaking where my fingers are looped around her wrist, giving her away, and it makes me want to kneel and beg for her forgiveness, to take it all back. 

But I can’t. So instead, I drop her wrist, and I channel all that guilt into exasperation, into hot anger, and ask bluntly, “Does it change things? Me saying it back?” 

Because it shouldn’t. 

You shouldn’t need three fucking words to know how I really feel about you. 

She stares at me like she’s just been burned, caught off guard by a hot stove. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” 

“Of course I am!” I blurt out, openly frustrated, growling beneath my breath as I try to control the sudden wave of furious exasperation, clenching my hands at my side. ““Because I don’t fucking get it, (Y/N), if it does, because why?” 

I shouldn’t have to say it for you to understand. 

Hurt flashes across her gaze at my raised voice, my scathing question, and she takes a small step toward me, her body visibly trembling. 

When she speaks, her voice is small, resigned, tired. 

“It changes things, because right now, I don’t know where I stand.” 

I stare at her, unblinking, because I don’t really know how to take what I’m hearing. 

She doesn’t know where she stands without me saying it back to her? Everything I’ve done to show her, everything I’m still doing to show her, and she refuses to get it, won’t think I’m serious, until I repeat back what she admitted to me? Why does it matter? That’s fucking ridiculous. 

“Where you stand?” I repeat her words back to her in disbelief, hoping she’ll hear how stupid they sound. “You stand where you always have! Why does that have to change?” 

With me. You stand with me, you always have, and you always will. Because I can’t live without you. 

She heaves a sigh and reaches for the doorknob. 

“Whatever. This is clearly not working. I’m leaving. Just forget about it.” 

Without thinking, my fingers find their place back on her wrist. 

“Let go of my fucking wrist, Changbin.” 

Her voice is icy, her tone deadly. 

I don’t back down. 

Two can play at this game, baby girl. 

“You wanna know why it matters?” She hisses at me after another moment of silence, stepping forward, her chest brushing my own, as we both heave angry, impassioned breaths. 

Her eyes flash as she meets my gaze. 

“It matters, because right now, what we’re doing here?” She motions to me, and her fingers brush my chest, and I try not to wish it back to the way it was, to the way she touched me before, before all the shit hit the fan and I’d fucked up everything. “Could mean absolutely nothing more than an easy lay-not a single fucking thing.”

She thought that? She really thought so little of me? That I’d jerk her around for months, fake a relationship, just for an easy lay? Just to get my dick wet? 

Fuck, the anger was inescapable now. 

I felt my lip curve into the start of a humorless smirk, the sneer flashing across my teeth. 

I lean into her space, so close our lips are almost brushing, because she’s hurt me, and now I want to hurt her. 

I hold her gaze, making sure she’s listening, and drop my tone into a growl. 

My smoke overtakes her floral frost easily, choking out the air around us. 

“And you think if someone tells you what you want to hear, that that changes things? You’re a goddamn fool if you think that changes anything.” 

Hurt flashes beneath the anger on her face, and we stare each other down for another charged moment of silence, before she turns away and leaves without another word, slamming the door behind her. 

I watch her go, and I don’t call her back. 

*****

I pull up to the frat house, the party still going at high volume, and head inside, shoving past the guy at the door who tries to stop me without a word. I glance around at the milling college students, looking for anyone who looks out of place, and head toward the kitchen. 

As I reach the doorway, I hear a guy’s voice from inside say angrily, “That bitch’ll pay if she ever shows her face around here again.” 

I smile dangerously to myself and crack my knuckles. 

Bingo. 

I step into the dimly lit kitchen and the three guys lounging against the counters beside the sink immediately look up at me. 

The one in the middle, the tallest one, the one currently holding a bag of frozen peas over the knuckles of one hand, stares me down with a glare. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“I could ask you the same question.” I reply back easily, not really looking at them, as I walk along the opposite side of the island, running my fingers along the dozens of different types of alcohol they have available for the party selection. 

The guy snorts. “Last I checked, you’re in my house, buddy.” 

“Well.” I skirt around the island and the guy beside the knuckle kid looks nervous at my approach. 

I almost grin. 

Good, he should be. 

“Last I checked-” I continue, voice low and cool, advancing measuredly, taking my time, like a predator stalking prey. “You put your hands on my girl.” 

Recognition flashes across the middle guy’s face, and anger burns his eyes at my words. 

“Who the fuck-” 

I don’t wait for him to finish. 

I leap forward and tackle him back against the counter, lifting him up and holding him by his throat, his feet dangling, as he struggles in my grasp. 

The bottle of beer he had been holding is knocked onto the floor, shattering at our feet. 

“Isn’t that right?” I ask again, tone calm and casual, as I hold the struggling frat boy up above my head, cocking my brow at him as the hint of a smile comes to my lips. 

I glance at his lackeys, seemingly frozen as they watch me hold their leader like he weighs nothing. 

I’m just now noticing the one guy has a black ring around his eye, and the other’s nose looks more than a little crooked, his nostrils still oozing slowly congealing blood. 

I turn back to the leader with a smirk. 

“Although, it looks to me like she’s the one who kicked your asses.” 

He growls, writhing in my grip, and chokes out, “Get your hands off me, you asshole!” 

One of the goonies gets the courage to move, taking a step toward me, but as soon as his fingers touch my skin, I’m turning on him, pulling leader man with me, leveling him with a deadly glare that instantly has him freezing in place. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

He steps back. 

“You pricks!” The guy in my hold struggles again, kicking his feet against the cabinets with a hollow sort of sound. “Get him! Do something!” 

“And you-” I shove the kid back against the edge of the sink, as he chokes and coughs for breath as my fingers tighten imperceptibly. I let out a long, calming breath through my nose, considering. “-you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.” 

The kid yelps as I drag him out the open back door and into the backyard of the frat house. 

His goonies don’t follow. 

I drop him and he stumbles at my feet, landing hard in the grass as I loom over him, a wicked smile on my face. 

“Would hate to get that nice kitchen dirty with your blood, hm? It’ll be easier clean up for your friends out here.” 

He scrabbles away from me like a crab, and the sight is almost pathetic enough to make me laugh. Almost. 

Instead, I lean down, grab him by the collar of his expensive looking dress shirt, and set him back on his feet in front of me. 

I note the ripped skin on his hand, and my smile curves dangerously. 

“Stand up when I’m talking to you, kid.” 

And then, I reel back, and punch him directly in the face. 

He crumples onto the grass, blood gushing from his nose and mouth, and I wipe my hand off on my hoodie before turning to head back to the house. 

The goonies move out of my way immediately, terror in their eyes, and then rush behind my back to help their fallen leader. 

I shake out my fist as I walk back to where I’d left the car. It felt nice to punch something again, felt even better to punch a punk ass kid like that who had it coming.

I bite back a grin, shift the car into gear, and leave the frat party behind. 

******

When I get back to my apartment, Hyunjin is curled up in the middle of my bed, watching some sort of drama on the screen of my laptop, a bundle of blankets curled around him. 

I should shower, but I’m suddenly exhausted, and without a word, I climb into the bed next to the omega, looping my arms around his waist and burying my nose in the skin of his throat. 

Hyunjin squirms as my cold hands find the warmth of his belly, and then he glances at me sidelong, a disapproving look on his sharp features. 

“You look terrible.” 

“Thanks.” I mumble, not looking at him. 

He pauses his movie and sits up, ignoring my grumbles as he disturbs the comfortable position I’d found, and reaches out to trace a gentle finger beneath my eyes. 

“You haven’t been sleeping.” 

I shrug, picking at a loose string on the comforter that lays over his body. 

He sighs, and the scent of lemons fills my nose, making my body relax, because Hyunjin has always had that effect on me. He’s always been a safe space, someone I can talk to, when no one else will listen. 

I open my mouth, then shut it again, deciding what to say. 

Finally, I say, “I fucked up.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare until I sigh and roll on my back, staring at the ceiling. I don’t look at him as I continue. 

“With (Y/N).” 

He props his chin in his hand and his gaze softens slightly. 

I go on. 

“She told me she loved me, and I didn’t say it back.” 

Hyunjin breathes for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest keeping my gaze and mind centered, and then he asks gently, “Because of the rule?” 

I nod. “Because of the rule.” 

He sighs again, and leans his head onto my shoulder. I bury my nose in his hair, he smells like shampoo and gel and lemonade, and close my eyes for a brief moment while he thinks. 

Finally, he breaks the silence with, “Do you remember when you said it back to me the first time?” 

His question catches me off guard, but I do, I do remember, just like it was yesterday. 

I nod. 

He smiles, I feel it against the skin of my neck, and then he cocks his head, meeting my gaze from his position against my shoulder somewhat cheekily. 

“Okay, so why’d you break the rule with me?” 

I scoff, ignoring his question as I shrug and frantically scramble for an explanation. 

“That was different! We’d known each other a long time before, and you said it a lot of times before that, and I knew you couldn’t be swayed by fucking biology at that point and I just-” I shrug again, somewhat helplessly, and trail off, rubbing at the back of my neck awkwardly.

Hyunjin sits up and pins me down with his stare, his dark eyes serious. 

“But it’s not different. And you know it.” I did know it, just like I knew I fucked up. 

I sigh heavily and admit, “I know. You’re right.” 

He smiles, sympathetically this time, and leans over to place his soft, long fingers over my own. 

“Let her have some time, some space. But then you have to make it right.” 

I nod, knowing he’s right, and he snuggles back up against me, under the blankets, and resumes his drama. 

I fall asleep with the smell of lemons in my nose. 

****

 I’m not necessarily surprised when she shows up at my door the next day, but I’d thought that she still needed space, and I would have to be the one to first approach, getting to my knees and offering an apology. 

It was the least she deserved.

But here she was, coming into my room and sitting down beside my bed like she belonged there. 

And she did. I’d always known it. 

I glanced quickly at her and then back to my manga, like I was scared to scare her off by looking too long, and we sat in silence for several moments, me flipping pages, her staring at the floor beneath her sneakers. 

Finally, she asked quietly, “What happened to your hand?” 

I flicked my gaze down to the knuckles of my hand, bruising from yesterday’s encounter, and shrugged casually. 

I’d actually forgotten about them till she brought it up. 

“Just some stupid frat boys.” I repeated her words from that night, hoping she’d get the hidden meaning there, as I turned back to reading my comic. 

I wasn’t disappointed. 

I saw her tuck back a satisfied smile, and my chest warms. 

I drop the manga to the bed with a sigh, and she looks at me from the corner of her eye in slight surprise, but doesn’t move from her curled position by the bed. 

Now or never. 

“Look, I know I should apologize-” 

Wow. Great start. 

She interrupts me before I can say anything else, already shaking her head. 

“You don’t need to apologize.” 

I feel self hatred rear its ugly head in my gut and when I speak, my voice is clipped, angry. 

“Yes I fucking do.” 

I owe you so much more than that. 

She startles me by pushing determinedly up to her knees and leaning over me on the bed, her elbows digging into the mattress beside me. 

The fire is back in her eyes as she smiles ruefully down at me.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  

“No, I’m serious. You don’t need to apologize.” 

I stare at her in open confusion, my brow furrowing, and she gives a little laugh, reaching up to smooth the wrinkle from my brow with her pointer finger. 

God, I’d missed her skin. 

“Don’t look so worried.” She says, forcing lightness into her tone. “I’m not gonna hold this against you forever.” 

My lips pull thin into a grimace, and I feel myself scowl. 

“You should.” It’s the least I deserve. 

She shakes her head, and I get a whiff of sweet floral, my gut clenching. 

“You were right though.” She admits a little ruefully, lips curving. “You don’t have to say it. It doesn’t change anything.” 

No, that’s not right. I hadn’t been right, she had been. 

And it was time to let her know that. 

I push myself up on my elbow, opening my mouth, but she beats me to the punch. 

She suddenly looks nervous, wringing her hands and avoiding my gaze. 

“Look. I get it.” She manages to look at me now, her expression softening. “Why you have a rule about not saying it back.” 

That fucking sneak. 

I growl beneath my breath. “Dammit, Hyunjin. I’m gonna fucking murder him.” 

She laughs, and honest to god, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. 

And then she meets my gaze, and all the breath leaves my lungs in one fell swoop. 

“No, it makes sense. And while I totally get it, I do, I also don’t think you should worry about forcing me into doing anything or saying something against my will just because of some stupid pheromones.”

She holds my eye, and I can’t breathe. 

Her breath quivers on the intake, and her chest rises and falls rapidly in quick succession. 

“Because I’m already pretty hopelessly fucking in love with you as it is, and I don’t think any amount of biology is gonna change that.” 

I stare at her, my mind blank, and then I laugh. 

It feels so fucking good, I can’t seem to stop, even though she’s staring at me like I’m crazy. 

I say the first thing that comes to mind. 

“So you meant it then.” 

She shoots me a less than fiery glare and balls her hands into tiny fists, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to look cross, but I think she’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Of course I fucking meant it! Why do you think I got so pissed off when I thought you were rejecting me?” 

Thought you were rejecting me. 

Ah. She gets it now. 

I smile teasingly. “But I told you I wasn’t.” 

And I never would. I never will. Because I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. Please believe me. 

She throws up her hands in an adorable show of exasperation. 

“Yeah, okay! I get that now, but I was a little too devastated to consider it in the moment!” 

I don’t wait another second. I tug her down on top of me, and she lets out a little squeak of surprise as she topples forward into my arms, her nose going into the skin of my throat. 

She’s warm and she smells like a flower patch after an early frost, and god, I think I’ve never felt this good. 

I place my fingers gently on her cheekbones, and tug her back, just enough so I can see her eyes, the long dark lashes brushing her cheeks as she stares up at me. 

God, she’s beautiful. 

And then, I explain. Like I should’ve the first time. 

“I’m sorry that I made you think any of that. I’m sorry that I hurt you by being a stupid asshole. I’m sorry that you ever thought I didn’t feel the same exact way about you that you feel about me.” His lips curve up into the start of a smirk. “And I’m also sorry that you didn’t get to watch me kick those frat boys’ asses to hell and back, but I’m not sorry I did it.” 

She laughs, the sound thick, like she’s holding back tears, and swipes at her eyes with her hand. 

“I’m also sorry I didn’t get to see that.” 

I’m honestly sorry I didn’t get to see her kick their asses too. 

Another time. 

She buries her nose back in the skin of my throat, comfortingly close to my scent gland, and I feel a contented rumble building in my chest at the feel of her warm body against mine, my arms full of her, the air thickening with wisteria and the flickering flames of a campfire. 

I take in a deep breath, bury my nose in her hair, and admit softly, “Also. I had a rule. But I think it’s about time I start living a little less by the rulebook, and a little bit more by the trust you all seem to have in me, however misguided.” 

I can feel the way she smiles against my skin, matching my own as I bite it back behind my teeth as she pulls back to look at me once more. 

I arch a brow at her. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it back. But I can say it now, if you want?” 

And I want to, because suddenly, Hyunjin is right, and it’s not different at all. 

She shakes her head, laughing slightly. 

“It’s not gonna change anything important.” 

And she’s right, it won’t. Not my feelings for her, or our relationship, or the comfort that comes from having her in my arms. 

But she’s important, and that’s enough for me. 

So I put my finger under her chin and raise her gaze to mine, and I let my fingertips carefully, slowly, trace the outline of her perfect, full lips, then gently draw over the bruising that trickles over her jaw, and I marvel, once again, at how lucky I am. 

“I know.” I let my eyes meet her own, and she’s staring at me so openly, nothing to hide, everything on display. “But what if I want to?” 

And I do.

She lets out a breath and then breathes out, eyes never leaving my own, “Okay.” 

I lean in and let my lips brush her cheek, so she can feel my words on her skin, inside of her, feel their truth and sincerity. 

And then I toss everything aside-all the fear and the expectations and the rules-and I say it because I mean it. 

“I love you too.” 

She gives me a sly, sidelong glance, and the corners of her lips perk. 

“My alpha pheromones didn’t make you say that, did they?” 

I growl teasingly and tackle her back into my arms, keeping her in place as I tickle her mercilessly and she giggles, making weak attempts to escape. 

“No fucking pheromones were used.” I say softly, against the soft skin of her throat, and everything inside of my soars, because I’m confident. It’s true. She loves me. 

“No pheromones were used.” She repeats back like a promise, just between the two of us, smiling up at me, and then she leans in and connects our lips, and all the previous rules go out the window. 

********************************************************************************

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[the-ultimate-bookworm]

Just listened to “Can’t Catch Me Now” by Olivia Rodrigo (I’m OBSESSED with her), and as it is the only song (as far as I know) in the soundtrack released from the movie “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” (which comes out November 17th, I can’t wait!), which is an adaptation based off of the prequel of “The Hunger Games”, if you didn’t know.

Spoiler under the cut, cause this song is literally just *chef’s kiss*

If you haven’t read the series yet, you should.

First of all

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

There’s the song.

Second,

Can we take a moment to appreciate this song?

Like, it describes the book, like perfectly.

I’m literally going to a deep examination of this song and point out every single reference to the book. Peeps who’ve read the book can add stuff.

“Shadows of us are still dancing

In every room and every hall”

Olay, I don’t think Snow and Lucy Gray ever danced in the book, but this feels like a direct reference to the fact Lucy Gray was a performer, and SHADOWS OF US.

Their broken relationship, obviously.

“There’s snow falling over the city

You thought it would wash away”

Now, a normal person wouldn’t think anything of that, but I, am not a normal person.

Direct reference to “Snow fall on top” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then, in the trailer and the book, Dean Highbottom is like “Do you hear that? It’s the sound of snow falling” or something like that.

“The bitter taste of my fury,

And all the messes you’ve made”

Do I really need to explain this one?

Snow’s just messed up.

“Yeah, you think you got away

But I’m in trees, I’m in the breeze

My footsteps on the ground

You’ll see my face in every place”

LUCY GRAY AND HER MOCKINGJAYS

LUCY GRAY AND HER MOCKINGJAYS

Also “Wordsworth’s Lucy Gray”

“But you can’t catch me now,”

I don’t know if this is a reference to “She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again” which is Snow not being harmed by Lucy Gray.

Or, if it’s Lucy Gray not being able to get under Snow’s words and lies anymore, and he can’t hurt her anymore either.

“Through wading grass, the months will pass

You’ll feel it all around

I’m here, I’m there, I’m everywhere”

Wading grass gives me “Deep in the Meadow” vibes, and the months will pass is like, even though it’s been months, years even, Snow’s guilt will be there. He might not show it, but it’s there.

Lucy Gray’s haunting him.

“Bet you thought I’d never do it,

Thought it’d go over my head”

Okay, so here, it’s like, where Lucy Gray is hiding from Snow. She could’ve ignored the signs pretend that she didn’t know, but she chose to show that she knew, because that is Lucy Gray Baird.

“I bet you figured I’d pass with the winter

Be something easy to forget

Oh, you think I’m gone cause I left”

Lucy Gray lives on in District 12, through her songs. Not her name, but her songs.

“You can’t, you can’t catch me now

I’m coming like storm into your town”

This is more in the beginning of the book, where Lucy Gray comes to the Capitol. She made a giant impact, in my opinion, especially with her reptile show.

“You can’t, you can’t catch me now

I’m higher than the hopes you brought down”

Obviously, Lucy Gray’s just better, and Snow is… certainly something

“There’s blood on the side of the mountain,

It’s turning a new shade of red”

Lucy Gray disappearing after we presume Snow shit her, which might’ve caused her death.

“Yeah, sometimes the fire you founded

Don’t burn the way you expected”

This definitely feels like a reference to the OG series, you know “catching fire”, “fire you founded”.

It definitely feels like Snow had something to do with sparking the rebellion, and it got out of hand. The Hunger Games, especially the 75th one, was to prove the Capitol controlled the districts, but the rebellion was sparked because of the and tore it down completely.

“Yeah, you thought that this was the end.”

It wasn’t. You know, Katniss and the rebellion. The mockingjays really could hurt Snow again.

[mellarked-katnisseverdeen]

Why A Growing-Back-Together Short Story Would Make Sense For Collins to Write.

I think sometimes fandoms are (rightly so) hesistant to ask for more content. At times though I feel we forget to think about WHY do we want another story, that sequel or spinoff, to see if or not it should be made.

For the most part, the agreement I see is continued stories in a franchise NEED to have a reason behind them outside of just making more. The story needs to, at least, have an excuse other than fans request to be made. If the story has something to say, expanding upon themes in the previous installments and talking about some of it's own while also staying faithful to the OG story it works out great. Bonus, fans really enjoy it when it doesn't feel like a cash grab!

Now. I have not see the new Ballad film (YET!) but I have, in fact, read the book. Ballad Of Songbirds and Snakes certeinly does the previously mentioned job of haveing a reason to be written. There is a clear message and story Collins wanted to dig into, expanding upon several of her previous themes and she did it VERY well. While also adding the theme of Nature Vs. Nuture and a few other unique themes I won't go into to. But all this to say, Ballad does it's job as a prequel and is a GOOD thing to be written.

Now. Why does this make me think a story set in the Growing Back Together phase with Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch is next? Well it's that idea of themes.

The Hunger Games is heavy on themes, it has a few majior ones, and touches on a lot of smaller ones. For the sake of this, I think we all can agree some of the biggest, most important themes in the orignal series is Propagada and the corruptive power and control of the Capitol and it's terrible effects, what role vengence plays in war or spesficially rebellion, and hope (and yes, love) being powerful and spesifically a healing force.

The BIG themes in Ballad are those first two. Young Snow is sees the beginning of controling the narrative of the Games, we see how this idea of making it fun and a show is formed and how he is the first one to use that. Though seeing the Capitol in it's early days, we see some of that idea of this cycle of war. How the Capitol feels justifyed with the Games while the war and what they suffered during it is fresh in their minds still. So. Two big themes expanded upon. Check.

That leaves hope, and it's healing force.

Ballad doesn't completely NOT talk about hope, but it is certeinly not a main focus nor is it really expanded on. So this theme is just sort of. Living in the orignal series. And it COULD just stay that way. Or, one of the most hopeful and healing parts of the story (Katniss and Peeta coming together, having their life together despite the Capitols efforts) could also be expanded on.

We could see the way hope begins and continues to help them through the worst days, how they pull one another up. How the love they have spur them on to choose to make and form a relationship based solely on truth and trust. The making of them coming back to life seperatly and together. All the healing that is mentioned but not expanded on in a single story. Focusing in on that theme of healing and hope.

We see Katniss broken at the end of the story, and are told she does put back her peices enough to have a really happy, peaceful life if not a perfect or scar free one without bad days. A story bridgeing that? I can see that being so uplifting. Seeing an example of someone coming to life and talking back freedom and joy after it's been stolen based on the beleif that it can and will be better. Yea. I think that could be very powerful.

Cause Katniss and Peeta ARE the heart of hope and healing in this series. To me, continueing some more of these themes in a new story almost would HAVE to include them in some way.

Now, notice I did mention a SHORT story. That has to do with my one and only hiccup in this defense of a GBT Short Story from Collins and it is the fact the ending was left vauge intentonally. And for a very good reason. It is just better, as a rule, to not neck down and spell out every little detail of ones endgame to allow fans their own space for freedom. However I do think a short story wouldn't wreak that to awefully and would leave fans with the ability to think about the ending their own way still. At least, it would do no more damage than Ballad did. As long as it is a shorter story that is done carefully.

Whew. That was a LOT, and I apologize for the text wall. So, what do you all think? Am I just making excuses for more Everlark canon bites, or is this point I am making holding water for you all? Let me know if you like!

[silver-heller]

HI what did you think about the new short and seeing your hubbies again? Was there something you liked about it specifically? The animation was so fluid as always, it was quite a treat today

Yo! I freaking loved it! I eat up any animation of Mordecai and Viktor, and you're right, this one was gorgeous looking. It's also really nice to see them before canon, and I hope we get more moments like this.

As for what I like about the short...Okay, I'm about to read too into it because that's what I do and I love it, but, I actually think it offers a surprising amount of characterization on Mordecai's part.

Spoilers below

Like, Mordecai seemed genuinely upset Viktor wasn't offering a challenge or putting any effort into it, in a frenzy looking for some strategy in his move to assure him Viktor had put some thought into it.

It makes me wonder if Mordecai acts out not out of maliciousness or a genuine dislike for anyone, but because he's either in desperate need of control anywhere in his life that he latches onto even the slightest mistakes to criticize someone, or he is just really in need of simulation on his level that he tries to convince those around him to at least try to combat his mind just like he does for them.

Except, there's another detail that gives way more clear answers if one takes a closer look at the table. Viktor was winning:

It may only be by one piece, but it is still "winning without a strategy" which is when Mordecai started acting out and insulted Viktor (yes there might be available actions for Mordecai to take on the board, but potentially just being behind might have been enough for Mordecai to feel self conscious, especially in this context). Mordecai did this all because he couldn't stand not being in control, he couldn't stand losing to someone who, in his eyes, had no strategy. Mordecai clearly does a lot better job at responding to patterns than spontaneity, so it frustrates him to no end he can't find a pattern.

Mordecai is a lot more sensitive than he looks or acts. This had nothing to do with strategies in reality, Mordecai just felt self conscious. Mordecai calms down the instant the game is out of the question and Viktor can no longer win, especially since Mordecai basically won by making Viktor flip out, calling it the "Viktor offensive" as if it were a valid strategy (it was his turn I believe, so I assume he means it that way). Heck, as far as we know he wasn't angry at all, he just behaved in that way to push Viktor over the edge (though I do think there is a genuine element to it, and Mordecai probably pretended it was just for show to mask his frustration).

Also side note, I find it so cool even though both their eyes are green, they're clearly different shades of green. Mordecai's look colder while Viktor's are a more earthy tone, which fits both characters super well.

Though it's kind of heart breaking to see prequel Mordecai having so much energy when the Mordecai in the pilot was clearly very emotionally exhausted.

[iantimony]

didn't poast last week so this is a two-week extravaganza post! con: got roped into DMing dnd pro: none of these fools have read mdzs so i can steal plots from there. hope the party is ready to be lead on a quest by a disembodied arm!

listening: oh shit SO many things. i will not be linking to all of them.

depeche mode: basically just their top songs on spotify, not any specific album. strong shoutout to 'shake the disease' and 'wrong' (which featured in my secret samol post!)

disturbed: ditto

franz ferdinand: albums 'hits to the head' and 'tonight'. throwbacks

phoenix: 'wolfgang amadeus phoenix' ditto throwback

inxs: 'x' DITTO throwback. doesn't hit the same as when i first listened to em years ago unfortunately

streetlight manifesto: album 'somewhere in the between'

boy and bear: 'harlequin dream'

sammy rae: 'let's throw a party', 'the good life', and their 'everybody wants to rule the world' cover

hozier: 'wasteland baby' and 'unreal unearth'

paramore: album 'this is why'

grizzly bear: 'veckatimiest' and 'painted ruins'

haken: their newest album 'fauna' because i'm thinking about whether or not to go to one of their shows in feb (leaning towards yes right now)

my SO's pinecore playlist

shosty symphony no 5 (<3)

and, finally, a lot of borodin symphony no. 1 in e flat and the last two movements of rimsky-korsakov golden cockerel because that's what the youth orchestra i'm volunteering with is playing right now haha

for podcasts, i've listened to the new counter/weight prequel eps! i'm so charmed to see these characters again. i still haven't finished millenium break holiday special because i lost my spot when a bunch of an episode played without sound by accident so i finally went and scrubbed back to the beginning of the episode (it's the second to last part) so by next week i will FINALLY be out of holiday special zone.

reading: finished rereading tgcf lol,,, in loving memory of square checkbox: apparently apple is switching to circle ones? hateful wikipedia page for kessler syndrome my friend @celestialtourguide sent me a dm to ask about a few of the characters in this manuscript and i was immediately charmed by it. it's so pretty, i loved the informational blurbs, just really cool stuff. it was already on waybackmachine but i've gone ahead and updated it.

watching: kurtis conner looksmaxxing. weird little subculture peek. rewatched sideways' why the music in cats 2019 is worse than you thought because my roommate was interested. this led us to the same channel's why avatar has the most ironic soundtrack of all time because roommate misread ironic as iconic and she really likes that movie. no accounting for taste, but aight. much more interesting than i thought it would be. that video then lead us to tony hinnigan's woodwind demos because hell fuckin yes. big-ass panpipes.

i've been keeping up on dunmeshi anime in little watch sessions with my SO, and also am working through kill la kill with him! i've seen it before but he has not so i'm really enjoying that.

playing: fallow.

making: i managed to finish my secret samol gift in time for reveal day!!! comics are fuckin hard dude!!!! i don't know if i'll be doing it again but it was a fun challenge. i decided to use a New App for some reason instead of procreate because procreate has not been hitting right and i wanted comic half tone brushes for this project. app is called sketchbook, it's an orange icon with a pencil on it. shrug! it's fine! i'll probably keep using it for a bit. started working on an english paper piecing project! soliciting tips for that because right now my method is: cut out hexagon using pattern piece i made to be 1/4 in larger all around than the template, gluestick template onto hexagon, baste edges down neatly, whip-stitch right sides together. remove template once all six sides have something attached. i'm sure there's a better way to streamline this process, i'll have to experiment. this will end up as a dice bag i think.

finally, pottery starts again this week! so next week will have some of that in here

eating: ah beans i did not do a good job keeping track of this. uh. made the ground pork & cabbage thing again because my roommate got SO much napa cabbage for making kimchi and we had a shitload left over. napa cabbage isn't as good as a more standard cabbage for this imo, standard cabbage tends to be a little sweeter i think once it's cooked in? idk. had some stage 5 mental illness moments last week trying to cook dinner on a very short time scale with lots of other shit to do, following a recipe because fucking of course my roommate wanted me to cook with a recipe that night. anyways.

misc: like said at the top, somehow i managed to sign up for Another Activity god damn it. so now every saturday evening i run dnd. tl;dr i'm in a group irl that meets biweekly, someone who i give a lift to for that was complaining in the car that their other online group's dm ragequit after his encounter wasn't well-balanced (skill issue) and before thinking about it i just was like oh well i could probably step in if you need! god damn ittttt lol i have missed dming so it should be fun. i vibe checked them for a session 0 last week and they seem chill and honestly shouldn't be too much work on my end, especially if i yoink plots from mdzs ha ha ha. other than that, all is basically well. i've settled back into a schedule, applied for some summer positions (!), and absolutely hate the amount of busy work in one of my two classes. yippee

[inkrabbit]

My Light

Summary: After helping Primo get through the mountain of paperwork, he's whisked away by Terzo. Unable to talk to you in the comfort of his own office, he tells you to meet him in the garden for the conversation. So why can't you find him?

Word Count: 2,756

Attention: This fic is the prequel to "Primo's Favorite" and shows the reader finding Primo in the funeral home. This would take place during Chapter Three: Back on the Road, before the brothers are loaded onto the truck.

You’re gathering up Primo’s paperwork, stacking them together and tapping the ends of the paper on the desk to straighten them out. It seemed like today had been busier than usual in regards to the documents Sister Imperator had wanted him to fill out. The poor man had gotten up at the crack of dawn, already scribbling away at the papers by the time you had gotten to his office.

“Papa!” you had scolded when you saw him, the papers already in a forming pile to his right. “You should’ve woken me up! I would’ve helped you.”

“Ah, il mio piccolo fiore, you deserved your rest.” He gave you that warm smile that was irresistible to match. “Besides, I’m a big boy. I can handle a few papers that Sister throws at me.”

“Looks like it’s more than a few…” You walked over to the desk, frowning at the large stack on his left side. “Would you like some help, Papa?”

His lips parted, ready to speak but he took time to think about it. Finally, he had let out a small sigh, his voice soft when he responded, “If you wouldn’t mind, girasole.”

“Not at all, Papa.” You took a good chunk from the stack, rounding the desk and sitting across from him. He handed you one of his extra pens, but when you reached for it, he jerked it back with a playful smile.

“It’s not Papa,” he told you slowly. “When it is just us, you call me Primo. I have told you this, no?”

“I’m just trying to be respectful.” And you gave him a smile when you finally took the pen from him. “All of the other ghouls call you Papa. I didn’t want to act like I was better than them.”

He was silent for a moment. “You said it, not me.”

“Primo!” You two had shared a laugh, your tail flicking excitedly behind you.

You two got to work after that, sharing jokes here and there until the paperwork finally dwindled down. By the time he had signed the last document and placed it on the pile, he had given you a smile.

“La mia luce,” he had started slowly, and that velvety voice made you melt. “There is something I would like to discuss with you. Something more ah…” He trailed off for a bit, his hand raised and making a few small circles in the air. “Well, I suppose it’s not considered taboo anymore.”

“Taboo?” You had laughed when you heard the word. “Primo, just what could you see as taboo?”

“Don’t tease an old man, girasole. It’s not polite.” Still, he gave you a smile and straightened himself up. “Anyway, it’s something important. You see, I have been… thinking and-”

“Primo!” The two of you had jumped when his office door had been pushed open, Terzo standing in the doorway with a less-enthused Secondo behind him. “Ah, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Actually, Terzo-”

“No, no! That can wait!” Terzo had shot you one of his charming smiles, bowing slightly to you. “Scusate, ghoul, but I need mio fratello maggiore for something important.” The way he spoke the Italian was mocking, like someone talking to a child.

“Just agree, Primo,” Secondo chimed in. “He won’t shut up otherwise. Trust me, I know.”

And Primo had pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling a string of angry Italian. Still, Terzo smiled at the eldest brother.

“So…?”

Primo gave you an apologetic smile. “Excuse me, mia luce. I’m sure I won’t be long.”

“Of course, Papa.” You stood when he does, bowing to him.

“Mia luce?” Terzo had parroted, a smug smile on his face. “My my, fratello! Look at you!”

“Silenzio!” You moved to the side when Primo had picked up his pen, throwing it at the younger man. “È abbastanza brutto che ho dovuto fare le scartoffie tutta la mattina. Ora devo ascoltarvi!”

You tried to hide your smile when you saw Terzo use one of his hands like a little puppet, mocking Primo in a higher-pitched voice as his hips shook back and forth. Still, he had given you a small bow as Primo rounded his desk and joined his brothers.

“Always nice to see you, poca luce,” he grinned. You were still confused. Though you had worked with Primo for years, you had never heard that term before. Well, you decided to ask him later.

“We can continue our talk in the garden. Perhaps in half an hour?” Primo told you as he gave you that same warm smile from this morning. “It would be more appropriate as well.”

“Of course, Papa.” You gave him one last bow as he followed the others out of his office and into the hall.

“Onestamente, Primo. Il tuo ghoul?” You heard Terzo start, his voice echoing through the halls. “Sto iniziando a pensare che potrei essere una cattiva influenza.”

“Zitto!” Even from there, you could still hear the distinct sound of a soft scuffle, most likely Primo hitting the younger man. You smiled.

So here you were now, making sure the papers were ready. You didn’t know why Sister had wanted him to fill out so many, but you were just glad you could help. Spending time with Primo, no matter what you two were doing, had always been the favorite parts of your day. Over the years, it felt like the connection with him had gotten stronger; closer. You two had fallen into sync, and there had been several occasions where one of you would start humming a song, only for the other to say “I was just thinking of that.”

Even apart from him, you felt in tune with his emotions. Anger, embarrassment, annoyance. You assumed Terzo was having his fun annoying the eldest Emeritus. You couldn’t wait to hear what Primo had to say about it later on.

Half an hour. You take a moment to yourself, staring down at the little succulent you had gifted your Papa. What had he wanted to talk about so badly? It wasn’t like him to be nervous or to beat around the bush with anything; and yet, the scent of the anxiety had stained your senses.

You take your time, tidying up his office before you make your way to the garden. It wouldn’t be too long before he met with you, and you could finally get to hear what he wanted to talk to you about. You had planned on teasing him some more, deciding to tell him that it wasn’t polite to keep secrets from his favorite ghoul. You couldn’t stop smiling. You could already hear that playful gasp; see how he would lay a hand over his chest as he feigned offense.

While you wait, you decide to rip out some of the weeds that line the walkway by the fountain. Primo always hated these things and you were more than happy to give him a small surprise. You feel at ease as you pull the dandelions out, pleasantly surprised when some of them still have the roots attached. You stand up to discard them in the nearby trash, wiping the dirt off of your hands.

The next thing you know, a surge of adrenaline and fear courses through you, your knees buckling and sending you to the ground. Your hands ball into tight fists, claws pricking at your palms as your tail wraps around your leg. Your mouth hangs open, but you can’t find the strength to scream or even breathe. Images of Primo flash through your mind, offering you a bit of comfort before the feeling finally fades away. Still, you’re kneeling on the ground, a trembling mess as the dirt clings to your black robe, your grucifix just barely scraping the ground as it gently bounces with each heavy breath you take. This wasn’t normal and your first thought goes to Primo. Did the old man nearly fall again? You remember having the same feeling when his foot caught on the leg of his desk and he went tumbling to the ground.

You pick yourself up, dusting off your robe and straightening it out. You take a few more deep breaths, making sure you’ve completely calmed down before starting for the gate. You’d just go check on Primo real fast; tell him you had gotten a bad feeling and just wanted to make sure he was okay.

But the scent you followed led you to an empty room. While it was still flooded with the scent of the brothers, they were nowhere to be found. Maybe they had just left? You decide to retrace your steps, wondering if you possibly had missed Primo on your way through the abbey. The layout was rather huge. It could’ve easily happened.

“Primo?” You call out, slipping through the gate. To your dismay, you don’t get a response. You walk around the entire garden, calling his name, wondering if the wind was carrying off his scent so you couldn’t locate him. But still, he doesn’t turn up. You know it’s silly, but a part of you is starting to get worried. It was normally so easy to find the old man.

You decide to return to his office. Maybe he went there instead to get ready to turn the paperwork over to Sister. So back to the building you go, rubbing your face. You couldn’t wait to tell him about this little goose chase you just went on. You could hear his playful voice now: “I’m not a child, quello piccolo. I know how to care for myself.” And you fully intend to bring up the last time he got sick and pouted up and down while acting so pitiful when it was only the two of you.

“Ghoul!” You see Sister Imperator walking towards you, hands folded in front of her as she’s accompanied by one of Secondo’s ghouls.

“Good afternoon, Sister.” You give her a bow. “I trust everything is well with you?”

“Just splendid.” Her smile feels… off, but you decide to ignore it. “You can go see Papa I now.”

“Oh, you’ve found him?” You feel a wave of relief wash over you. She gives you a nod, turning to the ghoul beside her.

“Go on. You remember where he is.” There’s something about the way she says that – the way the ghoul bristles beside her that doesn’t sit right with you. But still, you follow the ghoul through the abbey and… towards the funeral home?

“Ghoul…” He looks back at you, your steps slow. “Why… why is Papa Primo out here?”

“It’s not just Primo.” His voice is strained. “It’s all of the Emeritus brothers.”

“What do you mean?” You two stop outside, his hands folded in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” No… “Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator – t-the clergy…” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Ghouls weren’t allowed to decide. They appointed three ghouls to carry everything out and that was it.”

You turn away from him, pushing the door open. Your throat closes up when you see the open caskets, hot tears spilling down your eyes. The only thing you can muster through your opened mouth is a pathetic whimper. You force yourself to walk forward, hands shaky as you reach out to touch Primo’s face. He’s wearing his papal robe, along with his makeup and mitre. He looks peaceful, laying there with his hands folded across his chest. But he’s so cold.

The sound you finally get out is unnatural; a guttural scream that takes all of the air out of your lungs as you fall against the casket. You bury your face in the silk robe, tears staining the material.

“Wake up!” It’s the only thing you can manage to get out, aside from calling his name. You grab his hand, squeezing it, hoping that the sensation would rouse him awake. “Please, Primo! You can’t leave me!”

You raise your head, releasing his hand to cradle his face once more. “Please. Please! I need you!” Your wipe your tears on the sleeve of your robe, clearing up your vision. Your hand moves from his cheek to his shoulder, shaking him. And still, he lays there, silent and limp.

You look around. The other brothers are also dressed up, makeup and all. You feel sick. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You turn your attention back to Primo. “Master, please. Just wake up.” You choke out another sob. “You promised! You told me I would never have to go through this!” Your grip on his shoulder tightens. “Why won’t you wake up?!”

You don’t know how long you stand there, bent over his body. Your throat hurts from your screaming and begging, your tail wrapped around yourself in a pathetic attempt for comfort. Your body is trembling again, shaky hands reaching up to tug at the chain of your grucifix. You pull it over your head before slowly lowering it into his casket, tucked right beside his body. Reality was finally setting in. No amount of begging and crying would bring him back. Still, it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers curl underneath the hem of the robe’s neck. You tug at it a bit, remembering how he used to complain about it choking him. There had even been more than one occasion while on stage where he would try and casually readjust it. You hoped that, by the grace of Lucifer, you loosening the neck would give him some sort of extra peace in the afterlife. The last thing you do is lean forward, pressing your lips to his forehead.

“Ti amo, Primo.” Your voice is still shaky, but you try your best. “I’ll miss you.”

One last gentle caress and you finally pull yourself away from him, your arms wrapped around your middle. You keep trying to breathe steadily and to calm yourself, but you still let out a few pathetic sobs here and there.

Secondo’s ghoul isn’t outside the funeral home when you exit. Fine by you. You weren’t exactly in the mood to exchange any more pleasantries with him.

You let your legs take you past the abbey, mentally checked out as you walk. You don’t exactly realize where you are until you smell the flowers surrounding you. Another hard sob, your chest feeling like it’s going to cave in. It hurts just about as bad as your throat does from your wailing. By this point, you’ve run out of tears, your sleeve soaked from wiping your eyes so much.

You open the glass door to the greenhouse, slowly trudging inside. It’s warm, making a shiver run up your spine. You make your way over to the old bench, legs giving out when you sit down. Still, you bring them up and to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs as you bury your face between your knees. Why? Why did they have to take him from you? Why so soon?

“Ghoul?” You don’t respond at first, not realizing someone’s calling out to you until it’s said again, louder. “Ghoul?”

You pick your head up, still sniffling as you see that silver mask. “O-Omega?”

He’s slow as he moves further into the greenhouse. He reeks of sorrow just like you’re sure you do, the scent getting more intense as he draws closer.

“May I?” He gestures to the space beside you. Instead of answering, you shuffle over, giving him more room. “I suppose you saw.”

“Yeah.” You can’t muster anything else, trying to keep your composure in front of him as you slowly uncurl your legs. Still, you can’t stop yourself when the crying wants to start back up again.

Omega seems to notice, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you towards him. You only notice that he’s softly crying when you bury your face against his shoulder, his body bouncing with each sob. The more you two cry, the tighter your hold on each other gets.

It takes you a while, especially waiting for the moment you think you’ll be able to talk without stuttering, but you finally pull back to look at Omega. “Do you know what uh… what mia luce means?”

His ears flick and he does his best to clear his throat. “I think that’s… my light? Why?”

Another round of sobs racks through you as you curl in on yourself. Everything hurts more knowing you would never be able to know what Primo truly wanted to talk to you about.

Translation: Mia luce - my light Scusate - Excuse me mio fratello maggiore - my big brother Silenzio! - Silence! È abbastanza brutto che ho dovuto fare le scartoffie tutta la mattina. Ora devo ascoltarvi! - It's bad enough that I had to do paperwork all morning. Now I have to listen to you! Onestamente, Primo. Il tuo ghoul? - Honestly, Primo. Your ghoul? Sto iniziando a pensare di avere una cattiva influenza su di te - I'm starting to think I have a bad influence on you Zitto! - Shut up!

[unseededtoast]

Antedate | Bucky Barnes

Part 3/13 | Part Two, Part Four

Summary: Sometimes making the right decision feels like the wrong one. That decision can stick with you for years and leave you wondering what would happen if you had chosen something else. But the alternatives likely lead to a much darker path; you'll never know for sure though. One thing is for certain, the decisions I have made will have lasting consequences.

Prequel to Rectify

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, physical and mental abuse, mention and description of death

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"Make him a blank canvas."

The computer screen is bright as the application loads. To my father's dismay, it's taken me four months to go through Zola's programming and pick out weaknesses. The programming was way more complicated than I originally thought it was going to be. However, I was able to pick out a few pieces that I think can be strengthened. 

My father told me that my work must be conducted away from prying eyes, so now I work alone in the cryogenesis room. The Soldier in the chamber always keeps me on edge, I feel uneasy working in here. For some reason I always have the feeling that at any moment the Soldier will awaken and break out of the chamber. Though even if that did happen I know Zola's programmed words to make him compliant to me.

I dread the day that I have to wake him up and get him out of the chamber. It won't be for a while yet, but, I'm nervous about it. I don't know what it's going to be like and quite honestly I don't want to look into the eyes of the man who I am destroying. The more I think about what my mission is, the clearer it becomes that I am only fueling Hydra's cruelty and that I am no better than anyone else, for I too am playing an active part now.

The computer application finally loads and I take a moment to poke around and understand how to use it. The application will allow me to run simulations to show how programming will affect someone's mind. There's already a brain scan loaded into the application, I just have to code Zola's programming and upload it. 

Once I have Zola's programming loaded into the application, I then can create my own programming and layer it in the application to show me how the brain will be affected. From there, I will have to awaken the Soldier to implement it in his mind. 

This is all easier said than done, I barely have any computer programming skills. It's going to be entirely difficult to translate Zola's program into computer code. I have faith that I can figure it out but I guarantee I won't do it fast enough to please my father. If he could have it his way this entire mission would have been completed five months ago.

I spend the rest of the day trying to write the code to upload but feel as if I've hit a dead end. This is way over my head. I don't know where to start. I sigh and lean back in the chair, feeling frustrated about it. I know better than to ask someone in our technology sector for help since this is a covert mission.

I look around the room, trying to find some inspiration or hoping that an idea will magically come to me. The cold room offers nothing for inspiration, just old technology. I tap my fingers on the desk the computer sits at, thinking of the options I have. I could continue struggling here, I could give up for the day. Each of these options is sure to make my father mad. He hates if I waste even a second of time. 

I turn the computer off and leave the room, locking it behind me. I tuck the key into my pocket and stare at the floor as I leave the laboratory. I still can't look at anyone in here, not after Leopold.

I get to the hallway and fix my posture, walking with my shoulders back and head held high. There's only one solution to this problem that I can think of; I have to teach myself how to code. I just need a moderate understanding of how it works and then I'm sure I'll be able to figure it out from there. 

I walk to the technology department of the base and see a man sitting at a desk. He looks up at me with tired eyes before he sits up straight and changed his demeanor. 

"Miss Averina, what an unexpected surprise. What can I do for you today?" He asks in a fake cheerful tone. I smile at him,

"I would like some materials pertaining to code writing." I keep my request short and sweet. The man raises an eyebrow, 

"Code writing? You weren't placed in the technology division, why do you need that material?" He questions. Though he has a fair point, I can't tell him. I quickly make up an excuse, 

"It's for my own entertainment." I say. I can tell that the man is still apprehensive about giving me what I need. Before he can say anything, I get one more word in,

"I think my father would be glad to know the technology division helped me out." I say. I hate pulling the father card, but I'll do it if it means I can finish my mission. The man squints his eyes and stands from the desk. He walks out of sight and I look around while I wait for him to return.

The man returns with a few books in hand and sets them on the desk for me to take. I grab the books, which are heavier than they look, and bow my head slightly to the man. 

"Thank you." I say and he nods,

"Yes, give your father our regards." He says, still in an obviously artificial happiness. I turn my back on the man and go to my room, where I like to do most of my research and reading. My room is private and many people will not interrupt me here. There is a common area I could do this in, but there are too many eyes and ears there. 

My room is the only place in the entire base that I feel completely at ease. It's my little safe haven. Or at least, it used to be. Ever since Agent Winthrop stopped by the one day I've been a little on edge. I'm always anxious about if he's going to show up again or not. 

Interrupting my already anxious thoughts, someone knocks on my door. My stomach twists in anxiety as I go to open it. I wipe a sweaty palm on my pants and open the door. I see a security guard staring down at me. This is a first. 

"Miss Averina, your father requested your presence in his office at once." The man speaks formally. I nod my head, not understanding why my father would want to talk to me. The guard walks away and I quickly put some shoes on before making the trip to my father's office. 

I knock on his door and am invited in by my father. He doesn't look upset, nor happy. This could mean just about anything. He places a hand on his chin as he paces back and forth for a few minutes. He's building the tension for a reason, I'm sure of it. He stops pacing and looks at me. I stare back without a word, knowing he is the one that's to start the conversation since he's the one that summoned me here. 

"I'd like to have a word with you about your mission." He says. He motions for me to take a seat and I do. I'm not entirely sure of where this is going.

"Yes?" I ask him as he takes a seat behind his desk. He sighs,

"I've done some thinking over the past few days. I want to give you some more specifics. I want you to improve what Zola created, but I also want you to completely erase the Soldier's memories. Make him a blank canvas. I think it would be very advantageous to have a Soldier with no memories." He says and my heart drops. I already thought I was ruining a man, but to also erase his memories? I'm entirely uncomfortable with that idea. However, I can't tell my father no. 

"Yes, sir. I can do that. I've started teaching myself how to code, so that I can use the simulator application. I expect I will be working on my own code in two weeks or less." I say, knowing well enough that I probably won't start my own code for at least another month. I'll have to find some excuse to stall.

"I would prefer if it didn't take two weeks. However, I need this to be perfect and am willing to wait. But not long. Do not keep me waiting, you hear me?" He asks and I nod. I hear him loud and clear. 

"Yes, sir. I understand. I promise that I will not fail or disappoint you, I will honor the family name." I say, laying it on extra thick for him. I don't need him questioning my dedication or loyalty. I see a small smile on his lips, 

"I expect great things from you, Adalyn. You are excused." He says and I nod my head and leave his office. 

How can he so casually ask me to wipe a person's entire memory? I already don't want to destroy this man by creating a perfect code, but I don't know if I can bring myself to erase everything. The Soldier was somebody before he was taken in by Hydra. Surely he doesn't remember his life before, due to Zola's programming, but they're probably still in his mind somewhere. 

I don't know if I can strip that away from him. Perhaps there's a way that I can write my code but leave his memories alone. I don't know how my father intends to check if his memories are still in his mind or not. I could always lie and say that I erased them. But, if my lie is found out then I am sure to join my mother. 

Instead of returning to my room, I decide to go visit my mother's grave. A guard opens the door for me and I hug my arms closely to my chest, regretting not going to pick up my coat. I trudge through the snow to where I think my mother's grave is. There's no marker for any of the graves, so I take a guess as to where she is. 

I stand looking at the ground, hoping I found the right spot. I let out a sigh, and the breath leaves my mouth in a white cloud of condensation. I talk to her quietly, not wanting the outdoor guards to hear anything I have to say. 

"I need your help. I don't know what to do. Father wants me to completely destroy a man, but I don't want to do it. I don't even want to write the code. Things are so different now, mom. I miss you, a lot. I wish you were here." I say. I hear a sound in the trees and look up, seeing a black and white bird with red around its eyes sitting on a branch. 

I recognize the bird, my mother always loved the grouses that ran around in the forest. They're kind of funny looking, I always thought. Now that mom is gone, I think I can finally see the beauty she saw in them. They're free, able to run around and do whatever they please. Their coloring is intricate, but has a simplicity to it. 

I take the bird as a symbol that my mother is with me, though not physically. I take in a big breath and feel as if I've made up my mind. I'm not going to erase the man's memories. I can't do it. It's too inhumane and cruel, not to mention unnecessary. 

I go back to my room and begin reading the coding books again. I know I can't avoid writing the code, I know that I am choosing to exercise as much mercy and kindness as I can to this man. It's what mom would have done and I know it's what she would have wanted me to choose. I can't bring myself to be fully comforted by this decision though, I'm still going to be responsible for making him a weapon of Hydra. 

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 1

“You can do this Marinette,” Adrien whispered encouragingly, echoing the mantra she’d been whispering to herself for the past two days.  She could do this.  She could manage.  This was for Max.  She could handle it.  He couldn’t be here but she could.  She could be strong for him.  She gave Adrien a shaky smile and nodded.  “We just have to find him and we can leave,” he reminded her.

Marinette took a breath and let it out slowly. She’d dealt with far, far worse than a few judgmental, heartless asses who had no real interest in her.  But seas of artificial smiles had always unsettled her and currently she was surrounded with so much artificial sweetness she felt like she was walking through a kid’s cereal aisle.  That added onto her already existing anxiety had her ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

She ran her hand over the skirt of her dress, letting the feeling of the fabric and the knowledge of all that had gone into it soothe her.  She was especially proud of her dress and the work that had gone into it.  It was a black so dark it almost appeared to draw in the light around it.  A mesh with strategically placed blood red decorations overlaid the dress, hugging her bodice until it reached her hips then dropped into a flowing skirt that ended just before it could pool on the ground.

She fought the urge to fiddle with the belt in her nervousness.  She couldn’t show weakness like that, not here.  She looked up at Adrien again in search of an anchor to reality.  She took in his expression and had to stifle the laugh that resulted.  He had his own artificially sweet smile on but his eyes quite clearly begged for a quick death.  He glanced down to her and nudged her discreetly, his artificial smile becoming wide and real.  “Shhhh,” he hushed her under his breath.  “We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves, remember?  We’re ghosts.”  He looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them.

Marinette immediately quieted, her face becoming somber. She did remember.  In and out.  That was the goal.  Her goal. Knock the man on his ass with Max’s accomplishments, then never see him, or anyone else in this room, other than Adrien of course, ever again.  They were supposed to be like ghosts.  There but not.  Her eyes scanned the room looking for their target.

Adrien’s eyes immediately softened and filled with regret.  “Shit, Mari. I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” she looked up at him with an artificial smile of her own.  “I know. It’s fine.  It’s not your fault.”  She scanned the crowd again, cursing her height, as she had many times in her life.  Even with the six inch, death defying heels, she still barely reached Adrien’s eyes, let alone give her any kind of advantage to see the crowd.  She needed some kind of vantage point but unfortunately, the only high point in the ballroom was the stage, which she couldn’t utilize if she was going to follow her Ghost policy.  “We might have more success if we split up.  Let me know if you find him.”

Adrien squeezed her arm quickly before nodding. “Good luck.”

Marinette shot him a genuine smile.  “You too.  May the Luck be with you.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head.  “I never should have forced you to watch that movie.”

Marinette grinned back.  “You never should have forced me to watch the prequels.  The original ones were just fine.”  Adrien narrowed his eyes at her but let it drop in favor of disappearing in the crowd to find their target.

Marinette followed him with her eyes until she couldn’t see him anymore then took a deep breath to brace herself.  Her eyes immediately started darting around and her fingers started dancing.  She needed something to occupy them or she was going to start attracting unwanted attention.

She noted a bar close by and made a beeline for it. She waited politely for the bartender to notice her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar while she waited. She froze when she heard a gruff voice next to her.  “Did you sneak in here?”

She turned to the voice and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re anxious and jittery.  Afraid you’re going to get kicked out?” the man elaborated.

Marinette studied him for a moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.  “No,” she started slowly, trying to give her brain a chance to answer the puzzle. “Just not a fan of events like this.”

The man scoffed and nodded in understanding. “Cheers.”  He raised his glass for her to clink his but she held out her hands with a sheepish look, showing she didn’t have a drink yet.  “Well, that’s a crime.  Nobody should have to endure one of these without a drink.”  He motioned to the bartender and got an immediate response. “Another for me and a…” he motioned to Marinette to give her order.

“Oh, champagne, please,” she finished with a smile for the bartender.  That’s what was socially acceptable at events like this, right?  Champagne.

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation. The man nodded.  “And a champagne for the woman.”  Marinette scowled at the bartender causing the man to laugh. “He’s just worried that you’re underage. You look awfully young.  You’re not, right?”

Marinette’s glare softened in realization.  “Oh, that makes sense.  No, I’m not.  I forgot the legal age here is higher than in France.”

He nodded and looked at her critically for a moment before offering his hand.  “Jason.”

Marinette immediately reached out for his hand and answered with her name before her brain registered the name he’d given. Jason.  Jason Todd.  Bruce Wayne’s son.  She pulled her hand back quickly as the realization hit her and focused on leveling her breathing.  She grabbed the champagne glass more violently than necessary when the bartender set it down in front of her and immediately downed the entire glass, only coughing a bit as the bubbles tickled her throat.  Overall, champagne was not the best drink to chug.  “Another, please,” she croaked out.

“You know, there are better drinks for that, if that’s what you want to do,” Jason grinned, laughing at her.

“Wasn’t the plan until it was and then that’s all I had,” she croaked out, her voice still hoarse from the bubbles.  She kept her eyes focused on her empty glass as she spoke, almost afraid to make eye contact with him as if just seeing her eyes would be enough to blow her cover.

Jason chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

Marinette whipped her head to him and stared incredulously, forgetting her previous reservations.  She only moved again when the bartender set the new drink down in front of her.  “Um… no… thank you.  That doesn’t seem… I don’t think my date would be comfortable with that.  Good luck getting drunk enough to handle tonight though.”  She gave him a weak smile and raised her glass to him before moving into the fray again, now armed with a socially acceptable fidget toy.

It took five minutes of avoiding wandering hands and leering looks but with a little luck and some prodding from the goddess hiding in the folds of her skirt, she was finally able to stumble on M. Lucius Fox, Director of Research and Development for Wayne Enterprises.  He was in a conversation he was not remotely interested in with some vapid business exec who was just as interested in M. Fox.  Not that M. Fox’s disinterest was clear.  He was very polite and good at covering his boredom, much more so than his conversation partner, but she’d been at enough stuffy, snobby parties with Adrien, Felix, and Chloe to know the signs.

She took another breath and squared her shoulders, going into Ladybug Mode; calm and confident, completely assured of herself. She was on a mission.  She had a goal and a plan to accomplish it, and once she had a plan, she had a direction and purpose, and with those, her insecurities fell away.  With M. Fox in her sights, she could see the pieces and the way they fit together. There were no more doubts.  She set her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made her way over to M. Fox.

“The elusive M. Fox.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” Marinette purred, coming up next to him with a charming, real smile.

“I didn’t realize I was hiding,” Lucius responded with a polite smile of his own.

“Must just come naturally.  Foxes are known to be crafty.”  Marinette looked around them and motioned toward the dancefloor. “Would you care to dance, M. Fox?”

He shook his head deferentially.  “Are you sure there aren’t other people here you’d rather dance with?”

Marinette smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance.  She did NOT want to have her banter confused with flirting. That was not the strategy she had devised.  “That would defeat the purpose of coming here.  I came here specifically to speak with you.”

Lucius looked down at her analytically, trying to figure out what her angle was, but took her hand and followed her onto the dancefloor.  “And what did you want to speak about, Ms…?”

“Dupain Cheng.  Marinette Dupain Cheng.  It’s nice to meet you M. Fox.  I wanted to speak to you to sell my friend Max Kante.”

Lucius’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the music changed.  After a beat, he chuckled.  “I’m not in the market to buy anyone, but thank you.”  He settled his hands on her mid-back and hand for their dance.

Marinette chuckled good naturedly along with him. “Sell his talents, would be a better way to say it.”

“And where is Mr. Kante?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, curious why the young man didn’t bother to come himself.  “Why are you presenting his talents instead of him?”

“Finals.  Had the incredibly bad luck to have a Friday at noon final.  I mean at least it wasn’t at 19h, right?  Can you believe they have those?”  She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust.  “But still means he’s taking it right now.  And for his last final of his career.  I mean… probably.  Knowing him, he might get another PhD at some point.  My finals and presentation ended last week.  M. Wa…” she took a steadying breath and looked back up with a strained smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the stutter.  “M. Wayne even visited for it.  That’s when the idea for this came to me.  So while Max studied, I plotted.”

“So why me then and not Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked with a curious interest.

Marinette froze for just a second.  Hardly enough for anyone to notice.  Her mind raced to calculate the appropriate response to that question, a satisfactorily casual yet intelligent response.  “M. Wayne isn’t in charge of research.  You are.  Not to mention, I highly doubt the CEO would be involved enough in the research and development projects to know what was going on.  You I take as a man who knows what is going on with all your ongoing projects.”

He nodded.  She wasn’t wrong, or normally wouldn’t be.  Mr. Wayne usually was not involved in any projects and with the exception of one particular project they were having issues with, he wouldn’t know the particulars.  “A very dangerous and elaborate plan.  Why didn’t you make an appointment with me?  Or just stop me on the street?” he prodded, hoping for her thought process.

Marinette laughed lightly.  “I don’t imagine I would have had a chance in Hell of making an appointment with you in your office.  I have no standing, no name, no significance that would have attracted any PA worth their salt’s attention.  I would have been pawned off onto a low ranking employee to handle, if I was handled at all.  And something like this needed to be taken to you.  

“As for running into you on the street, I can’t imagine you would have responded positively to getting accosted on the street. You seem more than capable of handling yourself with grace in the face of a pest.  I doubt I would have gotten more than a few words in.  At a gala however,” she grinned conspiratorially at him. “Societal convention.  Almost absolute certainty of at least one dance where I would have you one-on-one for a few minutes.  Hostage audience.  Figured I could use it to my advantage for once.”

Lucius smiled back at her ingenuity.  “There’s an application process he could have gone through,” he noted.  

Mari nodded and looked out to the crowd, scanning it.  “Right, applying to M. Fedor Rabler,” she said distractedly.  “He did that.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  Their application process was tough.  Lots of amazing candidates didn’t get through. He had to respect her devotion to her friend, to risk coming here and potentially making an enemy of Wayne Enterprises if he’d been that sort of man.  His eyes turned sympathetic.  “I’m sorry he was passed over.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Elspeth Cole puts forth a lot of inventions and extremely varied ones at that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard his consolation.  “Most inventors, you can see their process, you can see how they got from one invention to the next, but hers… they’re so varied.  It’s almost like they’re coming from completely different people.”  Lucius watched her carefully, waiting to see where she was going with this.  “That’s them, isn’t it?  Dancing together.  Awfully close for purely colleagues.”

Lucius followed her sight line to Ms. Cole and Mr. Rabler dancing extremely closely.  Not obscenely, but perhaps a bit closer than was normally acceptable at a society event such as this one.  “It’s hardly incriminating that two people with expertise in electrical engineering would get together,” he said slowly.

“Max is amazing.  Brilliant,” Marinette said, seemingly not noticing her non-sequitur. “He created an AI that helped the Parisian superheroes locate and defeat our supervillain at only 14.”  Lucius’ brow rose.  That was certainly promising.  He wondered what would have caused them not to take such an applicant.  Surely there was some sort of embellishment there, but as he studied her, she seemed entirely genuine.  

“He’s being scouted by several high profile companies including Lexcorp and Palmer Technologies.”  She turned her attention back to Lucius, a curious pout on her lips. “But not Wayne Enterprises.”  She looked away with clearly forced casualness. “Lexcorp and Palmer, they’re offering pretty impressive packages.  Not as good as he deserves in my opinion, but I may be a bit biased.  Wayne Enterprises however… nothing.  Not even an offer.

“Now, I don’t really have a dog in the fight… other than wanting my friend to be safe and treated with the respect he deserves. But Palmer Technologies gets blown up by a villain or its inventors kidnapped far too frequently for me to be comfortable with my friend working there.  And Lexcorp…”  She looked down as if in thought before looking back at him again with a determined look in her eye.

“You know, I get a feeling sometimes.  I can’t really explain it, just get a feeling about people or things.  I’ve found it’s best for me and the people around me if I listen to that feeling and that feeling tells me Lex Luthor is the last person who should be trusted with a brain as brilliant as Max’s.”  She looked back over to Mr. Rabler and Ms. Cole.  “That same feeling told me Max shouldn’t trust the application process for Wayne Enterprises.”  

She looked back at Lucius with an apologetic smile. “No offense.  So, I convinced Max to make a small part of his submission just a little off.  Just a bit. Enough that even an expert could miss it, but if it’s wrong the project could never work.  It took a lot of convincing to get him to do it.  He refused to believe he had anything to worry about in Wayne Enterprises with its stellar reputation.”  She scrunched up her face in annoyance.  “But that feeling, you know?  I couldn’t get over it.  After a lot of work, I convinced him there was no harm.  After all, if he was hired he could fix it.  If he wasn’t… well, you shouldn’t be using what he presented anyway, right? No harm, no foul as you Americans say.”

“No,” Lucius agreed.  “That would be theft and completely against WE policy and standards.  In fact, we should not be asking applicants to submit anything like that in the first place.”

Marinette smiled and nodded approvingly.  “I’ve heard rumblings, or rather Max has, of WE getting into transmutation of materials.  Just can’t get that algorithm right though, can you?  Algorithms are hard.  Just a little off and nothing works.”

He stared at her.  That was a secret project.  Other departments in Wayne Enterprises didn’t even know about it.  “I can’t comment on ongoing projects.”  

“I never did show you what Max is capable of, did I?”  She gave him a bright smile and reached down to press a disguised button on her belt. Lucius tensed and cursed himself for exposing himself to whatever she was about to do.  A wave of emerald green washed over the front of her bodice as the blood red decorated mesh overlay turned into a brilliant emerald green that reflected the lights now rather than absorbing it.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, a feat very few had been able to draw out of him.  “He designed the fabric?” he whispered out.  He reached out tentatively to touch the fabric at her shoulder.

Marinette grinned brilliantly at his reaction.  It was no less than Max deserved.  He’d worked incredibly hard on it.  “He did,” she nodded in confirmation, “and the software that controls it.  The whole dress can change but we’re kind of surrounded here and I didn’t want to attract too much attention.”  She let him touch it for a moment before pushing the button again to turn it back into the black, then allowing him to feel the mesh to confirm it was the same fabric.  “He has ideas for changing the texture as well, but limited resources you know? Something I’d hope wouldn’t be an issue at WE.”

“How does it work?”  His eyes were still focused on the fabric at her shoulder. He took a quick look at the rest of the bodice, but quickly snapped his eyes back to her shoulder.  The neckline was conservative, but it was still rather unbecoming to stare at the young woman’s chest.

Marinette laughed.  “You’ll have to ask Max that.  I just designed the dress.  I don’t really understand the mechanics behind it, but he does.  I doubt Ms. Cole can say the same.”

Lucius stared in awe at her shoulder before looking back up to her eyes and nodding in understanding.  “Interesting.  I’ll take that under advisement.  Maybe we should be scouting you as well.”

Mari laughed.  “No, thank you.  I’m not an inventor.  I’m a designer.  But I appreciate the interest.”

Lucius nodded and led her off the dancefloor with the end of the song.  “Inventor or not, we can always use someone with intuition, intelligence, and ingenuity like you’ve demonstrated.”  

Marinette gave him a brilliant, somewhat familiar smile. “That’s very flattering.  Thank you, M. Fox.  But tonight is about Max.  I have my own, separate plans for my future.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Our loss,” he answered sincerely.  “If you ever need any help or advice, please feel free to call me.  I’m sure Mr. Kante will have it soon enough and can pass it onto you.”  He looked back down to her shoulder again.  “If I may…”  He motioned toward her shoulder.  

Marinette laughed.  “Of course.  I understand how truly impressive it is.  It’s been incredibly inspirational, thinking of the options.”

“And what did your intuition tell you about tonight?” He looked up to meet her eyes, curious about her answer.

Marinette’s face went slack for a moment before she pasted on a bittersweet smile.  “That it would be costly but worth it.”

Lucius quirked his head to the side.  “In what way?”

Marinette shook her head absently and took a sudden interest in M. Fox’s tie.  “I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes softened.  “Would he be available to meet on Monday?”

Marinette grin and snapped her eyes up to him. Mission success!  Max was going to get his interview!  “He can be.”

“I’d actually like to speak with both of you, if you don’t mind.  In my office at 10 Monday?” he offered.  

Marinette faltered.  “In Wayne Enterprises?”

Lucius chuckled.  “Naturally.”

Marinette swallowed heavily.  “Why don’t we meet somewhere else?  Early morning coffee perhaps?” she offered instead with an artificial smile.  “Here’s my card.  Have someone give me a call or text and I can arrange it.  He’s scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning.  He was supposed to meet with Lexcorp Monday morning, but he’ll be at coffee to meet you instead.”

Lucius smiled back at her as he slipped her card into his pocket.  “I greatly appreciate your candor and support Ms. Dupain Cheng.”  He took her hand in both of his to shake it.  “I cannot tell you how good it was to meet you.  And if you ever get one of those feelings about me or Wayne Enterprises, let me know, okay?”

“Lucius.”

Lucius froze at the cold voice, not accustomed to that tone of voice directed at him.  He looked over curiously and missed Marinette freezing before pushing another button on her belt.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm

[eisforeidolon]

You should know that the vast majority of Destiel fans don’t like or trust OccamShipper. Most of the old timers, in fact, have seen them have meltdowns and know to steer way clear. Occam’s only long time friends are Dot and a couple of others. But Occam sunk their claws into a hurting fandom of destiel fans who were upset at lack of Cas in the finale/Dean’s death/lack of follow up regarding Cas’s confession and whipped them into a frenzy, promising them the world with the prequel. A lot of destiel fans were hurt by the ending of the show (please don’t make fun of me, I’m a destiel fan but am writing this in good conscience). Again, it’s not a lot of fans believing this rhetoric but the ones who do believe Occam are almost all very new to the fandom and are unaware of their reputation and had never seen them break down like this before. In the hours that Occam ranted to Shatner, they lost a ton of followers. Some of them woke up and will not be back for Occam’s lies. Most destiel fans know anything regarding Cas or Cas and Dean will not be touched in the prequel.

Since it's been a while, I can understand that I need to reiterate: I see a pretty distinct difference between hellers and destiel shippers in general, even if they understandably occupy an overlapping fandom space.

While I find a lot of the meta interpretations for the ship absurd? That's also been true of plenty of other non-ship meta - the part that bothered me enough to post about it was hellers consistently insisting their interpretations are the One And Only True Interpretation If You're Not a Homophobe. While I think people like Singer and Jensen being so dismissive of the ship - even Dabb reiterating that it was the story of Sam & Dean in the end seasons - made it pretty clear it wasn't going to be any part of Dean's story, as well as other signposts like Misha being known not to have gone back for filming the final two episodes? I don't blame shippers for not necessarily knowing those BTS things - I blame hellers who were lying to other shippers about them or insisting they could be safely ignored because reasons. I don't blame shippers for hoping for something they wanted and being disappointed - just hellers feeling like they were entitled to what they wanted and who have been creating persecution-based conspiracies and blaming everyone involved in the show who DIDN'T falsely build up those expectations, instead of seeing they largely came from each other and Misha.

So yeah, I'm well aware it's not the whole destiel side of the fandom being taken in by Goob by a longshot. I've even seen those I'd consider hellers dismissing Goob for exactly the reasons you say prior to this latest implosion because the behavior is Too Much for even them to give a pass. However, I think in addition to those who are too new to know better, or still too committed to basing their fandom rep on making similar promises for attention (Dot)? There has long been a portion of hellers who base their entire online personality around insisting their shipping is an Undeniably Important Crusade for Representation to justify a legitimately unhealthy obsession with it - to the point they continue to believe people like Goob no matter how many times the promises are proven to be bullshit. I don't think they will be phased by this for more than a moment either, so long as the promises keep coming. And I've never thought that faction was particularly large - just particularly loud.

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

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8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

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