#but she's mostly interested in figuring out how one defines 'deserving' such a thing - what IS 'goodness' anyway? what defines moral action?

[tanoraqui]

I think that at some point after reincarnating in Valinor, Celebrimbor should get married and have a child. I want the sparkiest family line in Arda to continue. I’m specifically imagining a scene like,

[Name TBD], tired but smiling, holding her newborn daughter: Her name is Curufinwen.

Celebrimbor, buzzing with Brand New Dad! energy but permanently conscious of his family’s legacy: Are you sure? That’s kind of...loaded...

[Name TBD], experiencing a brief prophetic vision of her daughter launching an intercontinental ballistic missile at an incoming giant void spider in Dagor Dagorath: I’m sure.

(Curufinwen grows up to be a merely decent smith, by her family’s standards, but she excels at calculations mathematical, mechanical, and chemical. She is the greatest engineer and explosives expert the Eldar ever know. Many years after Curufin is released from Mandos and just a week or two after Fëanor is, multiple exciting new lights and explosions have already emanated from the area of Tirion occupied mostly by those called the New Jewel-Smiths. Mandos is heard to say to Manwë, “I fear I have erred once more in my judgement. I did not sufficiently consider the effect of there now being four of them.”)

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

[homosexuhauls]

15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

[svgurl410]

Hey, what do you like about SV portrayal of Clois? And is this favorite Clois?

Thanks for the ask! To answer your second question first, yes, it is definitely my favorite version of Clois. This is the one I grew up on so I have the sentimental attachment added, unlike say, L&C, which I never watched, or the Superman movies, which were good but not what I grew up on, just something I saw.

I love basically everything about SV Clois. Even with Erica's limited screen time, we were very lucky to see them grow and change over the course of 6 years. I am a sucker for the frenemies to lovers dynamic, where the two people bicker but they're ultimately on the same side and there is a mutual respect and fondness far before there is love. Clark and Lois really defined that. Tom Welling was quoted back in s4 about how Lois brings out a different side of Clark and I totally agree and that is one of the things I love about them.

He gets to be snarky and playful with her and she has someone who can keep up with her. Clark needed to smile more and Lois often made him smile, even when he didn't want to. His line in "Oracle" about how sometimes it seemed that she knew him best was so telling, because she has no idea that there was a secret on the line. And maybe he needed that too- someone who wasn't constantly interested in investigating his life but at the same time, he realized he wasn't satisfied with her thinking he was normal either. Again, telling.

I like that we saw her fall for him first even though he was attracted to her in the past, and how he then fell even harder. I liked that they let Clark fight for a relationship, because this was the one and he knew it. I liked how they showed them different than the other relationships they had each been in the past and be in one that brought out the best in themselves and each other. 'Love at first sight' is nice and all, but watching the journey of their friendship to lovers arc was even better. Even the triangle for two was done well! Lois loved Clark but she also loved the Blur because at the end of the day, she loved all sides of Clark, the heroic guy and the handsome farm boy turned reporter that had been her friend for years.

Mostly, I just liked them. Clark and Lois. We got all the tropes (fake engagement, forced love confession, etc) and we got the really solid beautiful relationship. For someone who didn't think they would see them together (didn't think the show would go on that long and figured it'd end with Clark leaving on his training/time jump), s9 and especially s10 was a dream come true.

Wow I rambled on for a bit there. I think I could go on for quite some time about all the things I love about them. There is a reason they get the 'forever otp' tag. It's deserved and true.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (14)

(I’m finally baaaaaaaaaaack!!! So sorry this took so long guys, my life’s been CRAZY lately! Hope you all enjoy the update anyway thought! As usual, there’s this series and then a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries. Go check that out too if you prefer!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 13 / Ch. 15 (ao3)

Chapter 14: Geronimo!

Felix dangled his leg over the pool’s edge, feeling the warm water brush against his skin as he slowly swung it back and forth. His reflection stared back at him, distorted by the ripples that formed from his movement. He didn’t swim in pools often, but when he did, it tended to be soothing for him. The waves rolling back and forth across his body helped remind him to breathe and gave him a sense of presence for where he was in that moment. He could allow himself to get lost in his thoughts while staying present on earth at the same time. It was nice. 

However, while he did enjoy looking at the water, he didn’t quite fancy it being thrown onto him. 

“Watch it!” Felix scowled at Allan and Claude as he scooted back on the pavement. If they continued to splash water like that, not only would Felix get soaked, but the cement around them would as well. Someone could get seriously injured by slipping if they weren’t careful or weren’t paying attention, specifically a certain ravenette that was going to be joining them in a few minutes.

“Aw, come on, Fe.” Claude laughed, swimming towards the blond. Felix moved back a bit more to be safe. “You have a swimsuit on for a reason. Join us! The water feels great!”

“I’ll get in when I’m good and ready.” Felix replied with narrowed eyes.

Claude tisked and swam back towards the deep part of the pool. “Figures. You’re probably waiting on Marinette to get here.”

Felix rolled his eyes. Why would he wait for anyone to go swimming? The girls were taking a tad longer than them, but this wasn’t a formal event. There was no need to-

“Speaking of Marinette,” The brunette continued, “what do you think of Luka? It sounded like they were pretty close.”

Felix held back a sigh, slowly growing more annoyed towards Claude’s strange, incessant questions and comments. For example, why would he think about Luka in any way? None of them had met the guitarist, and the only thing they knew about him was the flippant mention that Marinette had made earlier. A quick mention of dear friend, which was something that they’ve all done before. He’d noted the name, of course, but that was only because he’d fallen into the habit of noting a lot of things when it came to Marinette. Other than that, it was hardly an extraordinary occurrence, yet Claude was acting as though Luka had just joined their group alongside Marinette.

“I don’t have any thoughts on him.” He said. “You can’t have an opinion on someone you haven’t met.”

Claude scoffed. “Oh, please. You have an opinion on everything, Felix.”

“Everything I’ve read about and experience personally.” Felix replied curtly. Why would it even matter if he did have an opinion on Luka?

“Fine, I’ll change the question. What are your thoughts on Marinette’s thoughts about Luka?”

Felix raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are your thoughts? She was blushing a lot earlier. Do you think she has a crush on him?”

Felix paused. When he first saw her blushing and stuttering in the music room, his mind did turn to that possibility, but blushing and stuttering were two traits that she exhibited quite often. Unless she has a crush on their entire group, along with this Luka person, her becoming flustered towards their teasing shouldn’t mean anything. That did bear a new kind of question, though: What type of person would Marinette like? He’s already established that she had a personal connection to Adrien Agreste- or at least he’s quite sure of it -so that was one basis they could use for reference. What traits did Adrien possess that could be considered attractive to Marinette?

His first guess would be money, fame, and power, except Marinette wouldn’t be that shallow. Plus, she initiated the break up. Most people who were after a certain status wouldn’t break off their chances of getting it. That meant there had to be something else that Adrien possessed that “wooed” her. It could be looks, with Adrien being a model again, or his personality. Considering who they were talking about, Felix guessed the latter, or at least a mix of the two. Maybe she had a thing for blonds and Adrien tended to give her a world of attention. Or perhaps she enjoyed a pair of emerald green eyes and someone that would bring a positive energy to the room, the same energy she often brought herself. Granted, Adrien’s positive energy was mostly fake, but that could be the reason why they broke up in the first place. (If they were together, that is.) Felix had learned over the last few weeks that Marinette deeply appreciates honesty from others as well, which would make sense when one thinks about her struggles with anxiety.

She most likely didn’t have a boyfriend currently, since it hasn’t been mentioned in the month that they’ve known her, but if she did, Felix would probably guess that that person had to be thoughtful, honest, and loving, someone who could calm her worries and give her the stability in life she needed. It was the least she deserved.

As for Luka, though..

“I think you should ask her yourself if you’re so interested.” Felix finally answered.

Claude pulled a pout and sighed. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Allan said, jokingly splashing Claude. “Can’t you let him be a buzzkill in peace?”

Claude laughed and pounced on Allan, splashing more water everywhere. Felix tisked, but before he could chastise them for spreading more water onto the concrete, another voice interrupted them.

“We’re here~!”

The boys stopped fighting, and Felix glanced over his shoulder towards Allegra, who had just entered the pool room. She was wearing her casual, purple bikini and had her hair tied up in a bun, her usual look when swimming. Behind her, Marinette was shuffling in as well, and no sooner did his eyes land on the ravenette than he felt himself freeze to his spot on the cement. 

Her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, and a frilly, pink bikini adorned her figure. Of course, neither of those things would have groundbreaking.. had she not also been completely ripped.

“Dang!” Claude remarked, taking the words out of their collective mouths. Her entire body appeared to be packed with muscle. It was like she’d decided to get up and complete a series of extreme exercises three times in a row daily! Felix already knew that Marinette was strong, but he didn’t expect her to look like she was chiseled out of rock itself. 

“Marinette, why didn’t you tell us that you were jacked?”

“Is that a six pack?” Allan asked, his jaw falling slack.

A blush bloomed across Marinette’s cheeks, and a bashful expression painted her features as she crossed her arms over her chest. “O-Oh, um-”

“It sure is!” Allegra grinned, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Apparently, Marinette has the same addiction to exercise that you guys do.”

Allan gained enough sense to let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it an addiction-”

“And you didn’t tell us?!” Claude interrupted, betrayal clear in his tone.

Marinette faltered. “I- uh -didn’t think you would be.. interested?”

“Are you kidding?” Claude lifted himself out of the pool to show his own set of abs. “I love exercising! We could have been working out together this whole time!”

“Where do you exercise?” Allan inquired. “I wanna know what you use to get your muscles so defined.”

“Oh! Uh- well -You know..” Marinette looked ready to squirm now. “Just.. random workouts at the house.. I guess.”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. He didn’t know much about workouts, but from what he overhead from Allan and Claude, they could be time consuming. How did she manage to fit that into her schedule? She seemed busy enough with homework, designs, and helping her parents at the bakery. He supposed she could always rearrange her schedule to make time, but where was the equipment? Surely one couldn’t get muscles like that without using professional equipment, and yet he didn’t see anything remotely close to a weight last time they went to her house. 

“Felix?”

Felix’s gaze flicked to Claude, and he almost groaned when he saw the brunette grinning like a fool again. What ludicrous thing was he going to say now?

“Care to share your thoughts with the class?” He joked. “You were staring at Marinette pretty hard.”

Felix’s eyes widened, then snapped to Marinette. Her blush was a touch darker now, and Allegra was snickering next to her. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was looking when he zoned out. How long was he staring? Where was he staring?

“I-” He stopped, unsure of what to say. Were his cheeks supposed to feel this warm? “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t-.. I just got lost in thought. I didn’t mean to.. stare.”

Claude snorted behind him. “‘Lost in thought’. Yeah, right.”

Felix whipped around and splashed Claude in the face. Now was not the time for his quips.

“I-It’s fine!” Marinette assured before the boys could fight further. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything. Well, I mean- I just wanted sure that you were- you know -okay..”

Felix glanced back up at her, but for some reason, holding eye contact felt worse. So he shifted on the concrete, resting his elbow against his knee and his mouth in his palm. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“Good.” 

Felix barely had time to register Allegra’s comment or her steps as she ran towards him before he was abruptly shoved into the pool. A gasp escaped him as he flailed his arms around to gain stability, and he looked up to glare at Allegra. She was already jumping into the pool after him, though, yelling “Cannonball!”

She resurfaced a second later and threw him a subtle wink as she muttered, “I guess Marinette’s not the only one who needs to cool down, huh?” 

Felix didn’t have a chance to snap back- he wasn’t staring at her that way. It was an honest mistake! -because Marinette plunged into the pool a second later. 

A giggle fell from the ravenette’s lips when she resurfaced. “This water is so warm!”

“That’s because it’s a heated pool.” Claude informed as he swam over to her.

Marinette mouthed a “wow” before saying aloud, “I’ve never been in a heated pool before.”

“Well, now that you have, what do you think?”

“Hm.. I’d say it’s probably better for winter than it would be for summer.”

Allan chuckled. “I can confirm that it is definitely better in the winter.”

“Especially since there aren’t any other pools to swim in during that time.” Allegra smirked. She then splashed them all by making a wide wave with her arm.

“Race you guys to the water slide!”

Everyone began clambering to get to the other side of the pool, while Felix stood there squinting his eyes to avoid getting water in them. Why did he decide to be with such rowdy people?

“You good?” Allan, who had strangely stayed behind, inquired.

Felix nodded. “Allegra didn’t push me hard, so I didn’t scrape the floor.”

A hint of a smile passed Allan’s lips. “I was talking about your little fever earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush that hard.”

Felix grit his teeth, feeling the heat rush back to his cheeks, and began swimming away to hide it. “It’s only because you all made it such a big deal.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Allan laughed, swimming after him. “Were we supposed to ignore the fact that you were just staring at Marinette’s abs without saying anything?”

Despite the annoying remark, Felix couldn’t help feeling a tad relieved. At least it was only the abs.

“No, but you didn’t have to make it weird.”

“You’re the only one who made it weird, dude.”

Felix scoffed. “Then, just forget the whole thing! It was an accident, and I got lost in thought, alright? For my sake and Marinette’s, just let it go.”

“Okay, okay.” Allan smiled, briefly pausing in his swim to hold up his hands. “This is me letting it go.. But I can’t promise anything for Claude or Allegra.”

Felix bit back a groan. Great. He could trust Allan to let this pass, and maybe Allegra, but if it was up to Claude?

He was never going to live this down.

~~~~~~

Marinette sat on Allegra’s bed with a smile as she ran her hands over the furry, soft comforter. Allegra sat behind her, carefully pulling on Marinette’s hair to tie it into a braid. Once everyone had had their fill of swimming, they’d decided to take showers and change into pajamas for the evening. The boys went off to their bedroom, while the girls retreated to theirs, and when Marinette finished her shower around fifteen minutes later, Allegra eagerly insisted that they exchange hair styles.

“I’ll wear your pigtails, and you can wear a braid!” She’d said. “It’ll be fun!”

The request was a strange one, but Marinette figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to accept it. So she’d grabbed her ribbons for Allegra and got settled on the bed. Now, they were here, simply doing each other’s hair and waiting for the boys to come back. The silence in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t born from awkwardness, at least. Allegra was merely focused on the task at hand, and Marinette didn’t mind enjoying the quiet while it lasted. Spending time with the group on a constant basis, while fun, could be overbearing sometimes. They were always moving, always talking and laughing together, especially Claude. So the softer moments like this were a nice reprieve.

Actually, Claude’s absence was probably the reason for this new found silence. If she listened hard enough, she’d bet that she could hear him chattering all the way across the mansion. Perhaps she might even catch Felix telling him to pipe down too.

“So,” Allegra began, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “You’ve been attending Rosemary for a good month now. Do you think you’ve got a good handle on it yet?”

Marinette smiled, careful not to turn her head as she replied, “I like to think so. I know where all of my classes are, and I’m pretty sure I’ve memorized the teacher’s names.”

“Oh, good.” She could hear the satisfied smile in Allegra’s voice. “What about our group? Have you gotten sick of us yet?”

A laugh tumbled from Marinette’s lips. “No, of course not. I could never get sick of you guys.”

“Aw~.” The blonde cooed. “Even Felix? He’s a bit of a grump.”

Marinette snorted. “Oh, I don’t think he’s that bad. He just likes to have order in his life, ya know?”

“I do.” Allegra agreed. “But I also think he’s mellowed out a lot since you came around.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced to the left in an attempt to look at Allegra without moving. “You think so?”

Allegra hummed. “He’s not nearly as impertinent as he used to be. We had to drag him around everywhere we went with him pouting the entire way, but ever since you joined, he’s been coming to our hangouts without a single complaint. He’s been smiling more too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we love Felix. He’s just a stay-at-home-and-isolate-yourself-from-all-human-existence type of person. That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

Heat rose to Marinette’s cheeks, and her fingers dug into the fur and feathers of Allegra’s blanket as she began fiddling with it a bit more. Had Felix really been smiling more and doing more things since she came around? Claude did mention Felix being ‘lenient’ with her a few times, but she’d thought he was just kidding. Or at least that Felix was more spiteful towards Claude since Claude was often pushy. Why would he take a shining to her specifically? Marinette didn’t remember doing anything special. Why not open up to the people who had been sticking by his side for two years?

“If he fought so hard against your get-togethers, why did you keep inviting him?” She found herself asking. She loved hanging out with Felix too, but if someone continued to reject her invitations and argue with her on every subject- as Allegra had implied -she probably would stop trying to hang out with that person after a while. 

“Well, it’s like you said,” Allegra shrugged. Or at least, Marinette was pretty sure she shrugged. The bed definitely shook slightly from whatever the blonde was doing. “Felix isn’t really that bad. He may act all tough and annoyed, but he still shows up to our hangouts on time and pays for the lunches when it’s his turn and helps us out when we ask him. We know he enjoys being around us, even if he won’t admit it. We just like giving him a hard time.”

Marinette let out a soft hum. That made sense. She could see the way he made time for the planned visits and study dates and how he’d subtly help out the others in any way he could. 

In other words, Felix didn’t truly need to be dragged around everywhere. He just had a habit of putting up a fuss.

“Plus,” Allegra continued, “we kind of deliberately push his buttons all the time. So I don’t really blame him for snapping at us. Maybe that’s why he warmed up to you faster than he did us.”

Marinette chuckled. Maybe it was. They did tend to tease him a lot. 

She wasn’t sure if Felix was actually more comfortable around her or not- though if anyone were to know it would probably be Allegra -but the fact that he might be brought her a certain sense of pride. Felix’s stone-cold demeanor was strong, and he rarely dropped it for anything. Her being able to help him relax would be a remarkable accomplishment, in her opinion.

“Alright, my turn!”

Marinette jumped at Allegra’s voice and reached up to touch the back of her hair. The braid was indeed finished, trailing all the way down to the top part of her back. It might look strange due to it being short, but she would only have it in for one night. Besides, if it makes Allegra happy, then who cares if she looks a tad silly?

Marinette moved back on the bed to allow Allegra to move up in front of her, and once the blonde got situated, Marinette began gathering up Allegra’s hair to pull it into two ponytails. It wasn’t until she started trying to brush through the hair, however, that she realized how hard the task may be.

“My goodness, Allegra!” Marinette blurted out. “How do you even have this much hair? You’re like a Disney princess!”

Allegra’s hair was not only long, flowing well past her lower back, but also thick. Marinette had a feeling that she could stick her whole hand inside and barely make it past the surface. How was Allegra’s neck not constantly aching from holding it all? Was this why she braided it so often? It had to be. If Allegra allowed her hair to flow freely as it was now, it would get caught on everything and anything in its way. 

Allegra laughed in front of her. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but if anyone were to be a Disney princess here, it would be Claude.”

The comment pulled a laugh from Marinette as well. “Why does that make sense?”

“I know right! He’s even practiced that crying flop thing that all of the princesses do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I still have a picture of it. I’ve decided that he’d either be Aurora or Merida.”

Marinette snorted. “Why’s that?”

“Well-”

A knock on the bedroom door interrupted their conversation, and the girls paused to listen for whoever was on the other side.

“Hey. Can we come in?”

It was Claude, coincidentally the same person they had been talking about.

“Yeah, you’re good.” Marinette called back. “We’re just doing each other’s hair now.”

“And talking about how you’re a Disney Princess.” Allegra added with a grin.

Claude let out an incredulous laugh as he opened the door, revealing Allan and Felix to be behind him as well. “I’m a Disney princess?”

“Oh, yeah. Either Aurora or Merida. You pick.”

Claude scoffed jokingly. “Please. If I were a Disney princess, I would totally be Kuzco, because I’m fabulous and I may not be a princess, but I deserve a crown.”

Marinette burst into a fit of giggles, along with Allegra and Allan, but Felix rolled his eyes.

“Claude, you would be Kuzco because you’re both spoiled and overly dramatic about everything.”

Claude shot him a look. “You know we’re both spoiled right? But it’s fine. I don’t blame you for being jealous of me.”

Felix scoffed. “Jealous-”

“Anyway!” Claude cut him off, prancing over to Marinette. “Are you ready, Mari?”

Marinette's smile faltered. Ready? “Ready for what?”

“You and I are gonna arm wrestle.”

Her eyes bulged. “What?”

“If it’s alright with you.” Allan joined in. “We wanna see how strong you are.”

“Wait, so you all want to arm wrestle with me?”

“Not all of us.” Claude corrected. “Felix is too scared to challenge you.”

“I’m not scared.” Felix said, irritation lacing his tone. “I simply see no point in starting something I know I can’t win.”

“You won’t even try!”

“Why should I? I don’t work out on a regular basis like you do, and I’ve seen the things she can do. You two are going to get thrown across the room as it is. I don’t want to add myself to that list.”

Marinette pursed her lips, feeling another blush coming on. Did he honestly think that she was that strong? (Being Ladybug, she probably was, but-)

“Where are we going to do it?” She asked.

Claude perked up. “You mean you’ll really arm wrestle with us?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not. I just need to finish Allegra’s hair-”

“Oh, no.” Allegra interrupted with a grin. “I can finish the hair. You go arm wrestle.”

Marinette hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I wanna see the boys get creamed.”

“Allegra!” Claude shouted indignantly.

“You know you’re gonna~.” She sang in response.

The brunette huffed as he sat on the carpeted floor. “Does no one have faith in us?”

“Honestly?” Allan sat down next to him. “I don’t think I’ll win either. I just want to see how bad I’m gonna lose.”

“Wow.. at least you’re honest.”

Marinette giggled and moved to the floor where she assumed the arm wrestle would take place. Behind her, Felix claimed her abandoned spot on the bed next to Allegra, and she felt their gazes on her back as she laid down in front of Claude, who already had an arm up and an eager smirk on his lips. 

Tentatively, Marinette grabbed his hand. She hadn’t been worried about winning at first, but now that everyone had voiced their belief towards her certain victory, the pressure was starting to weigh on her mind. Losing was much less humiliating when no one believed you would win in the first place. 

“Alright, I’m sure everyone knows the rules.” Allan began, acting as referee. “Elbows have to be touching the ground no matter what, and you can only use one hand. The first hand to touch the ground loses. I’ll count down from three.”

Marinette nodded and situated herself a bit more on the ground. Claude did the same. 

“No hard feelings, right?” The brunette asked lightheartedly.

“3..”

Marinette smirked. 

“2..”

“None whatsoever.”

“1..”

“Especially since you’re going to be the one losing.”

An incredulous laugh burst from Claude’s lips. “Oh!”

“Go!”

They both pushed against each other at the same time, but Marinette managed to put in a burst of speed that slammed Claude’s hand right into the floor. The round was over in the blink of an eye.

“OOOOOOOOH!!!” 

Allegra and Allan both cheered, and Claude looked like he would have fallen backwards from shock had he not been lying down. But nothing made Marinette happier than the proud smirk she caught on Felix’s lips.

“I wanna go again!” Claude announced eagerly.

“No way! It’s my turn to try!” Allan replied, shoving the brunette aside.

Marinette laughed and got situated again, and although Claude was disappointed, he quickly assumed the role of referee for her and Allan. There was another countdown from three, and when the word “Go” was shouted, the two pushed as hard as they could. Allan held up a tad longer since he was more prepared and focused, but in the end, the results were the same. Marinette slammed his hand into the floor with no sense of mercy, just as she had done with Claude. 

“Dude!” Allan laughed, rubbing his wrist. “You’re good at this!”

“How often do you play?” Claude asked.

Marinette tilted her head back and forth. She may or may not play multiple nights a week with Chat Noir when patrols were slow, but that wasn’t something she could tell any of them. 

“Only every now and then.” She decided to reply.

“What! That’s crazy!” Claude exclaimed. “Let’s do it again. I wanna try one more time.”

Marinette gladly obliged, and soon, one more time turned into six more times. Then ten more. The boys just kept shoving each other aside, insisting on playing again, only for her to beat them within a few seconds or so. Each round got admittedly harder for Marinette, but after two years of constantly finding new ways to beat Chat noir, arm wrestling with civilians almost felt too easy.

“Agh!” Claude groaned after getting beat for the twelfth time in a row. “I was so close that time!”

“Yeah.. no.” Allegra said from the bed. “Not even.”

“Do you see now why I didn’t care to try?” Felix remarked.

“Hey, I’m still having fun losing.” Allan smiled. “Move over, Claude, it’s my turn again.”

“Oh, give her a break.” Allegra scolded. “You’re gonna tire her out until your win is guaranteed.”

Marinette silently agreed. She could definitely go longer, but her arm was starting to feel tired, and she didn’t want to end up over-exerting herself, especially when she already did that on a weekly basis as Ladybug.

“Aw, I guess you’re right.” Claude relented, scooting back on the carpet. Allan also backed off, to which Allegra gave a satisfied nod.

“Besides, we have to figure out what we’re doing for next week before we forget.”

Marinette twisted on the floor to give Allegra a questioning look. “What’s happening next week?”

“Valentine’s Day!” The blonde said, as though it were obvious.

“We host a party for the school every year to celebrate it.” Allan explained.

“And now we need to figure out where we’re going to host it for this year.” Allegra finished.

“Oh..” Marinette muttered, trying not to sound too despondent. Ever since Adrien, she’d sort of been actively avoiding things that symbolized love or relationships.. if only to keep the blond out of her mind. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is!” Claude grinned. “We get a bunch of decorations and snacks and drinks, and then we’ll put on music for people to dance to! Sometimes we even make up fun games to play.”

“And you do this every year?”

“For the past four years.” Allegra confirmed. “Speaking of which, do you want to help us decorate?”

Marinette knew she shouldn’t be surprised towards the request, since they’d invited her to everything else under the sun, but she still couldn’t help raising her eyebrows. “Really? You want me to help?”

“Of course!” Claude smiled. “We’d love to have your artistic touch.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips. The group’s attachment to her had been made clear from all of the get-togethers they invited her to join, but she’d fallen under the impression that they were all still newly made friends. Therefore, being invited to something that sounded extremely personal, such as decorating for a party that they alone hosted, made her realize how highly the group thought of her. Or perhaps they would invite anyone who returned their smiles.

Either way, She felt extremely honored. 

“That’s sweet, but I’m a fashion designer. Not a party designer. They’re a bit different.”

“Yeah, but you like doing crafts, right?” Allan pointed out. “We make a lot of our decorations by hand. It helps the parties seem more personal and gives us a good excuse to hang out over winter break.”

“Not that we really need one.” Allegra added.

Marinette mouthed a ‘wow’ before saying, “You guys really go all out.”

“Yeah, we do.” Claude smirked. “Otherwise, who’d wanna come?”

“That’s why we need to get a reservation somewhere by tomorrow. So we have time to prepare.”

“Did you guys have a place in mind?”

“I have a few, actually.” Allegra replied. “My main preference is the Mandarin Oriental, but there’s also a few other options like Ritz Paris, Bateaux Parisiens, or Les Pavillons de Bercy.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully, though she’d really only heard of one of those places. Was it bad that she didn’t know about the other three? 

“Have we done the Mandarin Oriental yet?” Allan asked.

“Not that I remember.”

“I don’t want to do Bateaux Parisiens.” Felix spoke up. “Being on a boat with that many people would be dreadful.”

“Aw, what?” Claude said. “Boats are awesome!”

“Not when they are packed to the brim with people. You’d barely be able to move an inch without running into somebody, and there would be no escape once you’re out on the water.”

“Well, fine, if you’re going to put it that way..”

“I say we do Mandarin Oriental.” Allan remarked. “I trust Allegra’s judgement on the setting.”

Allegra smiled at that, and the other two boys shrugged.

“I’m fine with it as long as I can get some air at some point.” Felix said.

“I guess I’m okay with it too.. But we should try to do a boat next year.”

Allegra shot Claude an indulgent smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Who’s going to call and reserve the tables?”

“I can have Dad do it.” Allegra answered. “We want him to reserve it for two days so we have time to put the decorations in, right?”

“Yeah, like usual.”

“Alright. We can check out the room we’re reserving tomorrow to see which types of decorations we need.”

“Great!” Claude chirped. “Does that work for you, Mari?”

Marinette smiled. She may not be fond of love or romance at the moment, but if throwing a Valentine’s Day party meant spending more time with these wonderful people, she would absolutely do it. 

“Perfectly.”

“Awesome.” Allegra said, satisfied. “Now that that’s settled, we can go back to messing around. What do you guys want to do?”

“Besides arm wrestling?” Claude joked as he eyed Marinette.

“Besides arm wrestling.”

“Why don’t we play hide and seek?” Allan suggested. “We haven’t played that with Marinette yet.”

Marinette gasped. Playing hide and seek in a mansion as big as this one? How had she not considered that before! 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea!”

“Absolutely!”

“..I suppose.”

“What do you say, Mari?” Allegra smiled. “Wanna play?”

Marinette didn’t even have to think about her answer. “Yes, please!”

Allan chuckled and leaned back on his palms. “Great. Who’s going to be it?”

The group paused for a split second. Then, all at once, a chorus of ‘not it!’s rang out in the room.

“Claude, you were the last one!”

“What? No way! It was totally you!”

Allegra shot up from the bed. “Nope! It was you! Start counting to 150!”

“But let us turn off the lights first.” Allan added as he got up.

“Oh, no. I’m counting now.” Claude replied with a sinister grin. “So you better hurry to turn the lights off as you go.”

Felix was up now too, and Marinette, in her giddiness, shot up from the floor with a squeal to follow him.

“Claude Herolds, you better wait for us to-”

“One!” The brunette yelled over Allegra.

“Claude-”

“Two!”

When it was clear he didn’t intend on stopping, everyone scrambled to get out of the bedroom door. They got stuck for only a moment, pushing against each other to be the first one out, then they struggled free and scattered.

Marinette stopped at the top of the steps, her eyes darting around the parts of the mansion she could see. There were so many rooms, so many open spaces, and she still hadn’t memorized where everything was, let alone where good hiding places could be. Where should she even start?

A hand gently grabbed her arm.

“This way.” Felix said in a hushed tone, lightly tugging her down the stairs. “Downstairs is more open for when you need to move to a new hiding place.”

“That’s allowed?”

He nodded. “It’s why we turn the lights off. I’ll show you a good room to start.”

“That’s why it surprised us when he took such a shining to you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Marinette’s lips. “Thanks.”

With the blond’s assured guidance, Marinette’s steps held a tad more confidence, and as Claude’s countdown lowered to 125, the two bolted for a room to hide.

tag list:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07

[algernoninwonderland]

Can I ask you to make a guide about writing Akumatized Marinette fics in such a way that still keep all characters in-character?

I’ll do you one better!

Here’s My Five-Step Program on How To Write Akumatised Characters!

Feel free to use it however you like!

1.  Have a clear idea of who your character is, what their drives and dislikes are, before you get around to akumatising them

For instance, Nino wants to have fun and to make his friends happy but hates being told what to do by authority figures. Mlle Mendeleiev wants to be regarded as a big deal in the scientific world and hates being ridiculed.

Though some of these drives and dislikes can be really ridiculous when it comes to some of these akumatised characters and can have little to no emotional weight because some episodes are comedy-oriented (M. Ramier likes feeding his pigeons, he doesn’t like being told that he can’t feed his pigeons, this is stupid but also funny) or just poorly written. Still, they all seem to follow that same basic formula.

2. Understand how we get to the akumatisation proper, or, what happens before the transformation

The characters about to be akumatised are being pushed to their limits. Why? It depends on the episode, but it’s usually a case of “the character can’t have it their way because of [reason] and that makes them angry”. What are they angry at? There’s no fixed rule here. Depends on the circumstances of the episode. They’re caught in a situation with an outcome that leaves them emotionally unstable and angry, is the point.

Watch Utena. Just watch it. It’s (maybe) the best anime ever. And Miraculous uses the basic mechanics of the Black Rose Saga without understanding what made it good in the first place. Without spoiling too much about that part of the anime, secondary characters with issues hinted at in the first arc come to the forefront of the show for one episode each, during which they are being pushed to their limits. They have a moment of Regressive Therapy with the arc’s antagonist who makes them expose their buried negative feelings and weaponises them to turn each of these characters into the “villain” of the week, if you will. In Utena, these characters, their desires, their fears, gives us a different perspective on the storyworld, the plot and the characters we’ve spent the most time with until then. It’s so good. Just watch Utena.

Anyway, Hawk Moth is a kind of devil figure there (all of this is very Faustian) using the moments of emotional vulnerability in these characters to trick them into striking a deal with him.  He offers them the power to act on these negative feelings, and they must do his bidding in return (he can exert some control over them if this deal is agreed upon but that’s really murky).

Note that these soon-to-be-akumatised characters are not in the right mindset to fully realise what it is they’re getting into, unless they are Truly Evil. Hawk Moth is the one in control there, he is calm and manipulative, he is the one to define the terms of the contract, if you will. This makes me reluctant to call the great majority of the akumatised characters villains (but that doesn’t stop the show from treating them as such). They are blinded by their anger, and not in a position to bargain.

3. Understand what being akumatised is and what it does

“Hello, [villain name], I’m Hawk Moth. Are you sick of piles of owls constantly blocking your driveway?! Well then you gotta get Owl Trowel!  Things are pretty unfair, aren’t they? I understand. I will give you the power to do [whatever], in exchange, you must give me the Miraculouses” Hawk Moth, in every episode.

Being akumatised is a twisted, dramatic expression of these negative emotions and frustrated desires, with an awful colour palette and character designs that range from “pretty good!” to “no.”

Now watch the original Sailor Moon anime. Some of the people working on it later moved on to make Utena. It’s mostly a very good show, and one Miraculous draws from a lot. It blends what was the norm in the magical girl genre until then (shows centred around femininity and growing up) with tokusatsu-type monster-of-the-week stuff. Notably, some of the villains of the week in the early seasons were humans whose desires and frustrations were used by the Dark Kingdom (the Big Bad) to turn them into monsters. The Sailor Guardians (our heroines) had to fight and heal them from that evil corruption.

Being akumatised is a physical transformation and a mental transformation as well, characters who wouldn’t hurt a fly as their regular civilian selves become unhinged and violent and drunk with power. This isn’t them anymore, not entirely. Does that mean an akumatised character’s actions are entirely divorced from what their regular selves think and feel? Not entirely. Alya really wants to know who Ladybug is, Ivan really wishes people would stop picking on him, Aurore really thinks she deserved that victory. Being akumatised means taking these feelings to the extreme and manifesting them physically while attaching them to an item the character has been shown to carry earlier on. Maybe that item is the cause of what upset the akumatised character in the first place, and turning that into a weapon… Sometimes. Maybe it’s something else. The show isn’t very consistent in that regard. You figure it out yourself.

Hawk Moth brings out the worse in these characters and then some, using his magic. He exerts some degree of control over his akumatised pawns though how much is unclear, and I think that’s a deliberate choice from the creative team. In this case, I think the ambiguity makes things more interesting than “bad man entirely controls people who are only puppets with no will of their own whatsoever”.

4. And Now How Would Other Characters React?

When akumatised characters have vengeance in their mind, they go after the person they think is responsible for whatever went wrong. Unlike our heroes and HM, they aren’t concerned with being secretive about who they are, since they are overconfident in their new powers.

The most common reaction to akumatised villains attacking Paris is: “running away and screaming and trying to get somewhere safer”.

How would individual characters react to an akuma attack? How involved were they with the person that got akumatised? Did they play a role in making that person upset? Did they suspect the person had these kinds of feelings before, or is it a complete surprise? What does it tell us about the relationship between the akumatised character and the non-akumatised character reacting to them? Find answers to these questions and you’ve got it all figured out. Refer to the show itself regarding characterisation, it may not be always consistent so pick what you like best, what would be the most interesting.

5. Now That You’ve Got It All Figured Out, Plan and Write the Damn Thing.

Only you can tell the story you want to tell the way you can tell it, so do it, rework it, show it to your friends and rewrite it again until you’re somewhat satisfied.

And voilà! Hope this was somewhat helpful!

[occasionalsnippets]

Escapism AU (Y/n) & Passione

This is mostly about mc’s interactions with the gang including a bit of La Squadra and Unita Speciale. I’ll probably add more as I think.

Bucciarati’s Gang 

Mc crashes at their house from time to time even though she has her own apartment

This either because she wants to sleep over for fun

Or because she’s finished a mission and their house is closer

Sometimes she shows up at 2 AM and just passes out on their couch

It happens more often than it should

Bruno eventually gives her a copy of the key

She steals food from the fridge too but makes up for it by buying groceries

They leave a toothbrush and cup for her in one of the bathrooms since she comes over so much

Before everyone was recuited, there were extra bedrooms in the house that weren’t being used

They left a guest room for mc but she doesn’t use it all the time, opting to pass out on the couch first

Either Bruno or Abbacchio usually brings her to her room though Abbacchio would never admit to it

Mista draws on her face with marker sometimes but leaves her on the couch most of the time. He can’t ruin her cute face all the time

Narancia cuddles with her on the couch or join Mista in doodling

Fugo leaves her on the couch but gets a blanket and readjusts her position if it’s uncomfortable

However, after Mista got recruited, mc gave up her room so Mista didn’t have to room with anyone

Now, she just sleeps on the couch or whoever’s okay with her borrowing their bed

She has tried several times to get them to wear normal clothes outside (they dressed perfectly normally before joining the mafia!) and only about half those times did it actually work

Mc is strong enough carry everyone in the group bridal style

The only ones who gets particularly mouthy when she does is Abbacchio and Mista but only because Mista wants to carry her too

She joins Fugo, Narancia and Mista in doing stupid things but it’s fun

She knows the torture dance

Mc isn’t technically a part of their team but they consider her to be because of how often she stays over and tags along for missions

She doesn’t expect anyone to really like her the way they do despite how obvious their feelings are

Part of it is because she isn’t supposed to be in this universe in the first place, that she’s an outsider of sorts. She’s here to make sure they don’t die

The other part of it is the guilt of leaving them to die in the first timeline. She feels like she doesn’t deserve how highly they think of her because of how readily she was to let fate run it’s course the first time around, even if they don’t remember it

She’s sooner die then let any of them do the same

Giorno

Mc meets Giorno before he’s recruited into the gang since she does go to the same school as him even though she doesn’t really show up to classes that often

She’s about 2 years older than Giorno

They became friends prior to his hair turning blond and she almost didn’t recognize him but his eyes are rather distinctive

When it did turn blond, mc got a vaguely panicked call in the morning from him saying his hair turned blond for some reason

She’s the first person to braid his hair with the needlessly extra loop at the end after it turned blond

She wasn’t sure how the donuts worked but the next time she saw him he had the signature donut hair so she guessed he figured out how to do it

It becomes routine for her to braid Giorno’s hair when she notices it’s undone

She gave him a crash course on stands when he found out she had one

They spend a lot of time in libraries

Mc insists on paying for food when they get lunch together though Giorno always refuses

I feel like Giorno lowkey craves intimacy?

Mc calls him “GioGio” sometimes

Trish

Hmmmmm, gay

I really like Trish hence why she’s included in the harem

Out of everyone in the gang guarding her, she’s the closest with mc since they’re both girls which is also why Bruno assigns mc to her the most often

Convenient for Trish since it means more time to flirt

Unfortunately, mc does fall under the “are we just being nice to each other or are we flirting” when Trish is just about ready to ask for her hand in marriage

She’s flirting, no doubt

Trish lets mc rest her head on her thighs which mc can confirm is very comfortable

Trish is one of the two people she trusts to do her make up, the other one being Abbacchio

You know that picture where there’s one girl sitting on the other girl doing her makeup

That’s basically Trish and mc

Post-Vento Aureo, they stay in contact and remain good friends as Trish pursues a career as a singer

Narancia

Mc joined Fugo on that walk where they found Narancia in the alleyway so she’s partially responsible for him joining the mafia

They bring him to Libecco where Bruno is and he gets food before going to the hospital to get his eye treated like in canon

She goes shopping with him after he’s out of the hospital

They get normal clothes but the next she sees him, he’s wearing his canon outfit and she wonders why she even bothered with his fashion sense in the first place

She’s the one who buys him his bandana that he wears in his canon outfit

They’re pretty cute together actually

She calls him “Nara” 

While she isn’t available all the time to help Fugo tutor him, when she is around, she tries her best to help

They listen to music together and mc ends up reccomending a lot though some songs haven’t come out yet so she’s only able to play them on her phone

“If I run and jump at (Y/n), she’ll definately catch me!” “Wait, I’m holding a mug-” *Drops the mug and catches Narancia*

Hugs with Narancia often end with his face buried in the crook of her neck

Fugo

Probably the one mc goes with on missions the most

Part of it is because they’re the closest in age prior to everyone else joining, another part is due to mc’s nullifying ability effectively making her immune to Purple Haze’s virus

Mc be like “if I got infected with purple haze’s virus, I would simply become immune. rip to everyone else but I’m different.”

Still, Fugo is still very cautious when it comes to pulling out Purple Haze

Fugo buys her lavender hand lotion once and she decided she liked it so she continued to use it

He sorta associates lavender with mc

Mc buys him strawberry earrings. Sometimes she spontaneously buys stuff that reminds her of him

Fugo isn’t particularily fond of contact (backstory trauma) so mc tries to keep it to a minimum unless he gives an okay

Probably a few missions together where mc saves him, they’re walking down a street together and he just slips his hand into hers

Asadlskjh, I want them to hold hands

When she’s doing school assignments over at the Bucci house, Fugo helps her look over and proofread them despite the fact she has access to the internet through her phone and can search stuff literally from the future (not that he knows). She appreciates the input

I think that after Fugo leaves the group during Vento Aureo, I would like to bring him back somehow before the end of Vento Aureo

Abbacchio

He didn’t like mc at first, no surprises here, but after they went on a few missions together where she saved his life, he begrudgingly opened up

She reminds him of his dead partner due to how reckless she is in saving people

She an idiot but she’s his idiot

He’s likely one of the most worried when she gets hurt since he doesn’t want to lose another person who died protecting him

Abbacchio does come off as very tsundere seeing how prickly he is to everyone except Bruno but everyone except for mc notices that he isn’t that prickly to her either

Mc doesn’t expect him to like her to any degree so whenever anyone points out that he’s nicer to her, she’s like “what?”

They have late night talks a lot

Abbacchio stays up late drinking and mc doesn’t sleep consistently enough

Sometimes they go up to the roof of the house to talk

She has fallen alseep on him multiple times. His tiddies make great pillows. 

Generally, she’s got her head resting on his tiddies, one arm hanging over his body, the other spawled out somewhere. He keeps one arm around her head and the other around her waist

Bruno

Mc with Bruno is oddly domestic?

she helps around the house, buying groceries, helping out in the kitchen and cleaning from time to time

Bruno appreciates it a lot

If Abbacchio and mc have late night talks, Bruno and her have early morning talks when everyone else is asleep and the sun is just barely rising

Bruno keeps telling her it isn’t healthy to sleep only 3 hours so he convinces her to fall asleep for a few more hours

He spoils her a lot and brings her to cafes

Bruno is one of the last people she would expect to like her more than a friend due to the “bruno’s a mom” memes and he’s nice to everyone (almost everyone, excluding ememies), there’s no way he would like her more

Sure, he kisses the crown of her head and the back of her hand from time to time and they cook together

But they’re just good friends, right?

He frequently lectures her on being more careful and not being so reckless

Mista

They discuss weird stuff a lot

The combination of mc’s general knowledge of random things due to the internet and Mista’s bad timing when bringing up topics leads to interesting conversations

Like, your tongue never sits comfortably in your mouth, your skeleton is wet, are you inside your skeleton or is your skeleton inside you?

Mc is always in a constant state of worry when he’s on a mission because his bullets always end up in his own body something

The only reason he isn’t dead yet is because his dumb*ss aura surrounds him

Mc qualifies as a cute girl 11/10

He flirts with her casually and the pistols tell her his thought even when he doesn’t want them to but she never seems to notice

“You’ve been flirting with me?” “Have been for the last year, thanks for noticing.”

Mc gets Mista a gun holster after the events of Vento Aureo because he really shouldn’t be tucking his gun in his pants like that

If someone was really angry, they could lean over and shoot his d*ck off

La Squadra

I sorta debated whether la squadra should be a part of the harem or not but I think mostly no

That’s because I don’t really have an age range for them but Risotto’s like 28 and big age gaps are creepy. So, I guess for some of the la squadra members, it’s up to interpretation whether it’s romantic or platonic. I’m inclined towards platonic though

I’m not sure if I want to save Sorbet and Gelato yet

Mc, of course, goes along for missions as she’s ordered to

La squadra is so broke. Why doesn’t Diavolo pay them more? They literally kill people for their job

Mc doesn’t crash at their house very often but she stops by to hang out and drop off food

She buys them groceries when she notices their fridge is super empty. She doesn’t need them to pay her back (her paycheck is suprisingly big), but they should stop eating takeout all the time

She usually calls Risotto to ask if there’s anything specific they want

She’s rather fond of Pesci. They go fishing together when they have time

Illuso and mc are gossip buddies

Melone gets kink shamed during missions

Ghiaccio and mc have gone ice skating together before

I don’t really have anything else for the others... I’ll think about it

When Vento Aureo begins, mc is trying to save them though she isn’t directly working with them

La Unita Speciale

These are pretty random

Tizano and Squalo are gay, mc was there when they proposed to each other

Mc gets ordered to buy food when they have meetings though it’s pretty rare

When she does show up to drop off food, it’s a constant feeling of “let me leave quicker please” because Cioccolata is freaky

She thinks she runs into Doppio way too often when she’s doing missions

The only good thing about it is that Doppio is pretty nice when Diavolo isn’t kicking about. On one hand, Doppio=nice, on the other Doppio=Diavolo

Mc feeds Secco sugar cubes when Cioccolata isn’t looking

She would not trust Cioccolata to patch up any of her wounds, he’s likely to dissect her

Mc gets missions through calls and emails but sometimes Doppio’s around to tell her what they are 

[prompt-master]

Familiar New Beginnings

Hajime woke up that morning already feeling a barrage of unimpressed emotions. He knew his routine by now, had it memorized forwards and backwards. He would do chores around the island, check up on the others still in their comas, then have a video chat with Makoto to update on their status. Despite surviving the impossible, Hajime’s life felt surprisingly uneventful. There was a certain layer of dreariness that stuck to his daily life now. He tried his best to wash it off, but there was always leftover residue no matter how hard he scrubbed. Afterall, many of his friends were comatose, the four others were dealing with their own demons, and nothing in their routine ever seemed to change. He had hope that things would change… but it all felt so…

Hajime groaned, ruffling his hair in the bathroom mirror. If he wasn’t careful, he would sound just like Izuru.

‘And what is wrong with that?’ Speak of the devil.

‘I don’t know… everything?’ Just like that the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun.

He and Izuru were… Well, it had gotten better that’s for sure. Just a month ago the two were constantly clashing with each other. They had argued over everything from moral differences to petty squabbles. At times they had even fought for control of their body, which looked downright scary to the others whenever they got a glimpse. Now… Hajime didn’t really know how to describe his relationship with Izuru. He doesn’t like him, but he doesn’t hate him anymore either. 

Not that it mattered much. Izuru wasn’t a part of his daily routine except for the fact that he was always in the back of his head observing. And Hajime was taking things one day at a time. 

What mattered right now was getting to the restaurant for breakfast, a quick meeting, and chore assignment. It wasn’t really necessary (Izuru reminded him of this every single morning meeting), but the mini tradition was nice. It was like a small reminder that they were in this together. The morning meeting really could make the difference between a bad day and a good day. Kazuichi slinging his arm around him, talking about stupid guy stuff. Sonia trying to work out the chore assignments but getting distracted with more fun conversation. Fuyuhiko pretending to be bitter and serious, but everyone could see he was enjoying himself. Akane of course would always be energetic as Hell. Hajime swore she could always pull them out of a funk with how much of a driving fight she had (even if she mostly used it for her hunger). Morning meetings reminded Hajime how lucky he was to have escaped with them. They reminded him why he was fighting. They reminded him although things currently felt dreary and repetitive, something good would come out of it. Morning meetings were simply wonderful.

At least, that’s what Hajime would have said a day ago. 

Because today’s morning meeting was garbage. There was no way to sugar coat it. He had barely gotten to talk to any of his friends, and although they made his favorite breakfast he was instantly handed a chore list that could only be described as annoying. After reading over the list, Hajime looked up at Sonia.

“Seriously?” The list consisted solely of the most difficult unwanted jobs, not to mention the fact that many were on opposite sides of the island. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Hinata-kun.” Her smile didn’t look sorry though. Before he could get too bitter, Izuru had to remind Hajime that her smile hasn’t been as bright ever since getting her despair memories back. She did a polite bow, one in that over exaggerated foreigner way, “the others have been incredibly down lately so I wanted to try and ease their workload.”

Hajime could already feel a hefty weight on him, “why me though?”

There was a shift in her eyes, a quick glance that she tried to hide, “I figured that…”

Of course she had, since she glanced at his red eye after all. If only she realized how uncooperative Izuru could be. Sure, he had the Ultimate Ultimate living in the attic space of his head but it meant nothing when all he wanted to do was watch. 

Regardless, Hajime nodded. Taking some load off his friends back may do them some good. He knows he heard Kazuichi screaming from a nightmare last night. Probably about the death machines he built. 

“But just this once”, he had said. 

He could practically feel Izuru mocking him in his dead toned way. Throughout the day of trying to get his chores done and ignoring Izuru’s sudden comments about being bored he would hardly get to see any of his friends. It sucked, but sometimes it had to happen, he supposed. They weren’t on an island vacation after all, they had to keep the island self sustaining. All in all… an incredibly lackluster day as he had feared. It was this brand of nothingness that left Hajime feeling vague within his own body. The lack of stimulation allowed him to fade out until the next chore was done. It was a numbness over his body as his brain went into autodrive.

And he hated it.

Feeling like he was floating, feeling like he has no control of his body. That reminded Hajime of how close he was to simply not existing anymore. In fact, sometimes he still wonders if he doesn’t exist. Maybe he’s just Izuru, and this is Izuru’s weird way of coping with everything.

‘Don’t be idiotic, Hajime.’ Izuru said, pulling him back into reality. Right. He was working on the farm. ‘You have survived one of the final trials between hope and despair, against Enoshima Junko herself. Yet you still doubt your own existence. How boring.’

Hajime laughed through his nose, pulling another root out of the ground. Izuru certainly had a strange way of cheering him up. Maybe Hajime was the strange one though, because it worked. 

‘Careful, Kamukura, you almost sound sentimental.’

There was a beat of silence. For a moment Hajime thought that was the end of the conversation. It wasn’t unusual for them to have short bursts of conversation that cut off suddenly. When he spoke again, Hajime wished he had the talent Makoto did. He wished he could see beyond Izuru’s tone to hear the meaning behind them. Even though it was the same flat, uninterested, soft voice he had heard a million times before, he felt as though there was something unseen within.

‘I have told you this before, but that particular trial was one I had set up myself. Your existence is a display of significance and impossibility. Do not disappoint.’ 

It wasn’t too odd to hear this sentiment from Izuru. In fact Hajime had heard it from the moment he woke up. His very existence was the defining reason Izuru gave hope a chance. It clearly meant a lot to Izuru, even if continued to claim he could feel nothing. Still, Hajime couldn’t help but wonder why Izuru was saying this now. Izuru didn’t say anything without purpose. Ah, he didn’t want Hajime to be moping around all day. That would be much too boring. Hajime decided to give Izuru some control over the body just this once, to let him play around in the dirt and with the bugs within. For a man who could do anything, he always found interest in such simple matters. It was almost charming.

Hajime must have nodded off at some point, because when he had come back into the driver’s seat not only was the crop work done, but so were several other chores on the list. Hajime couldn’t even process that for a moment, having to confirm both with Izuru and his own eyes multiple times to be sure. It was always odd blacking out and finding his own body had done something without him. ‘You didn’t have to do all that’ Hajime had said. ‘I was bored’ was all he got in response. Typical Izuru. 

Although Hajime could still feel the aches of labor throughout his body, he had to admit that the break was a welcomed one. Even if Izuru hadn’t intended for it to be a relaxing moment, Hajime supposed sometimes taking the backseat didn’t need to feel so life ending. After all, like Izuru said, if he could survive Junko, he could survive today. And tomorrow. And any day. 

Hajime’s step had a bit more vigor in it now. He felt just slightly more energized. He could tackle the few chores left on the list now. He was certain that without Izuru occasionally throwing in a comment, Hajime would fall asleep while cleaning. 

With the chores list done, he had to do some inspection on his comatosed friends. It was certainly a tough job to handle, but Byakuya - er… The Imposter-  had recently been showing some promising signs. For both The Imposter’s sake and his own, Hajime would keep this work flow going. He had to, even if he felt tired. Besides, the sooner he finished with that, the sooner he could call Makoto, and the sooner he could lay in bed and go to sleep. Just imagining that left Hajime feeling happy, maybe with some luck he could even convince Izuru to not interrupt his sleep out of boredom.

“Yo, Hinata!”

Strangely enough, outside the hospital was Kazuichi, seemingly waiting for him. As Hajime approached, Kazuichi pushed off the wall he was leaning against and jogged up to him.

Hajime placed his hands in his pockets, ignoring Izuru’s gentle scoldings about how that was rude and closed off body posture, “Hey Souda, what are you doing here?”

Kazuichi flashed a smile full of teeth, “The others decided to throw a dinner party, so I came to let ya know. Cuz y’know, you’re invited, of course.”

“A dinner party?” Hajime couldn’t deny the temptation. “What for?”

“We’ve been all working so hard ‘n stuff!”

“Ah, so it’s just an excuse to party.”

Kazuichi glared and pointed at Hajime in accusation, “hey hey we deserve to have this man!”

Hajime laughed, rolling his eyes, “well, I guess so. It sounds like fun, I hope you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“Hold on. What do you mean ‘you guys’?”

“Well... “ Hajime rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m pretty tired in all honesty. Besides,” Hajime glanced at the hospital, “It feels a bit wrong to celebrate right now.”

Kazuichi’s eyes widened, and he began waving his hands side to side, “you got to come!”

“I do?”

“Yes!” At Hajime’s continued confusion, Kazuichi took a step back to try and calm himself down, “It would be weird without you, we need you to join.” 

Hajime tried to wave his hand in dismissal, “I’ve done a lot of work today, Souda-”

But Kazuichi just clasped his hands together and began begging, “please Hinata!” he said. Geez, Kazuichi was always pushy when it came to this sort of stuff but… 

‘Enough. Just agree to go.’

‘We need rest. You’d be bored anyway.’

‘Rest is far more boring than a predictable dinner. Besides, you wish to go, so I see no point in refusal.’

Hajime sighed. How did he always get pushed into antics like this? “Alright, Souda, Alright, I’ll go.” 

Kazuichi threw his fits up into the air in celebration, “Fuck yeah! You won’t regret this Hinata!” before Hajime could make any more small talk Kazuichi ran off towards the island bridge. 

“I’m gonna tell Owari to bring the good booze!” He yelled.

Hajime cupped his hands over his mouth, “Don’t drink too much!” They still had work to do the next day afterall.

A dinner party huh? Seemed a bit out of the blue, but the others like to do little activities to keep morale up. He supposed this just had to be another example of that. Hajime yawned as he entered the hospital, already knowing that he would be up late tonight. They would probably meet for this little get together at around six or seven at night. And thanks to the simulation, Hajime was still used to ending the day around ten. Maybe he could convince Sonia to let him sleep until late the next day, Izuru did have Ultimate Psychologist on his hand after all. He could be incredibly convincing when he wanted to.

‘Absolutely not.’

Oh, c’mon. Hajime hadn’t even shared that thought with Izuru!

‘You’re predictable.’

Hajime rolled his eyes, getting to work at the hospital. Before he knew it the day was essentially over. There was little to no progress to report, but Makoto assured him that things were looking up regardless. Makoto assured him that every day. Although in this particular call, Makoto did seem to hold more kindness to his smile than usual. He told Hajime to take the day off tomorrow, which was odd. Hajime hasn’t taken many days off at all since waking up. The only exception was back when he and Izuru would fight more often. Why would he take a day off now? Perhaps Makoto could tell he needed a good night's sleep?

Either way, Hajime just had to survive the dinner party. And at least this would be genuinely enjoyable. It would just be him, his friends, and the bottles of alcohol around them. 

Akane greeted him at the door, “Hinata!” she yelled, smile bright as ever.

Kazuichi of course wrapped an arm around Hajime once he saw him, shaking him back and forth.

Sonia held both of his hands in hers, guiding him to the food she and Akane helped prepare. Honestly, he was surprised the food was still on the table. But it did look good.

Fuyuhiko had handed Hajime a glass, telling him he was certain Hajime would enjoy the taste of this particular alcohol. 

It was almost like they were a normal group of college kids on a friday night. They told stupid stories of their past, drank, and ate their hearts out. Occasionally Hajime would let Izuru take control to take a sip of a particularly bitter drink. But all in all no one got too wasted, mostly because Fuyuhiko wouldn’t let them. 

Hajime was laughing at one of Kazuichi’s many rejection stories when Sonia tapped a glass with her spoon. Moments like these reminded Hajime of why Sonia was titled after such an impressive talent. It wasn’t simply a role she was born into, she carried all the traits of elegance and leadership in her posture as she gathered everyone’s attention to her. Back straight, and kind smile, Hajime wanted to give his undivided attention. 

“Every day I feel so grateful to have become your friends,” She said, “we have all accomplished so much, and we only have more goals to seek in our future.” She turned to face Hajime specifically, “and we have you to thank for that, Hinata-kun.”

“Huh? Me?” Well that wasn’t right. In fact if Hajime hadn’t been so depressed as a teenager Izuru wouldn’t have existed. And then Izuru wouldn’t have helped end the world. And then he wouldn’t have put Junko into the Neo World Program. 

Izuru reminded him that if he had refused the project, Hope's Peak Academy would have simply targeted another student. 

“Yeah, you!” Akane smiled, punching Hajime hard in the shoulder, “We definitely wouldn’t have left without you!”

Fuyuhiko looked up from where he had been sitting with his arms crossed, “And these idiots would have never figured out the trials without you.”

“It was a team effort.” Hajime tried to stress, “We all have done so much-”

“Bro!” Kazuichi yelled, “Just let us appreciate you, holy shit!”

Hajime laughed as Akane filled up his cup with another round of liquor, “Seriously Hinata, do you ever loosen up? Maybe we need more food.”

Hajime took a sip, cringing a bit at the burn it brought his throat. Akane did always like the more intense stuff. “Did you guys throw this all together just to be nice to me?” 

It admittedly was nicer than looking back on the past as they had grown accustomed too after gaining back their old memories. Hajime had to remind himself often to look for the future instead, and it sounded like the others still want to as well.

Sonia’s smile fell from royal elegance to that of a close friend, “it’s almost midnight you know.”

“I wonder what the new year will bring,” Fuyuhiko was watching the red sky through the window, “can’t get worse than this bullshit.”

Fuyuhiko choked as Akane slammed a hand onto his back, “It’s going to be a great year! I can’t wait for coach to wake up! I’ve got so much shit to show him, and Minimaru ain’t as good at massaging.”

“So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Was it really New Years Eve already? Hajime felt like there was something else he was forgetting but before he could think more on it… 

“Is everyone ready to count down?” Sonia asked, eliciting sounds of approval (and cheers from one Kazuichi).

“Ten... “Sonia looked at her watch and took charge of the count. She really did make a good leader.

“Nine” All of Hajime’s exhaustion felt lost. It was a short few seconds, but everyone seemed so excitable. It was contagious.

“Eight” The others had gathered close to each other, letting Hajime get a full view of the carefree joy on their faces.

“Seven” He wished he could wake up those unconscious to join them. He’d have to work twice as hard this year to make sure they all got to celebrate together.

“Six” But that was what this was all about anyway. They were looking to the future, just as they had promised in the game.

“Five!” The excitement in their voices grew, Hajime just as loud with them. 

“Four!” Because it was more than just about looking to the future.

“Three!” It was about making the future.

“Two!” They were going to take the future in their hands and make it worth living through all that despair.

“One!” And Hajime couldn’t be more thankful to make this future with them.

“Happy Birthday!” “Happy New Year!”

Huh? What? Why did everyone else yell about..?

Everyone was smiling ear to ear. He could see they all had these smug proud expressions as if they’d caught him in the act. Did he..?

“Wait a sec,” Hajime looked at everyone’s faces one by one for any signs of the truth, “is it someone’s birthday…?”

He was met with blank stares. Shit, he must have forgotten someone’s birthday and now he looked like an idiot because he was the only one who didn’t know. Hell he didn’t know it was the 31st until a few moments ago!

Hajime fidgeted, now feeling bad for getting so caught up in work that he’d forget something like this, “I’m...who’s birthday is it? Why did no one tell me... “

Kazuichi was staring at Hajime like he was an idiot, and that was saying a lot, “Dude… it’s your birthday!”

“...Really?”

“Did you forget your own birthday?!” Fuyuhiko yelled, then he turned to Sonia, “I told you this surprise bullshit was stupid.”

“I thought it would be cute… ”

“Man… '' Akane looked flatout depressed, “I held back on eating the cake and everything and you weren’t even happy.”

“What?! No, no, I just-” Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling embarrassment redden his ears. “I really didn’t know.”

For just a moment Hajime retreated back into his head.

‘Did you know about this, Kamukura?’

‘Of course.’ Izuru had known everything from the moment they had woken up. And he’d known about the party since Sonia had handed them their chores list.

‘And you didn’t tell me..?!’

‘I thought that it would be amusing.’

‘Well. Are you amused?’

‘Predictably… yes.’

Sonia looked down at the floor with a defeated posture, she sunk down into one of the restaurant chairs, “I’m sorry Hinata-kun… the others said we should have just told you about the party but I thought that since… “

Kazuichi propped elbow up on the table, resting his head against his hand. Even he looked defeated, Hajime wondered how much effort they put into this surprise, “We thought since none of us have celebrated our birthdays in years that it’d be nice to make a big deal out of it.”

“Wait, hold on just a second everyone.” They were right, none of them had properly celebrated their birthdays for a few years, Hajime even more since he was quite literally erased, “This all is very sweet! I just… didn’t remember. Usually it’s colder around my birthday…”

It didn’t seem to do much to uplift the mood, but he could see the urge to tease Hajime for his forgetfulness on their faces.

“Really, all of you. This means a lot to me.” Hajime could imagine them formulating their plan for this party. Making sure he was out of the way, getting together to brainstorm different ideas. Not to mention the hand baked cake, he could only imagine what the kitchen must look like right now. He knows they must have put their entire hearts into this.  “I’m really lucky to have all of you.”

The others smiled at Hajime, glad to see that their efforts weren’t for nothing. At the end of the day, they had just wanted to make Hajime feel special. And although the surprise wasn't as big of a hit as they had intended it to be, they had the rest of the day to make Hajime feel as special as he really was. Now if only this awkward silence would go away-

“Pah...what’s with all this depressing atmosphere when there’s a perfectly good cake right here in front of us?!” Akane cried out, cutting Hajime a slice before cutting herself a massive piece. 

Sonia beamed, hands on her hips, “Owari-san is right! The party must go on!”

“It’s ‘the show must go on’, Sonia.” 

And just like that the high energy was back. It may have been twelve in the morning, but all of them were ecstatic as though it was just a fun afternoon. They even had gifts prepared for him, stuff they all had to create themselves since there weren’t exactly any stores open on the island. Sonia had put together a book for him, full of photos of them courtesy of Makoto and the Neo World Program’s leftover data. She left some space in the book for new memories when the others woke up. Akane had gotten him an assortment of pretty shells she’d found along the shoreline. She had also gotten him a rather gross looking squid, claiming she pulled it right out of the ocean for him. Kazuichi had gotten him a handmade phone. He said the internet doesn’t exist still, but he was trying to replicate as much of the fun as he could with his limited coding knowledge. Apparently Alter Ego helped him with that stuff. Fuyuhiko’s was a lot simpler, but he knew it meant a lot. It was a handmade bracelet of twined hay. At Hajime’s confusion, Fuyuhiko had lifted his sleeve to show a matching bracelet on his own wrist. Looking away with a flustered expression on his face, Fuyuhiko had said it was a way to show their brotherhood. 

Now Hajime poked at his cake. It wasn’t the best tasting cake he’d ever had. It was messy, and too sweet, and a bit undercooked. But somehow that’s what made it the best cake he had ever had. It was so… homemade. And that’s what made it really special to Hajime. As he ate more of his cake he thought to himself about how they wanted to make his first birthday in years special. Hajime began to dig through his mind for the last memory he had of someone putting in effort for his birthday with little avail. His birthday came right after New Years Eve parties. People were usually too tired to then turn around and celebrate some kids' party. He didn’t have any friends either. There was a reason he specifically was selected for the Kamukura Project. Hajime could have disappeared at any moment, and no fuss would have kicked up a storm. Not even his parents would have batted an eye. Sure, they had spent a monumental sum of money to get him into the reserve course, but that was also the exact reason they had grown to resent him. They spent a fortune to get their useless son an opportunity to become something, and nothing had even changed. Looking back, Hajime’s life had been a lonely mix of drowning in low self esteem and being uncared for. 

But now these guys...his closest friends… they were changing everything he knew about his life. Hajime didn’t know it was possible to feel so loved.

‘I have never had cake before’ 

Oh. That’s right, Izuru was still here. Like he always was. That was another change in his life. Did it have to be so unwelcomed though?

Hajime pulled back to let Izuru take the driver's seat for a moment, watching distantly as he picked up a fork and put it in his mouth.

‘The amount of frosting on this is offensive to the craft of baking.’

‘That must mean you like it, then.’

‘Indeed.’

Izuru continued to eat pieces from his cake. Hajime decided to simply let him, it wasn’t often Izuru found something that interested him. He’s sure in just a few more bites Izuru will give back control willingly once he gets bored of the overly sweet taste. He might as well let Izuru join in the celebration.. Wait… 

‘Hey, Kamukura, what about you.’

‘What about me? I am eating cake.’

‘But they’ve only been celebrating me.’

‘That is because it is not my birthday.’

That… did make sense. Just because their body was made on this day didn’t mean Izuru himself was. 

‘When is your birthday, then?’

‘I do not see why it matters.’

Moments like these reminded Hajime that although Izuru was a man who had everything, he’d only been living for a few years now. He was sitting here absolutely pleased and amazed with the idea of an overly sweet cake. Had Izuru ever celebrated his own birthday?

‘Just tell me. We’ll celebrate yours when the time comes around.’

‘You cannot throw a celebration for someone who feels nothing.’ Bullshit, Hajime thought. But he kept that one to himself.

‘Humor me, wouldn’t it be interesting to see what we come up with?’ Everyone deserved that chance. If Hajime, the unloved talentless reserve course student could get here, then why couldn’t Izuru? 

‘Very well. I first awoke on June Ninth.’

June Ninth. June Ninth. June Ninth. Hajime repeated the date in his head to commit it to memory. Just a month ago, Hajime would have scoffed at the idea of celebrating Izuru’s existence. Maybe his life hadn’t been so unchanging as he thought. Just a month ago, Izuru would have never cared about Hajime’s birthday. It didn’t seem like change was happening on the surface, but they were there. Slowly moving. Always making progress. Is this what hope meant? Would they one day become more than just headmates? Maybe they’d become… friends?

‘I’ll make sure you have a great birthday, Izuru.’

Izuru was smiling just the slightest. Or well, this smile was as wide as it could get when Izuru was the subject matter. ‘Focus on your own birthday for now, Hajime’ that was his way of saying happy birthday, ‘ensure that this year you do not disappoint me with your existence.’

For once Hajime had a strong feeling that he won’t.

[housemartius]

Hey if you were to rewrite HoO, what would you do? (I know this is a big question)

ooooof it really is and it’s going to take me a while. also i might not even write down everything i want bc adhd but here we go:

- percy and annabeth are not part of the seven. they’ve had the first series, let them rest for a while, they deserve it. also bc i’d keep the romans has an imminent threat to chb, they’d have their hands full with battle preparations and whatnot for the ultimate showdown

- reyna and nico are part of the seven

- jason and piper are not a couple. hera would give them false memories of a romantic relationship between the two. but they wouldn’t go for it. piper being a child of aphrodite means she can sense possibilities, but why would this necessarily mean she’d earn for a positive outcome between her and jason? i think that it’d be the opposite: piper would sense nothing. how do you build a relationship based on nothing. scratch that, there is something, but it’s all fake. what does she really know about this boy that wasn’t made up by a scheming goddess? i find it hard to believe she’d immediately try to jump into romance, and for what? to get back a handful of moments that never even happened in the first place? if anything, she’d start from zero and try to form a friendship with him, but not romance... and as for jason, he’s a logical person, i think he’d be hard pressed to start dating piper right away bc he’d believe there was no basis whatsoever to their relationship. if all your memories of a person were created by someone else, then you just don’t know that person, end of. anyway, no romance between these two

- frank and hazel are most definitely not a couple. no in-depth explanations required

- hazel is still 13 y/o, but she’s allowed to be 13 y/o. she feels intimidated by the rest of the seven (with the exception of nico, who is 13 as well) due to their age differences. she feels herself lacking in both wisdom and experience. she constantly goes to nico for comfort. around the others, she’s shy and meek. her disposition in turn makes the rest of them protective of her. it has nothing to do with powers, they are more than aware hazel is strong and skillful and dangerous. it’s bc of her age, bc it’s only natural they’d want this really young girl to be safe and sound all the time

- same with nico. although he relies mostly on hazel for support, due to being siblings and of the same age, he finds himself being cared for by the older demigods quite a lot. that’s just how these things go

- yes, there’d be two children of hades in this quest. i think it would be interesting. hades is the underdog. his children are feared, mistreated and ostracized. this could be the chance to have hades and his kids not only redeemed but also viewed in a whole different light. it’s about time hades’ bad rep comes to an end

- leo and calypso are not a couple

- leo’s arc would revolve around self-love. there would be no “seventh wheel” crap (obviously), instead, it’s about confronting and overcoming his trauma, figure himself out and grow. leo would find love in his friends. piper and jason would never see him as a pain or nuisance like they do at times in the books (ew). leo would be well loved by his peers

- calypso’s arc would revolve around self-love too. leo does land in her island, and he leaves on the little boat. but not before passing on his wisdom to her. leo is the one who helps calypso realize that relationships or romantic interests do not define you as a person. and eventually, not too long after he’s left, a boat appears for calypso

- reyna would be the unofficial leader of the seven. not the mom of the group, not the big sister, the leader. yes, she comes to develop deep and strong bonds with the rest of the crew, but she’s not anyone’s therapist. jason and frank are her right hand men

- frank’s stick might not even be a thing tbh. i don’t see a valid reason for it existing... i see his character arc more as growing from a timid boy to a capable leader

- the gods wouldn’t have that weird “greek vs roman” thing going on. like why, what’s so interesting about this in the first place? i just don’t see it

- i legit can’t think of anything else rn lol. but you get the gist, it’d about teenagers and their personal growths, just like the first series

[sashas4t]

Flutzes: How Big an Issue are They?

There is a common belief within skating fans that flutzes (or lutz jumps taken off from a flat or inside edge) are most common among Russian ladies. I have always believed the opposite, but as I am currently taking a statistics course, I thought it would be fun to see how my beliefs, and the common belief, hold up against percentages and proportions. Because I don’t have unlimited time on my hands, I will only be looking into every ladies skater at Russian, Japanese and US Nationals and analyzing their lutz edges (I wanted to do the Korean ladies and I might mention a few just for fun but as Korean Nationals was postponed until next week I’ve decided to leave them out of this for now). Next time I might return with a junior edition (since flutzes seem to be rather common amongst the Russian juniors).

To Begin: What is a Lutz?

The lutz jump is one of the six types of figure skating jumps. The ISU defines the lutz as “a toe-pick assisted jump with an entrance from a back outside edge and landing on the back outside edge of the opposite foot”. Here are two textbook examples of what a lutz should look like:

(The landing here isn’t great - see the ice flying, but the takeoff is just perfection)

Both of these jumps, and any good lutz jump, have deep outside edges. Another qualification one may bring up is prerotation, but this post is mostly just analyzing whether or not certain skaters flutz - not whether or not their lutz is textbook overall. So there are a lot of skaters to be mentioned that have good outside edges on their lutzes, but their lutzes can’t be considered “textbook” because they prerotate far more than the acceptable amount. But that is a whole other controversial topic that really deserves a post of its own.

So what is a bad lutz then? 

In this jump, the skater takes off from an inside edge, instead of the outside edge that the other two skaters use. There are some other issues with this particular jump, but the inside edge is the issue which is most glaring. 

The Russian Ladies

Here are my conclusions drawn from Russian Nationals. Interestingly enough, besides Konstantinova, every other skater with an outside edge had a very clear outside edge. Out of the ladies with flat edges, some looked more inside (Samodurova’s namely but also Liza Nugumanova’s), while others looked more outside (Kostina’s), but because they all looked flat more than inside/outside, I grouped them together. 

The Japanese Ladies

I only looked at the 24 ladies who qualified for the free skate, and for many of them I ended up having to use videos from the National Winter Sports because JSF doesn’t post full videos of their skates at Japanese Nationals to YouTube. I also couldn’t find any videos of Natsu Suzuki, so I could not include her in this analysis. 

The American Ladies

Sadly there were a lot of American ladies that I couldn’t find videos of - so this is a rather short list (and probably not very representative).

Analysis:

In the Russian ladies - 47.1% have true lutzes.

In the Japanese ladies - 52.2% have true lutzes.

In the American ladies - 71.4% have true lutzes.

It’s really interesting that so many American ladies have good lutz edges. This is either because I could not find videos of many competitors, or because some competitors who have problematic edges did not jump the lutz (Starr is a good example). However, out of the American ladies, few have “deep” outside edges. Many of them do have “good” outside edges, as in it is very clear that they do, indeed, have outside edges, however few seem to warp the laws of physics like the most textbook examples do. Interestingly, the panel at US Nationals did call out many of the problematic lutzes with lower level skaters, while blatantly ignoring Bradie and Mariah’s clear flat edges. 

Out of the Japanese ladies with outside edges, not that many have “deep” outside edges either. I would say Rika, Tomoe and Honoka have really great deep edges. A few of the ladies I wrote as outside really have iffy edges (Wakaba’s probably the best example - sometimes its outside, sometimes it looks more flat). 

Out of the Russian ladies with outside edges, many have good outside edges. Except for Stanislava, all the ladies with outside edges have very clear outside edges (unlike in the other two countries oddly). I used to assume that coaches played a big part in whether or not a skater had an outside edge, but it appears this data says otherwise. The most interesting thing is that the slow motion replays almost always caught the lutzes in the best angle (the same angle as Boyang’s 4Lz in the first gif), and yet, very few lutzes were called. 

For example, for the Tutberidze Girls, three have unclear edges and 1 has a good outside edge, however, Sasha Trusova used to be an Eteri girl as well, and also has an outside edge. Same goes for Mishin, who was often mistakingly thought to teach good technique based off of Liza Tuktamysheva’s textbook lutz. But as Samodurova and Guliakova are also Mishin’s student, it appears that this technique does not come from his camp. These conclusions make rational sense as Mishin and Eteri usually do not coach skaters since youth, but rather often take in already established skaters. Eteri has been known to only accept students with their triples. If we were to look into some younger juniors, or some retired (switched disciplines) skaters I think I could present one coach who has consistently presented ladies with correct edges - Panova. Besides Frolova who has a problematic lutz edges, many of her other skaters - Tsibinova, Tarakanova, Sotskova, Sinitsyna, Kanysheva, Kostyuk etc - have had correct flip and lutz edges. This would require some more analysis though. 

While it looks like the US ladies clearly have a lead in this category, due to certain circumstances, it is unreasonable to say that overall, American ladies are less prone to flutzing just based off this data. I would do a 1-Prop Z Test but these statistics really do not check any of the assumptions or conditions necessary for such a computation.

Overall, it is really interesting that around 50% of the skaters at Russian Nationals and Japanese Nationals have problematic lutzes. It’s that widespread an issue. No, it’s not just Evgenia Medvedeva or Mao Asada or Anna Shcherbakova that suffer from it. Yes, they aren’t (well, Zhenya and Anya aren’t at least) being punished for it, but neither are a good percentage of the others who have problematic lutzes. 

For reference, at Japanese Nationals, only two lutz calls were given in the SP (! for Yoshida and Uramatsu). The tech panel was much harsher in the FS with flip and lutz calls galore (Kaori got “e”, Rika Hongo got “e” and Uramtaus got “e”). 

At Russian Nationals, in the SP only three edge calls were given - Trusova’s 3F, Guliakova’s 3Lz and Onishchenko’s 3Lz (which got “e”). In the FS, six edge calls were given (two on flips, two !’s for Guliakova’s 3Lz and one ! and one “e” for Onishchenko’s 3Lz). It is true that out of the lutzes at the competition, Onishchenko’s were the most problematic. However, Daria Usacheva’s were also taken off from an inside edge, and she not only was not called for the three lutzes attempted, but was given high positive GOE for many. 

At US Nationals, Ikenishi and Murdock both received “e” calls on their lutzes. Ikenishi receiving one the free skate and Mudock receiving two - one in the SP and one FS. There were no other lutz calls for the event. 

Of course, after watching so many events, assuming that flat edges will get ! calls and inside edges will get “e” calls is dreaming of the impossible. At best, really severe flutzes done by lower level skaters may be called, inside edges will be called “!” and flat edges will often be let go with no call nor deduction whatsoever. And while I looked at National protocols, it is true that these results are paralleled in international protocols as well. 

So, in conclusion - Russian ladies do not flutz any more than Japanese ladies do. And flutzes are becoming quite a severe problem. Several of the skaters at the top have problematic lutz edges, and it seems like this issue will persist given how the rising generation seems to be struggling with lutz edges as well. 

Many use these uncalled Russian flutzes as evidence of Russian overscoring, but in response to those comments I guide you to the PCS section of scoring. That is where the atrocities happen. Most of the top skaters won’t be punished for flutzing, however Russians are gifted extra PCS for existing, while the Japanese, with their excellent skating skills and attention to detail, seem to be getting punished with lower PCS (especially those prone to inconsistency). 

[hacawijo]

Azriel never said he was entitled to/deserved to be with Elain, those were Rhys’s words. Azriel said it didn’t make sense for two of the brothers to be with two of the sisters and not the third. Obviously it’s not the healthiest reasoning, but I think he’s reasoning in order to explain his strong feelings for Elain and to make sense of the powerlessness and envy he feels. Imagine pining after someone mostly unavailable and ultimately uninterested in you for 500 years, then finally finding someone else who makes you feel a lot of things and gets you better than maybe anyone else AND who is into you just as much as you are into them (he smells her arousal folks, Elain is super into Azriel and has been forever - literally fight me, I will give you receipts) and then to be forced to watch that person be essentially claimed, against their own preference, by someone else. Also, since when is it not absolutely certain that a fantasy romance ship is happening when someone expressly forbids it for political reasons??? That is such a classic trope!!

Azriel can’t catch a fucking break. How could you not have all of those feelings and then feel like fate screwed you when that person’s two sisters are destined for your two brothers? It’s a rationalization ADDED ON to the feelings he already has for Elain, he doesn’t have feelings for Elain because he thinks he’s entitled to her, he hopes that fate is showing him that his feelings are not in vain (AGAIN).

SJM herself said that she’s sprinkled breadcrumbs about Azriel’s story for a long time, which also makes me think Gwyn isn’t endgame because she’s such a new character. The moment between them in the bonus chapter actually reminds me a lot of Cassian’s moment with Emerie in ACOFAS. A lot of people predicted that he might be torn between her and nesta, but really it was just a way to flesh out that character outside of Nesta’s narrative. It seems more like SJM is trying to incorporate Gwyn into larger parts of the story and as more than just nesta’s friend. Perhaps what we need to glean from his interactions with Gwyn are the things Azriel values, and the personal growth he might go through, in a vocational sense, in the next book.

It makes him happy to make Gwyn happy because he ultimately cares very strongly for people who have suffered and survived and thrived. Cassian cares about what happens to the illyrians, Azriel doesn’t - the Valkyrie (to an extent) and the illyrians are Cassian’s mission, Azriel doesn’t have anything like that, yet. Azriel doesn’t like the violent things he does for the court, and that is probably part of why he feels so unfulfilled and lost. The most valuable things he has done have been the type of thing he did in saving Gwyn at Sangravah and training the priestesses with Cassian. This is all rooted, of course, in the suffering he witnessed his mother go through. All three of the illyrians are defined by the violence and wrongs done to their mothers, and two of them have found ways to make relative peace with those wrongs. Azriel has begun to and has done much to help wronged women and children and people, but I don’t think he’s had his Aha! Moment yet in the way that Rhys and Cassian have. His interaction with Clotho feels like an indication of his greater purpose, an alternative concern to his romantic woes re: Elain.

I’m not saying this means that Gwyn ISNT involved in a romantic way in the next book, but I think it’s hasty to assume it’s romantic just because Azriel has a meaningful, connected moment with her. Think about Manon and Elide or Feyre and Lucien, two friendships that bridged a lot of characters together and that could have gone in a romantic direction but didn’t. She tends to do that more with friendships than romantic relationships I think. I also think there was a clearer indication of Emerie’s interest in Mor than Gwyn’s in Azriel (I know there’s more interaction between Azriel and Gwyn, but Emerie is clearly into Mor when she says she doesn’t come around Windhaven anymore), and it seems almost as tidy to have Azriel and Mor end up with the other two Valkyries as for Azriel to end up with the third sister. Azriel, Mor, and Cassian are very nearly as much a sacred trio as the Illyrians. Also, I think it’s more likely that Mor will end up with Emerie because she hasn’t had a real romantic interest be yet revealed (the only thing I can think of is Viviane’s younger sister, but that was also superrrrrrrrrr subtle and I might have read too far into the text) and SJM pretty much never decides to start those in the course of one book (of which this extra Azriel POV chapter would be a part).

I also just want to say that Elain has been consistently uncomfortable with Lucien. He gets her the gloves for solstice, and it’s because he has a fundamental misunderstanding of her as a person. He sees her as something delicate to be sheltered and protected from thorns and elements, but that’s actually one of the things Elain loves most about gardening, and is probably how she wishes she could live her life if given the freedom and confidence. In the Feysand chapter, Feyre specifically mentions the gloves that Lucien got Elain and the consequences of Elain not wearing them. On the surface it seems silly because she hurt herself, using the gloves makes total sense, but Rhys and Feyre are actually talking about Elain as someone who is growing and who actually likes to get dirty and FEEL things. It would make COMPLETE sense for Elain to be with Lucien, he’s her mate and he’s courtly and traditional (for a high fey, anyway) and it would be very politically tidy. But maybe this new, changed Elain just doesn’t want that anymore. Maybe she thinks Azriel’s scarred hands are beautiful because they’re nothing other than what they are, and she’s not afraid of having her own scars (I.e. the thorns).

I don’t know for sure that it’s a great sign that Azriel got Elain jewelry. That could be an indication that he sees her beauty and delicacy similarly to the way Lucien does, and certainly he is protective of Elain. BUT think it could mean something different because it was juxtaposed with the pearl earrings that Lucien gave Elain. They were plain, we’ve never had any indication that Elain is interested in pearls or even regular jewelry. SJM OBVIOUSLY put much more thought into the description of the necklace and AZRIEL OBVIOUSLY put much more thought into his gift for Elain than Lucien did. He thought about Elain and what she means to him and gave her something that appears gently beautiful and informal but is even more lovely when someone PAYS CLOSER ATTENTION TO IT, as Azriel always does with everything, and especially Elain.

just can’t imagine SJM having anything that is awkward and at best uncomfortable and uncommunicative turn into an endgame relationship. Elain and lucien have no passion, neither sexual nor antagonistic nor romantic. All of her relationships tend to involve a pretty instant attraction and ongoing tension with tiny little moments sprinkled in from the get. Elain is only ever uncomfortable around Lucien. On the other hand, she is innately comfortable with Azriel pretty immediately (again ask for receipts and I will give them).

They also meet each other pre-cauldron, Lucien is literally like, “she’s my mate!” During one of the most traumatic and dissonant moments of Elain’s life. Remember how much Rhys DIDNT MAKE FEYRE’S LIFE OR TRAUMA ABOUT HIM???? He waited FOREVER to tell her about the bond, was pretty certain he could never be with her, would have been happy to never tell her and just have her be happy. Cassian was pretty sure of the bond with nesta and did not come close to mentioning it until they declared themselves together forever. Rowan and Aelin were also terrified to admit to each other that they were mates, again because they worried what it might do to negatively affect the other. But there’s Elain, fresh outta the cauldron, they all heard her screams and saw her terror and despair, and the first thing he says is “she’s MY mate.”

Also want to be clear I’m not trying to hate on Lucien. I mentioned above that Lucien is used to being pretty courtly and traditional, I think he was raised in the autumn court and has a very traditional understanding of what the mating bond means. I don’t think he is ever trying to claim Elain because he’s inherently trying to ignore her wishes or control her, but because he feels that bond and believes in the fact that it is sacred. Elain was born human, doesn’t really understand the significance of mates the way Lucien does. Of course she wouldn’t have a matching reverence. Elain is used to love and building trust and a relationship with someone over time and with patience. Which is exactly how her relationship with Az progresses.

Really think about Elain and Lucien, what about them seems compatible? He plays the game, he’s clever, his specialty is in people and he likes to have repartee with those he’s close to. Elain is pretty much always herself, she doesn’t change to suit her company, and she frankly doesn’t seem to love figuring people out. She loves being with the people she loves, but the politics of people don’t interest her - nature interests her. She’s kind in a way that Lucien would probably probably find boring in someone who isn’t his mate. In ACOSF, nesta is constantly thinking about the difference in her relationship with her mother from the relationships her mother had with her sisters. She makes it really clear that Elain never knew how to handle people in the same way as nesta or any courtier, and that she wasn’t really all that interested in intrigue or politic (which is why their mother was never interested in Elain). Elain and Lucien do not understand each other and do not understand the other’s passions or motivations. I like Lucien, I don’t love him the way that some folks do, probably because I never really got over his failure to feyre in ACOMAF, but I do want him to be happy. I think he can’t give Elain what she wants or needs and vice versa.

Lastly I want to talk about symmetry and fresh narrative. At this point, mating bonds are pretty played out. SJM has set a lot of groundwork re: the fact that mating bonds are NOT always perfect, and are NOT always happy. Rhys talks a lot about his mother and father. They were very unhappy together; they did not understand each other. It sounds like Rhys’s father was a politician and Rhys’s mother was wild and raw and genuine. This is part of the reason he waits so long to tell Feyre about the bond (and obviously he doesn’t even get to tell her, she finds out on her own). I am definitely not trying to say that Lucien is like Rhys’s father, he’s not, he’s a much better person, but I do think that the differences in Rhys’s parents’ values and passions mirror the dissonance that can be felt between Lucien and Elain as well. I think all of the wind was taken out of the relationship before it started because Lucien named Elain as his mate so quickly- it was really unearned. It is so EARNED in Feyre and Rhys’s story and Aelin and Rowan’s.

I think the idea of choosing love over nature is actually extraordinary. Elain, who has never really had a choice in her whole life, will make the most subversive and difficult choice of the series by rejecting her mating bond. And Azriel, who has never believed himself worthy of good things, will be chosen over a mating bond because he is so extraordinarily deserving of happiness and love and to be truly chosen as someone else’s paramour even beyond the influence of a mating bond. Is there any greater narrative validation of Azriel than that???? SJM writes grand, dramatic cosmic payback for her characters, and this would be a crowning achievement in that vein.

As for Lucien, what he has needed is a way out of the lines he’s always been expected to live in. He was never at home in the autumn court, he was never truly at home in the spring court, and despite Elain, he is definitely never at home in the night court. Lucien’s love, the thing that made him more happy than anything else in his life, was inherently unconventional, and then the convention he lived in destroyed it. Letting go of Elain and the mating bond will be the best way for him to reject the rules that have confined him for his entire, mostly miserable life. Elain will choose Azriel, and Lucien will choose to let her go, not just for Elain but also for himself. I’m willing to bet he might even give up his immortal life to be with Vassa and Jurian. Obviously that whole trio’s dynamic is still pretty murky, but I THINK he seems to be into Vassa (hell who knows - maybe he’s into jurian). Certainly he is happier with them than he has ever been anywhere else (tamlin was Lucien’s dear friend, but Lucien was also fucking terrified of him), and maybe it’s not and will never be about romantic fulfillment for him. That being said, that seems unlikely given SJM’s tendency to pair off her characters.

As for people being mad about the sex stuff...... have we not been reading the same books? Cassian and Rhys have both made it clear to Feyre that Az can get it, he hasn’t been chastely pining for Mor his whole life. Nesta also specifically confirms in this newest installment that Elain is not a virgin, hello bread crumb set up. Elain and Azriel are both sexually active adults who are sexually attracted to each other. Why should they not be able to have agency over their own sexuality in the same way as all of the other characters? Because they’re shy? Because they seem nicer and gentler?

I think it’s actually really infantilizing to make Elain a victim/inactive participant in her solstice interaction with Azriel. Sure, narrators aren’t always reliable, but SJM always uses the fey scent as a story device to confirm sexual interest and initial/general consent for the reader without suspicion or misinterpretation. I. E. Nesta and cassian both had really warped understandings of how the other felt about them for a lot of ACOSF, but they always came back to knowing for certain that they were sexually attracted to each other. That is something that SJM makes pretty freakin clear in most situations. I don’t think that Azriel thought anything that was darker or dirtier than anything Rhys or cassian has thought about feyre and nesta. In fact it was definitely less kinky than how cassian and nesta often thought of each other sexually before they really got together.

Also, a lot of elain’s reactions to Lucien in ACOWAR remind me of mor’s reactions to Azriel throughout the series. You could tell she was feeling some type of way, but in reality it was guilt and sorrow that she couldn’t return his feelings, not that she was tortured by her love for him. I feel like when Lucien goes to the continent and Elain displays emotion about it it’s more about the fact that she feels bad she doesn’t feel more for him even though she does feel the bond. I’m sure it was really confusing for her. Elain’s reactions to Azriel, though, remind me more of the little snippets of interaction between Aedion and Lysandra before they had more POV in the ToG series and also those between cassian and nesta in ACOMAF and ACOWAR before THEY had POV chapters.

Wow so yeah here’s my dissertation. I hope someone out there reads this and is like YES THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN TRYING TO SAY, because I love when I find posts like that.

[criminalmutantsins]

My Top 10 Favorite Ducktales Characters

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NO. 10 Hewey Duck

At number 10 is Huey!

Hewey has been my least favorite triplet for most of the series; it by no means he’s a bad character or any of the sorts, Huey is more down to earth compared to other characters. It’s hard to say much about Hewey other than how he’s a sweet, fun character I’m glad is around.

His development in season three was good, though the weakest of the three. Kinda half-baked and rushed, as if the creators thought, “we have to add some Huey development since this is his season.” With Dewey and Louie’s, it felt like their respective seasons revolved around them instead of the other way around. The only episode I really think perfectly gave Huey development and at the same time move the main plot forward fluidly was the “Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchucks!” with the whole Huey vs. Violet rivalry. Y’know what also sucks. Huey wasn’t even that integral to the finale. That annoys me to no end.

Now, I’m going to end this with positive notes.

What got Huey into the list was his sweet nature and how integral he is to the team’s balance. Every team needs someone who represents order and Huey is just that. Plus, his innocent love for romance is so cute. I love the episode where him and Webby were setting a date up for Fenton and Gandra.

NO. 9 Scrooge McDuck

Scrooge is probably the most interesting protagonist I’ve ever watched. Unlike most of them, he’s more of an anti-hero than a pure hero like Steven Universe or Luz from Owl House.

I don’t really have much to say about him because I don’t love him as much as the characters above him. He probably has the best development- Lena’s rivaling his really well. In the beginning, Scrooge was a grumpy miser but now, thanks to the kids, his heart is softer and more open. His cheapness is annoying, but the good qualities overthrow the bad.

Scrooge most likely would’ve been higher in the list if “The Life & Crimes of Scrooge McDuck” didn’t happen- or at least occurred in season two instead since humility and hard work was the main theme. The writers went overboard showing the audience how bad of a person Scrooge was in the past, especially with him taking advantage of the poor villagers and leaving them in their states-without even helping them. This episode downgraded Scrooge pretty badly.

NO. 8 Donald Duck

Although on the lower half of the list, I still hold so much love and respect for this version of Donald. He’s such a massive improvement from his previous iteration. The creators made him kind and strong-willed but kept his anger issues. Though, they turned that flaw into a more comedic and positive aspect of Donald since he uses that intense anger to protect his family. Speaking of that, his relationship with the triplets is absolutely adorable. He loves and protects them like a great father, and I’m still a bit peeved that characters didn’t acknowledge that more. Instead, their relationship was sidelined and pretty much haphazardly... replaced-I don’t know if that’s the right word- with May and June.

Another thing that annoyed me was Donald’s voice treatment. The creators pretty much portrayed his speaking problem as a joke, which is terrible. I hope to goodness that children with speaking troubles don’t take those “jokes” to heart because there is nothing wrong with having a different voice. It’s also surprising how much characters mostly don’t understand him when I can seventy percent of the time. This complaint is more towards season one since that was the season where most of the jokes happened.

Anyways, I hope this Donald will start a new beginning for the next iterations of him. A nice guy who has anger issues but means well. Same with him and Daisy’s relationship-another massive improvement the writers did. They are such a great couple from the episodes we got with them and this dynamic should continue.

NO. 7 Webby Vanderquack

Another character who was massively improved was the great Webby Vanderquack!

In the original series, she was a boring damsel-in-distress with no personality-pretty much like the earliest Disney princesses. The ‘17 creators did such a great job molding reboot Webby into a character who can kill you with kindness or impressive fighting skills. This pink-loving queen is probably the sweetest character I’ve ever met; I just want to hug her.

I love her optimism and caring personality. She was able to change Lena for the better and not give up on her when almost everyone did. Webby is the best friend you can have.

While I’m not fully on board with the Webby finale twist, I really liked how her interest in the McDucks played some big part of the finale. Do I wish it was in different circumstances? Yes, but I’m still glad Webby got an important moment for herself. That interrogation scene was very emotional; seeing Beakley fully breakdown like she did was shocking and really set the mood of how pivotal that moment. I literally almost cried seeing Webby so heartbroken by her grandmother’s lies- this pink baby deserves all the love in the world. At least she found out the truth and gained a parental figure in her life.

NO. 6 Louie Duck

I’ve gotta admit; I did not like Louie that much at the start of the show. Greedy and selfish characters usually don’t get my love, but season two changed. A lot more depth was added to him such as his insecurities and anxieties. I struggle with these issues and it was nice to see a character show that as well. One of my favorite arcs was Louie’s trouble connecting with Della; it was realistic and not rushed. While watching this season, I was often having trouble connecting with people, even old friends. Sort of having someone experiencing them alongside me made me feel less insecure and lonely.

His development was really good too, from beginning to end. At first, Louie was someone who was willing to execute every angle no matter how much it could hurt his loved ones. Yet, he grew to be a humbler person who now knows the consequences of his angles. A favorite episode of mine is “The Richest Duck in the World” because of this development. Seeing Louie clean the Bombei’s shoes with Scrooge made my heart melt.

What lowered him down to number eight was season three. There were a few episodes that backtracked Louie’s development like “The Trickening” and “The Fight for Castle McDuck” episodes. He was a real jerk towards Huey for no reason. It frustrated me enough to affect this list. And I also prefer other characters more.

NO. 5 Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera

You can’t expect me to not put this quirky and adorable dork in the top five! He’s one of the best boys in the show. Him being voiced by the great Lin-Manuel Miranda does add some bonus points- you can tell I’m a big Hamilton fan.

Like Webby, Fenton was drastically improved. He became this sweet, scatterbrained scientist who only wants to help people. I instantly fell in love with him. And it got even better when Fenton became Gizmoduck- my second favorite DT hero. He deserved so much more screen time, especially in season 3; “Beaks in the Shell” was not a good enough episode for Fenton and his relationship with Gandra. There should’ve been more. The finale moments he had was not satisfying enough, particularly him and DW sort of team up. It was rushed.

If a Darkwing Duck reboot takes place in the ’17 universe then Fenton must be a major character- at least show up in ten episodes a season. A Gizmoduck and Darkwing crossover is essential, and I will riot if it that doesn’t happen. And more Fandra, my fifth -maybe fourth- favorite ship.

I also had a big crush on Fenton back in season one. You can’t help but love him this sweety pie. This pretty much influenced thirty percent of his placement.

NO. 4 Launchpad McQuack

This muscular dummy is amazing! He brings a sense of comedy and light to every episode he is in. It’s infectious as h*ll!

I liked Launchpad instantly. He’s kind and wants the best for people. Optimistic characters are almost the best characters. They are great reminders of how there are still many good people in the world. Whenever I’m down and watch Ducktales, LP makes me feel a lot better with his dumb yet endearing moments. My favorite jokes are literally LP sending Beakley an invitation saying not to come and when he tried to make small talk with Gosalyn at the window; I can never stop laughing at those moments.

There are times when Launchpad’s dumbness irks me, but his good qualities overthrow that. Though, I wish he wasn’t used too much as comedy relief; LP had the potential to gain more development than what he got. I’ll give an example. Learning about his family would’ve been great to know- an appearance wouldn’t have hurt either. It could’ve opened a reason to why LP cares about Scrooge’s opinion and cares about him like a dad. Maybe there’s some bitterness in LP’s relationship with his dad and that’s why he doesn’t talk about his parents. Loopey not being introduced was a missed opportunity. Big brother Launchpad is all I need.

I also have a small crush on Launchpad, though mostly for his personality and voice. He’s still cute *wink.*

NO. 3 Drake Mallard

We made it to the top three! With the dashing caped crusader Darkwing Duck starting us off!

It’s funny how much I love a character who’s only appeared in like five-maybe six- episodes enough to put him in the top three. I had some trouble defining many reasons why I love him; it’s this weird connection I have with DW. He’s this dorky dummy who loved a big part of his childhood enough to make it his reality, yet I love him so much.

I think what made me fall in love with him was how similar we are. Like him, I was a meek person who got pushed a few times- either physically or mentally. Those times also inspired me to grow stronger and be an inspiration for the next generation. I can be pretty clumsy too(lol). Characters I see myself in are usually really high in my love list and it shouldn’t be surprising that Drake is one of them.

His kind and genuine nature was also what drew me in. And, I just made this realization, this is the first time I don’t prefer the original iteration over the latest one. I still love ‘91 Drake but he’s too arrogant.

Unlike the original DW, Drake became a hero to help others- though a wish for glory played a bit of a part too. This clumsy, stuttering actor took a step to become his hero and a future one for children like him. That’s admirable. His lovable personality also being so cute enough for me to want to give a big hug is a good addition.

NO. 2 Lena Sabrewing

Hands down Lena had the best development!

She started off as this distant loner who followed the gray area of morality. Now, Lena is a part of this loving family and her own person. A few of her episodes are my favorites, such as “Friendship Hates Magic!” and “A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill.” They are well-written episodes and hit me in the feels.

Like Louie and Drake, I see myself in Lena. There are times I’ve been afraid I’ll take on my family’s bad habits or turn like them. That’s why I love “A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!” Watching Lena try to be good enough and feeling insecure reminded me of the dark times I usually think about. There are even times I have dreams of these issues. The creators must have been inspired by me (lol). Though, I am kind of jealous of Lena because of how great her friends are. I want friends like Webby and Violet.

Even so, I do have some issues with Lena. Her magic arc was not written as well as her previous arcs. This might be more of a personal opinion than anything, but I’m still going to say it. Lena learned to control her magic too quickly, and it was treated as more like a plot device. And a shaking one at that. For example, in “The Split Sword of Swanstantine” Lena was able to stop time and send her and Huey into his mindscape. But, somehow, she couldn’t conjure a burst of energy to attack Steelbeak; granted, Huey mentioned that, yet Lena’s reasoning was dumb. Attacking someone with magic is way easier than doing what she did. I’m a little lenient on this since that idea lead to more Huey development, though I’m still going to critique it.

A great thing about Lena learning was her temporary outfit change. She looks absolutely amazing in light colors, which I didn’t expect, and her hair design is what I saw she would look good in. The eye shape is kind of weird.

Lena’s magic mode is in my list of cosplays.

NO. 1 Dewey Duck

Finally, number one is Dewey Duck!

Dewey has stolen my heart since the beginning. His positivity and fun nature always make me smile, even during the toughest times.

In my opinion, Dewey has the best arc/development of the triplets. His arc trying to find out what happened to his mother was what kept me watching Ducktales and helped me see why this show is so special. Many of my favorite moments are in season one, specifically ones involving Dewey. For instance, the scene in “The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!” where Dewey was willing to risk his life to get the last piece of paper and possibly solve what happened to Della was emotional. Hearing the desperation in his voice while pleading with Scrooge to tell him what happened hit me hard. I can’t imagine how much pain HDL have gone through not knowing what happened and thinking they aren’t allowed to ask. It would be terrible to experience.

Another moment I loved was in “The Spear of Selene.” It was when Dewey was hesitant to know what happened as the possibility that Della was a bad person grew more prominent. He looked so defeated admitting that realization and it reminded me of myself. There were moments when I realized that my parents were not as good as I thought. It hurt me a lot. At least sweet Dewey didn’t have to go through that. The scene when Dewey started tearing up seeing his mom in the sphere was also heartwarming. I wanted to give him the biggest hug.

Dewey’s insecurities of not being good enough and to be loved is what I struggle with too. Its kind of different because I have trouble believing anyone loves me while he wants everybody to like him. Confidence is not my forte.

……………………………………………………………

[echodrops]

I’m obviously late to the tumble party... but I stumbled across your Notagami Essays posts and they are absolutely Fabulous! Love your writing and the amount of detail you go into :)

So I figured you may be a good person to ask - if you just had to guess (bc as far as I know it’s never been officially confirmed?) but if you had to take a guess or give a rough estimate, how old do you think Yato was when he first met Sakura? We know he’s estimated to be at least a thousand years old, we know he’s - from the start of the series to present - estimated to be somewhere between 18 and his early 20s (physically)... but I can’t find a single thing/discussion/post/stickynote/whatever where it talks about how old he might have been when he first met Sakura - let alone the emotional/psychological effects of Sakura coming into his life and introducing healthy mindset/morals/maternal-influence etc. etc. (obviously no mom and Father’s neglect played a big role in him not knowing how inappropriate it was for him to ‘accidentally touch’ and yell “boobs!” but you can also just say he was so young he didn’t know how inappropriate that was?) My point is: how old do you think Yato was (physically anyway) at the time of their meeting? and Do you know of any discussions or care to share your opinion on how being the no more than the age of blank affected his mental/emotional understanding of Sakura teaching him a new narrative?

Sorry this is a random out of the blue ask 😅😓 if I rambled on and you don’t feel like answering, I get it, just figured it was worth asking :)

I fell down a serious rabbit hole trying to see if I could figure out the answer to this question about Yato’s age but unfortunately I’m mostly coming up empty-handed.

The answer to this question actually depends on two different pieces of information which--as far as I can remember--we’ve never actually been given for certain.

1) We would need to know when Yato was actually born.

The manga has kind of hinted at a total (not physical) age for Yato in the flashbacks which showed him as a young child during the Heian era (putting him somewhere in the vicinity of a little over 1000 years old) and Father not making masks before ~1100 years ago, but the problem is we still don’t know how many years might have passed between this scene (the youngest we’ve ever seen Yato):

And the next flashback scene, where Yato meets Nora:

If gods age normally when they are children, these two scenes might be only a handful of years apart. But if gods don’t age normally, then these two scenes could be decades or centuries apart, which leads to the other missing piece of information (under the read more to save people’s dashes):

2) We would need to know the aging process for gods who are just born/reincarnate.

Up to this point in the manga, we’ve only seen two gods reincarnate--Ebisu (who reincarnated too recently to really help answer this question) and Takemikazuchi. The implication of Takemikazuchi’s backstory is that his shinki forced him to reincarnate and then hid his reincarnation from all of Heaven. The only way they could have kept other gods from noticing that Takemikazuchi had reincarnated would have been by not allowing him to go out at all until he had grown enough to match his previous reincarnation in appearance. This seems to suggest that gods probably do age normally when they are children--hiding Takemikazuchi away for ~20 years seems a lot more likely than being able to hide him away for centuries, after all... (I also feel like I have very vague recollection of some scene in the manga where someone comments on Takemikazuchi not having been around for a “few years,” but it’s been so long since I reread I can’t recall if this is a real moment from the manga or just me misremembering.) 

Overall, however, based on what we’ve seen in the manga, my guess would be that when they’re young, after just being born or being reincarnated, gods age pretty normally. This would suggest that, for the first few years at least, the physical and mental ages of reincarnated/newly born gods actually overlap; baby Ebisu acts like a little kid because he is, in fact, both mentally and physically a little kid.

That would mean that, for all intents and purposes, Yato’s physical and mental ages lined up when he was young and meeting Sakura, and he acted like a little kid because he really was just a little kid, god or not.

(Detour for a second though: 

This line always struck me as interesting in that it might, just might, give us a more specific timeframe for Yato’s “birth”: although the constellations, of course, are visible in the sky every single year, this particular combination of concepts (kanoto-tori, yin metal rooster) is known much more commonly as one of the sixty years on the cyclical Chinese calendar, also used in Japan. Counting back on the calendar, 961 A.D. was a yin metal rooster year and would align just about right for what we know about the timeframe in which Yato later met Sakura (~970ish). Just referencing constellations doesn’t mean Adachitoka was pointing to a specific year, but it might have been another hint as to the timeframe of the flashbacks.

Okay, detour over.)

Anyway, without 100% confirmation on either of those pieces of information--when Yato was born and whether gods age at the same rate as humans after reincarnating--I don’t think it’s really possible to pin down Yato’s “real” age (physically or mentally) at the time he met Sakura. We mostly just have to estimate. 

Personally, based on his size and behavior at the time, I’d put him somewhere between seven and maybe up to ten, but the way Adachitoka draws characters kind of makes it impossible to judge their ages by appearance; Yato is about the same size as Nora when he meets Sakura, implying that he and Nora were around the same physical “age” at that time; meanwhile, Nora is later portrayed as being roughly the same age as Yukine, suggesting she was maybe 12-13ish years old when she died. So, despite being drawn tiny, it’s possible Yato was meant to be anywhere from a little kiddo (6-7) to all the way up to Nora’s age by the time he met Sakura.

But all that said, I think what you were really asking about was more the mental state Yato would have been in when he met Sakura and how his young age would have impacted his ability to change his world views, right? The answer to that is... complicated and could be approached a lot of ways. Coming from a background of working with and educating social work students, there are several common psychological theories of child development that might apply here, for example. 

I’d recommend checking out Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of development, though. 

(Pulled from here.)

I don’t have time to explain the entire theory with the complexity it might deserve, but the basic idea is that, as children develop, they experience a series of crises or challenges that they must overcome. Successfully overcoming each challenge results in successful psychological and social development; failing to overcome a challenge in childhood will result in long-term negative impacts later in the child’s life. (There are plenty critiques of this theory too, so don’t take this as gospel or anything--just a theory worth thinking about!)  

Given Father’s lack of interest in teaching Yato basic concepts of humanity, I would put Yato at approximately the “Initiative vs. Guilt” stage when he met Sakura. At this level of Erikson’s theory, children struggle with asserting themselves and developing a healthy sense of how their personal desires might conflict with the expectations and rules set out by others. In this stage, giving a child positive feedback for their actions teaches the child that those actions are “right,” while giving negative feedback teaching the child that their actions are wrong. In order to overcome this particular challenge, children need to begin taking initiative and aligning their actions with social standards; the child acts, and the parental figure reacts--through this process, children learn “I can do X thing but I cannot do Y thing.” 

When you hear things like “Children are cruel,” most often what people are referring to is that it takes time for children to learn empathy and to experience guilt when they cause harm to others; children do not natively understand the repercussions of their actions. It’s only through a process of testing the boundaries, of receiving praise or punishment, that children define what is “right” versus “wrong,” and begin to feel bad when they do something deemed wrong.

And this is pretty much word-for-word what we see Sakura teaching Yato.

If they have healthy role models and caretakers during this phase, children develop successfully. Successful children in this phase get their first taste of personal responsibility; unsuccessful children are (supposedly) plagued for years afterward by a sense of guilt and shame when their actions produce disapproval from everyone around them.

Yato... doesn’t exactly make it through this development stage unscathed, because he receives conflicting definitions of right and wrong from his Father an Sakura:

Which ultimately results in, years later, the Yato we know and love who still does his Father’s bidding to kill humans even though it fills him with a horrific sense of guilt:

Through his time with Sakura, I think it could also be argued that Yato moves into the next stage of Erikson’s theory as well, getting into the “Industry versus Inferiority” crises. 

Meeting Sakura brings out Yato’s true, deep down desire as a god: to help people. (I think it’s important to note that this isn’t something Sakura teaches him--it’s a quality Yato already possessed; it was explicitly Yato’s desire to please people that led to him murdering in his father’s name.)

Once he learns what makes people happy, Yato immediately pursues that with intense focus:

The primary goal of this phase of psychosocial development is to experience a sense of confidence in one’s actions. When children practice their skills, pursue areas where they are praised, and gain new skills and aptitudes through mentoring from healthy role models, they gain confidence in their ability to excel, to fit in with peers their age, and to create meaningful things. By encouraging Yato to pursue positive behaviors--playing peacefully with other children, appreciating natural beauty, and creating useful things like boots for the needy--Sakura moved Yato toward successfully completing this phase and developing a sense of confidence in his actions and his ability to achieve positive things in the world. 

Of course, Father cannot have that (because confident children with a sense of self-worth are much more difficult to abuse), so he puts an immediate end to Sakura’s influence over Yato in the most insidious way possible: although he clearly manipulated the situation to achieve Sakura’s death, out loud, he blames Yato, implying that Sakura’s death was all Yato’s fault, the results of Yato taking unwanted action “industry” and yet failing--creating a sense of “inferiority” instead.

This, of course, haunts Yato all the way to the present, as he--again and again and again--blames himself for things outside his control or failing to live up to expectations that no one in his situation (still being manipulated) could possibly hope to get “right.” 

Finally, you could say that Sakura’s presence is Yato’s life is ultimately what sows the seeds of the manga’s main plot up to this point, with Yato’s quest to create an entirely new identity for himself as a god of fortune instead of a god of calamity. Personally, I would say that Yato is currently still in this phase of development, still working out how to define himself and who he will ultimately become once he is finally free to decide on his own path in life. It was Sakura’s gentle influence--his desire to become the kind of god who could make her smile--that eventually sparked his conflict and finally led Yato to the brink of catastrophe. If he wishes to become the god Sakura told him he could be, he can no longer suffer his father to live.

So, long story longer, I think it can be argued that Yato meeting Sakura at such a young age is EXACTLY what made it possible for him to change, and exactly what has led to his crisis in identifying himself and redefining his sense of right and wrong. 

Uhhhh... I hope that answers your question!

[scripttorture]

I have no idea if you can help me, but I am working on a short story that starts after a Sami girl is recovering from being tortured by Christian police after her father is put on trial for witchcraft. This is during the witch trials in Norway. I wanted to focus on recovery in the community and her animistic religion. However, I don’t know what kind of torture she could realistically be recovering from and if, aside from punishment, it should religiously motivated. Do you have any English links?

I put this one off for a long time hoping that the virus situation would improve enough for me to a) have less stress at work and b) be able to access the university library in my town. It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

 Norwegian history in the 1600s isn’t my strong suit. So my focus here is going to be advice on how to research this. I’ll also include the bits I found and some tortures so common that you can throw them in to virtually any setting without it standing out or being inaccurate.

 Before I get any further I don’t know anything about Sami culture. I’d strongly recommend trying to find Sami sensitivity readers if you haven’t already. Because it can be bloody hard to get accurate information on some of Europe’s oppressed minorities and I’d say the Sami fall squarely into that category.

 Historical research is fraught with pitfalls and when you’re starting out it can be really difficult to figure out which sources to trust. This only becomes worse when you’re working across a language barrier. And when the focus is torture it gets even more difficult.

 Torture has always been a hot button issue.

 The fact that virtually every culture has a history of torture doesn’t change that. Cultural ideas about what was ‘more painful’ or ‘more brutal’ or ‘shaming’ have all played a role in what was deemed ‘acceptable’ cruelty. So has the idea of who is an ‘acceptable’ or ‘deserving’ victim.

 And that means that misrepresenting the typical tortures of different countries, cultures, religious groups or past regimes has been part of political practice for literally hundreds of years. It is a very easy way to direct people’s hate and elicit an emotional response.

 I can’t stress enough how important it is to consider an author’s motivations, biases and abilities when you read historical sources.

 Think about whether an author was actually there for the events they describe. Think about their political and religious positions and what they may have to gain by pushing a particular message.

 Apologies if some of this comes across as teaching you how to suck eggs, but I know a lot of people don’t get this lesson in their history classes. So sources-

 Historical sources can be broadly categorised into primary and secondary sources. A primary source is something produced at the time. A secondary source is something produced later.

 Both can be untrustworthy/biased but a primary source gives you information about how events/practices were interpreted at the time, while a secondary sources tells you how they were remembered later.

 Primary sources can be things like diaries, court records of witch trials and objects produced in areas like Finnmark (northern Norway where most of the witch trials took place) at the time. Secondary sources might be things like how the witch trials are discussed in Norwegian history books and local history or stories about the witch trials that are told today.

 By reading about this in English you’re mostly being limited to secondary sources. The danger here is that secondary sources can misrepresent the time period they’re describing, deliberately or not. Authors make assumptions about how historical people lived, thought, what their actions meant and how their beliefs influenced their actions.

 Primary sources can also misrepresent what happened (deliberately or not) but with primary sources they are at least displaying the biases and concerns of the time.

 Generally historical research is about the collation and interpretation of primary sources. Which is a lot of work, requires a degree of expertise and often demands fluency in several languages.

 That level of work and knowledge appeals to some authors of historical fiction. But it isn’t for everyone. There’s nothing wrong with choosing to rely on history textbooks and the like instead of digging through transcriptions of things written back in the 1600s.

 Here’s the problem when you’re doing that for another country: English language sources are often very very biased in favour of other English language sources.

 This means if some bored academic in the 1930s made up a bunch of fan theories based on very little evidence it will probably still be used as a source today.

 And without having another language (with access to other sources it provides) it can be really difficult to spot that kind of fuckery.

 I am not saying that you need to learn Norwegian and believe me as someone with only one spoken language I understand how tackling a new one can be crazy intimidating.

 But I think you do need to know Norwegians. Particularly Norwegians with an interest in history.

 That’s all general stuff about researching historical periods in different countries.

 For torture in particular… I’m not gonna lie it’s a sack of angry snakes.

 Both primary and secondary often have considerable motivation for lying about torture. Historical accounts routinely downplay or outright lie about the damage different tortures cause. They are heavily judgemental about victims.

 And they run in to exactly the same issues we have trying to study use of different tortures today with the added difficulty that accounts from torturers are preserved far more frequently then accounts from survivors.

 It’s only once you start getting to the 1900s that you really start to see multiple survivor accounts of events. For the 1600s as a general period I can think of witness accounts and multiple accounts from torturers or their bosses in various countries. But the testimony of survivors is very very rare.

 This is an issue because we know from modern research that torturers routinely lie about what they do.

 There were laws in most European countries in this period that cover torture. They tend to define a sort of ‘accepted practice’: what torturers were supposed to do and for how long. And don’t get me wrong these are useful historical sources.

 But we know from comparing similar torture manuals used in the 1930s (and indeed more recently) to multiple accounts from torture survivors that torturers do not follow their own rules. I see no reason why torturers today would be less likely to follow ‘the rules’ then their historical predecessors.

 Looking up the laws of the land at the historical time period you’re interested in is a good place to start. But it won’t actually tell you everything that torturers did and it may not represent the most common tortures.

 It will give you a list of things that were definitely used at the time in that place though. Which isn’t a bad place to start.

 Look for history books that cover crime and punishment. If you can’t find one broad enough to do that (or give you a helpful summary of laws at the time) then I’ve found that accounts of specific historical figures in the relevant area/time often contain some of that information.

 The next major pitfall when researching historical torture is the bane of my existence: euphemisms.

 A lot of historical sources use vague or euphemistic terms for different tortures and then leave it up to the reader to figure out what they mean. This was probably perfectly clear at the time but now… less so.

 To use an example from something I’ve been trying to research for a while now I can tell you that the Ancient Egyptians definitely used torture. They say as much in surviving accounts of their justice system. They used it to punish, force confessions and attempt to gain information.

 They definitely beat people with sticks. They say they did, in multiple accounts. There are also wall carvings and paintings that show prisoners of war and enslaved people being menaced with sticks.

 However, I can’t find any definite suggestion that they used falaka, ie beating the soles of the feet with those sticks.

 Did they just hit people at random? This seems unlikely from a practical viewpoint as that’s a very easy way to kill someone. Did they ignore the feet and concentrate on other areas of the body? Did they use falaka and also beat other areas? Do I bring too much bias into this question because I’d love to find a historical point of origin for a torture that’s common throughout the Middle East today?

 Historical sources often just don’t contain the details we need to be certain about what torture they’re describing. Terminology is often vague. Descriptions can be contradictory. Often the only way to be certain is to come across an illustration or surviving device and even then this does not necessarily represent common practice and either piece of evidence could be contemporary propaganda rather then something that was actually used.

 When you’re talking about historical torture it is essential to find multiple sources and make sure they agree.

 Vague terminology like ‘water torture’ can cover a host of different sins. Finding a vague term or euphemism multiple times doesn’t even tell you if this was the same practice carried out in different areas or different practices with superficial similarities.

 If a source doesn’t give you enough information to be sure don’t use it. If a source suggests the meaning of a euphemism based on no clear evidence from the time period don’t use it.

 What I’ve found in my own small collection of books on witchcraft is very sparse on details.

 One of the older books I have suggests that there were almost no witch hunts or witch trials in Scandinavia which is complete bollocks. The book was published in 1959, so I’d suggest being wary of English language sources from that date and earlier.

 A much more recent (2017) Oxford University Press book on the subject gives an estimated 400-500 executions for witchcraft in Norway during the period of 1601-1670.

 This might seem like a small number compared to the thousands that were executed throughout the Holy Roman Empire but it seems a significant number given that the Norwegian trials were so concentrated in a small, sparsely populated region.

 Unfortunately this book is a very general overview of the perception of witchcraft and magic throughout Europe from the ancient world to the present. So it doesn’t really give any details of the kinds of tortures a Norwegian accused of witchcraft might endure.

 The author of the chapter on the witch trials was Rita Voltmer, University of Trier in case that’s helpful. She has published several papers on witch trials and the use of torture and at least one on witch trials in Norway. However a lot of her work is in German.

 These two papers/chapters in particular may be of interest: the english language document on torture and emotion in witch trials and the German paper on Norwegian and Danish witch trials.

 Several of the books I’ve got access to confirmed that Norway burnt witches and provided stories focused on shapeshifting and causing storms at sea. They also confirmed the use of torture in witch trials but nothing so helpful as the kind of tortures employed.

 I found multiple references to ‘water torture’. One of these implied that the particular torture was waterboarding alla the historical Dutch method. But the same source said this caused vomiting or possibly diarrhoea which seems to imply pumping.

 At a guess I’d say pumping is less likely because waterboarding can cause vomiting and so far as I know pumping wasn’t common anywhere in Europe during this period. However absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

 ‘Water torture’ could also potentially refer to: a temperature torture, near drowning, a method of sleep deprivation or even dehydration. Without more detail it’s really hard to say which of these is being referenced.

 I found one mention of ‘burning torture’ a reference that I think referred to tearing the flesh with hot pincers based on the description of a torn wound. However given I only found this referenced once and I’m unsure of the source I found it in, I would not say this is a good one to pick.

 Which leaves me with common tortures.

 Whatever the time period, whatever the place, beatings the most common torture. Easily.

 If your character gets repeatedly hit, whether it’s clean or not, you are not being historically inaccurate. And I’ve got a lot of posts on beatings generally and clean beatings that can help you write that.

 Starvation and dehydration are also both really common regardless of culture and time period. So are temperature tortures or exposure though I think different countries have favoured different methods at different times.

 Torturous cell conditions were incredibly common across Europe historically. Lack of sanitation, wet cells, inadequate bedding, over crowding and conditions amounting to a temperature torture were all really common. They were also often happening alongside starvation.

 I have a masterpost on starvation and tags covering temperature tortures, exposure and prisons. I think the ‘prisons’ tag should give you most of the posts covering poor cell conditions, ‘historical torture’ and ‘historical fiction’ may also be helpful to you.

 I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with anything more specific.

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Disclaimer

Edit: So this should be my week off the blog but I’ve seen a lot of the responses to this. Most of them are extremely helpful, thank you to everyone who knows Norwegian that is offering to help.

However: if your instinct is to say that any torturer, historical or recent, is ‘honourable’ and follows a code of conduct then this blog is not the place for you. I don’t tolerate that kind of apologia or people using my work to spread it. 

[dutchdread]

What is Love? Baby don't hurt me.

This article sets out to define different types of love in a meaningful way, and argue why the specifics surrounding Aerith and Cloud makes it so that the commonly accepted romantic version of the emotion can't apply. __________________________________________________

Whenever you talk to anyone, it's important to be on the same page, and one of the most important parts about that is making sure that you're speaking the same language. I am sure we've all had moments where we were arguing with someone only to discover that you both believed the exact same thing, but that you simply used a different word to describe said thing.

"That's what I've been saying" "No, that's what I've been saying!" "Well what are we even arguing about then?!"

When that happens, you're not arguing about the topic itself, you're arguing about semantics, about language.

An argument about whether or not what Cloud, Tifa, and Aerith felt for each other would fall under "love" is a debate about language, not FFVII, and I am not here to have a conversation about language. Unfortunately, before I can actually have a conversation about FFVII, a conversation about language is apparently needed.

Love is an incredibly broad term, used to express what we feel about our family, our pets, our friends, our "lovers", and even our favorite songs, weather, and food. So why the hell do we ask "who did Cloud love" as if love is some singular binary system?

I can never prove that what a character feels isn't love, I can only assert that I personally wouldn't use the word "love" to describe said feeling, and explain why I wouldn't. When we ask "does Cloud love Tifa or Aerith", we are presupposing a concept of "love", and asking who it applies to.

"I pity you, you just don't get it at all, there is nothing I don't cherish"

But it applies to both, and it applies to Barret, and Marlene, and Denzel, and everyone. Because love is far too broad a term to start with, it's a catch-all. Instead of starting with a preconception of what love is, and seeing who has it, we should describe what people actually have, and see what their individuals shapes of love look like.

Even so, I will do my best to describe what I mean by romantic love, as opposed to a crush, or infatuation, or attraction, so that when I say "Cloud and Aerith don't (and can't) romantically love each other", that it's clear what that assertion means to me.

I'm going to tell you a story, a story that, admittedly, doesn't make me look good, but which will hopefully provide context for what I think love is and why.

When I was younger I wasn't the most popular kid, back then I assumed I was unattractive, as an adult I realize its because I was socially awkward as fuck (I was actually cute as heck if I do say so myself). However, by the time I got to highschool I had made a best friend and had managed to figure out and fake social conventions enough that I could at the very least solve my issues through humor instead of violence. The change from typical village kids to a wider pool of potential friends also enabled me to finally find people who were more like me. Even so, the whole social outcast part was still ingrained deeply enough in me that I was mostly putting on an act in front of people, saying whatever I needed to say in order to get a certain reaction, in order to be liked, rather than just being myself. I had had crushes before, when you're alone it's easy to really fall for someone, and hell, I was always a sucker when it came to love stories, but my childhood had basically left me too nervous that I'd say the wrong thing to ever actually say the right thing when I really liked a girl. However, generally being the life of the party left me with a string of girlfriends I didn't care too much about. Even so, I eventually met a girl that I was instantly smitten with, the most attractive girl I knew and somehow I managed to start dating her, and hell, I even thought I loved her. I dated said girl for several years, but without going into spoilers I'll just say that I left that relationship pretty jaded and and disillusioned with the concept of love. I felt like I had done everything I could and love in general was bullshit and was honestly pretty done with women in general. Ironically my new pessimistic attitude made me much more successful with women than I had ever been before, by that time I was known as someone who was fun to party with, and unlike the majority of people my age I was in incredible shape and still had all my hair. However, while I enjoyed my newfound popularity there was a part of me that really resented it because I realized that what women seemed to react positively to wasn't what I imagined love to be like and I hated that. I hated that when I used to be kind and filled with notions of "true love" no one was interested, but now that I was disinterested and clearly manipulative women seemed to throw themselves at me. During that time I basically stopped looking for a meaningful relationship and just decided to have fun until my life would, inevitably, fall apart.

Eventually though I got a girlfriend who I didn't deserve and was much too good for me. However, when I did I was no longer interested in building a relationship and I was pretty certain that it would eventually fall apart anyway like everything else. As a result I mainly cared about what I could get from her, I didn't act like a proper partner and I when I thought about "fixing the relationship" I was thinking mostly about what she could do to be a better girlfriend, honestly, part of me actually resented her for not being my ex. When talking about our issues the general terms were "I'll do this, but only if you fix that". Without going into details, the general gist is that we had a horrible start to our relationship and that affected everything that came after it.

Eventually though this girl who I once mainly saw as just another temporary part of my life became something more to me, she became a more complete person. I mellowed out, and started appreciating her more, I decided to get us to work on the relationship but the damage was basically already done. She'd given up on me ever wanting to settle down and had started distancing herself from me emotionally and eventually I became sick of fighting for the relationship by myself and we broke up. Afterwards, free of pressure, I sat back and l evaluated what I wanted in life, I thought about myself, and her, REALLY thought about her. The good parts, and the bad. And I realized that all the things I was annoyed about were honestly absurd. I decided I was going to fight for her, not just "try to fix the relationship" by figuring out what worked and what didn't, but I just decided I was going to properly appreciate her, be the best boyfriend I could be, and not ask for anything in return. And let me tell you, that change in mindset changed EVERYTHING for me. Within months I became absolutely smitten with her, when I first started the relationship I was honestly annoyed if we met up and didn't have sex, now just sitting on the couch under a blanket with her became the highlight of days, even the things I once saw as negatives became a precious part of the puzzle that made her her. My biggest regret in life is still that I couldn't be the person she made me back when I first met her. (and concerning looks, she is honestly so much more gorgeous than the ex it's not even funny, how did I not see that?). The point of all this is that love isn't automatic, it's not something that happens without your consent, it's the result of actions, of decisions. When you choose to take the time to look at your significant other, and soak up and appreciate who they are and what they do, when you put in the effort, that's when love grows. I've gone from being sick and tired of someone I had been with for years, to being absolutely infatuated with them, simply by making a decision. I could not have made that decision had I not been myself, that decision would have been false. Looking back, all those earlier girls I've been infatuated with, that wasn't love, I didn't even know who they were, I barely knew who I was. No matter how much passion I felt in the moment, no matter how much fun I had in the times we spent together, now I don't even remember their names.

Love isn't your heart beating faster, it's not that instinctive nervousness that comes with talking to a cute girl you just met. It's a complete and deep appreciation of a person, un understanding of who you are, who they are, and what that means to you. Love is what I feel for my brother, who is as much a part of me as my own arm, without whom I would not be me. Someone who isn't just another person in your life, but is a part of what you consider to be your life, without them your life could not be the same, because they're an absolutely crucial part of it. That doesn't happen in a week, because you can't really learn who someone is in a week, even if you could see all of it, you couldn't internalize it. You can always imagine living without them, because you were, just last week. There are people who meet their soulmates sure, and say they knew within a week, but had they never seen that soulmate again, they would not still be pretending they were "the one" years later, and if they were, their friends wouldn't be saying "that's love", they'd be saying "that's an unhealthy obsession". Cloud and Aerith barely knew each other, both when it comes to time, as well as to how much they actually knew about each other. Cloud had no idea of who he was or what was important to him in life, he was unable to be honest with others or even himself, so how would he ever be able to meaningfully make an informed decision to make the kind of emotional commitment that's the cornerstone of love? He didn't know himself, nor did he know Aerith, to whose feelings he was canonically oblivious and whose entire life was a mystery to Cloud. How can we say that Soldier Cloud is capable of knowing who he loves when he's not even aware of the the gigantic Tifa shaped area of his identity. Can Soldier Cloud determine what he values and why without the knowledge of what he's gone through in his life? Sure, but can Soldier Cloud make that determination for the real one? No. Soldier Cloud, and his emotions, have no relation to that of the real Cloud. The real Cloud must determine what people mean to him all by himself. And when it comes to real Cloud, it is pretty obvious who is the biggest part of his life, the person who defined it from the time he fell for her as kid, right through when he became a soldier to impress her, and up to and past the moment he started raising children with her. For Cloud it's pretty obvious who he has the deep personal understanding with, the girl who filled his sub-conscious, and was literally in his head with him, the girl who is stated to understand him best, and who has a shared story with him, having experienced both the good, and the bad, alongside him. Who was there with him when he was a child, who was there with him in Nibleheim, who found him when he lost his identity and gave him a new one, who was with him when Aerith died, who was with him when he broke, who was with him when he was catatonic, who was with him and helped him find himself again, who was with him during the last night underneath the highwind, who was with him at the end in the north cave, who he started living with afterwards, who waited patiently while he went to find himself, and welcomed him back with a smile. I am sure Cloud liked Aerith....but he LOVES Tifa.